The Recording 10

Word travelled quickly through the Autobot base after Skyfire's interrogation. This made Perceptor slightly nervous. It didn't help that Tracks would be out on patrol all evening and Perceptor had forgotten to refuel (again). So when his aching tanks made a sound of protest at not being filled, Perceptor sighed and stood from his seat in front of his workbench, carefully opening the door to his lab and looking around.

No one… Perceptor smiled slightly to himself. Maybe he could go to the Rec. Room, get his energon and get back to his lab without anyone noticing. Tip-toeing down the hall, Perceptor was halfway to the Rec. Room when a hand firmly grabbed his arm. Perceptor yelped and grabbed the wrist of the hand before throwing the body over his shoulder, unaware of who it was who had surprised him.

Wheeljack groaned as he lay on the ground, staring up at Perceptor.

"Where did you learn that?" Wheeljack grumbled as he stood, dusting himself off.

"I took Metalliko night classes at the Academy." Perceptor huffed, trying to calm his sputtering spark. "You scared me, Wheeljack."

"Didn't mean to, but everytime I try to talk to you either you run away or Tracks drives me off."

"I don't want to talk to you, Wheeljack. I don't want to talk to anyone." Perceptor sighed, turning to leave. Wheeljack grabbed the smaller mech's wrist and hauled him back, Perceptor glaring up at him as they stood chest to chest.

"We need to talk." The larger mech stated firmly and Perceptor paused before attempting to dislodge his hand, failing as he struggled.

"I don't want to."

"Perceptor." The smaller mech paused. He knew that tone. It was Wheeljack's serious tone… Like when he was scolding the Dinobots or arguing with Ratchet. Perceptor looked away and made a sour face.

"Fine." Wheeljack released him and Perceptor folded his arms over his chest. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You know what, Perceptor." Wheeljack sighed. "You said you would bond with me when you were of age. You're almost there and then this happens? I'm your betrothed, Perceptor, and I see all of this evidence that is telling me that you have been unfaithful!"

"As if you haven't." Perceptor snapped, looking up at Wheeljack with a glare. "You know I don't love you. Our betrothal is nothing but higher ups politicking around and being petty."

"I love you, Perceptor! Even if our betrothal is nothing to them it means everything to me!" Wheeljack looked down at the smaller mech, cupping his face gently. Perceptor jerked his helm away and looked up at Wheeljack levelly.

"I don't love you, Wheeljack… And whatever it is you feel for me, it isn't returned." Perceptor whispered, walking down the hall. "I'm sorry for leading you on like this."

"Is that what you do with every mech who says they love you?" Wheeljack whispered, staring at Perceptor's back. The smaller mech flinched and shook his head. "Because if you're just toying with Tracks… If you lead him on… No one is going to trust you with love."

"I'm not leading Tracks on…" Perceptor whispered. "I'm not sure if I love him… But I know that there is something there."

"What do you see in him?" Wheeljack sighed, looking away. Perceptor paused before shaking his head.

"He makes me feel worthwhile…"

Perceptor didn't look back as he completed his journey to the Rec. Room, retrieving his cube of energon.

Trudging back to his quarters, Perceptor sighed as he laid down on his berth, not noticing that his door hadn't locked. He was halfway into recharge when the door opened nearly silently, the small mech pausing before shrugging off the sound and allowing himself to drift off.

A pair of glowing blue optics were fixed on Perceptor as strong yet slender hands hovering over Perceptor's body, a pale red light blinking near the mech's uniquely shaped helm. The hands pulled back and slipped into a subspace, dropping a flat disc into the energon resting beside Perceptor's berth, the powder quickly dissolving. The shadowy mech quickly hid himself amongst the clutter and projects, watching and waiting for the show that would inevitably start…

PWP

"I missed something…" Red Alert hissed, looking over his datapad as he lay ontop of his recharging mate. He was going through his previous notes, frowning when that yielded nothing. He sighed and pulled up the sound recordings he had made of the perpetrator's voice.

"So, Percy, you think you could take that spike in you?" Red Alert frowned before replaying the clip, listening with offlined optics. Something sounded off… He listened again, and again, finally pinpoint it. A barely heard click hidden beneath the voice modulator. He sat up and began furiously typing away at the pad, sitting with his legs crossed in a bowl shape on his mate's abdomen as he hunched over the datapad. Optimus grunted and shifted slightly, beginning to rouse from his recharge.

"So, Percy, you think you could take that spike in you?"

"Almost, got it…" Red Alert hissed. Finally he gave a loud "ah-ha" and played the clip over.

The voice that filtered over the datapad had him blinking and staring at it incredulously.

"Optimus!" Red Alert kicked his mate's shin-guards, causing Optimus to grunt and sit bolt upright.

"I'm up!" He sleepily exclaimed, looking around before noting Red Alert sitting between his legs. "Red?" He glanced at his chronometer. "Red, it's one in the morning." He groaned, moving to lie back down.

"Optimus! Listen to this and tell me who it is!" Red Alert shoved Optimus back upright and the larger mech sighed, taking the datapad. Red pressed the small playback button and the voice filtered through the small speakers to them.

Optimus blinked before frowning and looking over at Red Alert.

"Sunstreaker?" Red Alert asked curiously and Optimus shook his helm.

"Mirage."