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redbowedblogger · 2 years

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KOBD SPA DAY- requested by universallyprincecollective

Breakdown hummed to himself as he cleaned another tool kit. Today went so smoothly. The mine was producing well, the medbay was empty, and all he had to do was clean up a bit before Knockout came home. He sealed the kit once it was sterilized. He had to set a reminder to bring more of these down into the mines, they had blasted three new tunnels today and each would require an emergency kit to be brought up to code. Not that Megatron cared. But Breakdown did. He was just finishing another kit when he heard the medbay doors swoosh open. He would have recognized the sound of his conjux's footsteps anywhere.

"Hey Knockout, how was work toda-ayeagh……" he could not help but wince at the sight of Knockout. Disheveled was the polite way to put it. Knockout was a hot mess, Covered in mud and scrapes. A trail of organic detruis led from where Knockout stood back out into the hall. A large stick was jammed above his left wheel well and he stood in a tense haunch.

"Oh sweet spark," Breakdown cooed as he walked over to where Knockout stood slightly trembling.

"Bad day?" He hazard to guess as he gently plucked the stick out and peeked into the wheel well to look for any damage. Knockout planted his face in Breakdown's ample chest plates

"I'm going to fragging kill someone." He groaned, his voice muffled. Breakdown rubbed his shoulder gently, heedless of the mud. Knockout's plating was as tight down to his frame as it would go, making him appear even smaller than usual. With some gentle coaxing it returned to a more normal position. Primus the mud was under the plates too.

"Come on into decon. Let's get you all cleaned up." Breakdown suggested. Knockout groaned in response, still muffled by giant breast plates.

Sound bounced around in the tiny tiled room in the back of the med bay. Steam boillowed as warm solvent flowed from the tap over head, dampening them both. Knockout sighed as the muck slid off of his frame and down the drain. While the surface plating was being cleaned, Breakdown began filling the large soaking vat with more hot water. He held up a small bottle.

“Time for a new top coat?” he suggested.

“Please.” Knockout keened, eyeing the bottle of wax remover. A generous amount of stripping agent caused a lush froth to form over the top of the water. From the rack on the wall Breakdown selected a long narrow brush, and after checking that the tub would not overflow, he began to scrub underneath Knockout's armor. Knockout fluffed up his plates to encourage him.

“Ow! Careful,” Knockout hissed as the brush touched something tender in his back.

“Sorry” Breakdown murmured, stroking the plate above the offending spot gently. “Feels like a piston out of alignment. Anywhere else is sore?” Knockout grunted.

“Neck. and between my shoulder pauldrons,” he reported. Breakdown frowned a touch. “I'll have to realign them manually.” he warned.

“Clean first.” demanded Knockout.

“Clean first.” agred Breakdown, kissing a helm fin.

Free of mud and debris, Knockout lowered himself into the soft foamy froth of the vat.

“Ooooooooh…. Thats nice.” he sighed, sinking in until his pointed chin brushed the waterline. The fresh scent of the wax stripper filled his nasal. After a brief soak to loosen up the old layer, Breakdown took a soft cloth and started to gently buff the wax off of Knockout's frame, starting at his peds. The old wax came off in little grey piles that squished under Breakdown’s fingetrips. By the time he reached Knockout’s shoulders, a soft rumbling purr was emitting from his engine. Knockout rested his helm on the lip of the tub, optics closed, as Breakdown tenderly scrubbed the wax off of his shoulders. Breakdown grinned as he felt the contented vibrations in his servos.

“Does that feel good?” he asked as he started on Knockout’s helm.

Knockout cracked open his optics and looked up to meet Breakdown’s orange face, cranky at being asked to think.

“Good.” he conceded, still purring. Breakdown chuckled as he rubbed behind one pointed audial. He could have sworn he saw a ped twitch in satisfaction.

By the time the tub had drained Knockout’s tact net was liquid mercury, so he only whined a little when Breakdown picked him out of the tub and propped him under the dryers. Hot air blew away the last of the water and bubbles, leaving Knockout dry and without his usual shine.

“Let's go take care of those misaligned pistons.” Breakdown invited as he opened the door back into the rest of the medbay. Knockout followed after him, dragging his peds noticeably less.

“The hot solvent helped to unknick the cables but I still feel them catching when I move.” Knockout complained as he plopped onto one of the nicer medbeths. Breakdown came up behind him and put both hands on Knockout's neck, feeling along his life cord with large rounded thumbs.

“Yeah, they whacked you good. Your last three are all wonky.” he said, adjusting his grip. He now had either side of the Knockout helm cradled in a massive palm, his digits resting on high sharp cheekbones.

“I got thrown through SEVERAL trees.” Knockout explained before taking a deep invent. Breakdown hummed as he jerked Knockout’s helm to one side. The brutal crunch of metal parts echoed into the empty room, followed by a soft cry. Knockout's frame slumped alarmingly limp in Breakdown’s grip. After a beat of silence the purring of Knockout's engine returned.

“Primus brakey.” he sighed on the exvent. “That was a good one, did you get all of them?” Breakdown ran his thumbs along his neck again, applying steady pressure.

“2 out of 3. One more small adjustment.” he reported as he took the top of Knockout’s helm in one servo, steadying him with the other. He guided Knockout’s helm in a few small gentle circles before pressing the opposite direction. A smaller more subdued pop sounded, and Knockout groaned.

“Theeer it is.” he announced. He proceeded to recline on the berth before rolling onto his stomach, cradling his face in his bent arms. Cautious of his large frame, Breakdown clambered onto the berth and straddled Knockout's legs. Knockout giggled.

“Careful Breakdown, someone might think we are up to something naughty.”

“We are up to something naughty. Technically there is 15 minutes left on shift.” Breakdown quipped. He made a few small adjustments to how Knockout was holding his arms, before running his hands up and down Knockout's back, spine between his pointer fingers.

“Ok, here we go. Invent deep.” he ordered, crossing his palms over a spot between the wheel wells. As soon as he felt Knockout’s shoulders rise, he pressed down and forward. Three hollow cracks rang out followed by the air hissing out of Knockout’s vents.

“True.” he conceded with a groan. “But if this isn't healthcare then I don't know what is.” it was Breakdown’s turn to chuckle as he idly stroked his thumbs across his lover's back. He only stopped the gentle touch when Knockout patted his knee, signaling that he was ready to get up.

Yellow eyes greedly roamed Knockout's frame as he sat up and stretched, reveling at how good it felt.

“Like what you see?” Knockout purred.

“You are so beautiful,” Breakdown told him. It wasn't the first time he had said it, hell wasn't even the first time he had said it that cycle. But something in his tone, of the earnest shift in his frame made Knockout feel all flustered and sheepish.

“Breakdown~” he whined, covering his face with his servos. “I'm matte.”

Breakdown laid all of the supplies out carefully on an instrument tray. Now that he was clean and his frame was in proper working order, Knockout was much more chatty.

“Can you believe Screamer? The coward flew away the second the autobots showed up. Usually hes good for at least one bombing run but not today. The skinny jerk fragged off without so much as taking a potshot. It was all ‘we,we,we,us,we' when he needed me to track the signal but it became ‘i me me i’ pretty damn quick.” Knockout said as Breakdown put the airbrush together. He handed his most damaged arm over without a pause. “Left me to get the scrap beat out of me by those two ingrate sparklings. Papa prime let them play with some of the expensive toys today, and after they bounced me off a few trees, they threw me down a mudslide.” he sneered.

“Muuum.” Breakdown hummed, letting the words wash over him as he focused on the paint.

“I got my licks in, trust me, but two on one was just not fair. And they had the most garish paint jobs. Smokestack or whoever- The kid who had the key in his chest- was navy and yellow. Yellow. I mean bumblebee pulls yellow off, but he's been dedicated to that look forever. Seriously, kids black and yellow phase has lasted longer than some bot's conjuxing, but yellow and navy. Puh-lease! And he got a number on his doors. Try hard much? Batch numbers are sooo functionalist council.” he traded arms, holding the one out to admire the gleam of wet red paint.

“I think Screamo is up to something. That's the only reason he would have bailed to leave me sparkling sitting so readily. I mean that should have been an easy win. Plus he's been all shifty after work. Hasn't been down to Steve's at all this week. Poor mech thinks he offended ‘lord air commander Starscream’ somehow” Knockout made linbrial use of air quotes.

“What do you think he's cooking up this time?” Breakdown asked as Knockout kicked a ped up into his lap.

“Pit if I know.” Knockout scoffed as new paint was applied to his shin. “Something something assasnation, something something megatron has fallen. You know how he is. He never talks to me anymore. And I don't think he's taking his supplements. He's strut thin, I couldn't take an ounce off of him if I tried. Me, an aerodynamic specialist. There's no way he's structurally sound like that. Megatron doesn't hit him any harder now, you know, probably less. His frame just can't absorb it like his old one did.” Knockout switched legs with a flourish. “I thought he was struggling after the whole thing with his trine but now… i swear to primus he's going to nose dive off the deep end and i'm not going to be able to race after him fast enough.”

“Don't think he would hurt himself do you?” Breakdown paused and looked up, concerned. Starscream was an annoying little glitch, but he was their annoying little glitch.

Knockout paused in thought.

“Not his style.” he said finally. “Now doing something stupid and getting hurt by someone else-” he trailed off, uneasy.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” Breakdown agreed as he finished the topcoat. Knockout swung his peds idly.

“You know, you really should let me do yours once in a while. You are too handsome to be running around like that.” Knockout changed the topic as Breakdown assembled the larger rotary buffer.

“Knocks, I work in a mine, when I'm not getting into fights. I don't have to be flashy, I just have to be waterproof.” he defended as he dolaped wax onto the soft buffer pad

“Yes but it would look so nice. You deserve nice things.”

“I have you.” he said as he turned it on and took one of Knockout's arms in his hand.

“You are so sappy.” Knockout rolled his optics. “And ticklish,” he added. Poking one claw tip in a seam of Breakdowns armpit.

“Knockout!” Breakdown shouted as he squirmed. “Stop, I'm going to smudge it.” he laughed.

“Ooo~ I'm so scared. Then you will have to start over and I will have to spend more time bening buffed by my big strong conjux.” Knockout laughed.

“I'm serious,” Breakdown said as he moved the rotary in small circles over freshly painted plates.

“Ok, ok. Can't have anyone knowing that big tough commander Breakdown is ticklish.”Knockout conceded

“Exactly. I have a hard exterior facade to keep up. Wouldn't want the troops to think I'm going soft.” Breakdown said haughtily.

“Mm. that's why Av3ry came in here the other day asking for the recipe for your rust sticks.” Knockout purred as the buffer moved across his left headlight.

“The kid earned those, moved three parcels of energon all by himself. Besides, he should know better. That recipe comes with me to the grave.” Breakdown said, his tone serious for the first time in the conversation.

“Yes, commander Breakdown, fearsome smasher of autobots and baker of treats.” Knockout purred as the soft poof spun its way across his right chestplate.

“And master of the rotary buffer.” Breakdown added as he swiped the buffer to Knockouts back. It was hard to tell what was making a louder humming, the buffer or Knockout’s engine. Fresh wax was applied to every part of Knockouts' new paint, the flowery scent of it filling the medbay more effectively than any air freshener. Next chrome polish and a soft cloth was brought out and gently rubbed into the silver plates of Knockouts, peds, hands, and thighs. The pair of them worked in companionable silence until Breakdown brought out the tiny bottle of joint oil and started to work on Knockout's talons. Knockout flexed the digits in his hand, helping to work the oils into his fingers.

“Do you remember how those silly upper caste entertainers used to point their hands?” he asked, admiring the wet gloss.

“Yeah. you always loved it, but never could do it on your own because of work.” Breakdown recalled, dabbing the extra with a cloth.

“Yes, I thought I was sacrificing for the job back then.” he scoffed.

“You always did your face up though. I remember the nights of those important dinner parties, you would fret in front of the mirror for hours.” Knockouts eyes got a starry look.

“Of course I would. My face is white. It was built to be painted.” he gently scrapped a tallon along his chin and sighed.

“I don't miss it. The snobby aristocrats, the spoiled racing toys demanding I make them faster. The functionalist scrap heaps looking at you sideways. But I do miss the makeup. The glamor. The fun.” he reminisced.

“I know you do. I hated those parties, getting all dressed up to attend some vanity project so that a bot with more money than sense could tell you three things that would have fit in an email. I recall being flabbergasted at enjex so expensive it could fuel a pit crew for a vorn being poured from fountains. I loved dancing with you. Seeing your frame shimmer in the crystal chandeliers as you moved more graceful than greased lightning.`` At this point Breakdown was getting wistful too.

“We were so foolish. Thinking we could change a world like that.” Knockout delicately pulled his hand from Breakdowns. His tone was distracted and sad and so, so, tired. It broke Breakdown’s spark to hear him like that. An idea popped into his head.

“Hey Knockout.” he said, splitting into a grin. “Do you want to do something fancy, foolish and a tad wasteful?” he asked. Knockout perked up, if only the tiniest bit.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, curious. Normally it was him making the rash decisions. He watched as Breakdown began rummaging around in his subspace. He pulled out a small glittering vial and handed it to Knockout. Gold glitter finer than anything Knockout had ever seen swirled suspended in liquid.

“Breakdown, where did you get it?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I made it!” his conjux announced proudly. “The gold dust is from the mines, and I think I finally cracked the formula on the stuff you used to use. It was hard to find an earth equivalent for tetrihexian silicates, but it should work.” Knockout was speechless. He hadn't seen gold paint this high quality since before they had left velocitron.

“Can you… I know you have already done alot for me tonight.. Can you put it on me? With some of the other stuff I've held onto? Paint my lips, a bit of rouge? It's fine if you don't want to, I'll just save this for a special occasion.” he couldn't help the eger lift in his voice.

“Go get your kit, I will put the rest of this away.” Breakdown chuckled. Knockout all but dashed to their berth room.

From under their massive berth, which was actually just two standard berths welded together, he pulled a small lock box. His spark soared. He hadn't had the occasion to pull this out for centuries. He was practically vibrating with excitement when he returned to the main medbay, where Breakdown was adjusting the med berth to a sitting position. He slid the box onto the foot of the berth and hopped up, settling against the backrest. Breakdown input the security code and lifted the lid on Knockout's treasure chest.

First thing he brought out was a chainmail cloth, made of impossibly tiny tarnish titanium rings. He placed the cloth into the forge across the room to heat up.

Back in the box he grabbed a purple swath of fine fabric. It whispered against itself as it was drawn out and unfolded, the texture impossibly smooth against Breakdowns fingertips. Knockout shivered a bit as the vosian silk detailing cape settled around his frame. Starscream had once mentioned that if he could get real vosian silk again he would make pillowcases, to support his wings. Pillowcases. Out of vossian silk. The thought was absurd.

Next, Breakdown pulled a few small brushes out and laid them neatly on the now empty instrument tray. The brushes were cheap, compared to everything else in the cosmetic case, made of base steel and synthetic fibers, but they were one of the first courting presents Breakdown had ever made for him, and were meticulously well cared for. Finally Breakdown lined up a few small vials, in varying shades of reds, pinks, and one black. His handmade gold stood proudly at the end of the line. He sat on his stool and scooted so close that Knockout could feel the warm air from his vents.

“Close your optics.” Breakdown ordered gently as he selected a brush. Eyes first. Once he had the eyes the rest would fall into place. Knockout sat stone still as Breakdown worked. He felt the cool touch of the ceramic paints on his face, the soft draw of the brushes as they smoothed pigment out over his sensitive metal. Breakdown’s servos were as steady as they were when he swung a hammer, manipulating the brushes as precisely as he would any medical instrument. He swiped, stroked, dabbed, and blended. Color glided over his optics, tickled against his cheek struts, and gently kissed his lips. It was a special kind of agony, the sweet sensual touch mixed with the anticipation of seeing the finished product.

“Ok. I think that should do it. I'm going to get the hot mail to set this.” Breakdown finally announced. It took all of Knockout’s will to not crack open an optic and sneak a peek. But he also knew that if he moved before the colors cured, it would be a disaster.

“Ok, the chainmail is nice and hot. Don't move.” Breakdown instructed before settling the glowing mesh over Knockout’s face, holding it by either corner and letting the weight settle from the top of Knockout's face down. Knockout sighed as the heat absorbed into his face. It felt so good, like he would never be cold again. autobots, decepticons, Starscream, all of it faded away. There was no past, no present, just the warmth of the mail, the softness of the silk cape, and the sureness of Breakdown’s servo in his own. The intense heat would bake the ceramic colors onto his face, and a shine less wax would go overtop to protect it.

Breakdown ran his thumb over Knockout's servo as his face baked. Knockout began to purr, and his em field, normally well controlled, lapped out against Breakdowns. Breakdown basked in his conjusx’s contentment, his own engine beginning to purr in time with his beloved’s. He watched as the red hot mail cloth faded back to shining silver. Only when it was cool to the touch did he reach out to remove it.

Knockout felt the now cool cloth being removed, and then the excess flakes of paint being whisked from his face with a large and fluffy brush. He dared to crack a scarlet optric.

“No peeking!” Breakdown smiled as he prepared a facial buffer, a much smaller and more precise cousin to their large roterty. The wax was cool and soft on Knockouts plating as the pillowy brush head worked it in rapid circles. The vibrations carried into the rest of Knockout’s skull and left a pleasant buzzing sensation. Pure satisfied bliss came from Knockout in waves as Breakdown moved the buffer in straight lines from his chin up to his temples, straight across his brow lines, and he could not resist the temptation to take an image capture as Knockout lifted his head to be polished under his pointed chin. The artistry of his makeup combined with his blissed out expression was a sight worth saving for the rest of time.

At long last, Breakdown pulled the last item from the lockbox. It was a gilded hand mirror, beautifully crafted with crystal flowers etched into the silver handle. It was the one thing that Knockout had had longer than Breakdown. He placed it into one pointed, tenderly maintained, beautifully dexterous,hand.

Knockout was greatly pleased. It was much more simple than anything he would have chosen, but it highlighted his features wonderfully. Deep red paint filled out the natural curved shape of his lips, and his red optics positively glowed from underneath smoky shadowed shutters. Glimmering gold lined them, exaggerating their pointed shape in a way that made him look dangerous and intriguing. Dark brows gracefully arched, perfectly symmetrical on either side of his face. The high points of his cheeks had been lightly dusted in a soft rose pink, so subtle it blended out perfectly into his porcelain white face. It added just a hint of demure coyness. He suddenly had to see the rest of his frame. He stood up and discarded the fine drape of silk as fast as he dared.

Knockout ran to the biggest mirror he could find, the one in their berth room. He waited impatiently for Breakdown to follow him in before slamming the control. The door slid down from the ceiling and locked into place, separating them from the rest of the world. Welded to the back of the door was a large mirror, just thin enough to fit on the door and not impede its movement. It was never intended to be there, but Knockout had spotted it in a dumpster behind a decommissioned motel. Knockout hadn't even known humans made mirrors this big, it would have taken up the entirety of one of their walls. He had snacthed it up and taken it to the nemesis, consequences be damned.

He stared at the bot in the mirror for a long time, taking a good hard look at all of the little details. He was shocked to find that the bot standing there, clutching his hand mirror, was not him. At least not who he was anymore. Before him stood a different Knockout, young and stubborn and idealistic. A Knockout who reveled at high class parties, having bought a place there with his skill and his looks. A Knockout who lived for the thrill of being seen with a truck. One who would burn their shining citadels down to see the beauty of the flames. Tears began to spill down his face. The pigment did not smudge, Breakdown had cured and sealed it perfectly.

“If it's that bad we can get out the sanding clay and start again…” Breakdown started uncertain. Knockout looked at his husband's reflection next to his own. Breakdown was bigger than Knockout in every aspect. He had never belonged at those fancy parties, being paraded around like some exotic pet. He had given up so much of what he loved to be there with Knockout. Sure now his blue paint was chipped, his chrome scuffed, often coming home dusty and dented. But he was happy. The joy he took in commanding his troops, of working his frame, from brawling with those stuck up autobots. Knockout would gladly rust if it meant keeping Breakdown.

“It's perfect.” he said, leaning into Breakdown's embrace, admiring how they fit together in the mirror.

#transformers #tfp #breakdown #kobd #knockout #robots in love #gay #selfcare #grooming #buffing is a love language #@universallyprincecollective

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