TF: Good Things
Rating: PG
Series: G1
Pairings: Red Alert/Inferno, Ratchet/Wheeljack if you squint and read between the lines
Summary: Red Alert always does his duty, missing out on what others see as the good things in life. But Red Alert knows all about the good things in his life.
Warnings: OMG it’s fluff! Short, sweet and possibly filling-inducing
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… Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Authors Note: Written for
mmouse15 for correctly guessing my favorite song out of the selection in my music meme (The Voice by The Moody Blues). She asked for Red Alert and Inferno… which I am always more than happy to write. And I apologise for the corniness of the ending.
Red Alert sat in his normal position; he could see every single monitor in the Security Center without having to move. The bank of monitors to his left ran through their rotations; showing the entrance to the Ark, most of the main corridor, right up to the med. bay, all rotating so that each picture was visible on one of the monitors at all times. The middle bank of monitors showed all of the locations in the Ark, with the exception of personal quarters (although it did show the corridors in the crew quarters). The bank of monitors on the right focussed on the brig, med. bay and Wheeljack’s lab.; all designated danger areas that warranted extra attention.
A few quick taps of the keyboard change the display on the monitors in front of him. The sun had set and the Autobots were relaxing. The battle against the Decepticons that day had been mercifully short and few casualties were sustained. Red Alert settled himself more comfortably in the chair and watched the events in the rec. room unfold. He knew what would happen. He had known from the moment Jazz had limped in, knee evidently still troubling him from the sneaky shot Skywarp had managed to land. Jazz would walk in; most of the Autobots present would greet him and invite him to sit with them. He would smile and laugh and joke with them, earning their trust and their friendship. It was something Red Alert was insanely jealous over. What he wouldn’t give to be able to be that friendly.
He watched as Jazz slowly convinced them that a party would be a good, nay great, idea, sparing a glance at the security cameras, tilting his head in apology. Red Alert didn’t mind too much. Sure, his job meant that he missed out on the parties, the mingling with fellow Autobots and the simple enjoyment of high-grade with friends. Quickly he checked the security grids he’d set up around the perimeter of the Ark, already knowing he would find them set, untampered and secure. A quick tilt of the video camera through a remote control had Jazz breaking out into laughter, slapping Blaster on the back and urging the tape-deck to play something good.
Reflexively, Red Alert switched off the audio from the rec. room. He could watch and ensure their safety without blowing out his audios listening to the noise Jazz and Blaster liked to call music. Quickly, the rec. room became a hive of activity; high-grade flowing and music playing. Red Alert found himself relaxing as he watched them unwind. Another battle, another victory, another success. Well, unless you counted the fact that Inferno was the only injured Autobot that required a prolonged stay in the med. bay. Yet another reason for him to be sitting in the Security Center and not down in the rec. room. It just simply wasn’t enjoyable without Inferno. Besides, who else would watch the monitors to ensure they were protected against possible Decepticon attacks?
Red Alert watched as Ratchet entered the rec. room, accompanied by Wheeljack. Frantically, Red Alert reminded himself that Ratchet would not have left the med. bay if his patients weren’t recovering to his satisfaction. Venting a soft sigh of relief, he relaxed back in his chair, optics focussed on the monitors in front of him. Watching friends laugh and joke with one another. Watching lovers cuddle close, whispering sweet nothings to one another.
The sound of the Security Center door sliding open drew Red Alert’s attention from his monitors. Only three Autobots had the passcode that he used when he was working in the room. And two of those three were down in the rec. room imbibing more high-grade than had to be possible (well, Ratchet was at any rate). Red Alert turned, fully prepared to pull his weapon on the intruder. Seeing Inferno standing in the doorway was not what he expected to see. Before he knew it, he was out of his chair and quickly crossing the room to wrap his arms around the fire engine.
“Why hey there too Red.” Inferno drawled, smiling down at the Security Director. Red Alert pulled himself away reluctantly and looked up at Inferno, something akin to a frown crossing his faceplates.
“Did Ratchet clear you from the med. bay?”
“Relax Red, I’m fine. Nothin’ ta worry about.”
“But…”
“But nothin’. Now I know there’s a party going on and you weren’t gonna go to it.”
“I have my duties Inferno!”
“And I have mine. Here.” Inferno held out a cube of high-grade before sitting himself down and taking a swig from his own cube.
“Thought we could have our own party right here.”
Sure, his job meant that he missed out on the parties, the mingling with fellow Autobots and the simple enjoyment of high-grade with friends. But it had its own rewards too. Time spent with his best friend; sitting quietly, arms wrapped around one another, optics lazily focussed on the monitors, audios focussed on the sweet nothings being drawled in his audios. He didn’t need to go to a party to experience everything. All he needed was Inferno.