Please note that this IS slash (as in man on man action) so if you don't like it, don't read past these words! You have been warned.

Title: Close Enough (which pretty much sums up the entire relationship oddly enough...)

Pairing: Humanized Lockdown/Devcon

Verse: Humanized AU, but meant to take place in Animated

Rating: Pg-13/R for molestation and mentions of sex.

Warning: inappropriate touchings, foul language, a little blood.

Summery: A belated Christmas-ish story of a typical Lockdown/Devcon day

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, because if I did, it would pretty much all be porn.

This is for my Honey Bunny, sorry it's late but I hope you feel better!

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Devcon double checked the recipe on the laptop perched precariously on the counter over sink. Yep, he done it right. So why didn't his cookie dough look like the stuff on the website? With a shrug, he close the laptop, leaving a chalky white hand print on the shiny black surface.

"Close enough."

He rolled the dough out onto floured counter. The dough stuck in chunks to the rolling pin, tearing out clods and ruining his smoothing out attempts.

"Damn Martha Stewart, she made this shit looks so easy," he grumbled.

After ten minutes he gave up on the rolling pin and beat the rebellious concoction into submission with his hands. Finally, it lay flat, and for the most part, even. He picked out a couple cookie cutters he'd got at a discount store and started slicing the dough into snowmen, stars and candy-canes. The warehouse door banged open. Lockdown came in, his heavy black peacoat covered in snow. He shook himself and took off his hat.

"There, lights are fucking fixed you neurotic bitch."

Devcon glared at the other bounty hunter. "If I go out there and my Christmas lights are still in a giant middle finger-"

"They're not," Lockdown snapped, hanging his coat on the hook by the door. "I was going to string them up in the shape of my cock, but I'd need a mile of lights for that."

Devcon rolled his eyes. "In your dreams," he said. setting his finished cookie cutouts on a baking sheet as Lockdown sauntered over.

The burly man leaned against the counter. He watched for a second before snatching one of the cutouts.

"Their penis shaped."

"Their candy-canes asshole," Devon snapped.

"Both go your mouth, what's the difference?" Lockdown grinned and popped the raw dough into his mouth.

"Damn it Lockdown!" Devcon slapped the greedy tattooed hand away from the rest of the cutouts. "Their not even cooked yet! And I have put on the icing."

"I'll get my cream icing elsewhere," Lockdown said, licking his lips.

Devcon reached over and grabbed the plug in Lockdown's earlobe and pulled.

The big man flung his arm away. "Ouch dammit! That's connected!"

"Stop being a nuisance and get out of my kitchen," Devcon growled

"Aw, don't be like that babe," Lockdown said, sliding into the kitchen with all the grace of the a cobra. He slipped behind Devon, running his hands over his hips.

Devcon elbowed his lover just below the ribs. Lockdown grunted and let him go.

"Get out of my kitchen."

Lockdown rubbed his ribs and snorted. "I'll be out with my car."

He started to walk away when Devcon caught his arm. "Bring the tree in first."

"Really? You got a fucking tree?"

"Not fucking tree, a Christmas tree. Go get it and put it in the stand."

Lockdown pulled his arm way. "I can deal cookies, the music, I can even deal with you wearing those gay hats with the puff ball on it, but I ain't having no damn tree in here."

"You can deal and you will." Devcon pressed a flower coated finger into Lockdown's chest. "I'm not asking you to sing O'fucking holy night, I asking you to be useful for once and haul heavy shit around."

Lockdown's expression slipped into a blank, poker face. He stood still for a couple seconds, staring into Devon's eyes. With a sigh turned on his heel.

"Fine, whatever. I'll put up the damn thing."

"It's down in the garage," Devcon called after him.

Lockdown scoffed and stormed out the door into the garage, leaving the door swinging.

Devcon rolled his eyes and went back to cutting out shapes in the to cookie dough. Everything was calm for ten seconds. A cat screamed and hissed so loud it made Devcon jump. Lockdown swore every curse in existence at the top of his lungs.

The door banged open and a fluffy, black and white blur zipped into the living quarters. Locky the tomcat clipped an end table and sent it scattering to the floor with a crash. He disappeared into the dark depths under the couch. Lockdown kicked the door in, breaking it off the top hinge

"I'm going to kill that little fucker!"

He turned to Devcon, four deep gashes ran from his ear to his jaw and from them blood trickled down his neck.

"What the hell did you do?" Devcon tossed the cookie cutters aside and went to Lockdown.

The wounded bounty hunter drew a pistol from the back of his jeans and flicked off the safety. "Which way did that little asshole go?"

Devcon grabbed Lockdown's wrist. "You're not shooting my cat."

He dragged Lockdown after him back to the kitchen. Turning on the warm water, he grabbed a towel. After it was damp, he cleaned Lockdown's scratches.

"If that fucker messed up my tattoos I'll make a furry thong out of him."

Devcon pressed hard on washcloth, making Lockdown hiss and jerk away.

"If you hurt my cat I'll cut your dick off," Devcon said, glaring.

"Then he shouldn't have tried to remove the half my face."

"He was just trying to improve it," Devcon chuckled. "You should have let let him, you could use some work."

"You like my face," Lockdown snapped back.

"No," Devcon corrected. "I like your cock. You're face I put up with. It talks too much."

Lockdown smirked. "Love you too, baby."

With a scoff, Devcon finished cleaning the scratches. "Get a band-aid and finish the damn tree."

"Yeah babe, I'm fine, thanks for asking."

The tattooed hunter left the kitchen and went out to the garage. Devcon went back to making cookies, lining up all the shapes on the baking sheet and then carefully slipping the frist sheet into the waiting oven. Just as he shut the door, the needlely green top of a tree thrust through the doorway. More full branches followed, then Lockdown, lost in a mass of green.

With ease, the bounty hunter lugged the evergreen inside and stood it up in its stand. With a soft whir and a click, the computer tightened the clamps and righted the tree.

"There done."

Devcon shook his head. "Put the lights on."

"It doesn't need lights," Lockdown said. "It looks fine."

"Don't argue just do it so I can hang the mistletoe."

Lockdown's eyebrows shot up. "Where are they?"

Devcon pointed to a box sitting on the couch. Lockdown snatched up the lights in the box and tossed them haphazardly onto the tree.

"There. Done."

"You can't just throw the lights on it! Fix it. Now."

"Who the fuck is going to visit us and care what the tree looks like? Fucking Santa?"

"If you don't want a lump of coal shoved up your up your ass, fix it."

Lockdown laughed. "Kinky."

The oven dinged. Devcon ignored Lockdown and scooped up a pot holder. The cookies removed, he set them to cool on the counter. They looked a little... extra golden brown.

"Close enough," he said with a smile, tossing in the next tray into the oven.

"Look a little crispy," Lockdown said behind him.

Devcon sighed. "There's no fucking pleasing you is there?"

"Of course there is," Lockdown said, putting his chin on Devcon's shoulder. "I could fuck you. That would please me."

Devcon turned around with a smile. "How about we make out for ten minutes while the cookies bake?"

Lockdown pulled Devcon to his chest. "I can work with that."