[G1] Apple a Day - Progress
a/n: This is for a flash fiction fill but actually, it's not. See. What had happened was, I wrote a fill for Skywinder for Tracks and Sideswipe and courting set in Apple a Day, and I referenced a bunch of stuff that hadn't happened yet because I forgot that I hadn't posted that chapter yet. So. I need to post to get to that fill before I do otherwise you'll all just be confused. This and two more chapters need to be posted before I can post the fill. *bows deeply*
I do apologize, Skywinder. But I promise it's written! I just, uh, had a moment.
Title: Progress
Universe: Apple a Day, G1
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, Skyfire, Jazz
Rating: K+
Warning: None
Description: The usual suspects gather to discuss their respective progress.
It was a night such as this that had prompted so many disasters, Ratchet thinks, but with a grin rather than a snarl. Last time had been a blend of bitterness attacked by exasperation that he attempted to drown in high grade.
Instead, he'd ended up participating in a challenge with his best friends. One that encouraged him to act on a deeply hidden desire.
Fortunately, it had turned out for the better.
And he's not the only one.
“Perhaps we should forgo the triple-distilled high grade this time, yes?” Perceptor suggests as they seat themselves at their favorite table in the corner of the rec room.
There is no celebration this time, but this has become a weekly ritual. The four of them carving out an hour to spend together regardless of shifts and other responsibilities.
It had been Wheeljack's idea.
“The war might continue ad infinitum. We can't let ourselves be dragged into the morass.”
And he was right. Though Ratchet doesn't dare tell the glitch that. He'd be far too smug.
Wheeljack chuckles. “Just plain old midgrade then? Sounds boring.”
“We could keep the high grade and avoid the game of truth or dare,” Ratchet says with a grunt, all but collapsing into his chair. A mid-air collision amid the Aerialbots and he'd been up to his elbows in jets. This is the first time he's sat down all fragging day.
“Yes, because it didn't work out well for you at all,” Wheeljack drawls with a pink flash of his indicators.
Ratchet rolls his optics. “Don't start, 'Jack. Because I seem to remember Red Alert catching you and a certain someone in the hallway.”
Wheeljack leans forward, draping himself across his corner of the table. “Are you expectin' me to be embarrassed 'bout that? 'Cause I'm not.” He winks an optic.
“Exhibitionist,” Perceptor accuses though it is with a twinkle in his optics that speaks volumes of the happiness in his field.
“You know it,” Wheeljack replies.
Ratchet laughs. “You are all incorrigible.”
“I am not,” Percepter retorts, but it's hard to be indignant when his lips are stretched in a smile. “I am obedient and circumspect.”
Ratchet all but guffaws. “Perhaps. But you know what they say about the quiet ones.”
“We get what we want?” Perceptor suggests.
Wheeljack snickers. “If what you want is Jazz then I'll say so.”
Heat floods Perceptor's faceplate, turning it a delicate pink. He curls around his cube. In fact, he'd hide behind it if he could.
“We've come to an agreement,” Perceptor murmurs.
Ratchet leans forward. “Of what sort?”
“To go slow.” Perceptor's field hums, nearly infectious in his glee.
“Slow!” Wheeljack raises both orbital ridges. “After you all but tackled him in front of everyone. And not everything you did was out of Red Alert's camera range you know.”
Perceptor flushes with embarrassment. “Yes, well, I blame that on high grade. I prefer to make such serious decisions when sober.” He toys with his cube and then shifts his gaze to Ratchet. “And you? Rumor suggest that you and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker seem to be getting along well.”
Ratchet reclines in his chair, completely at ease. Oh, he'd been embarrassed at first, but watching the Twins squirm as they struggle to comprehend the archaic process he's using has made that embarrassment fade.
“We're courting.”
Beside him, Skyfire stirs. “Courting? I didn't know we were still relying on such practices.”
“We're not.” Ratchet rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “But it was easier somehow.”
“Easier?” Perceptor prompts.
Ratchet nods and fiddles with his own cube. “They have a reputation, you know? I thought I'd just have one night and it would be enough. But it turns out, it isn't.” His gaze falls to the table, a safer place. “Courting gives them the time to back out without commitment and gives me something to hide behind.”
“You want them to realize how serious you are.” Perceptor's smile turns fond. “I can understand that.”
“Who's their guardian?” Skyfire asks.
This time, Ratchet smirks. “Optimus. Ironhide claims he is compromised, ” he says and tosses back his cube. Yes, the midgrade isn't going to cut it. He's going to need something with a bit more of a burn.
It's a long while since his partying days but he's not planning on getting as overcharged as he was the night of the bet.
Wheeljack laughs. “And how confused were they?”
“Very. But Ironhide gave them a guide and at least Sunstreaker's read it.” Ratchet rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “They're still interested and they haven't called it off yet. I consider those good signs.”
Perceptor sips at his cube. “You've yet to bid for exclusivity, I take it?”
“Don't want to push.” Not that he's heard about the Twins leaping from berth to berth since they started their courtship. But Ratchet doesn't want to chase them away either. He doesn't want any misunderstandings.
Speaking of which... Ratchet turns to Skyfire, who isn't sharing the same cheer as the rest of them. “What about you, Skyfire?”
The large shuttle toys with his midgrade, pushing the cube across the table but not drinking it. “There's nothing to say,” he says. “It didn't work out.”
Ratchet blinks.
Perceptor leans close, laying a hand on Skyfire's arm. “I am sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I ask...?”
“No. I don't want to talk about it.” Skyfire shakes his helm and then lifts his high grade, only to drain it in a flash. “It is best forgotten.”
Ratchet exchanges a glance with Wheeljack. He doesn't know who Skyfire had been harboring a crush on. True none of them had revealed who they wanted, though in Ratchet's case, his had been obvious. He had not been subtle in delivering the invitation apparently. Not that he remembers that night with any clarity.
Then again, Perceptor hadn't been sneaky either. It's a strange day when Wheeljack manages to bear more subtlety.
“But was it worth it?” Ratchet asks, feeling a twinge of guilt.
They had all been overcharged and overeager. They'd dared each other to follow through on a secret yearning. It had been easier, Ratchet remembers, to agree to do so when they knew they wouldn't be the only ones possibly being fools.
What were the odds that all four of them would emerge happy?
Seventy-five percent apparently.
Skyfire toys with his cube, slumped shoulders making him appear much smaller than a mass-displaced shuttle could possibly be. “I suppose that a chance, however slim, is better than no chance at all.”
Ratchet pats Skyfire's other arm, offering comfort with his field. The shuttle is withdrawn, but accepts the gentle hum of Ratchet's comfort with a shy smile.
That is, of course, the moment Jazz chooses to sashay up to their table and place a rather chaste hand on Perceptor's shoulder, opposite his scope. “Evenin' folks,” he says with a half-lit visor, his idea of a wink. “Mind if I borrow Perceptor here?”
“Depends on what you're borrowing him for,” Wheeljack says as he lounges in a chair. “And whether or not we get pictures.”
“Wheeljack!” Horror wars with amusement and Ratchet's not sure which of them Perceptor prefers.
Jazz tilts his helm. “I dunno. How much ya gonna offer for them?”
“Jazz!” Perceptor rises from his chair to the same intensity as his outrage. “Don't encourage him for Primus' sake.”
Jazz chuckles and hooks an elbow with Perceptor. “You ask and I obey, my sweet. Shall we go?”
Perceptor sighs and gives Jazz what is perhaps the most besotted look Ratchet has ever seen. “Whatever will I do with you?”
“Please don't answer,” Ratchet interjects as he catches a glimpse of the wicked curve to Jazz's lips. “Or if you do, save it for private.”
Jazz turns away with Perceptor on his arm, but not before throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. “Those courting rules leave you high and dry, don't they?”
Ratchet sputters, but the outrageous spy is gone before he can formulate any kind of retort.
Wheeljack, with a death wish, laughs himself right out of his chair.
Skyfire pushes from his seat with a noisy clatter, his chair tipping backward, and he scrambles madly to keep it from falling.
“Skyfire?” Ratchet starts to rise but Skyfire waves a hand of dismissal his direction.
“No. It's nothing. I'm fine. Really.” Skyfire hastily puts his chair back in place, his wings slicked down against his back. “You two have fun. I think I would rather return to my quarters.”
Ratchet frowns. “Are you sure?
Wheeljack climbs back into his chair, getting himself under control.
“Yes, I'm sure.” Skyfire hesitates, looking at them and then scanning the rec room at large, before returning his gaze to Ratchet. “Sorry. I wouldn't have been good company anyway.” He squeezes the back of his stool and then dips his helm in apology again.
Ratchet watches him go, the crowd parting to make room for the larger shuttle, but no one giving him pause or calling out to him. He wonders if Skyfire's unfortunate crush is in the mix, but it is impossible to say.
“Am I the only one feelin' a bit guilty?” Wheeljack asks, chair scraping against the floor as he scoots closer to Ratchet.
“It's not our fault,” Ratchet says but Jack does have a point. “All we can do is be his friend. And help him through it.”
Wheeljack stirs a finger through what's left of his midgrade. “You aren't curious?”
“Yeah. But it's none of our business. If he wants to share, he'll share.”
Wheeljack doesn't look so convinced. And Ratchet doesn't feel convinced. The dissatisfaction in Skyfire's field had been physically tangible.
Maybe it is time for Ratchet to do some snooping.
***
a/n: Four more flash fics to go, all of them already written, three of them part of existing universes and one of them not. Phew. Busy!
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. The jury's still out on whether or not I have the time for Flash Fic Friday on the 10th. have a happy weekend!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/280000.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
I do apologize, Skywinder. But I promise it's written! I just, uh, had a moment.
Title: Progress
Universe: Apple a Day, G1
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, Skyfire, Jazz
Rating: K+
Warning: None
Description: The usual suspects gather to discuss their respective progress.
It was a night such as this that had prompted so many disasters, Ratchet thinks, but with a grin rather than a snarl. Last time had been a blend of bitterness attacked by exasperation that he attempted to drown in high grade.
Instead, he'd ended up participating in a challenge with his best friends. One that encouraged him to act on a deeply hidden desire.
Fortunately, it had turned out for the better.
And he's not the only one.
“Perhaps we should forgo the triple-distilled high grade this time, yes?” Perceptor suggests as they seat themselves at their favorite table in the corner of the rec room.
There is no celebration this time, but this has become a weekly ritual. The four of them carving out an hour to spend together regardless of shifts and other responsibilities.
It had been Wheeljack's idea.
“The war might continue ad infinitum. We can't let ourselves be dragged into the morass.”
And he was right. Though Ratchet doesn't dare tell the glitch that. He'd be far too smug.
Wheeljack chuckles. “Just plain old midgrade then? Sounds boring.”
“We could keep the high grade and avoid the game of truth or dare,” Ratchet says with a grunt, all but collapsing into his chair. A mid-air collision amid the Aerialbots and he'd been up to his elbows in jets. This is the first time he's sat down all fragging day.
“Yes, because it didn't work out well for you at all,” Wheeljack drawls with a pink flash of his indicators.
Ratchet rolls his optics. “Don't start, 'Jack. Because I seem to remember Red Alert catching you and a certain someone in the hallway.”
Wheeljack leans forward, draping himself across his corner of the table. “Are you expectin' me to be embarrassed 'bout that? 'Cause I'm not.” He winks an optic.
“Exhibitionist,” Perceptor accuses though it is with a twinkle in his optics that speaks volumes of the happiness in his field.
“You know it,” Wheeljack replies.
Ratchet laughs. “You are all incorrigible.”
“I am not,” Percepter retorts, but it's hard to be indignant when his lips are stretched in a smile. “I am obedient and circumspect.”
Ratchet all but guffaws. “Perhaps. But you know what they say about the quiet ones.”
“We get what we want?” Perceptor suggests.
Wheeljack snickers. “If what you want is Jazz then I'll say so.”
Heat floods Perceptor's faceplate, turning it a delicate pink. He curls around his cube. In fact, he'd hide behind it if he could.
“We've come to an agreement,” Perceptor murmurs.
Ratchet leans forward. “Of what sort?”
“To go slow.” Perceptor's field hums, nearly infectious in his glee.
“Slow!” Wheeljack raises both orbital ridges. “After you all but tackled him in front of everyone. And not everything you did was out of Red Alert's camera range you know.”
Perceptor flushes with embarrassment. “Yes, well, I blame that on high grade. I prefer to make such serious decisions when sober.” He toys with his cube and then shifts his gaze to Ratchet. “And you? Rumor suggest that you and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker seem to be getting along well.”
Ratchet reclines in his chair, completely at ease. Oh, he'd been embarrassed at first, but watching the Twins squirm as they struggle to comprehend the archaic process he's using has made that embarrassment fade.
“We're courting.”
Beside him, Skyfire stirs. “Courting? I didn't know we were still relying on such practices.”
“We're not.” Ratchet rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “But it was easier somehow.”
“Easier?” Perceptor prompts.
Ratchet nods and fiddles with his own cube. “They have a reputation, you know? I thought I'd just have one night and it would be enough. But it turns out, it isn't.” His gaze falls to the table, a safer place. “Courting gives them the time to back out without commitment and gives me something to hide behind.”
“You want them to realize how serious you are.” Perceptor's smile turns fond. “I can understand that.”
“Who's their guardian?” Skyfire asks.
This time, Ratchet smirks. “Optimus. Ironhide claims he is compromised, ” he says and tosses back his cube. Yes, the midgrade isn't going to cut it. He's going to need something with a bit more of a burn.
It's a long while since his partying days but he's not planning on getting as overcharged as he was the night of the bet.
Wheeljack laughs. “And how confused were they?”
“Very. But Ironhide gave them a guide and at least Sunstreaker's read it.” Ratchet rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “They're still interested and they haven't called it off yet. I consider those good signs.”
Perceptor sips at his cube. “You've yet to bid for exclusivity, I take it?”
“Don't want to push.” Not that he's heard about the Twins leaping from berth to berth since they started their courtship. But Ratchet doesn't want to chase them away either. He doesn't want any misunderstandings.
Speaking of which... Ratchet turns to Skyfire, who isn't sharing the same cheer as the rest of them. “What about you, Skyfire?”
The large shuttle toys with his midgrade, pushing the cube across the table but not drinking it. “There's nothing to say,” he says. “It didn't work out.”
Ratchet blinks.
Perceptor leans close, laying a hand on Skyfire's arm. “I am sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I ask...?”
“No. I don't want to talk about it.” Skyfire shakes his helm and then lifts his high grade, only to drain it in a flash. “It is best forgotten.”
Ratchet exchanges a glance with Wheeljack. He doesn't know who Skyfire had been harboring a crush on. True none of them had revealed who they wanted, though in Ratchet's case, his had been obvious. He had not been subtle in delivering the invitation apparently. Not that he remembers that night with any clarity.
Then again, Perceptor hadn't been sneaky either. It's a strange day when Wheeljack manages to bear more subtlety.
“But was it worth it?” Ratchet asks, feeling a twinge of guilt.
They had all been overcharged and overeager. They'd dared each other to follow through on a secret yearning. It had been easier, Ratchet remembers, to agree to do so when they knew they wouldn't be the only ones possibly being fools.
What were the odds that all four of them would emerge happy?
Seventy-five percent apparently.
Skyfire toys with his cube, slumped shoulders making him appear much smaller than a mass-displaced shuttle could possibly be. “I suppose that a chance, however slim, is better than no chance at all.”
Ratchet pats Skyfire's other arm, offering comfort with his field. The shuttle is withdrawn, but accepts the gentle hum of Ratchet's comfort with a shy smile.
That is, of course, the moment Jazz chooses to sashay up to their table and place a rather chaste hand on Perceptor's shoulder, opposite his scope. “Evenin' folks,” he says with a half-lit visor, his idea of a wink. “Mind if I borrow Perceptor here?”
“Depends on what you're borrowing him for,” Wheeljack says as he lounges in a chair. “And whether or not we get pictures.”
“Wheeljack!” Horror wars with amusement and Ratchet's not sure which of them Perceptor prefers.
Jazz tilts his helm. “I dunno. How much ya gonna offer for them?”
“Jazz!” Perceptor rises from his chair to the same intensity as his outrage. “Don't encourage him for Primus' sake.”
Jazz chuckles and hooks an elbow with Perceptor. “You ask and I obey, my sweet. Shall we go?”
Perceptor sighs and gives Jazz what is perhaps the most besotted look Ratchet has ever seen. “Whatever will I do with you?”
“Please don't answer,” Ratchet interjects as he catches a glimpse of the wicked curve to Jazz's lips. “Or if you do, save it for private.”
Jazz turns away with Perceptor on his arm, but not before throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. “Those courting rules leave you high and dry, don't they?”
Ratchet sputters, but the outrageous spy is gone before he can formulate any kind of retort.
Wheeljack, with a death wish, laughs himself right out of his chair.
Skyfire pushes from his seat with a noisy clatter, his chair tipping backward, and he scrambles madly to keep it from falling.
“Skyfire?” Ratchet starts to rise but Skyfire waves a hand of dismissal his direction.
“No. It's nothing. I'm fine. Really.” Skyfire hastily puts his chair back in place, his wings slicked down against his back. “You two have fun. I think I would rather return to my quarters.”
Ratchet frowns. “Are you sure?
Wheeljack climbs back into his chair, getting himself under control.
“Yes, I'm sure.” Skyfire hesitates, looking at them and then scanning the rec room at large, before returning his gaze to Ratchet. “Sorry. I wouldn't have been good company anyway.” He squeezes the back of his stool and then dips his helm in apology again.
Ratchet watches him go, the crowd parting to make room for the larger shuttle, but no one giving him pause or calling out to him. He wonders if Skyfire's unfortunate crush is in the mix, but it is impossible to say.
“Am I the only one feelin' a bit guilty?” Wheeljack asks, chair scraping against the floor as he scoots closer to Ratchet.
“It's not our fault,” Ratchet says but Jack does have a point. “All we can do is be his friend. And help him through it.”
Wheeljack stirs a finger through what's left of his midgrade. “You aren't curious?”
“Yeah. But it's none of our business. If he wants to share, he'll share.”
Wheeljack doesn't look so convinced. And Ratchet doesn't feel convinced. The dissatisfaction in Skyfire's field had been physically tangible.
Maybe it is time for Ratchet to do some snooping.
***
a/n: Four more flash fics to go, all of them already written, three of them part of existing universes and one of them not. Phew. Busy!
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. The jury's still out on whether or not I have the time for Flash Fic Friday on the 10th. have a happy weekend!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/280000.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.