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*taps fingertips together shyly*

So… i was scrolling through your tags spam-liking everything in sight and I had a vision. And that vision was… unfortunately… Grease-vibes for Punk!Eclipse and Y/N.

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The air was thick with sound and smoke as eager metalheads wove through each other like rivers of ants flowing towards the four different stages set up on each corner of the massive empty field the Summer Rock Fest was being hosted in this year. Eclipse sauntered through the throngs easily, being far taller than most of the crowd made it easy to spot pockets to slip into and his inhumanly lithe frame, joints that could bend in uncanny ways if he needed them to, allowed him to slither along his chosen path without resistance. Well, not frictional resistance anyways. There was of course the momentary magnetic draw of the occasional friendly face spotting him and nodding or giving him a quick flick of their wrist in acknowledgement. Being so entrenched in the culture for so many years as a being like him meant that even people he hadn’t stored in his memory bank would widen their eyes in recognition of him and shoot him some kind of nod or small wave.

An easy smirk and a jerk of his chin was enough to please most before they continued on their way with their groups of friends, excitedly switching topics to whatever the most recent word-on-the-street was about him. A mini-celebrity in the local punk scene just came along with attention like that. He was used to it. And by now he was getting pretty good at being able to jerk his chin at these momentary flashes of recognition with just enough energy to both acknowledge and also continue on his way accost. Too friendly of a nod tended to draw in unwanted attention. Too little and people assumed he was ignoring them. Which… to be fair, he was. Any faces his optics landed on passed through his processor only briefly enough to cross-check against his memory bank. If there was a match, he’d tag a date and time stamp onto their memory file. If not, there were far better things to clutter up his memory files with. So into the proverbial bin the data feed went.

He got to the stage he wanted with a little bit of time to spare, which allowed him a few moments to scope out the spot that would best suit his audial receptors. One downside to being all machinery was that as much as he wanted to be right next to the stage (as he found out during his days as a guitarist… sometimes microphones and speakers didn’t play nicely with nearby equipment and machinery. So as an audience member, he had to be a little bit strategic about the distance he placed himself from the nearest set of high voltage wires.

His processors ran the calculation automatically and triangulated on a spot further towards the back. Exactly one foot to the left of a lady in a floral sundress and a high bun sitting on a rainbow blanket, looking entirely out of place at a rock concert. Complete with little flats and a pearl necklace, there couldn’t be anyone here looking more 1950’s than if they had donned a frilly apron to match. And of course… they were sitting exactly next to Clip’s perfect spot.

It wasn’t ideal. But at least he probably wouldn’t have to worry about this lady being too rowdy. He saunters over, all spikes and big thick boots, and stands beside the lady with a smug smirk, waiting for her to notice him. He knows he’s freakishly tall. Impossible to miss. And has the kind of yellow glowing eyes that off-put even the most hardened humans. As long as he can brace for the horror, he can keep his chin high and the sting off his face. The silver lining being that *sometimes* he really actually does make use of how much of a jumpscare he can be to ‘normal people’ to get something he wants.

Eventually she does notice, and startles just a little at there being a person right next to her that she hadn’t noticed. Her eyes travel up… up… up… and land on the shark-toothed grin glowing down at her.

“ ‘s this seat taken?”

And then something surprising happens. Her face splits into a friendly grin and she answers with a cheerful, “No, no! Please! Pull up some grass! Have a seat! I love your jacket! It’s so cool!”

He blinks at her a couple times while he processes the unexpected. Then… sits. Because… well… this *is* the perfect spot. And if she doesn’t mind then… might as well, eh? He stretches out lazily on the grass, sitting with one knee popped up and the other out straight in front of him. Weight propped up on his arms behind him. “Thanks, I know. Made it myself.”

Her jaw falls open in surprise and she leans a little closer to get a better look at it. “Really? That’s incredible! I could never get studs spaced so perfectly even if I tried to make something like this. Sure I can mend things well enough, but I just don’t have an eye for pulling together a finished product like this. That’s quite incredible! You must be very proud of how it turned out! Tell me, what’s your favorite part?”

He gives a slightly nervous huff of laughter, incredulous at how animated this little lady is. “Uh… the jacket?”

She nods with a bright smile and giggles as if he’d told a funny joke. “Yeah, your favorite part of your jacket! Since you made it yourself, you must have a favorite part.”

Nobody’s ever thought to ask him what his favorite part of his own jacket is… not even himself, actually. And he has to look down at it for a moment to ponder the question, tugging on it a little here and there to look it over as if he’d never seen the thing before in his life. “I guess… the fit?”

She practically beams at him. “That makes sense, I’ll bet you probably have a hard time finding things that would fit you right off the rack. You must be pretty skilled at tailoring your clothes to fit your needs, then? Everything you’re wearing looks like it fits you beautifully.”

A bizarrely accurate thing to say to a machine like Clip, but the genuine compliment does something funny to his processor that makes it hard not to laugh awkwardly and look away. “Whatever.”

Which could have been the end of it, except that his new seat mate continues asking him questions about where he got his materials and how he did certain parts. He gets so engrossed in talking about something benignly personal that he almost misses when the band comes on stage.

He does not miss his new friend putting in a pair of ear plugs, and he just barely takes the queue in time to turn down his own audio receptors to avoid getting blasted with an improperly balanced speaker straight to the hard drive.

Not much talking happens during opening set, exactly. But it turns out that his new friend knows every word to every song the band sings, and sing she does. Quietly at first, but once Clip joins in she gains a little courage and sings along a little louder along with him. Albeit with a little blush of embarrassment at first. Which is… unfairly endearing.

At the end of the first set he finds out why, as she turns to him with a small look of embarrassment and ducks her head into her shoulders. “Do you need me to sing quieter? I’m sure you’re storing these audio files for later… I’d hate to ruin them and make them unusable…”

Oh…

That’s…

Unfair.

Unfairly sweet.

When was the last time anyone ever thought about something like that and worried for him or his future enjoyment rather than being creeped out that he was capable of doing such a thing?

He finds himself unconsciously drawing his knees up to his chest and a shaky laugh rattles out of his voice box, full of too much static. “Tch. Like that could make the file unusable. I can just edit out your vocals, you know.”

Her expression falters a little, and for a second he thinks it might be because she’s hurt that he would edit out her voice. But then she smiles in response, even though it does’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh. That’s good, but that means I’ve made more work for you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things more difficult for you. I’ll sing quieter from now on. You deserve to be able to get a good quality audio recording.”

Clip rolls his optics, deflecting around the genuine apology and what havoc it’s wreaking on his overheating systems. “Whatever. It’s not like your little human voice can be heard over these speakers anyways.”

That seems to be the queue for the next set to start, and even though Eclipse watches her out of the corner of one eye to see what will happen, the most she does through the next two songs is nod along to the tempo. Staunchly keeping her promise to be quiet in spite of the speakers playing at a loud enough volume to be felt thumping deep in your chest.

At the start of the third song in the set Eclipse finally gets fed up with it and gestures to the band, trying to encourage her to sing again. But she refuses with a shake of her head and a smile, waving her hands in front of herself innocently. Trying to wave off his concerns.

So he doesn’t have to stress.

About her keeping quiet at a rock concert where she knows all the words to all the songs.

Because she wants him to get a good audio recording.

Without having to work harder than he needs to clean up the track.

It’s tooth rottingly sweet and he hates it.

Which means he gets to fall back on Plan B, since being reasonable didn’t work out.

Annoy her into giving up.

He is very, very good at that.

With one brow raised, he pokes her side. She looks over, confused, and he gestures to the stage again. Then pokes again. And again. And again.

“Sing. It’s a concert.”

He has to lean in close for his voice to carry over the volume of the speakers, and he’s almost delighted when she just rolls her eyes and pokes him back with one manicured nail. The return fire means it is ON, and the next two full songs are occupied by trying to determine who can be the most annoying to the other.

Normally one would expect that to be a frustrating way to spend one’s time, but it doesn’t take long for his new friend to start to find the whole thing so ridiculous it’s crossed over into funny. So rather than being annoyed… she’s laughing the whole time at his antics.

Kindof defeats the purpose of trying to see who can be the most annoying, but by the end of the second set he can barely remember what it was he was trying to be annoying about in the first place. The game has become its own purpose, though it ends up being a two-for-one deal as the increased familiarity means the two of them can sing their hearts out together for the full third set, now that he’s proven he doesn’t care about there being just a little extra background noise on the files.

At the end of the third set, his friend is flushed in the face and out of breath but grinning ear to ear. She removes her ear plugs after the band says their farewells to the crowd and people begin to disperse, grinning breathlessly up at him.

“That was so fun! I’m so glad I got to come here today!”

Eclipse raises an eyebrow at that, still grinning from the rush that comes with good music and good company. “Got to? How does that happen?”

She laughs a little and gestures to herself with a smirk. “Well I’m not sure if you could tell but I don’t exactly look like I belong here. My sister bought the ticket but had to be elsewhere last second, but she didn’t want the money to be wasted so she texted me. i was free this weekend, so she met me in the parking lot after I got off of work and I came straight here. I’ll have to go home tonight to sleep and stuff, change outfits and things, but I’ll be back tomorrow for Day Two of the festival. Then she’ll take the ticket back for Day Three.”

“Ah,” Clip says, finally getting a little bit of context for her getup. “So you’re blaming this fashion disaster on work, then?”

She laughs and winks up at him. “No, no. The fashion disaster is all me. I actually like dressing like this for work. On purpose. But I do actually own jeans and tee-shirts too.”

He gives her another once-over with a cheeky grin. “I dunno. I might not recognize you tomorrow if you dress like a normal person.”

And then she has the audacity to give him a cocky grin over her shoulder in response. “Already planning on seeing me tomorrow, then?”

And Eclipse has to make the terrible decision between jumping to his feet and fleeing the scene or squashing down the way that aura of confidence is making him feel and saying something terribly inappropriate so he can have an excuse to stick by her side for the rest of the day. And maybe even through the night, if Lady Luck feels like helping him avoid sleeping on trampled-on muddy grass.

…

Honestly, it’s barely even a choice.

Now what was her name again?

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(( >\\\\\> aka I just think opposites can be fun sometimes and the idea of Emotionally Constipated Punk Bitch + Sassy but Earnest Straight-Laced Ball of Sunshine = hilarity and also so much potential for storytelling. And wanted to share this First Meeting where a wet cat like Clip could possibly bump into a lady like this lololol. Cheers!))

Hahaha yeah so what if I EXPLODED

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I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS THAT I HAD TO GET UP AND TAKE A WALK. WHAT. HELLO????,?

This!! Is so incredible!! And cute!! And well written! I could so vividly imagine the visuals and scenes! And it’s adorable!!

I’m genuinely stunned at how well you portrayed Eclipse!! It’s spot on to how I imagined him! I’m losing my mind!!

I’m fERAL about this. Thank you very much for sharing!

#punk!eclipse #AAAAAAAAAAAAAA #UGLY CRYING THIS IS SO CUTE #AND #AND.#AA #and the yn!#is so delightful!#oUGH I’m such a sucker for opposites attract #I’m insane #loss for words #he!!!!