red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

"A b-blasted day or two?!" that was good, he knew that, but the possibility of this lasting that long was enough to get Cliffjumper worked up right now, "s-suppose that's a g-good thing but I s-sure as slag don't want this sludge-drippin', s-stupid thing goin' on for that long!"

Curling up again (narrowly having avoided slamming the top of his helm into Mirage's chin as he jerked), Cliffjumper huffed and revved his engine to work off the frustration at the thought of having to sit here for two days.

That better not happen, slag it!

"... Frag. Didn't think about the Decepticreeps bein' about. No, I don't want that," Cliffjumper said with a muttered scowl and fished out a gun out of subspace, not caring if him moving around disturbed Mirage's relaxing... dropping the gun in his lap though, the warmth from Mirage and that which was trapped between them was soothing his anger.

"This is-s a f-fraggin' sucky disaster," he finally muttered, voice still harsh with frustration even as he slowly relaxed into Mirage. And feeling distinctly embarrassed by the pleasure of being this close to Mirage.

The purr of his engine wasn't only from the gear it was working in.

"Good of you to notice," Mirage snarked back, though with little real heat. He jumped a bit, giving the back of Cliffjumper's head a glare when he pulled out the gun, but resettled the parachute around them sullenly.

"Just keep you comms open. I have the receiver out there, but I have n-no idea what temperatures and conditions it's rated for. P-Probably not ones these sorts of extremes, though."

Huffing, Cliffjumper didn't respond, just curled up again. He did make sure the emergency and mission frequencies were clear and prioritised as he settled down, squirming in his seat and fingering the gun.

He was sitting. On Mirage's lap. That had been a fleeting thought once or twice, but he'd pushed those away quickly, and at the moment not even the uncomfortable cold could really diminish the embarrassing pleasure he was sneaking out of this.

Then he frowned, rubbing a thumb down the side of the gun as he thought.

"That's just for one p-person, right? I can s-see you h-havin' rations and s-slag, but they ain't gonna las-st that long with both of us, are they? Mine's j-just... uh, good enough for one refuellin'." He didn't really prioritise that unless explicitely told when the mission ran a high risk of going badly, or separation from backup/base was a possibility counted into mission parameters.

"No. That was me estimating how long it would last f-for us both at high outp-put."

Mirage opened his mouth to continue, pausing with a faint squeak as Cliffjumper shifted in his lap.

He was half-numb with frozen plating, but he wasn't dead. The resulting temperature spike was mild, but welcome despite the surge of embarrassment it brought along with it.

Mirage ruthlessly squashed the feeling.

"I tend to prepare for long-term missions, even when n-not on them. A wise habit, it seems," he concluded wryly.

Perhaps luckily, Cliffjumper missed Mirage's squeak, far more occupied with vaguely stunned surprise while he settled down properly, relaxing - as much as he was able to considering where and in who's lap he was sitting - against Mirage with frown.

"... Wow. That's a l-lot. No w-wonder you ain't got s-space for more'n one weapon besides your regular one." It wasn't meanly said, more like teasingly as Cliffjumper recalled the incident in the human facility a bit ago now. The fact that Mirage didn't have any extra gun on him had been a really strange revelation to Cliffjumper.

An inconvenient one too.

"Good thing right now, though," Cliffjumper hummed, optics dimming a little more. It wasn't really much warmer now than earlier, but the difference, however slight, and the lack of driving wind helped keep the difference there.

It meant he was actually driving up his engine to burn more fuel, since it was now having a result, which meant Cliffjumper was relaxing, both from the faint bit more warmth and from some lassitude of lessening energy levels.

It'd of course take quite a bit before it'd affect anything, really, but it was still there.

"Of course. You never know when you might be t-trapped behind enemy lines."

As Mirage kept finding out from experience. Picking up his engine pointedly with a rev, Mirage shifted to get more comfortable against the still-frigid stone floor of the cave. He could feel his aft again - but it wasn't exactly a comfortable change.

"Hopefully all of the fuel won't be necessary."

But he already had the feeling it might not be enough.

"H-how often has that happened for ya?" Cliffjumper asked, perhaps a bit too loudly to distract from his squirm when Mirage revved his engine. Lowered activity and function or not, with the faint warming up now provided, his sensor net wasn't just alert. It was also close enough next to Mirage that it was impossible not to be affected, embarrassingly enough.

Not that he was asking for nothing; he really was sort of curious now that they were in this situation, even if being stuck in the snow wasn't the same thing.

The general outline of being stuck somewhere you didn't want to be and unable to immediately leave or change the circumstances were pretty similar though, he thought.

"...I. Think I've lost count? Dozens?"

Mirage frowned, thinking hard. He was unfortunately unsure if it was just the cold impeding the recall of old memory files...or if he really had forgotten enough to lose an accurate count.

He tried not to shrug, too cold to risk jostling the parachute from their shoulders.

"If not more, I suppose."

"How the frag do you stand it?" Cliffjumper just didn't get it. Sure, he realised on some level that spies and such were necessary, but how did they not... get too deep in, anything?

It just brought up a growling bit of wary suspicion - what if they'd been compromised, what if they were just spying for the other side - even if it could just as well be 'how the slag do they stand seeing all that they do without breaking?'

Digging his bumper into the frozen ground, Cliffjumper scrunched up his nasal ridge in a frown, partly just to see if he still could with how cold it was. At least he could still... partly... feel it. A lot of the sensors there had gone into very low activity.

Thankfully, Mirage was no mind reader like Soundwave, and couldn't see or even guess at the direction of Cliffjumper's thoughts. Growling at the idea of being trapped behind enemy lines, while counterproductive to their current situation, was perfectly understandable.

"Well, it is usually my j-job to go behind enemy lines on purpose. So I am somewhat used to it - prepping for emergencies and unexpected surprises, that is."

Was he stuttering less from cold-tense joints? A little. His core temperature was still uncomfortably low - and his limbs even more so - but his jaw was close enough to Cliffjumper's warmth to talk more easily now.

Even if Mirage had been able to... Well, Cliffjumper wasn't actually thinking about it in an accusing way.

... Well, at least not while pointing said accusations (if only in his processor) at Mirage. It was just his usual sort of paranoia popping up due to the topic, but the thoughts were hardly at the forefront of his mind.

"Yeah, o-obviously. I just mean... How do you deal with i-it? It can't be fun, and it's gotta be fraggin' tense," Cliffjumper said, scowling at the thought - in sympathy, for once. It was still hard to consider trusting a spy just... generally.

But Mirage had proven himself, hadn't he? And considering he was a priest, and that these things apparently had real weight, if he'd ever used those abilities in the Decepticons' favour, they'd have noticed by now.

Well, he thought so, anyway.

Annoyed, Cliffjumper pushed those thoughts away. He fragging well could try to trust Mirage, crush or no crush, slag it all!

"Planning."

He said it immediately, not even pausing to think.

"Planning. You need a plan, and a second plan, and a backup plan, because it can all change in an instant. But a plan is critical, because it gives you control you would otherwise be lacking. And that is very necessary in this situation."

A pause.

"And...sometimes you do not 'handle it'," Mirage shrugged, venting a chilled sigh.

"But if you are dumped unwillingly or despite the plans, behind enemy lines...you must deal with it."

"Sounds way too smeltin' stressful," Cliffjumper muttered, relaxing despite the biting cold - or maybe, rather, stopping guarding against his frame wanting to cut down on activity, "don't see why you would wanna do that kind of work."

He knew it was - probably - necessary work, the spec ops, the spies, all that, but beyond the fact that the relative ease they at least seemed to go between each faction, hidden or not made his circuits itch, it all seemed like a lot of weight on a few individuals on the hope of useful intel.

"... least the o-only thing we've got against us right now is the weather, huh?" He briefly revved his engine, dumping more heat as he curled up against himself - and tried not to be aware of Mirage, plating chilled or not.

"That is why we get p-paid well for our stress," Mirage joked, giving Cliffjumper a light nudge.

Members of the Special Operations division -being of higher rank as it was - were paid a decent amount in credits. Nothing compared to the life Mirage had once enjoyed, of course, but well enough in their current, militarized life.

"And true. At least the weather isn't trying to kill is on purpose."

"Not that there's anythin' to s-spend it on," Cliffjumper said with a snort, amused despite himself. Differences in pay grade or not, they were all, theoretically at least, amassing quite a bit of credits.

Not that they were, at present, able to be paid, or, indeed, have anything to spend it on. But, in theory it was there.

"Not sure i-if that's better or wo-orse, though." Shaking his helm, Cliffjumper relaxed - and then sat up straighter again, engine rumbling in embarrassment at having leaned back against Mirage.

Why couldn't it have been Bee he'd have been stuck here with, or something?! Far less conflict and being flustered that way, slag it all.

"Well yes, the commissary is q-quite poor on selection."

Mirage snorted a laugh, resting his chin back down on Cliffjumper's helm after he stopped moving around. What he wouldn't give to be able to buy even a hint of the resources he once had access to...

"The weather is an enemy easier bested when one is prepared." He cast a glance toward their rushed tarp protection at the door - which was still holding fast, thank Primus.

"In our current s-state, we simply have to do our best."

And hope that no Decepticons showed up to finish the job.

"Y-yeah." If he hadn't had a crush, he'd have been yelling by now, Mirage's chin on the top of his helm pressing down in a very distinct way. He sort of wanted to tell the slagger off anyway because he wasn't a fraggin' rest for Mirage's head, but the blush and his vocaliser locking up because he was so. blasted. flustered. sort of made that thoroughly impossible.

Cliffjumper tightened his hands into fists slowly, keeping them there and then let go, just as slowly. Okay. Maybe he'd actually be able to speak now at least.

"A-ain't better by bein' stuck on this mudball... Either for the weather or the s-selection in the commissary."

It was simply convenient to rest his chin between Cliffjumper's horns; convenient and warm, nothing else.

The situation may have forced close-quarters on them, but even that wasn't enough for him to lose his mind and actually touch the horns themselves. No matter how curious he might have been.

"Of course n-not. Far too wet. And dirty. And cold."

Mirage sniffed, giving the doorway another hateful glance without moving his chin from Cliffjumper's helm. He was warm, but he still didn't feel warm enough.

If Mirage had actually, acidentally or not, touched the horns, Cliffjumper would have told him to get the slag off. It was more the fact that he was simply right there, resting, that did it.

"Least in a way that ain't h-helpful," Cliffjumper agreed with a snort. It wasn't like Cybertron's polar regions weren't cold, but that was just useful, really. This cold, with the wind and snow and everything, rather seemed made to, if not kill them, at least try.

Try really hard as well.

"Mud's worse, usually. Gets s-slaggin' everywhere, like t-the bugs and bits of grass or seeds or what the s-slag ever." Before Earth, he'd been able to avoid proper showers for a long time, and just do regular clean-off maintenance. Sure, there were temporary bases on similar planets, but that'd been tolerable.

Here, they didn't even know when they'd be getting off, which meant he couldn't just put off letting scrap build up and stuff. Sometimes he did anyway, but not for long - it didn't feel pleasant.

If Mirage ever did that, hed'd have to be pretty far gone.

Or trying to provoke the minibot, flirtatiously or otherwise.

"Mud. Oh my Primus d-don't even talk to me about mud!"

Mirage hissed, squirming in an aborted thrash of emphatic ire.

"Do you even know what all is in mud? Ignoring it in the field is one thing, but cleaning it out after? Ugh!"

The way he shuddered had little to do with the cold.

He shouldn't snigger at Mirage's reaction, but his shoulders still twitched in muted chuckles. He suddenly had a brief flashback to Mirage ranting about having stepped in mud which Hound had tracked in...

"I d-don't wanna know," shaking his helm empathically, Cliffjumper snorted, "I ducked out the time a-after Ratchet found out, ya know, right in the beginning? When he'd h-had it analyzed and went on a really long and loud rant that boiled down to 'don't you f-fraggin' dare to leave it stuck anywhere in you!' and slag."

He ended up sniggering again as he felt Mirage shudder. At least his being flustered was, for the moment, pushed away under the amusement and common disgust of the mud on the planet.

"You really, really do not want to know. At all."

Despite Mirage's disgusted shuddering, he couldn't help but snicker at the reminder. Even if he was spelling things out in a medically-horrifying way, Ratchet's rants were the stuff of legend.

Creative, too. Hound actually stayed out of the mud for almost three months that time.

"I have a-already heard more than I ever needed to, thanks to Hound's frequent 'off-roading adventures' and the resultant mud coatings. Makes my tires itch just thinking about it. So t-try not to."

"Yeah, I think I can s-survive without it. Other things far more necessary to know 'bout Earth, s-so I figure as long as I m-make sure it doesn't get stuck anywhere..." Shrugging, Cliffjumper grinned at the snickering he could hear, and suddenly it just struck him, that forced to or not, they were sitting here just... talking.

That felt both extremely strange and pretty good.

If he wasn't still so slagging cold.

"... It's kinda a-amazing... disgustingly amazing the stuff organic p-planets got." The awareness of the... simplicity of the situation made him hesitate as he spoke next, but at least he wasn't blushing. Just self-conscious suddenly.

"You better not. You're sitting on me, after all. I don't care of the organic bits are probably dead from the cold." Mirage sniffed, glaring at the back of Cliffjumper's head.

"...And keep talking like that and I'll sic Hound on you for a 'field trip'," he threatened with a snicker, only half teasingly.

Mirage really would encourage Hound to take Cliffjumper 'offroading', given enough incentive.

At that statement, he couldn't help it and rolled his optics and let out a snort.

"Honestly, Mirage. If it's stuck somewhere in joints and slag where I've missed it or not gotten to it yet, it's stuck and ain't gonna be fallin' out all over you. That afraid of a little dirt?"

Despite his own proclamation that he didn't know and that he wasn't happy anytime he got covered with scrap or had to poke it out of places, he still taunted the noble, revving his engine shortly as he grinned.

"And no ya don't! Didn't I just say I didn't want to know slag 'bout all that?" Because Hound probably knew and after any initial discomfort had gotten over it and was probably now revelling in knowing and discovering more.

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