Work Text:
Breakdown needed a drink. He needed several drinks. It had been a long day. All the days were long but today had involved one clusterfuck after another, and he would be spending the rest of the week sorting them out while his boss screeched at him about it.
But first, a drink.
He made his way to Flashlane’s, his usual spot. He liked it there. Flashlane was pretty, the regulars were mostly other laborers, and talk of racing was at a minimum. He let out a sigh of relief when he reached the bar -- only for it to turn into a groan of dismay as soon as he pushed open the door.
“End of term,” he growled.
The end of the academic year was Breakdown’s least favorite time of year for no other reason than the one right in front of him: rich, hotshot, high-status students slumming it in the lower districts to celebrate their freedom.
The condescending attitudes, the entitlement, the endless, endless talk of racing… Flashlane shot him a slightly frantic, apologetic look as he stepped inside. A gaggle of nearly identical neon-green femmes were occupying his usual table, forcing him to take a seat at the bar. At least his size made it easy to push through the crowd. He easily ignored -- and maybe even took a little pleasure in -- the irritated calls of “hey watch it!” and “look where you’re going, you oaf!”
That one made him laugh to himself. Oaf . Primus, where did these little scraplets pick this stuff up?
He settled himself on a barstool with a long sigh, glad to be off his feet. Flashlane put his usual down in front of him before he even asked.
“Rough night?” he asked. She made a face as she hurriedly filled a tray of glasses with enjex.
“They buy top-shelf, they tip, they treat me like gutter trash,” she said, just loudly enough for him to hear. She picked up the tray and aimed herself at the horde. “Primus save my spark.”
Breakdown chuckled and took a sip of his drink. He wouldn’t stay long, not in this crowd. Maybe he’d buy a bottle from a store on the way home -- every bar in town would be as mobbed as this, and Flashlane was going to need every drop of high grade she had. Nobody drank like med students. Breakdown had known addicts with more restraint.
He settled in to drink and did his best to ignore the chaos around him.
“Hi there,” said a voice, smooth and smoky. “Mind if I join you?”
Breakdown looked up and into the optics of the most attractive mech he’d ever seen in his life. His paint was a crisp, luminous cherry red; his wax job was impeccable. His frame was sleek, promising speed even in rootmode. The fingers wrapped around a thin flute of high grade were long, delicate, sharp.
Breakdown shrugged, a little wary.
“If you want.”
The mech settled easily onto the stool with a casual grace Breakdown could never possibly hope to achieve.
“Knockout,” the mech said, placing a hand on his chest.
“That a name or a description?” Breakdown asked, earning a laugh. It was as sensual as the rest of the mech. Breakdown wondered if that was his natural laugh, or if he’d practiced it.
“Both. And you are…?”
“Breakdown.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Breakdown.”
Breakdown grunted noncommittally.
Breakdown had no delusions about himself. He wasn’t attractive, or rich, or fast. All of his relationships, romantic or sexual, had grown from friendships. His was not the frame that got bots like Knockout approaching him in a bar.
There were a few options. One, the mech was looking for an easy lay, hoping someone like Breakdown would be desperate for any attention. Two, he thought interfacing with a common laborer held the same illicit thrill as drinking in a low class bar. Three…
Breakdown spotted a group of bots on a nearby booth, watching with wide eyes. Some of them were hiding laughter behind their hands. Some weren’t bothering to hide. Ah. A bet.
Knockout delicately swirled the liquid in his glass.
“Do you come here often?” he asked. Breakdown resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Knockout probably didn’t have to work on his opening lines, just relied on his frame to do the attracting for him.
“This is my regular spot,” he said. “And this is your first time here.”
Knockout’s eyes glittered with amusement.
“And how can you tell?”
“Because I’d remember if somebody like you came in here before.”
Knockout smirked. He was definitely used to hearing things like that.
“Tell me about yourself, Breakdown.”
“Not much to tell,” he said. “I work in shipping. Manual labor.”
Knockout smiled, the distant smile of someone who wasn’t really listening and wouldn’t have cared about the answer if he was. His eyes trailed over Breakdown’s frame instead.
“Why don’t you tell me about you,” Breakdown said. Knockout’s face lit up, just like Breakdown knew it would.
“ Well ,” Knockout began and Breakdown instantly tuned him out. His voice was pleasant enough background noise if Breakdown ignored the words. Every now and again he would surface to nod or murmur in agreement. The snippets Breakdown did pick up matched his assumptions perfectly: Knockout was training to be a surgeon, he was the fastest mech in his social group, his mentor was head of the most prestigious hospital in the city but Knockout was considering going into private practice...
At some point, Knockout bought him a drink, forcing Breakdown to actual exchange a few words. As soon as the drink was in his hand and Knockout was once again preoccupied, Breakdown went back to ignoring him.
It took almost half an hour of chatter before Knockout leaned in and fixed Breakdown with a smoldering look.
“You know, I find you quite fascinating,” Knockout said. Breakdown choked on his drink, amazed at the sheer gall. Fascinating, when he’d said all of ten words about himself! Knockout, mistaking the cause of Breakdown’s incredulous look, smirked.
“No, really,” he insisted, laying an elegant hand on Breakdown’s thigh. “Why don’t we go back to my place and continue this conversation in a more...intimate setting?”
Breakdown smiled and leaned in close, making sure to meet Knockout’s eyes.
“No thanks.”
Knockout’s smile froze in place.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no thanks.”
“Wh- But- What-”
“I am uninterested in engaging in sexual relations with you at this time,” Breakdown said slowly, making sure to pitch it loud enough for Knockout’s friends to hear. The booth erupted in laughter.
“Thanks for the drink though. It was nice meeting you.” He plopped the drink down on the counter and patted Knockout genially on the shoulder. “Better luck next time.”
He waved at Flashlane and strolled out of the bar into the cool night air. He was going to treasure the horrified look on Knockout’s face for years to come.
He hadn’t made it more than halfway down the block when a voice called “Hey! Hey! ”
Breakdown turned and sighed as Knockout hurried up the street after him, his gaggle of friends trailing behind.
“You want me to pay you back for the drink?” Breakdown asked dryly. Knockout folded his arms across his chest.
“I want you to give me one good reason why you would turn me down,” he said. Breakdown raised his eyebrows.
“You sure you wanna have this conversation here in front of all your friends?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” chirped a blue and purple femme. Knockout glared at her, and then at Breakdown.
“ Yes .”
“Okay. I’ll give you a couple. You’re training to be a medic, so you’ve already got a complex the size of a Titan; you’re extremely attractive but painfully aware of it; what you called a conversation was you monologuing at me about yourself; you’re a spoiled brat who can’t stand being told no; you think coming down here to where I live is some sort of dangerous adventure; and you only asked because your friends thought it would be funny.”
Knockout gaped at him. His friends looked a mixture of shellshocked and delighted.
“There’s a bunch of reasons,” Breakdown said with a condescending smile. “Pick your favorite.”
This time, when he walked away, Knockout didn’t call after him.
Breakdown decided to avoid the bars for the next few days. He didn’t feel like sitting through another racer flirting with him on a dare, or because they had a fetish for slow bots. Knockout had not been the first and he would not be the last.
As a result, it was a week before he went back to Flashlane’s. When he stepped inside, it was gloriously free of students. He greeted the other regulars. Flashlane gestured for him to come close while she made his drink.
“That mech you were talking to the last time you were here, the red one? He’s here.”
“ What ? Why?”
“I don’t know! He’s been in here the last two days looking for you,” Flashlane whispered. Breakdown’s eyebrows went up. “He came in here an hour ago; just ordered a glass of high grade and sat down over there.”
Breakdown glanced at the corner. Sure enough, there was Knockout, glowering at Breakdown from the shadows.
“Be careful,” Flashlane said, handing him his drink. “His kind are always friends with somebody powerful.”
Breakdown flapped a hand at her dismissively. He strolled past Knockout, pointedly ignoring him, and sat at his usual table. The red mech waited, fingers tapping impatiently. Breakdown took a deep drink of his high-grade. Messing with Knockout had been fun, but this just spelled trouble.
Giving up, Knockout stormed over to Breakdown.
“You were wrong.”
Breakdown looked up. Elegant hands on elegant hips, Knockout glared at him.
“Pardon me?”
“You know nothing about me. I’m not a brat . I work hard at what I do. I take it very seriously, and I-”
Breakdown burst out laughing, startling Knockout into silence.
“You came in here three days in a row just to get the last word in? Are you serious ?”
Knockout stiffened.
“See, this is how I know you’re a brat. All I did was turn down an offer of a pity frag and you’re in here to what, prove you’re superior to me? Get me to apologize? Take you out back, suck your spike and tell you you’re pretty?”
“I don’t need you to tell me anything!” he spluttered indignantly.
“Then why are you here ?”
“I-I-I-”
“You think you’re the best thing since triple filtered energon, but you’re just an overgrown sparkling who can’t handle not getting what he wants. You’re mad because you know I’m right. Facts are facts, Knockout. You’re a brat. I’m not sleeping with you. Easy as that.”
Knockout looked ready to pop. Breakdown nodded towards the door, not breaking eye contact.
“Exit’s that way.”
Knockout turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“He’s here again,” was the first thing Flashlane said to him when Breakdown stepped inside. Breakdown looked and -- of all the irritating, arrogant, scrapheap things to do -- was sitting at his table.
He’d thought -- he’d hoped -- that after no sign of Knockout for a week, that had been the end of it.
Thoroughly out of patience, Breakdown marched over to Knockout.
“See now this is just stalking,” Breakdown said. “Is this your new plan? Follow me around until-”
“I’m sorry,” Knockout said, stopping Breakdown mid-rant.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. For what I said before. And the way I acted. You were right.” Knockout looked embarrassed and that alone was enough to make Breakdown wonder, just for a second, if he really meant it.
“Is that so.”
“I mean it,” Knockout said earnestly. “And what I tried to do was...cruel. I want to try again. As friends this time.”
Breakdown raised his eyebrows. Knockout held out his hand and gave Breakdown a hopeful smile.
“I’m Knockout,” he said. Breakdown wavered, then gave in. He shook the offered hand.
“Breakdown.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Knockout said, and this time he sounded like he meant it. “Why don’t you have a drink and tell me about yourself?”