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At some point Drift had to consider that this was a conspiracy.
At first, it seemed that no matter where he went there were eyes on him, and more smiles than he was accustomed to seeing directed his way. Not just from the humans, but the other bots, too. He racked his memory files of the past few weeks since the battle in Hong Kong. He hadn’t done anything spectacularly embarrassing. He’d been spending all his time with Wing. One thing if Wing had been trouncing him in sparring as he once had—of course they would tease him for that—but Wing had been a prisoner so long that Drift had to re-teach him the very skills Wing had once taught him.
So if he wasn’t falling on his aft five times a day, and he hadn’t adopted any more human mannerisms the others found strange, and he wasn’t asking Tessa and Shane loaded questions about human mating rituals within earshot of Cade just to see his reaction (unlike some green triggerhappy bots around here), what was it?
Why were they all grinning at him?!
Then they grew more obvious, and he understood: it was Wing. Wing and Drift. Wing and Drift and the amount of time they spent together.
First it was Bumblebee playing obnoxious music whenever he passed the two of them.
“And when I touch you I feel happy inside, it’s such a feeling that my love I can’t hide,” his radio sang as he ambled innocently past. The fifth time in as many days, though the song was different each time. More than enough to make Drift seriously consider finishing the little bug off. But Wing wouldn’t let go of his hand, and Drift didn’t want to dislodge him just to give Bumblebee what he deserved.
“Did you need something, Bumblebee?” Wing asked politely, though his mouth twitched suspiciously, like he was trying not to smile.
“I’m searching for a man all across Japan, just to find, to find my samurai…”
“That’s it,” Drift snarled, but Bumblebee was already zipping away in altmode, snickering.
And if Bumblebee weren’t enough, it seemed like every time they got more physically affectionate anywhere near the others—say, with Wing nipping along fuel cables in Drift’s throat as Drift wedged a thigh in between the jet’s legs, his hands tracing up the graceful lines of Wing’s sides—Hound was always there to break up the moment. His big elbow jabbed playfully at Drift’s back, knocking him forward into Wing.
“Don’t forget your firewalls, kids!” he boomed as he strolled by, announcing to all and sundry exactly what Drift and Wing were intent on getting up to. “Safety first. Got to set a good example for the humans!”
Primus! How hard was it to get some alone time?
And then there was Crosshairs, who made himself all-too-present wherever Wing happened to be, asking for this and that, making idle conversation, getting a little too touchy for Drift’s comfort. Like slinging his arm around Wing’s shoulders, fingers trailing over his white armor with comfortable familiarity, and asking, “Got any plans later on, Wings?” (“It’s just Wing,” Wing said patiently, and Crosshairs just tapped his helm and said “Sure thing, Wink,” with one of his own) or “Yanno, I’ve always considered myself a fan of poetry. Maybe you can give me some insight.”
And Wing didn’t protest the touches, just smiled and nodded and yes of course I would be delighted to explain it to you, and Drift finally understood the human phrase “driving up a wall.” It took every ounce of control to not just rip Wing out of his hands, and he only resisted because it would upset Wing. But he was one more dumb nickname away from going Deadlock and tearing Crosshairs apart, starting with his sneaky hands.
All in all, Drift knew a plot when he saw one. He just didn’t know what their game was. He couldn’t even meditate his irritation away, just seethed quietly until an offhanded tease from Cade—“You two set a date yet?”—finally pushed him past the limits of his patience. He grabbed Wing’s hand with slightly more force than was necessary.
“We,” he announced stiffly, “are going on patrol.”
“Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast,” Bumblebee’s radio sang gleefully, “this is la vie en rose…”
“Don’t ‘ave too much fun, Drift and other-Drift,” Crosshairs said.
“Don’t forget to use protection!” Hound bellowed after them as Drift dragged Wing bodily away.
Wing kept his energy field suspiciously close to his altmode as they flew. Drift stewed silently, flying until he was finally finally sure they were in a nice isolated spot. Then he transformed and landed. Wing did a lazy loop above him, twirling through the very last of the dying sunlight. Watching him fly softened Drift’s mood slightly. Wing was beautiful in the air. Of course, he was beautiful on the ground, too.
When Wing finally landed, Drift had his arms folded tight over his chest.
“Crosshairs,” Drift growled. “Do you want me to teach him a lesson?”
Wing cocked his head like an Earth bird. “There’s no need for that.”
“He disrespects you.”
“A silly nickname isn’t disrespect,” Wing said. “It’s how he shows affection.”
That… didn’t improve matters.
“I don’t like that he touches you,” Drift mumbled, rotors flicking on his back. “I don’t like that you let him.”
Wing’s mouth did that trying-not-to-smile twitch again as he reached out for Drift’s hand.
“Drift, are you… jealous?” he asked. He was choking on a laugh, but holding back for Drift’s dignity.
Drift grumbled as Wing squeezed his successfully captured hand.
“There’s no need to be,” Wing murmured, raising Drift’s hand to his mouth and brushing his lips against the knuckles. “I’m yours, Drift. Only yours.”
“Then why—”
“I don’t mind being touched,” Wing said. “Usually I enjoy it.” He stepped closer, wings folding out from his back. The hint was entirely obvious. Drift reached up his free hand to stroke the leading edges. Wing hummed, nuzzling against the side of Drift’s helm. “I would not interface with Crosshairs,” he said plainly, “and he knows it. He does this to tease you. All of them have been doing it. Hound’s concern for our… habits, Bumblebee’s Earth music. They mean no harm.”
“I don’t know what they’re playing at.”
“I told you. This is how they show affection.”
“They never trusted me, with my history,” Drift said. “I didn’t think they even liked me.”
“Perhaps now they see a different side to you,” Wing suggested with a smile. “They’ve accepted you. Us. Both of us.”
Drift made a noncommittal noise, thinking it over. That could be it, he supposed. Annoying, but… it was good, being accepted after all this time.
“So, now that we’ve secured your comrades’ blessing,” Wing said, pressing their helms together and giving him a little kiss, “and now that you’ve gone through all the trouble of getting us alone…” Another kiss. “Shall we put Hound’s suggestions to good use?”