Transformers - Christmas Fair
Title: Christmas Faire
Fandoms: Transformers
Series: Boyband 'Verse
Characters: Slingshot, Blades
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sickening amounts of fluff, Christmas fic in the middle of September, humanised robots and the death of whatever shame I had left.
Blades doesn't mind cold, but she is currently regretting every single one of the life choices that led her to this moment, because the day had been cloudy, so she'd put on extra socks and her jacket to meet Slingshot, but she hadn't counted on it snowing like the sky was violently throwing clouds at humanity below out of spite.
She manages to make it downtown without either slipping -- God bless rain boots -- or losing her fingers -- God please make warmer jacket pockets next season -- and finds Slingshot with his hands in his pockets peering at one of the displays, where delicate-looking toys click and putter as they flip or shuffle their way behind a glass panel. He's wearing a long, fitting coat, and a scarf is thrown over his shoulders but not properly tied, and he's got one of his pairs of old aviators on even though it's snowing, and he just looks like such a tool. Blades is reminded of the first time they had met and how she assumed he would be a douchebag, and she grins to herself because this tool may be the kind of person who would probably insist on putting spice on his cereal if he could get away with it, but he's still hers.
Blades walks by him as inconspicuously as she can manage, taking advantage of his distraction, then puts her cold, cold hands over his eyes -- or, well, the glasses -- and says in a sing-song voice, "Mirror, mirror, who's the fairest maiden of the land?" She feels him tense, then relax, and then feels him make that half-smile that she really likes, and adds before he can answer, "You better get it right or I'm giving you a crappy gift this Christmas."
Slingshot laughs, and takes her hands from his face -- he's even wearing gloves, oh my God, Blades hates him -- and turns so that they're facing each other before leaning down to kiss her, just a gentle press of their lips.
"Is that a threat?", he asks, touching his forehead to hers with a smile. "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to blackmail the judge."
"Not if it works", she says, and she can see his eyes crinkling behind the glasses. "How was your day?"
He sighs, and lets go of her for a second, putting his arm around her shoulder instead, almost making her sigh as well because he's so much warmer, and if they weren't in public she would just shamelessly melt into his side. As it is, she simply rests her head on his shoulder as they start to walk. "It was fine, just a bit exhausting. Fireflight was moody for undisclosed reasons, meaning Thundercracker is probably being an idiot, so in the end we didn't finish writing the song. And Silverbolt thinks Skydive's getting a cold again."
"I thought Thundercracker was always an idiot", Blades replied, raising an eyebrow. Slingshot snorted, grabbing a lock of hair from her ponytail and playing with it. "And what did Skydive do to get a cold?"
"Nothing that he will admit to. I think he's telling the truth, he hasn't been going out a lot lately." Someone else wouldn't have been able to hear the worry in his voice, but Blades did, and she pressed herself a little closer to him in a silent offer of comfort.
"Maybe it's the season. Streetwise gets like that when winter starts proper, and so does mum sometimes."
"Mmm... You're probably right", Slingshot says, pressing a kiss into her hair, warm breath sending shivers through her. "You're freezing your arse off, aren't you?"
"...maybe."
Slingshot breathes out a curse, but there's an undertone of laughter in it, and then he lets go of her -- and seriously did it get even colder or is it just her? -- and starts unbuttoning his coat.
Blades frowns, and begins to protest, because if she's cold it's her own damned fault for not checking the weather report, and if Skydive already is getting sick... "Slingshot--"
"You", he interrupts her, giving her a stern look that she can feel even behind the dark lenses of his aviators, "are a singer. You need your voice more than I do, and I also appreciate you having all your fingers so just let me give you my coat, because I'm not letting you turn into an ice sculpture."
They stare hard at each other for a second, and then Blades sighs exasperatedly. "Fine, but I'm giving you my jacket."
"Deal", Slingshot says, and finishes taking his outer layer of clothes off. There's a split second after she sheds her own where she feels even colder than before, and then Slingshot is behind her putting his coat over her shoulders, and takes her jacket so she can slide her arms into the sleeves. He won't fit inside her jacket, because his body in general and his arms in particular are ridiculous and they both know it, but he still wears it like some sort of cape around his shoulders because otherwise she would feel guilty and worried. Or maybe just a bit worried, and not at all guilty because his coat is warm and maybe she's sort of swimming on it but it smells like him, and he has his scarf, he will totally be okay, and if he isn't Blades will play nurse for him until he gets better because she is nice like that.
Slingshot is watching her with that half-curl of his mouth again, and he's still wearing the glasses and the scarf but with her -- comparatively -- small black jacket over his shoulders he looks like even more of a tool, and she tells him so.
"You look like one of those dicks in male perfume adverts", she says. Then, because honesty is important, "But it's kinda hot on you, don't worry."
Slingshot just laughs, and tugs on the lapels of his -- now her -- coat to straighten them, and also pull her closer to him so he can put his arm around her again. "C'mon, they must be selling coffee somewhere around here, and we still need to find stuff for the Secret Santa thing."
Blades smirks. "You know I still think--"
"B, I am not getting Perceptor a coupon for a day at the spa."
Fandoms: Transformers
Series: Boyband 'Verse
Characters: Slingshot, Blades
Rating: PG
Warnings: Sickening amounts of fluff, Christmas fic in the middle of September, humanised robots and the death of whatever shame I had left.
Blades doesn't mind cold, but she is currently regretting every single one of the life choices that led her to this moment, because the day had been cloudy, so she'd put on extra socks and her jacket to meet Slingshot, but she hadn't counted on it snowing like the sky was violently throwing clouds at humanity below out of spite.
She manages to make it downtown without either slipping -- God bless rain boots -- or losing her fingers -- God please make warmer jacket pockets next season -- and finds Slingshot with his hands in his pockets peering at one of the displays, where delicate-looking toys click and putter as they flip or shuffle their way behind a glass panel. He's wearing a long, fitting coat, and a scarf is thrown over his shoulders but not properly tied, and he's got one of his pairs of old aviators on even though it's snowing, and he just looks like such a tool. Blades is reminded of the first time they had met and how she assumed he would be a douchebag, and she grins to herself because this tool may be the kind of person who would probably insist on putting spice on his cereal if he could get away with it, but he's still hers.
Blades walks by him as inconspicuously as she can manage, taking advantage of his distraction, then puts her cold, cold hands over his eyes -- or, well, the glasses -- and says in a sing-song voice, "Mirror, mirror, who's the fairest maiden of the land?" She feels him tense, then relax, and then feels him make that half-smile that she really likes, and adds before he can answer, "You better get it right or I'm giving you a crappy gift this Christmas."
Slingshot laughs, and takes her hands from his face -- he's even wearing gloves, oh my God, Blades hates him -- and turns so that they're facing each other before leaning down to kiss her, just a gentle press of their lips.
"Is that a threat?", he asks, touching his forehead to hers with a smile. "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to blackmail the judge."
"Not if it works", she says, and she can see his eyes crinkling behind the glasses. "How was your day?"
He sighs, and lets go of her for a second, putting his arm around her shoulder instead, almost making her sigh as well because he's so much warmer, and if they weren't in public she would just shamelessly melt into his side. As it is, she simply rests her head on his shoulder as they start to walk. "It was fine, just a bit exhausting. Fireflight was moody for undisclosed reasons, meaning Thundercracker is probably being an idiot, so in the end we didn't finish writing the song. And Silverbolt thinks Skydive's getting a cold again."
"I thought Thundercracker was always an idiot", Blades replied, raising an eyebrow. Slingshot snorted, grabbing a lock of hair from her ponytail and playing with it. "And what did Skydive do to get a cold?"
"Nothing that he will admit to. I think he's telling the truth, he hasn't been going out a lot lately." Someone else wouldn't have been able to hear the worry in his voice, but Blades did, and she pressed herself a little closer to him in a silent offer of comfort.
"Maybe it's the season. Streetwise gets like that when winter starts proper, and so does mum sometimes."
"Mmm... You're probably right", Slingshot says, pressing a kiss into her hair, warm breath sending shivers through her. "You're freezing your arse off, aren't you?"
"...maybe."
Slingshot breathes out a curse, but there's an undertone of laughter in it, and then he lets go of her -- and seriously did it get even colder or is it just her? -- and starts unbuttoning his coat.
Blades frowns, and begins to protest, because if she's cold it's her own damned fault for not checking the weather report, and if Skydive already is getting sick... "Slingshot--"
"You", he interrupts her, giving her a stern look that she can feel even behind the dark lenses of his aviators, "are a singer. You need your voice more than I do, and I also appreciate you having all your fingers so just let me give you my coat, because I'm not letting you turn into an ice sculpture."
They stare hard at each other for a second, and then Blades sighs exasperatedly. "Fine, but I'm giving you my jacket."
"Deal", Slingshot says, and finishes taking his outer layer of clothes off. There's a split second after she sheds her own where she feels even colder than before, and then Slingshot is behind her putting his coat over her shoulders, and takes her jacket so she can slide her arms into the sleeves. He won't fit inside her jacket, because his body in general and his arms in particular are ridiculous and they both know it, but he still wears it like some sort of cape around his shoulders because otherwise she would feel guilty and worried. Or maybe just a bit worried, and not at all guilty because his coat is warm and maybe she's sort of swimming on it but it smells like him, and he has his scarf, he will totally be okay, and if he isn't Blades will play nurse for him until he gets better because she is nice like that.
Slingshot is watching her with that half-curl of his mouth again, and he's still wearing the glasses and the scarf but with her -- comparatively -- small black jacket over his shoulders he looks like even more of a tool, and she tells him so.
"You look like one of those dicks in male perfume adverts", she says. Then, because honesty is important, "But it's kinda hot on you, don't worry."
Slingshot just laughs, and tugs on the lapels of his -- now her -- coat to straighten them, and also pull her closer to him so he can put his arm around her again. "C'mon, they must be selling coffee somewhere around here, and we still need to find stuff for the Secret Santa thing."
Blades smirks. "You know I still think--"
"B, I am not getting Perceptor a coupon for a day at the spa."