Firsts: Drift and Perceptor, Take 2
Title: Firsts: Drift and Perceptor, Take 2
Author: Mirage Shinkiro
Rating: T
Warnings: light mech/mech, a.k.a. feelings between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-“pronoun’d” ‘bots.
Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.
Summary: Drift has a drunken Perceptor on his hands.
A/N, explanation: For the holiday fic exchange on TFic_Contests. Each ficlet is capped at 1000 words. The prompt:
4. Continuity: IDW
Characters/Pairing: Drift/Perceptor
Prompt/Premise: Drunk and horny.
Preferred Rating: Any will do.
Firsts: Drift and Perceptor, Take 2
At first, Drift wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. For a joor, he’d been relaxing at a corner table in the bar, watching the various alien races giving patronage to the space station the Wreckers had stopped at. The lights cast a tranquil blue glow over the area, throwing the corners into shadow, and soft music, reminiscent of Earth’s jazz, wafted over the murmuring crowd. Then, suddenly, Perceptor was sliding into the booth beside him, smiling. Blatantly, goofily, smiling.
“Why, hello Drift.” Perceptor leaned into his face. “So glad to see you here.”
Drift jerked backward, the stringent odor of high-grade energon nipping his nose. “Oh, Primus.” He glared down at his own low-grade, then opened his comm. link. ::Drift to Springer. Who slipped Perceptor high-grade?::
A slurred voice returned to him. ::Ah, Percy just needed to lighten up, ya know? He’s gotten so dour and slag.::
“Never mind,” Drift muttered, closing the comm. link.
“Never mind what?” Perceptor thunked into his shoulder, laying his head there and grinning up at Drift. “Do you know what? We need to stop pretending . . . and get down to business.” He flopped his hand onto Drift’s knee and stroked upward.
“Whoa!” Shocked, Drift scrambled to catch that hand and hold it captive. “I appreciate your interest, but you’re over-energized. That’s not how I’d like to begin a relationship with you.” He paused, wondering if he should have admitted the last part, then shrugged it off. Perceptor might not even remember in the morning, and the truth was that they were attracted to each other. Drift was quite aware of it, in fact, even though they had both been studiously ignoring it, neither of them apparently sure how to broach the topic.
The high-grade was taking care of that.
Perceptor raised his other hand, tracing gentle - if clumsy - fingers over his face. “I’ve been quite afraid to reveal my feelings,” he blurted out, the drunkenness blatantly flipping his introversion into extroversion. “Perhaps you don’t see me that way. Or perhaps the timing’s wrong.” An overly-loud chuckle accompanied this pronouncement. “But I’m thinking there’s no time like now.”
This will not end well, Drift thought, frowning. There was no way he would take advantage of his friend’s condition. “Let’s go back to the ship.” Best to get Perceptor away from the potential audience, or in a more practical sense, best to get Perceptor to a safe place should they be attacked. He held out one hand, ready to provide assistance.
Perceptor’s normally grim countenance was swept away once again by the most charming of smiles. “We’re returning to our quarters? Excellent!” He grabbed Drift’s hand, and despite the help, still nearly stumbled as he stood.
“Yes, our quarters,” Drift said. It was true, after all, even if he didn’t mean it the same way Perceptor did.
It took Drift a breem to get Perceptor back aboard and to their quarters, especially with his stumbling and laughing all the way there. Drift was faintly amused to find Perceptor was a loud, happy drunk, and despite knowing Perceptor didn’t set out to be over-energized, he was happy to see him smile. Once they reached their cabin, however, Drift realized he had a small problem on his hands.
“So what will we do now that we’re here?” Perceptor grabbed his wrists and pulled him deeper into the room, grinning.
“Not what is apparently on your processor.” Drift shook his head, glancing around their quarters. He hadn’t triggered the lights to come on full force, leaving them to cast a soft glow instead. Admittedly, it seemed romantic, and he certainly harbored a secret love for his friend. However, he wasn’t going to ‘face Perceptor while he was over-energized nor was he going to ‘face him as the very first act of their relationship. “I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”
Reaching out, Perceptor ran a hand down his chest plates. “I wouldn’t.” A look of confusion washed over his face. “I don’t think I would.”
That admission was enough to deeply deter Drift. He wanted a long-term relationship not a one-night stand, and he cared for Perceptor far too much to hurt his feelings or make him uncomfortable. “That’s why we’ll wait.” He cupped Perceptor’s cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “I do care for you, and I definitely find you attractive. But let’s talk about this in the morning.”
A small pout passed over Perceptor’s lips, but he looked to be not long for the conscious world. Drift stared at that pout and found himself lost for a moment. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he really, really shouldn’t. But at the sight of those soft lips shining in the dim yellow glow of their quarters, he couldn’t help himself. Drift leaned down, pressing their lips together gently, and kissed him.
Perceptor pressed into the kiss, a faint moan escaping him, and Drift slipped his glossa into his mouth, teasing him faintly. Perceptor wrapped both arms around his shoulders, meeting glossa with glossa, but after a moment, Drift reluctantly pulled away, determined to not let things get out of hand. “Later,” he whispered, corralling Perceptor to his berth.
“Better be a later,” Perceptor mumbled, nearly falling over the edge of his berth.
Once Perceptor lay down, he passed out immediately, and Drift pulled over the desk chair to sit by him. He rubbed Perceptor’s arm once, smiling faintly to himself and hoping Perceptor wouldn’t be too embarrassed in the morning. After all, the “later” was a promise, not a brush off. He wanted Perceptor by his side all his days, and he didn’t want anything to get in their way.
Author: Mirage Shinkiro
Rating: T
Warnings: light mech/mech, a.k.a. feelings between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-“pronoun’d” ‘bots.
Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.
Summary: Drift has a drunken Perceptor on his hands.
A/N, explanation: For the holiday fic exchange on TFic_Contests. Each ficlet is capped at 1000 words. The prompt:
4. Continuity: IDW
Characters/Pairing: Drift/Perceptor
Prompt/Premise: Drunk and horny.
Preferred Rating: Any will do.
Firsts: Drift and Perceptor, Take 2
At first, Drift wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. For a joor, he’d been relaxing at a corner table in the bar, watching the various alien races giving patronage to the space station the Wreckers had stopped at. The lights cast a tranquil blue glow over the area, throwing the corners into shadow, and soft music, reminiscent of Earth’s jazz, wafted over the murmuring crowd. Then, suddenly, Perceptor was sliding into the booth beside him, smiling. Blatantly, goofily, smiling.
“Why, hello Drift.” Perceptor leaned into his face. “So glad to see you here.”
Drift jerked backward, the stringent odor of high-grade energon nipping his nose. “Oh, Primus.” He glared down at his own low-grade, then opened his comm. link. ::Drift to Springer. Who slipped Perceptor high-grade?::
A slurred voice returned to him. ::Ah, Percy just needed to lighten up, ya know? He’s gotten so dour and slag.::
“Never mind,” Drift muttered, closing the comm. link.
“Never mind what?” Perceptor thunked into his shoulder, laying his head there and grinning up at Drift. “Do you know what? We need to stop pretending . . . and get down to business.” He flopped his hand onto Drift’s knee and stroked upward.
“Whoa!” Shocked, Drift scrambled to catch that hand and hold it captive. “I appreciate your interest, but you’re over-energized. That’s not how I’d like to begin a relationship with you.” He paused, wondering if he should have admitted the last part, then shrugged it off. Perceptor might not even remember in the morning, and the truth was that they were attracted to each other. Drift was quite aware of it, in fact, even though they had both been studiously ignoring it, neither of them apparently sure how to broach the topic.
The high-grade was taking care of that.
Perceptor raised his other hand, tracing gentle - if clumsy - fingers over his face. “I’ve been quite afraid to reveal my feelings,” he blurted out, the drunkenness blatantly flipping his introversion into extroversion. “Perhaps you don’t see me that way. Or perhaps the timing’s wrong.” An overly-loud chuckle accompanied this pronouncement. “But I’m thinking there’s no time like now.”
This will not end well, Drift thought, frowning. There was no way he would take advantage of his friend’s condition. “Let’s go back to the ship.” Best to get Perceptor away from the potential audience, or in a more practical sense, best to get Perceptor to a safe place should they be attacked. He held out one hand, ready to provide assistance.
Perceptor’s normally grim countenance was swept away once again by the most charming of smiles. “We’re returning to our quarters? Excellent!” He grabbed Drift’s hand, and despite the help, still nearly stumbled as he stood.
“Yes, our quarters,” Drift said. It was true, after all, even if he didn’t mean it the same way Perceptor did.
It took Drift a breem to get Perceptor back aboard and to their quarters, especially with his stumbling and laughing all the way there. Drift was faintly amused to find Perceptor was a loud, happy drunk, and despite knowing Perceptor didn’t set out to be over-energized, he was happy to see him smile. Once they reached their cabin, however, Drift realized he had a small problem on his hands.
“So what will we do now that we’re here?” Perceptor grabbed his wrists and pulled him deeper into the room, grinning.
“Not what is apparently on your processor.” Drift shook his head, glancing around their quarters. He hadn’t triggered the lights to come on full force, leaving them to cast a soft glow instead. Admittedly, it seemed romantic, and he certainly harbored a secret love for his friend. However, he wasn’t going to ‘face Perceptor while he was over-energized nor was he going to ‘face him as the very first act of their relationship. “I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”
Reaching out, Perceptor ran a hand down his chest plates. “I wouldn’t.” A look of confusion washed over his face. “I don’t think I would.”
That admission was enough to deeply deter Drift. He wanted a long-term relationship not a one-night stand, and he cared for Perceptor far too much to hurt his feelings or make him uncomfortable. “That’s why we’ll wait.” He cupped Perceptor’s cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “I do care for you, and I definitely find you attractive. But let’s talk about this in the morning.”
A small pout passed over Perceptor’s lips, but he looked to be not long for the conscious world. Drift stared at that pout and found himself lost for a moment. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he really, really shouldn’t. But at the sight of those soft lips shining in the dim yellow glow of their quarters, he couldn’t help himself. Drift leaned down, pressing their lips together gently, and kissed him.
Perceptor pressed into the kiss, a faint moan escaping him, and Drift slipped his glossa into his mouth, teasing him faintly. Perceptor wrapped both arms around his shoulders, meeting glossa with glossa, but after a moment, Drift reluctantly pulled away, determined to not let things get out of hand. “Later,” he whispered, corralling Perceptor to his berth.
“Better be a later,” Perceptor mumbled, nearly falling over the edge of his berth.
Once Perceptor lay down, he passed out immediately, and Drift pulled over the desk chair to sit by him. He rubbed Perceptor’s arm once, smiling faintly to himself and hoping Perceptor wouldn’t be too embarrassed in the morning. After all, the “later” was a promise, not a brush off. He wanted Perceptor by his side all his days, and he didn’t want anything to get in their way.