TF: Cuddles
Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Summary: Inferno can’t find Red Alert. And there’s a party in the rec room. This does not bode well.
Warnings: Overcharged mechs?
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: This is a gift fic for femme4jack . She wanted comment fic and she gave a couple of prompts to someone else, and well… this one stuck with me. How could I resist it after all? Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
It was the last place Inferno had expected to find Red Alert. He'd checked the security center as soon as he returned from his patrol. But no Red Alert. He'd checked their quarters, but no Red Alert. And the thought of traipsing all over the base to search out his reclusive mate made his tanks grumble, reminding him that he really needed to refuel.
He made his way to the rec room; the sounds of a party in full swing getting louder as he got closer. He stifled a groan, knowing it was going to take him longer to get his ration and get out. Not that he disliked parties. Completely the opposite, but he rarely got to spend much time there because Red Alert couldn't always take the noise levels. Steeling himself to go in, get his energon and get out, he opened the door.
The music blasted him as soon as he stepped through, although it wasn't as loud as it could have been. That was some relief. The lights had been switched to low, and he had to cycle his optics to compensate. He made his way through the dancing, swaying crowd of mechs and reached the energon dispenser. He paused at the table of high-grade, trying to decide whether it was a good idea to grab a cube or two for later.
“Hey Inferno, come an’ join us.” Ironhide waved from the table he shared with Ratchet, Wheeljack, Trailbreaker, Hound and Mirage. And… was that really Red Alert? Cycling his optics, Inferno realised that it was actually Red Alert. And a drunk Red Alert at that. Grabbing himself a couple of cubes, he sat down.
“’Ferno…” Red Alert immediately snuggled up close to him, wrapping both his arms around Inferno’s arm.
“Never figured him fer a cuddly drunk.” Ironhide grinned. Inferno raised his cube.
“Oh, cuddly and so much more.” He retorted, taking a long drink. The energon hitting his tanks did almost as much to raise his energy levels as the way Red Alert cuddled up to him did.