#corrado vr6 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

putaposyinyourhair · 1 year ago

Text

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

noah diaz x mirage (aka the literal personification of ‘wait, did you just flirt with me?’ and ‘have been for the past year but thanks for noticing’)

warnings : mirage isn't exactly himself but it's only temporary and also more f bombs dropped

oh shit here comes reek

“Could you— can you transform into, like, a Civic hatchback or somethin’?” Noah inquires quietly after having to clear his throat a bit awkwardly— probably because he’d spent pretty much the entire ride back to Brooklyn in stunned silence, still mulling over Optimus’ request. “Y’know, before we roll into the neighborhood?”

There’s a beat of silence. And Noah wonders if he’s said something wrong.

“I know you did not just ask me to do that,” Mirage snorts then, in a clearly offended tone. Because apparently, Honda Civics are beneath him.

Noah scowls heavily down at the radio.

“Oh, my bad, your highness—” he begins to apologize sarcastically, only to be cut off by the mech.

“You’re not forgiven,” Mirage points out snobbishly.

Noah lets out a frustrated groan, fingers curling inward around his box of electronics— which he’d pulled into his lap earlier amidst the silence, as something to busy himself with, checking if everything was as promised; not crushed— and one of his fingers pokes a hole straight through the worn down cardboard.

“Look,” he sighs. “It’s broad daylight out. My man, Reek, he’s always out front and he’s gonna recognize you in a second flat. Plus, everybody and they mama knows I’m way too fuckin’ broke to be crusin’ ‘round in a Porsche, bro. Come on.”

Mirage’s radio emits a droning buzz, followed by an annoyed groan just as the Porsche begins to slow and pull over.

“The things I do for you,” Mirage snaps. “They’re not natural. It should be studied.”

He pops the driver side door open.

“Out.”

Noah’s brows furrow, confused, but nevertheless he does as he’s told and climbs out with his box still in hand. He rounds the Porsche and steps onto the sidewalk, chuckling awkwardly under his breath as a few pedestrians glance his way when the silver and blue vehicle burns rubber and sends up a puff of smoke as Mirage peels away from the curb.

Noah feels kind of abandoned for a moment.

His chest does that stupid twisty thing that he’d thought it had finally decided to stop doing. He wonders for a moment if he should’ve sucked it up and just not said anything.

But then the loud sound of an engine revving calls his attention and Noah’s jaw drops when a silver Volkswagen Corrado SLC VR6 coupe with blue stripes rolls up to the curb.

It’s definitely not a Civic.

The passenger side window rolls down.

“I hope you know this is like the equivalent of me asking you to shave all your hair off for me.”

Oh.

Noah definitely should’ve just sucked it up. Maybe asked Mirage to drop him off down the block instead. There’s so many other ways he could’ve gone about this.

He feels like shit. And it shows in the way his shoulders droop and he lowers his head, looking up at the Corrado kind of sheepishly.

“I’m just yanking your chain, sweetspark,” Mirage admits casually. “I don’t give a flying frag. Hop in.”

The words are said so flippantly, Noah almost misses the new term of endearment the bot somehow manages to sneak in there— at least he thinks it’s a term of endearment anyways; the cybertronian version of sweetheart.

His cheeks flood with a swift rush of heat. And he tells himself it’s just because of the stifling heat outside. But he can’t exactly explain away that stupid hot jabbing sensation in his chest that’s also decided to make a sudden return.

He huffs and rounds the car once more, Mirage opening and closing the door for him as he climbs inside.

“You’re a dick,” Noah grumbles beneath his breath as he sets his box down on the passenger seat then fastens his seatbelt, his face still flushed.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you didn’t already know that.”

God damn him, he’s right too.

Noah decides to ignore him for the next few minutes it takes for them to roll up outside his apartment building— evading the bot’s comments and questions with a few spaced-out hums. Instead, he keeps watch out the window for anyone who knows him too well and might think it’s weird for him to be pulling up in a strange car. A car that Noah still— despite the change into a Volkswagen— could never be able to afford.

Mirage’s engine cuts off as soon as he pulls over, after expertly parallel parking between a Mazda 626 and an old Lincoln town car Noah recognizes as Mr. Delano’s, a senile old man that lives a few doors down from him and sometimes gets into shouting matches with the ghost of his ex-wife, Shirley.

“Ladies and gents, we have arrived at our destination,” Mirage announces through the radio with a crackle of static— and Noah thinks he does it on purpose, to make the dumb joke sound more authentic. “974 Wilson Avenue. You may now unfasten your seatbelts.”

It’s adorable, unfortunately, and Noah can’t help the smirk it pulls out of him.

“Got ‘em.”

Noah shakes his head and turns to look out the window— hoping that it somehow hides the quickly-growing full blown smile on his face from Mirage.

Across the street, Mrs. Moreno’s triplets are playing double dutch with a long jump rope that obviously used to be a few smaller jump ropes, which have now been tied together.

“So, I’m picking you up later tonight, right?” Mirage inquires after a moment, his playful tone falling into a far more somber one— like he’s kind of scared Noah’s going to say no. “After you talk to your family and pack?”

The smile on Noah’s face drops.

He’s had a long ride back to Bushwick to think about the answer to that question. A long time to think on Optimus’ offer. And he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

Or maybe some part of him does but he’s torn between his options.

On one hand, he has to face his ma— who’s already gonna tear him a new one for missing dinner and not checking in— and tell her he’s leaving again, with barely an explanation as to why. And on top of that, he has to explain it to Kris too. At least when it comes to his little brother, he can give the kid a version that’s closer to the truth.

On the other hand, he has to do something that he’s pretty sure is gonna break his heart; say goodbye. Might break Mirage’s heart too— or rather, his spark.

A few buildings down, Noah can see Mr. Jackson’s son— Noah thinks his name is Paulie— feeding the neighborhood stray cats, something that usually brings his neighbor, Mrs. Vargas, out with a broom in her hand, yelling at him in Spanish because she hates that the ‘pequeños demonios’ keep eating the plants she has on her windowsills.

Except Paulie doesn’t speak Spanish and usually just waves obliviously.

Noah glances down at the radio and heaves a soft sigh.

“Mirage,” he begins to say. “Look, dude, I don’t know if—”

Mirage’s radio releases a garbled, high-pitched whine that makes Noah wince a bit.

“Aw, come on,” the bot moans— and Noah imagines that if the mech were in his rootmode, he’d be kicking his legs in a fuss. “You can’t leave me with those tightasses, man!”

Noah huffs softly beneath his breath, digging his teeth into the smooth skin on the inside of his bottom lip.

“I’ll beg if I have to, gorgeous.”

Motherfucker…

Noah’s just about had it with him.

Mostly just because he thinks his heart might give out with the way it keeps tripping over a beat every time the mech uses one of those goddamn pet names.

Is it flirting? It feels like flirting. But Noah’s not sure. Because he’s a loser and he doesn’t actually know the first thing about flirting. He’s never had time for that before.

He’d always been too busy serving in the army and then running around, worrying about Kris, to even let himself stop and think about something as frivolous as trying to get his flirt on.

Plus, Noah doesn’t know if cybertronians even know what flirting is.

Sure, it feels deliberate. But it’s totally possible Mirage is just repeating shit he’s heard on the streets, or on TV. Right?

Noah’s eyes widen.

What the hell is he even thinking?

He shakes his head.

“Look, Noah. I know this is… a big decision,” Mirage comments softly. “I really want you to come with me. I mean, come on, man. We’re partners. But… I’ll understand if you don’t.”

Why does the mech have to be so freaking sweet about it too?

Noah wants to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes and push until he starts seeing stars.

“How about I give you some time to think about it?” the bot suggests. “I’ll drop by later tonight. That sound like a plan?”

Noah just nods. Because he doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him in that moment and drop like he’s some kind of pre-pubescent teenager.

The Corrado’s driver side door clicks open.

Noah unfastens his seatbelt.

“Don’t forget your gizmos,” Mirage reminds him pointedly. “I know how important they are to you.”

A sharp squawk from a few feet away has Noah’s head snapping up to see a wide-eyed Reek— who’d clearly crossed the street, headed in Noah’s direction— trip over nothing but air and go down hard on the pavement.

“Oh, shit,” Noah exclaims, jumping out of the Corrado. “You aight, man?” He zips over to his fallen friend’s side and reaches down to help the man up.

Reek, with the help of Noah who’s got ahold of one of the other man’s shoulders, stands on shaky feet. His nose is busted and a small rivulet of blood is running over his lip and down his chin.

“Shit, bro, you’re bleedin’,” Noah tells him.

But Reek doesn’t seem to be paying Noah or the blood on his face any mind. No, instead he’s gawking at the Corrado behind Noah.

Noah feels his muscles tense.

“Noah…” Reek begins slowly. “Did that motherfuckin’ car just talk?”

Noah thinks he should be commended for the way he immediately snaps into action, releasing his friend and taking a step back, forcing out a chuckle that’s only kind of awkward.

“A talking car?” he snorts, reaching back to shut the Corrado’s driver side door in a way he really hopes looks chill and unbothered. “Man, you trippin’. You been smokin’ way too much of that chronic shit.”

He hears the window make a whirring noise that clearly means Mirage is rolling it down and he steps back again— his backside coming into contact with the driver side door— in an attempt to shield it from Reek’s view.

“Don’t play with me, man!” Reek cries out, pointing at him. “I ain’t crazy. I know what I just seen with my own two eyes!”

Noah’s eyes widen and he takes a moment to glance around the street, hoping their little spat isn’t drawing any unwanted attention.

“So, I’ma ask you again, dawg,” Reek snaps. “Did that motherfuckin’ car just talk?”

“No?” Noah tries again.

“Yes.”

The admission comes from over Noah’s shoulder and Noah absolutely freezes.

“What the fuck…” Reek breathes out, utterly stunned. “It just talked again. The fuckin’ car just talked.”

Noah turns his head to the side for a second and narrows his eyes down at the silver and blue Corrado.

“Shut up,” he whispers, both hands fisted at his sides, before he whirls back around to face Reek. He stubbornly ignores the way the metal at his rear warms up and seems to tremble.

“It just talked again,” Reek is babbling away, his wild gaze jumping between the car and Noah. “It talks. It’s a talking car. The fuckin’ car just talked again, Noah.”

“No, it didn’t!” Noah denies immediately— unable to control the way his voice rises in pitch in his panic.

Mrs. Moreno’s kids pause their game of double dutch for a second to glance across the street at them.

Noah reaches up and waves at them dumbly until they return to their game.

“Yes, I did,” Mirage’s voice contradicts— and Noah’s gonna kill him, strip him for parts, something, because the asshole sounds proud of it too.

He snaps and whirls back around.

“God damn it, Mirage,” he stresses, forcing his voice to stay low and ignoring Reek’s ravings behind him. “So much for being a master spy. Announce it to the whole world while you’re at it, why don’t you? Way to be slick, dude.”

“Oh, I can show you slick,” Mirage’s sly voice drawls. “All you gotta do is ask nicely, baby. I’ll put on a real good show for you.”

Okaaaay.

Noah thinks it’s finally safe to assume that Mirage isn’t just repeating shit he’s heard on the streets or on TV. This is definitely deliberate.

Noah thinks even the back of his neck flushes this time around.

He bites out an exasperated groan and bends down to lean into the Corrado’s cabin as Mirage rolls his engine over, reaching out for his box. He steadfastly ignores the way the metal digging into his stomach vibrates just a little more than strictly necessary.

“We’re gonna have a serious conversation about this later,” he points out, glaring at the radio as he pulls the box into the driver’s seat so he can get a better grip on it. “Now get outta here before you give my friend a heart attack.”

“Yes, sir,” Mirage taunts immaturely— and Noah’s sure that had the bot been in his rootmode, he would’ve stuck his tongue out at Noah. If that’s even what it’s called. Noah knows he has one, he’s noticed it before.

Noah yanks his box out of the car and, reaching out to grab ahold of Reek’s arm, moves them both over to the sidewalk where he can do nothing but sigh as Mirage once more peels away from the curb with a shriek of screeching tires— damn near scratching the faded paint on Mr. Delano’s Lincoln.

“Noah…”

Noah turns to face Reek, his freckled cheeks absolutely still blazing away.

The man’s got one brow firmly arched. And he still looks kind of blanched, something Noah’s never seen from him before, but he’s also got this wary look on his face

“Look, man, I can explain—”

“Noah,” Reek begins again, tentatively— like he’s about to ask something that even he can’t quite believe he’s going to ask. “Did you fuck that car?”

Noah damn nearly chokes on his own tongue.

#noah x mirage #norage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #mirage x noah

230 notes · View notes