Fic: Immolation (Part 43/100)
Title: Immolation (Part 43/100)
Prompt: “Christmas”
Verse: G1 (AU)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 859
Pairings: Inferno/Red Alert
Other Characters: Sideswipe, Cliffjumper, Huffer, mentions of Ratchet and Omega Supreme
Warnings: Sticky. Angst. Suggestions of funny Christmas filk.
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers, or any of the official characters, do not get paid for doing this except with reviews.
Summary: The Autobots' Christmas party reminds Red Alert of how much things have changed, and how much he wishes they hadn't.
Notes: A continuation of my series of vignettes on the theme of Inferno being raped, and how he and Red Alert deal with it, centred around prompts from slash_100.
Primus, I am sorry this chapter took so long. I got busy during Christmas, my muse crashed and burned, and then Christmas was over and I couldn't get started writing a themed prompt for a theme that was expired.
But for some reason my muse has perked up again, so you have Christmas in July.
I would like to extend a big thank you to the crew over at tf_socket_fics. femme4jack and gatekat, your marvelous worldbuilding, your engaging plots, and unforgettable characterizations are single-handedly responsible for my muse's return to life. Sorry for being so behind with commenting, but I guarantee that any time I see you guys update it is one of the highlights of my day.
Groon - 1 hour.
Astrosecond - ≈.273 seconds
Orbital cycle: 1 day
Solar cycle: 1 year
( Master prompt and chapter list )
Christmas
“Decepticons sneak up
Trying to infiltrate
Our base and wreck some slag
But it won't work that great
Someone is on guard
Working to save our afts
He's paranoid and gets annoyed
But he sure knows his craft!
Red Alert, Red Alert
Rocks security
He's got lots of cameras
Watching you and me
Red Alert, Red Alert
Rocks security
He's got lots of cameras
Watching you and me”
Sideswipe finished his paean to Red Alert, sung to the tune of 'Jingle Bells' to laughter and applause from the audience of assembled Autobots.
All except one.
“Come on, Red,” Inferno chuckled, elbowing his partner playfully. “That song was actually mighty nice - 'specially comin' from one of the Twins.”
Red Alert held his glower a moment more, and then slowly uncrossed his arms. “I suppose so,” he acknowledged. “I didn't realize the importance of my job actually registered with them - I think I'm about to experience a processor crash.” A small smile stretched the corners of his lip components before he could stop it.
Inferno took a sip of his highgrade just as Huffer launched into an uncharacteristically optimistic serenade to Omega Supreme, - who was watching via video uplink - to the tune of 'O Come All Ye Faithful'. “I don't know how Jazz does it,” the fire engine murmured. “Comin' up with all these party games year after year.”
“I can't decide if it's better than the 'ugly Christmas sweater' party last year,” Red said, dialling down his audios a bit as Huffer struggled for the higher notes. “I still don't know how he managed to get so many of those acrylic monstrosities to fit us.”
“Aww Red, but ya looked cute wearin' happy little snowmen...” Inferno teased.
Red Alert scowled at the remembered humiliation, then softened as a more pleasant recollection took its place. “Yours was better,” he admitted with a trace of fondness. For Inferno, Jazz had chosen a surprisingly appropriate sweater that depicted a fireplace hung with festive stockings.
The fire engine ducked his head, his earlier attempt at mirth fading to a wistful smile that quickly vanished.. “It did kinda suit me, didn't it?” He slumped down further into his seat.. “I was gonna show it off at the fire station Christmas party this year,” he muttered guiltily. “First time I missed it in twenty-five years...”
“I know how important it was to you,” Red Alert whispered back softly, reaching across the table to place his hand on Inferno's. “But you weren't feeling well that day, and you weren't sure how you would handle all the people.”
“Yeah... never woulda forgiven myself if I'd panicked and broken somethin', or hurt someone.” Inferno agreed, shuddering at the mere thought. “But I don't know if I can forgive myself anyway. Those kids, the way their little faces would light up every time they saw me. Primus, they didn't even want Santa Claus ta give 'em their presents, not when they had me around. It's breakin' my spark ta know I let 'em down...”
“You didn't let them down, Inferno,” Red Alert said gently. “You know Hot Spot was happy to handle it for you.”
“It ain't the same. It was my fire station, my people, I shoulda been there.” His free hand clenched slowly into a fist. “Damn slaggin' Cons, takin' over everythin' that matters ta me. Is it ever gonna stop?”
“You know what Ratchet said,” Red Alert hedged, noticing for the first time that Cliffjumper was staring at them sourly, probably disapproving of them for talking during the performance, even though they were trying to be quiet. “These things take time.”
“I think I want ta get back to our quarters now,” Inferno said.
Red Alert frowned. Once upon a time, Inferno would never have suggested leaving, because he loved these gatherings, especially when they had a humorous theme as tonight's did. Now he usually put an end to their socializing even before Red did, a fact which made the security director's spark ache. “We don't have to leave on my account,” he said reassuringly. “I want you to be out having fun.” Which he did, even if it meant being obliged to come along for more than a token appearance, because the fire engine had developed an aversion to being out on his own.
“Naw, Red, I'm tired,” Inferno replied, voice a mixture of fatigue, regret, and anxiety that would once have been completely foreign to him.
“Alright then.”
They made their way discreetly to the exit, and as they made their way to their quarters, Red Alert's audios were haunted by the merry refrains of “Ratchet's Wrench is Going to Get You” set to the tune of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” He never used to like going home alone, but now he found himself wishing he were, wishing that Inferno was back there in the rec room, laughing with the others, the way it used to be.