Fic: "Etched."

Mar 13, 2012 22:34

Title: Etched
Warnings/Content Advice: Minor sexual references, mentions of drunkeness
Rating: PG-13
Continuity: G1
Characters: ?/? (can be whoever you think it is. I was non-specific on purpose).
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Transformers.
Prompt: No. 4 from the 10th of Match posting.
Note: Mods, let me know if I have to bump up the rating on this one. I think it's fine, but I'm asking to make sure.



“Ugh.”

“I echo that. What the hell did we drink last night?”

“The twins high grade…followed by Wheeljack’s high grade. And then combined the two.”

“Slag. No wonder my processor feels like it’s going to melt.”

“That’s the thing you are worried about? Not the fact we ended up in the berth together with suspicious looking stains on our thighs?”

“Hey, it looks like dried high grade. Not…you know.”

“Oh Primus, just say it by the words. Interfacing fluids. Hang on, let me try some.”

The other mech watched as his companion licked a finger, trailed it through the dried purple fluid, and brought it to his mouth to taste. He wasn’t sure if he should be aroused or disgusted with what he just did.

“Nope, it’s high grade. We must have just overcharged and the most convenient place is…Ironhide’s berth?!”

“Slag. Let’s get out of here before he drags his sorry aft from where he passed out.”

The two mechs quickly cleaned up and got out, looking around in the corridor and breathing a sigh of relief. The coast was clear. It seemed like most other mechs were nursing their own hangovers. Either that or they were relaxing and chuckling at the thought of every other mech hung over.

It wasn’t until the pair were out in the bright lights of the corridor that the first mech looked over to his companion and froze, looking at something on the outer upper arm armour. The second mech, who was purging the memory of his fellow Autobot trailing a finger through the purple fluid earlier, caught the look. “What’s up mech?”

“Erm…do you remember where that came from?” the first mech asked, pointing to the arm panel.

“Huh?”

“The etching of Optimus Prime’s helm on your arm perhaps?”

“…WHAT?”

As the etched mech tried to get a look at the tattoo like rendering of their leader’s helm, the other mech chuckled, “I know we were drunk last night, but looks like you did more than pass out. It looks good, but I wouldn’t declare my respect for Prime like that.”

The second mech finally rotated his arm enough to see the etching and would have paled if he had been human. “Slag. Not good.”

The first mech laughed. “I’m going to have fun with this.”

“Yeah. And so will the rest of the Ark.”

“Come on then. Let’s see what Ratchet can do about it,” the first mech said, and stepped in front to lead the way.

His companion got a clear view of the back of the first mech, and had to raise a hand to his mouth and bite down on it to hold his laughter in.

There, on the other mech’s aft, was an etching of a femme in a come-hither pose.

continuity: g1, author: darkeyes_17

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