Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At night, Texan heat settled and became warmth, like a hug under blankets. Fall called leaves from trees. Flakes got caught everywhere and itched relentlessly until removed. Didn't help that each leaf cracked into more leaves.

Having someone else do it helped a lot. The Autobots helped each other, and the humans helped the Autobots. Tiny fingers were really convenient for picking leaf bits.

Of course, that didn't mean two Autobots preferred a human touch. They preferred each other's. They knew each other's bodies more than well enough, knew where foliage would stay, knew where it wouldn't, knew when they removed all the leaves because their plating would hum with relief.

After picking every scrap of shedded deciduous detritus, Cade treated all Autobots to a brief rinse. Not brief because of water expenses, Cade had created several water collectors and filters over the years with a pump or seven to borrow water from a nearby pond. Brief because it was fall. The water was cold.

It was a long day, full of grooming like those things the fleshies were before they were humans. Drift carefully pulled each leaf without breaking it like Crosshairs was a Jenga tower. The removal was somehow quick and efficient. Crosshairs had it the hardest. He wanted to clean Drift with the same care and diligence spent on him, but Drift's thighs collected leaves like a bee collects pollen. And, Crosshairs couldn't caress or grope in front of the others. His charge managed to dissipate with the rinse.

It did not rise again when he went to sleep, his green form draped over Drift like Astroturf; bright, artificially clean in a necessary way. Then, he felt Drift shift underneath him. Shift in a certain way that involved mostly pelvic movements.

He just got rid of his charge! Not the way he'd preferred, but anything was better than nothing. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Are you not interested in making love?” Drift snuck a hand under the coat to grope Crosshairs' aft. His paratrooper could fool the others, but to anyone fluent in Crosshairs knew he was more charged than a plasma grenade.

“Of course I am. Just not near that lot,” he jerked his head towards Hound and Bumblebee, just on the other side of the hangar.

Drift hugged his hips. “We must be silent, then,” he whispered right into Crosshairs' audial. It earned him a shiver of anticipation from the paratrooper. Crosshairs could deny it all he wanted, but he was an exhibitionist.

Hound and Bumblebee were heavy sleepers, or as heavy as anyone in war could sleep and not be dead. The coat gave them enough cover that if either Sleeping Beauty saw them it wouldn't look like much. They hadn't survived Cemetery Wind for nothing. Both could be quiet and stealthy. Joyce said he'd build two more hangars, but he'd yet to start. Pit if he'd let that stop him from ravishing his samurai senseless.

Crosshairs made up his mind.

He hiked his left leg high until his patella poked Drift's shoulder servo. He pulled Drift's own left leg until it pressed against his posterior panel. He aligned their pelvises and huffed, “Open up.”

Drift's panel was inaudible under the green coat.

“Wanna do it like this?” Crosshairs demonstrated by humping Drift's spike once, not quite grinding their equipment together in the brief contact. He pecked Drift's cheek and teased, “Or do you wanna do some in-'n'-out?”

Drift devoured Crosshairs' mouth like the chiloproclitic he was. Then said as if he didn't just defile his lover's mouth, “Whatever you wish, aijin.”

Primus, he was too perfect. Crosshairs rubbed their spikes together, whole lengths, not missing an inch. This would be the easiest way. He licked a hand and shoved it between them to slick their arrays. Each slow pass finished with a dry kiss, void of sound but not pleasure. Drift tried to deepen the kisses again. His attempts were futile, foiled by Crosshairs pulling back at the last moment.

Crosshairs angled his hips up to glide Drift's spike through his exposed valve folds. Drift assisted by manually adjusting the paratrooper's aft until he sat with his nub making more contact than his folds. “Love how ya always know what I need,” he crooned, and continued pressing.

Crosshairs stiffened, shifting his weight side to side. Drift took it as a sign of overload and tried to draw it out by rolling his hips up harder.

He stopped when Crosshairs hissed, “Shit, hold on. Leg's crampin' up again.”

“Would you—”

“Nah, I got it.” Crosshairs switched to his right leg cradling Drift's side. He made sure to pop his left hip when he straightened it.

Drift gave a worried peck. “Daijoubu desu ka?”

Crosshairs grinned. “Perfect. Now where were we...”

Drift's hands magnetized themselves to the aft, never leaving through the gentle push and pull of Crosshairs' moments. He squeezed the metal when he needed a harder pace, something Crosshairs gladly indulged.

They knew each other well enough that talking was unnecessary. Both were quiet when they interfaced naturally. Huddled behind enemy lines, trying to translate passionate Thank-Primus-you're-alives into quickies between battles did that. Crosshairs actually had always been quiet, it was Drift who had to suppress his urge to sing the body electric.

They continued their gentle rocking. The pace was hard and slow, fortified over eons in the wake of true peace, to create pleasure together and enjoy each other's company. Crosshairs traced all over Drift with his fingers, tongue, anything he wasn't using elsewhere. He nipped a golden crest, his favorite hotspot.

“Dōzo.” Drift murmured.

Crosshairs searched blindly for Drift's hands, prying them from his aft, linking them with his own as he felt bliss flow through his energon. Drift's crushing grip told him he was on the brink, too.

Drift surged. “Iku, iku!” he whispered, voice harsh from the last-minute suppression of a throaty moan. His body trembled under the force of his pleasure as a jet of transfluid came out his spike. He pressed close as he could to Crosshairs.

He lured Crosshairs down with a kiss and gave some thrusts of his own before the paratrooper finished, venting stopped, lips and hands crushed together. Drift rocked into the last spinal curves Crosshairs' frame formed, each slow and wide like a crescent moon. They came down a panting mess, hangar occupants forgotten, bellies coated in shared fluids, arrays not much better.

Crosshairs touched their foreheads together. “Slaggin' hot when you talk Japanese, cherry blossom,” he reminded.

Drift sighed, “I do not understand your choice of a pet name for me. Surely there are better ones.” Ones less racist.

“'Course there are,” Crosshairs scoffed.

“HrZhn.”

The afterglow was cut, frozen, and melted into fear when Hound made a noise from across the hangar.

Crosshairs dropped his head to Drift's shoulder. Optics off, both waited a long while, pretending they were not just having an ardent affair.

Drift peered through the darkness. He pressed a hysterical and relieved laugh into Crosshairs' cheek and finished it with a gentle press of his lips. “That was quite something.”

Crosshairs didn't even have enough fucks leftover to tease. “Yeah.” He pulled his head out from Drift's shoulder to kiss him proper. He unintentionally waited a long while before speaking again, “You're too good to me.”

Drift nuzzled the green plating. “How so?”

“The leaf pickin', this,” he gave a gentle rock, “Lovemakin'. What did I do to deserve you.”

“You were yourself. That is why I chose you,” Drift breathed, nearly speechless.

“But I can't pick the damn leaves outta your platin' like you can.” Crosshairs settled on blue plating, ready to go to sleep for good. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? G'Night, love.”

He went to sleep like that, mess and all. Crosshairs indeed did not have Drift's dexterity at removing leaves, but he did his best, and it was more than enough. How could he be dwelling on something as trivial as that? Drift gawked.

His face softened and he kissed Crosshairs' head. “Aishiteru.” He'd show him how much he loved him again.

Chapter Text

It wasn't the first time they had been caught. First time was in Kalis. Drift didn't expect Deadlock's former commander leading the Decepticon forces. Precious moments between attacks had been spoiled by Turmoil's new lieutenant shooting Crosshairs in the gut.

Drift only saw flashes of what happened after. Blade to the replacement Deadlock's spark. Crosshairs croaking, “It's just a flesh wound,” between coughs of energon. Realizing Crosshairs meant more to him than he thought. Letting a medic attend Crosshairs only after she flashed her Autobot insignia. Volunteering for an energon transfusion. Little things.

Autobots had walked in on them at several times, on Earth and Cybertron, all the reactions different. Ironhide pretended he didn't see anything. The twins made noises of disgust. Jazz figured tacticians must include gymnastics in their training, because there was no way they could ALL be that flexible. Arcee couldn't look at either of them without laughing for an entire vorn. Ratchet left a couple of cubes with a note asking if 'interfacing is a regular activity' between them and if it 'included others', because he needed to know 'for medical purposes'. Optimus called them to his office. Bumblebee asked for a threesome.

Latest incident had been after things settled down. Finding a structure that could support their combined weight was hard on Earth. Their berth in the hangar was their usual choice. It always began the same, one rousing the other from slumber, sun already well into the sky, just beyond the angle to hit the hangar windows.

Lips peppered kisses all over Crosshairs' neck, shoulder, chest, anything within reach. He resisted awakening despite the wonderful wake-up call. Of course, he couldn't fool those lips. He was rolled onto his back. Reluctantly, he onlined his optics.

A warm smile greeted him. “Ohayou gozaimasu. Sleep well?”

Crosshairs sharply inhaled, “You know it.” He noticed clean plating wrapping his arms around Drift's waist. “See you washed up.”

“I took care of it in the middle of the night. Slept again until an hour ago,” Drift answered the unasked question with an unsaid Not insomnia. Occasional waking up was no cause for alarm.

Drift continued, “Tessa and Shane are taking Bumblebee for a drive.” He once told Crosshairs the immature leader was a bumblepuppy, always needing walks and drives, or else he'd piss everywhere. “Hound is helping Cade in the laboratory on a human nourishment preservation container.”

Crosshairs knew that look. He played with some thigh vents. “And how long 'till they come back?” Randy little bugger. Was that why he was woken up?

Drift traced a thoracic transformation seam. “Enough.”

“Now that's what I like to hear.” Crosshairs closed his mouth over Drift's. He ran his fingers down his back, pulling him, encouraging Drift to roll on top. Drift curled an arm around his head to deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue in slow, soft strokes. He finished with a nip on Crosshairs' lower lip.

It turned into Drift straddling a grey thigh and palming Crosshairs' panel. Immediately, he opened. Drift stroked the revealed spike, dragging and twisting his fist along the length. He slowed to focus on the base, leaving the sensor-rich tip prickling with empathic charge.

It felt nice. Really nice in fact, what with the way Drift wielded it with the care he gave his swords. Scrap, now he wanted to try using one for something else besides fighting. Handles were long enough. He doubted Drift would let him. Something about respect or safety.

More Crosshairs thought about putting those swords to good use, nicer Drift's hand felt. Then, he realized something was wrong, and Primus slaggit.

Crosshairs looked away. He didn't need to see Drift's face, that dignified disappointment he knew would be there. When Drift tried to turn his head to look at him he offlined his optics. “Sorry.”

Drift's weight left his lap. A hand stopped him from closing up. “Look, Drift, love,” he said, still not meeting his gaze, “It ain't you. Really. Let me go.”

Drift removed his hand and looked annoyed. “Are you really that much of a fool?”

Now, Crosshairs looked annoyed. “Kick a bloke when he's down, will you?”

“He will be down, if he cannot get it up.”

“Low blow.”

“Indeed.”

Cheeky innuendos weren't solving nothing. “Look, I don't need my tool to please you.” He rolled his weight onto Drift to flip them over. Drift's thigh was relatively cool on his array. He could have just used his mouth and hands, but he wasn't in the mood for that. “See?”

Drift gave him a hard look. Then, his façade melted, and he snorted. “All these vorns and you really have not caught on?” He hugged the confused mech close. “Remember when your wound healed after Kalis?”

Crosshairs remembered, alright. As soon as the medic cleared him fit for duty, Drift had him back in their berth, doing something with his tongue. Crosshairs was embarrassed and made him stop. Then, a Decepticon sniper shot his shoulder servo between Vos and Polyhex. Drift tried again, and Crosshairs opened up, in more ways than one, and came to crave moments after an injury healed. Eventually, he stopped getting slagged in battle and asked directly.

He could still feel Drift's spark on his back, on his own, experiencing everything Drift. Hot vents on his neck, in his audial, between his thighs. Whispers of praise and encouragement to let go, relax, let him do the work. Hands on him, securing his own, providing an outlet if the pleasure was too great, inside of him, coaxing rare gasps.

“Yeah,” Crosshairs swallowed and nodded. He'd tried to reciprocate, but like many things, didn't feel he was as good as Drift.

Drift pressed a cheek to his chest, nothing more than circuits and wires separating him from the spark within. “My spike would not obey me either.”

Crosshairs gasped in realization, pushed away from the embrace, then finally sneered. “What you're telling me is, every time you had this problem,” he gestured to his limp spike, “You did―” Stubborn phonemes came out his vocalizer.

“Not at first, nor every time. I wanted to show you how much you meant to me.” Drift kissed the green chest. “It was easier than admitting the actual problem. You are not angry?”

“Never. How could ya even think that of me?” He rolled back and pulled Drift onto him with a grunt. “Alright, there's ways around this,” he said, assuring himself more than his lover. “Guess we gotta settle, just like last night, love?”

Drift spread his weight in a wide straddle over Crosshairs' hips. Bare arrays met. Drift circled his hips, starting slow, building momentum. Crosshairs snaked a hand over his aft to tease the gold lips.

Drift moved the hand back to cupping his aft. “Not yet.”

Metal sang from the friction, unmuffled by a coat. Drift gently nibbled grey lips. Crosshairs curled around the form above him, surrendering to the sensation. He let Drift push a thigh between his. Pulling back from the kiss for a break, Crosshairs saw―

Drift noticed Crosshairs' face and stopped. He looked over his shoulder to where his lover leered. “Naze―‽”

Cade gaped at them like a Sharkticon from the hangar entrance.

Drift didn't know how to react. The risk of getting caught was part of the thrill he and Crosshairs loved so much, but actually getting caught? How long had Cade been there? What had he overheard? What had he seen? Drift felt nauseous. Easiest solution would be to kill Cade. Unfortunately, they had strict orders to protect the human family.

Crosshairs angrily pushed Drift, who also closed up, off without breaking eye contact from the intruder. Humans gotta ruin his love life, too? His regular life wasn't good enough, was that it? Cade would be lucky if he didn't set his slagging cool box ablaze. He opened his mouth to give the human a piece of his processor.

Drift, not liking the situation one bit, grabbed Crosshairs' wrist and pulled him out of the hangar. He looked everywhere but the human and rattled an insincere apology.

Cade coughed as they passed by.

Crosshairs stuck his tongue out at Cade behind Drift's back. 

Cade strode through the hangar, looking for the parts he needed. Why didn't he tell Hound to grab the tires before coming to the lab? He could've gone the rest of his life without seeing that. At first, as an inventor, he wanted to know everything about transformer biology, if it could even be described like that. Then, his curiosity tapered since helping the Autobots, seeing them as sapient beings now. He still didn't expect them to have sex like humans.

He also didn't expect it being that passionate. He'd barely seen any humans look at each other that way, let alone transformers. The two really did love each other. He assumed they were just best friends, or wanted to kill each other the least. Love was a concept he never thought about in other species. He assumed the Autobots picked up human habits and were trying to make him uncomfortable. He almost felt bad for intruding on such a private moment.

Almost.

He thought of it as revenge for all the times they loudly made out like teenagers in front of him. Tessa and Shane had nothing on those two.

He left the hangar in a huff, refrigerator parts forgotten.

They didn't have to leg it, wasn't like something shorter than their ankles could actually stop them. But, it was fun. It made Drift laugh, a genuine sound of joy that could never be imitated in any other mood. Crosshairs loved the snorting cackle. It was a weird laugh. He felt a third his age each time he heard it.

Drift transformed at a secluded area he discovered a month ago. Trees were tall enough that even Hound would be able to stand upright without being seen. The forest as a whole was spaced evenly enough to provide a canopy, turned into a carpet with the season. Silence was impossible in the leaf minefield. Cemetery Wind wasn't after them, and they could afford being loud.

Crosshairs followed Drift's lead and transformed back to root mode. He stretched his arms, popped a few servos, and twisted his back. A pair of arms rested on his hips.

“Daijoubu desu ka?” Drift whispered in his ear. He found the situation amusing but that didn't mean the green mech did.

Crosshairs huffed, “Fine as any poor cockblocked spark is.” What he meant was: I don't want to see Cade for an entire vorn, even if the blasted human won't live 'till then.

Drift rolled his optics. “Glad to know you still have your sass.” If he could make a comment like that, he wasn't upset. That made him have a thought. He circled around to Crosshairs' front, hands still on the green hips. He looked him in the optics with a straight face. “You really are an exhibitionist.”

Crosshairs chuckled and trailed a hand up Drift's back, right between his blades. His other hand rested on Drift's cheek. “Still fancy a shag?” he said smugly.

Drift smiled and rubbed their nasal ridges together. “Yes.”

The kiss was rather chaste of him. Crosshairs slowly pressed Drift backwards, walking forward, guiding with a hand on his waist. Leaves crunched at each step. They stopped at a tree. Drift kneeled and tugged his lover on his lap.

Crosshairs tucked his feet between the blue aft and tree. “We're doing it my way this time,” he hummed. He had to take his time when he could and appreciate the little things. Probably the most important lesson his samurai taught him. Besides how to disembowel an enemy or fight without guns, of course.

Drift nodded. “What did you have planned?” He peppered kisses all over the green chest, just like he did that morning.

“Oh, you know,” Crosshairs said with a sigh, “Riding you into the sunset. The usual.” He pressed his hips in a not-so-subtle hint.

Drift kissed his way up to Crosshairs' face. “Anata no koto sukide tamaranai.” He rested his cheek on Crosshairs'. “Never forget that.”

The paratrooper felt like he made his first jump all over again, Drift's confession knocked the wind out of him so hard.

Drift kissed his way across his chin until their mouths met again in a slow dance. Lips ebbed and flowed. Drift pressed back into Crosshairs' hips until metal squealed. “You are my reason for being.”

That― That was deep. Crosshairs worked his mouth free from Drift's. “Not that I don't deserve to be pampered or nothin',” he tried to joke, “But what brought this on?” Because, really, he was topping here. Samurai had a go. Wasn't a full turn, but still counted. Didn't see him complaining.

Drift said almost shyly, “You seemed to need 'pampering', as you put it. Last night made me think.”

“That― That's what this is all about? Drift, love, you don't hafta do this.” That was just post-coital chat! Great, now he was getting all embarrassed again.

Drift pressed his face in the neck's crook. “Of course, I want to. It was my understanding that you, too, wished to make love again.”

“You're insatiable.”

“You love me for it. Open, dōzo,” Drift spoke to his chin.

Drift wet his fingers and rolled Crosshairs' exterior node. His last two fingers tested the folds' wetness. Crosshairs' valve was in its naturally damp state. He pinched and tweaked the red nub more.

“We've done it drier,” Crosshairs sighed into his helm crest. The pattern of the tree behind Drift was more interesting than what was going on between his legs.

Drift ground a palm on the array. “I know.”

“Stick a finger or five in me if you're gonna do that,” Crosshairs said to the tree.

“I never say this enough, but I do love you.”

“If you won't let me bang ya already, I'm gonna take care of me m'self, and you can't watch.”

“Such a romantic,” Drift said with an exaggerated sigh. He followed the earlier suggestion with three digits. The valve welcomed the visitor with a wash of lubricant. He wasted no time prodding the anterior interior sensors, knowing the exact pace and pressure to use. Crosshairs' valve flexed spread to make room for much more than fingers. Drift deemed him ready after every caliper expanded.

Crosshairs only laughed in anticipation when he withdrew. “'Bout time!”

Drift slipped into Crosshairs. He gasped, feeling plush lining cradle him. The suction was divine. As enjoyable as teasing his lover was, Drift made a note to cut foreplay next time they did this. The tree behind him shuddered, too, when his helm hit it.

Crosshairs grounded himself with a hold on Drift's shoulder. His other hand joined and squeezed Drift's on his thigh. He looked at their connection and didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin the moment. He didn't have anything to say anyway.

Suddenly, Crosshairs pushed his hips, using his feet on the tree for leverage. Not quickly, but sudden enough to catch the blue mech off guard. Velvet warmth retreated. Crosshairs pulled forward. Slick, soft pressure returned.

Drift let a moan slip, “Daisuki.”

Crosshairs chuckled, letting only his diaphragm spasms move him around Drift. “Don't you mean, 'aishiteru'?” Hearing just daisuki at this point was almost insulting.

The spike pushed up in a weak thrust. “Hai, hai, just, mmm, just get going.” He'd say whatever Crosshairs wanted if he would just move.

Crosshairs grabbed the blue shoulders with both hands and resumed his pace. “Wonder if you like listening to me talk Japanese much as I like hearing you talk Japanese,” he teased.

Crosshairs leaned back, hanging his weight just before the spike. The shift in angle and pace made him want to pause and adjust, but Drift's arm coiled around his waist and wouldn't let him stop. He let his lover choose the precise angle of thrusts, and ended up impaling himself. Drift thumbed Crosshairs' nub, trying and failing not to press too hard.

There was no way he could keep up his pace with Drift doing that. Crosshairs cried out at the accidental overstimulation and jerked his hips away.

Drift pulled away as if he'd been burned. “Daijoubu desu ka?” He struggled not continue pushing up, almost falling over. He laid out more under the tree, carefully supporting Crosshairs' weight until he was ready.

“Too much stim' there.” He moved back on the spike, bouncing, rocking, rolling it around seldom-reached sensors, shifting over Drift's lap. He took a deep vent. They could both still feel pleasure without being overwhelmed. “Heki da yo. Use your palm.”

Drift obeyed. He cupped the node and exposed lips, grinding circles into the plating with each shift. Slickness dampened the friction just enough for the charge to throb instead of pulse through Drift's plating. The valve's grip was gentle, like when Crosshairs held his hand to remind him he wasn't alone. Gentle, but firm enough to actually increase pleasure with each roll.

“So close,” Drift panted.

They tried to make it last, they really did. Crosshairs' overload caught him by surprise, so focused on Drift's pleasure he didn't even notice. He melted onto the blue mech, chest against chest, riding out the aftershocks as much as he could. His valve clamped and fluttered, trying to pull the spike in deeper. Hips shot in quick bursts, not ready to stop the friction entirely. He rested his forehead on Drift's and clawed his back.

Crosshairs gasped something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like he learnt it from Drift's own cries of passion. Arching beautifully, Drift's spine brought him closer and farther away, having a mind of its own. His gold crest carved the supportive tree and shook what little leaves remained. Drift clung to green plating. He closed the space between them like it was never there and gave Crosshairs a hard kiss.

Lubricant dripped and glued leaves to their plating. Drift's spark hummed and vibrated, cooing a lullaby of affection. It called out to Crosshairs. Made him ache for a merge. Despite the sweet temptation he couldn't be arsed to do that so soon. He wasn't clear enough of mind to consent to such a thing, even if they had done it before.

The sky dimmed enough to show stars peeking through the canopy. Best part of living away from urban civilization was every star was visible. Crosshairs pried himself away from Drift's embrace to straighten his legs. He groaned at the stiffness. That wasn't the only thing that was stiff.

“What are you laughing about?” Drift asked lazily.

“Haha, look!” Crosshairs whooped. “See? All it took was a li'l―”

Drift cut him off with a deadpan. “If you say, 'ancient', 'Japanese', or 'magic'―”

The green mech snorted, “Wasn't gonna say anything of the sort.”

“Oh?” Drift smirked.

“Yeah. Was gonna say, 'All it took was my samurai'.”

Drift shoved Crosshairs off into a pile of leaves. “Get up. I will guide us back.”

Crosshairs tried to stand but his knees trembled. He slipped on wet leaves. Drift, still on the ground, caught him in his lap.

“Thanks,” Crosshairs coughed.

Halfway back to the farm, Drift cursed and slowed down. “Cade Yeager. What will we tell him?”

Crosshairs swerved. “Way to ruin the mood.”

Drift drove backwards. “I am being serious. How will we deal with him?” They had to get rid of the leaves somehow. They could only pick out so much.

Both were quiet for the next mile. Drift broke the silence. “Until the ground clears, when the season is over, no interfacing.”

“Was that a fraggin' haiku?”

“Perhaps,” Drift sniffed. “We have been caught too often. You may enjoy it, but I am tired of it.”

The Corvette revved his engine to catch up. “Hold up. You really mean it?”

Drift stopped. Crosshairs skidded ahead, reversed, and stopped.

“Crosshairs,” Drift said seriously, “I love you, but even I have limits. I apologize for this morning. I apologize for the leaves. I do not wish to cause you further stress.”

Crosshairs had no idea how Drift could think so clearly after overload. “Love, if you really don't wanna make love, we don't hafta. But you shouldn't hold back because of those lot at the farm.”

Hound saw Cade's face when a Bugatti and Corvette showed up. He'd seen that face. He'd seen Cade make it before, too. Drift and Crosshairs revealed leaves sticking out everywhere in transformation. Hound brushed it off. Then, he noticed the leaves were only around their afts and feet.

Hound's laugh startled Cade so much he dropped a blowtorch on his foot.

Drift politely asked Tessa if she would hose him and Crosshairs off. She agreed, knowing her dad was in the barn working on― She didn't actually know. It looked like a rocket, but her dad didn't make weapons.

Crosshairs helped Tessa climb his bicep. “I just rinsed you guys yesterday,” she said while spraying. “What did you two do?”

“Nothing you and Shane have not done.”

Tessa and Crosshairs gave Drift the same look.

Drift didn't see their faces. He sat in lotus position, eyes closed, patiently awaiting his turn. “Is that not right, watashi no chīsai chō?”