Saturday Night Snippet!
Trying to get back into the writing swing again, so going to see if I can manage to write a snippet a week, and Saturday is (usually) my day off, and also alliteration. That should be doable, right? So!
No warnings, just weary, silly P-bots :)
Three orns. It was the longest continuous span they’d spent as Defensor, with little rest and no recharge. Even Hot Spot looked weary. Streetwise rubbed at his helm dazedly. “Who am I, again?”
“Street Spot,” Groove murmured into his neck, from where he was slumped against his brother. “Or Hot Aid.”
They were not quite too weary to laugh, although it was more internal than external, a wave of snickering warmth through the gestalt bond. Blades snorted and found energy to lift one arm and poke Groove in the side.
“C’mere, Groovey Blade, c’mere Wise Aid,” Hot Spot said, as he snagged and rolled various brothers until he had them tucked mostly beneath him, a reversal of their usual method of piling on top of their gestalt commander for recharge. Silent laughter tumbled through their bond again as they were pleasantly pinned. First Aid’s systems were already nearly in recharge, but he frowned a little at the slight groaning sounds Hot Spot’s hydraulics had made while rearranging his brothers, and his visor flickered as he tried to summon up energy to do a scan. Hot Spot nuzzled their helms together and thought reassurance at him, backed up by Groove and Streetwise and Blades. First Aid subsided with an amused huff and a promise that everyone was getting a thorough check over. Later.
//Later// Hot Spot agreed. He watched in satisfaction as his team powered down to recharge. Later would be later, but now there was only now, and warm togetherness, and sweet rest. Blades turned on an optic to check on him, not quite as in recharge as he had seemed, and Hot Spot grinned and sighed, snuggled them all closer, and powered down at last.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/144934.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
No warnings, just weary, silly P-bots :)
Three orns. It was the longest continuous span they’d spent as Defensor, with little rest and no recharge. Even Hot Spot looked weary. Streetwise rubbed at his helm dazedly. “Who am I, again?”
“Street Spot,” Groove murmured into his neck, from where he was slumped against his brother. “Or Hot Aid.”
They were not quite too weary to laugh, although it was more internal than external, a wave of snickering warmth through the gestalt bond. Blades snorted and found energy to lift one arm and poke Groove in the side.
“C’mere, Groovey Blade, c’mere Wise Aid,” Hot Spot said, as he snagged and rolled various brothers until he had them tucked mostly beneath him, a reversal of their usual method of piling on top of their gestalt commander for recharge. Silent laughter tumbled through their bond again as they were pleasantly pinned. First Aid’s systems were already nearly in recharge, but he frowned a little at the slight groaning sounds Hot Spot’s hydraulics had made while rearranging his brothers, and his visor flickered as he tried to summon up energy to do a scan. Hot Spot nuzzled their helms together and thought reassurance at him, backed up by Groove and Streetwise and Blades. First Aid subsided with an amused huff and a promise that everyone was getting a thorough check over. Later.
//Later// Hot Spot agreed. He watched in satisfaction as his team powered down to recharge. Later would be later, but now there was only now, and warm togetherness, and sweet rest. Blades turned on an optic to check on him, not quite as in recharge as he had seemed, and Hot Spot grinned and sighed, snuggled them all closer, and powered down at last.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/144934.html. Please comment wherever you wish.