The Start of Something Interesting...

[lastonepercent]

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time.  The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on.  The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased.  He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity.  It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and  the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors.  Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

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[cliffjumper]

In the end, it had taken longer than probably planned or intended before Cliffjumper's "punishment" got put into actual reality, as a storm shortly after the incident in the storage room left the Autobots offering help and then a few days later Decepticon activity ramped up.

So it wasn't until two weeks later Cliffjumper was walking (okay, slooowlyyyy and dragging his feet about it) to where he'd been told to go, thoroughly uncomfortable.

Partly because he had no idea what Mirage intended, and he hated not knowing, especially as he didn't really trust Mirage - or Tracks either for that matter - to not come up with something humiliating. He was... uhm. Attracted to Mirage, yes, but that didn't mean he was stupid; the noble could be quite vicious when he wasn't aloof and standoffish, though Bumblebee had nuanced that picture, which was why, besides the physial attraction, the crush probably lingered.

But yeah, not stupid, and he'd had to spend the last two weeks with people needling him over his multiple missteps - or trying to badger him into telling them what Tracks and Mirage had been doing. How people had found out he didn't know, but he'd stayed stubbornly quiet about it. He'd also had to spend the time mostly with Bumblebee when it turned out nearly everybody of even his usual friends were being... insufferable.

Bumblebee, while he'd not let Cliffjumper get away from the fact that he'd acted stupidly in part, was at least more understanding.

Cliffjumper also found himself uncomfortable because after what had been said, he'd gone and done some research into that "pain could sometimes be pleasant" thing. Sure, most of it had by necessity have to come from human sources, but the theory was the same as he'd been able to piece together, so it was close enough to be helpful.

And close enough to let the minibot come to the conclusion that he didn't understand it at all, and got sort of... upset, at the thought of pain being caused deliberately like that, even if everybody participating supposedly enjoyed it.

It didn't seem safe, and it didn't seem right, but besides that, it just caused a viceral reaction in some deeper programming that just had Cliffjumper upset at the idea in general. And that was sort of annoying, but---

Pushing the thought away as he'd gotten there, Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates and straightened his back. He could do this.

[lastonepercent]

In the time between their last 'meeting', Mirage has been very busy. More busy than he would have liked, given the recent return of Decepticon activity. His irritation over the interruptions never really faded, only taking a different form over time.

A brief mission and a usually vicious bought of sabotage, however, ensured the former noble a block of time without emergency interruptions.

The news getting out was probably Track's doing, which Mirage couldn't really begrudge. He didn't care one way or another if people knew Cliffjumper made an aft of himself - social punishment was one the temple's preferred methods of punishment, after all. And he was going to be making his amends.

If the other mechs didn't know just what, specifically, had been interrupted...well.

It wasn't time for that quite yet.

With Tracks (who wanted as little contact with the minibot as possible) waiting in the ritual room, Mirage waited in the officer's bath nearby. He'd specially booked it or the evening, and it was the destination of the instructions relayed to Cliffjumper via comm-ping. He sat on the side of the chemical wash, waiting in the steam for Cliffjumper to arrive.

[cliffjumper]

It took a while because when Cliffjumper realised what and where Mirage had decided he should come meet him, Cliffjumper ended up staring a lot and completely confused as to why they were going to meet in a bath.

... And the officers' bath, too.

But, since he was doing this, even if he didn't want to, Cliffjumper did slide inside after a while, frowning and optics flickering around the room.

"... Why are we here?" Cliffjumper couldn't really see, at all, what could require meeting in a fragging bath... Well, unless Mirage wanted him to clean the whole place or whatever, and while that might be annoying, it'd be... something simple and concrete and known.

[lastonepercent]

"Cliffjumper."

Mirage said in pointed greeting, narrowly dipping his head. The steam was thick, air scented with the tang of hot oil and chemical wash, but Cliffjumper's entrance momentarily cleared the room to see more clearly.

"We are here for you to make amends, if you recall correctly."

He rose up, long legs unfolding from his meditative pose on the edge of the bath. He motioned Cliffjumper further inside.

"So come closer, so we can get started."

[cliffjumper]

"In a bath?" Almost literally creeping closer slowly, frown heavy as he squinted around them, the wariness was probably extremely easy to pick up on. Cliffjumper also didn't want to get closer, because even with the steam partly obscuring easy vision in a standard visual range, it was all too easy to catch sight of Mirage anyway.

Mirage and his long and lean lines, the planes of his armour highlighted by condensation in the heat... Looking away from Mirage again, Cliffjumper shifted on his feet and finally got up in front of Mirage, though almost a full length of his own frame apart.

Nevermind what they were doing here, Cliffjumper just didn't want to be here. Not with Mirage, and the sort of intimacy a bath implied. It set his teeth and field on edge with embarrassment.

"How the slag am I gonna do anything in a bath?"

Unbidden, there were a few thoughts that popped up into his helm and he managed to banish them fast enough there were no reaction to them other than a tiny flare of his optics, which was probably lost in the softened light from the steam.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage watched as Cliffjumper hemmed and hawed with a raised optic ridge, before sighing in exasperation.

Apparently he needed to explain in detail if he wanted Cliffjumper to even come inside without acting like he was the one getting Marked tonight.

"Oh, calm down already. It is nothing nefarious."

With a huff, Mirage stepped back and set himself back down, this time on the lip of the bath which put them at about the same height.

"I'll try to explain, but I doubt you'll understand entirely."

Offlining his optics briefly, he vented heavily, setting the steam swirling, before his engine rose up in a low, deep rumble that almost seemed to hold a note in the tone of it; like a chant or song.

[cliffjumper]

There might have been a muttered "says you" somewhere there, but it was nearly sub-sonic and not meant to be heard. Frowning at Mirage as he sat back down again, Cliffjumper crossed his arms and stared as the noble seemed to... what?

Get ready to sing?

How would that explain anything?

But even as he frowned and shifted on his feet, wanting to snap something about 'so explain it already!', Cliffjumper kept his vocal processors in neutral and his vocaliser off and instead got a little closer.

He could be patient, and Mirage hadn't even started... whatever and however he was going to explain it. That Mirage was willing to at least try (but why was it so slagging hard to explain, anyway?) to explain was nice, but at the same time it just made him more nervous because what was so complicated it would need an explanation that wasn't easy to do?

[lastonepercent]

Mirage was both pleased and surprised that Cliffjumper didn't interrupt, but gladly finished his wordless engine-song without pause.

It was merely a warmup without official religious significance, but his mentor - and predecessor - in the Temple had given him the habit. He gently let the sound fade, irritation soothed by the brief meditation.

"To make amends properly, you have to assist in repairing what was interrupted. But to participate, you must be properly anointed."

Mirage raised an optic ridge, gesturing to the steaming bath right behind him.

[cliffjumper]

By the end of it, Cliffjumper was confused - a little more relaxed, having dropped his arms from their tight fold against his chestplates and loosened his stance a little, but confused, because that didn't explain anything.

Mirage was sort of pretty like that thou---

"What?!" The previous tension sprang right back as Cliffjumper took half a step back, hands up. "I don't know a single slaggin' thing 'bout... stuff like that and ya want me helping?" Even if he didn't know what Mirage meant by that he should "assist", Cliffjumper couldn't see how it would be clever to have someone who didn't know anything help.

[lastonepercent]

The former noble/priest waved a hand, unconcerned.

"You do not need to. Your complacent presence will be enough, provided you remain respectful throughout."

Despite his relaxation, Mirage's expression turned briefly severe at his words, before he stood and gestured to the bath once more.

"So come. Once you are ritually cleansed we can get started."

[cliffjumper]

"Wait, you mean I gotta---" Shaking his helm, Cliffjumper took another half-step back, finally connecing the dots and he didn't like it at all.

He had to sit around while Tracks did... did that to Mirage? Even if he knew that the whole thing was intentional and willing it sort of made his fuel pump want to back up. Catching himself, Cliffjumper shook his helm again, grit his teeth, and got forward again.

He just had to sit there.

It'd be okay, right?

"This is a stupid idea. You sure you don't want me to do somethin' else?" Cliffjumper muttered as he reluctantly got up to the edge of the bath, eyeing the very normal contents steaming inside.

[lastonepercent]

"It's not what I want," Mirage corrected with a sigh. "It is what is required."

Mirage reached off the side of the bath into a bucket of tools, offering Cliffjumper a long-handled brush.

"You think you are the first person ever to interrupt a ceremony or walk in on a closed rite? Of course not. We have several ways to make amends, and this is the easiest and quickest."

Mirage didn't bother telling Cliffjumper that there were records of the more grievous offenses being dealt with in more permanent ways. In the heyday of the Priesthood, offering the offender's spark back to Primus was considered the ultimate purification.

...Even if that sort of thing had been an option, which it obviously wasn't, Cliffjumper's offense was mild. But it would have been so amusing to see the look on his face.

[cliffjumper]

If Cliffjumper had been more of an atheist, he'd probably have dug his feet in more about "what's required" and what wasn't, but while he'd never had much of a reason or chance to get much exposure to what there existed of organised religion on Cybertron before the war, he still had some belief.

Which meant he reluctantly took the offered brush with a narrow scowl, then eyed the bath like it was a smelting pool or full of acid rain runoff.

"Why can't it be somethin' else, I mean, ya can't mean there's just one way to do this..." With a grimace, Cliffjumper finally got in and well, it was just a bath so it didn't feel any different than it usually did, even if it wasn't one as pleasant as an oil or energon one, since it was meant to scour things off, not lubricate every little joint, seam and whatever else could rub against something else.

He still didn't like the idea of having to sit in on... that. Or having Mirage stare at him like this, but turning his back to the noble so he didn't have to see that wasn't possible either, so Cliffjumper ended up angled somewhat away from Mirage as he hesitantly got to work.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage waited a moment, nodding in satisifaction when Cliffjumper finally got into the bath.

It would feel like a normal bath at first, but given the far higher concentration of acids within the cleansing mixture Cliffjumper would probably notice a faint stinging after a while.

"There were other ways, but they are either no longer an option in the current world, or are situations that you would like even less."

Mirage shrugged, smirking faintly at Cliffjumper's back. He leaned away for a moment, reaching off to the side...before sitting back up with another brush and dunking it in the bath, before applying it to an unsubmerged portion of a shoulder-tire.

[cliffjumper]

It'd probably take a while before Cliffjumper could connect what it was that felt off about the bath and how usual scouring baths or showers usually felt, and he kept shifting on his feet and frowning at the liquid while he worked the brush over his side.

"... Ya know, that ain't the least bit reassurin'---" Cutting off, Cliffjumper's optics flickered as he registered the bristly pressure of one brish too many on the opposite side of where he was using the brush he held.

Usually, help would be appreciated and wanted, especially in places that were hard to reach, especially as it might imply, or lead to, some trust and attendant closeness. But Cliffjumper didn't trust easily, and washing - being vulnerable - with someone else in the room, even (especially) someone he... ahem, liked, but was well-aware didn't have much over for him, made the presence of that brush a sharp reminder of that Mirage was present in a way just talking hadn't.

"What're you doing!" That was not a squawk with slight static feedback, and neither did his optics flare as he whirled around, staggered backwards a step or two and almost fell backwards into the liquid, waving the brush at Mirage.

Not at all.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage leaned back with an optic flicker as liquid spattered across his frame off the brush.

Slowly, he raised an optic ridge, incredulous.

"...Speeding up the process, of course. I would think that is something you would have preferred."

He gave his own brush a jaunty little waggle in return, engine huffing in amusement.

[cliffjumper]

"Yes, but---" Cliffjumper practically hissed, now clutching the brush close as his optics flickered around the room, avoiding Mirage and his optics, trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't explain anything... incriminating.

Even way before the war he'd been extremely picky about who he let help him, which sometimes led to issues of things getting left cleaned only by having had cleaning solution sluiced over it without a proper scrub when none of those people were close.

Cliffjumper's wary and hard to trus personality and wasn't a cause of the war, it had just been excerbated by it. And while he might have had an embarrassing thought or two of a scene like this, with this mech, it hadn't certainly been a situation like this... and it wasn't as if he'd ever thought it'd happen, so it hadn't mattered.

"I can do it myself," Cliffjumper finally insisted, aware of too-bright optics and that he still was clutching the brush like it was a weapon to hold Mirage off, and eased up the grip on it.

He certainly wasn't affected at all, no sir.

[lastonepercent]

Staring for a long moment, Mirage simply shrugged.

"Very well. You can do it yourself, but you will have to meet my standard of cleanliness before you can finish."

Mirage retreated from the defensive minibot, circling around to the other side of the large bathing tub.

"Properly being cleansed - especially from the organic detritus of this world - is very important for properly participating in our Rites."

And with that bit of wisdom...he slid himself into the pool, dunking himself completely before beginning to scrub himself down.

[cliffjumper]

"Yeah, yeah... I can understand that," Cliffjumper muttered, briefly relaxing and then frowning as he followed Mirage's saunter around the edge of the pool and then he...

Well, that was... easier... to deal with than having Mirage close enough he could help Cliffjumper clean himself, but it was hard not to stare as the liquid slid down the angled and planes and Cliffjumper, with a grunt and a narrow scowl, slid underneath the surface as well.

This wasn't fair. He didn't want to have to deal with the fragger being close enough he could imagine being able to touch, to get to do that and, frustrated, Cliffjumper had a spiteful moment where he wished Mirage could just be as terrible as Tracks all the time because he knew Mirage was actually okay - from Bumblebee if nothing else.

And he just--- Wait.

Things were sort of... stinging...

Erupting up from under the cleaning liquid, Cliffjumper sputtered and shook himself, but he could still feel a slight bite against everthing that was still under the surface. At least his faceplate didn't feel like it was being nibbled on.

"The frag is in this, anyway?"

[lastonepercent]

"Ah, noticed it, did you?"

Mirage smirked, dunking himself again before giving the vents around his helm a good brushing over. The feel of this particular solution around his face and head was his least favorite part, but he refused to even grimace around the stubborn minibot.

"Forty percent oil, forty percent standard cleanser, and twenty percent over-strength stripping-acid, for dissolving everything not native to a Cybertronian frame. Especially those organic bits that get everywhere on this planet."

He worked the heavy brush down along his joints and wheels with a sort of casual yet elegant viciousness; long limbs splaying out, joints twisting around, internal components as exposed as they could be before the bristles were thoroughly scrubbed across them. Mirage paused only long enough to pick out a stick fragment disdainfully, flicking it aside and out of the pool before continuing.

"Which is why I said you're not leaving until you are cleaned to my satisfaction."

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper didn't have any compunction about grimacing, neither about what Mirage was saying, or at the liquid itself, splashing the brush into it.

"And dissolvin' the surface of the sensitive bits on a Cybertronian as well." Were all religious-type things slagging crazy like what he'd seen so far? Annoyed, he dunked the brush into the liquid more firmly, glancing up at Mirage just as he removed it - and left it hovering above his armour as Mirage shifted around, as careless as you please...

With a twitch and then a shake of his helm, Cliffjumper turned half away and went to scrubbing with far more force than necessary. He really didn't want to be here and why didn't they do this one at a time since that would've had the same result?

"As if anythin' is gonna be left after a breen in here. Not like organic stuff's that hardy." Except when it got trapped somewhere, then it could be really hard to get out. Like bug parts.

Cliffjumper had now at least relaxed enough to be less self-concious, even if he was still extremely aware of Mirage and how far away he was. At least the liquid covered more of him than it did Mirage, so he didn't feel as vulnerable as he could have otherwise, even when he had to twist around and stretch to reach places - though it was a silly thought, since why would Mirage be looking anyway?

[lastonepercent]

"Only if you're too slow about it!" Mirage actually laughed, shaking the brush in Cliffjumper's direction once more.

"Organic bits may not 'last', but do not forget your wheel-wells. Don't think I haven't noticed the state of those things before now."

He was almost teasing, returning the earlier splatter of brush-fluid right back in Cliffjumper's direction before he sobered.

"Being 'pure' and clean is a very specific tenant of various rites, Cliffjumper. Besides, the sting only reminds you that you are alive...and can have some other benefits as well."

He smirked again, letting that sink in as he scrubbed down the lean planes of his chestplates.

He wasn't being suggestive. No, not at all...

[cliffjumper]

"Hey! There ain't nothin' wrong with my wheel wells!" Scowling, Cliffjumper nonetheless took the brush to them, starting out with the ones in his feet since the upper ones would require bending out his arms to really be able to get at them.

Balancing on one foot and trying to weigh between getting at the weel and standing up, Cliffjumper looked up, frowning as he tried to think that over. He could understand the "clean" thing, really, it was logical if annoying, but...

... Why was Mirage smirking?

"... What'd ya mean, 'other' benefits?"

And why was Mirage smirking like that, which just made his EM field twist around itself a little. Ugh.

[lastonepercent]

"Your wheel-wells are full of muck and grime more often than not. You and the other minibots...And 'bots like Hound who can't resist the urge to 'offroad'."

Apparently Mirage didn't seem to care about admitting that he had been looking at Cliffjumper's wheel-wells. The mention of the other minibots and Hound was tacked on after a moment of pause, but his smirk did not falter.

Really, it only seemed to get more amused.

"As for the other benefits... Well. Increased sensitivity is not often a bad thing."

[cliffjumper]

"Yeah, well, all of us can't be fraggin' picky platinum gilded..." The huffy tone trailed off as Cliffjumper realised that for Mirage to have noticed, he must actually have been looking.

Which probably didn't mean anything, really, because it would be just like some mechs to look to be able to judge - like Tracks and Sunstreaker and a few others, undoubtedly - but even that thought, pulled up like a defense, couldn't stop the slight widening of Cliffjumper's optics or him looking away from that infernal smirk.

"How's that even good---" Cutting himself off as he finally realised what Mirage was implicitely talking about, he sputtered, bright optics going to Mirage and then immediately away and at least Mirage was far enough away he wouldn't catch anything else of heat being dumped or the blushing flicker of his EM field.

"Uh. I... suppose that's true. Not that I---" Cutting himself off and resolutely turning away from Mirage, Cliffjumper went back to getting clean because by now the liquid was starting to sting more - which just led back to what Mirage had been saying and he really didn't need to think about that!