I'd rather hook up with a guy who bought me a book than one who got me a drink.
Nine Rings of Vos - Arc 4: Earth
A Transformers: G1 Fanfiction
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: What do you mean he hasn't actually asked you out yet?
Timeline: To understand why Skids is making agitated tea-kettle noises, please click this link.
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(In which Skids is devious for the forces of Good.)
“You look like a mech with something on his mind.” Wheeljack blinked and looked up as Smokescreen slid into his seat with a charming grin. The inventor realized belatedly that he was not the target of Smokescreen’s comment only after Skids let out an enraged hiss, followed by a crackling growl, and a subsonic hum was emitted from the minibot’s door panels. Wheeljack stared at the uncharacteristic display of temper from his colleague, something about the exchange familiar in the half-forgotten way of old memories. Smokescreen chuckled, leaning his head on one hand as he tipped a knowing grin Skids’ way. “Well aren’t we just a regular bundle of sunshine and joy. Want to talk about it?”
Skids huffed, back panels twitching spasmodically as his engine snarled. “I’m. Fine.”
Wheeljack shook his head and turned back to his blueprints. Funny, the last time Wheeljack had seen something like that was when Windsheer had found out about Wheeljack’s first lover. The inventor grinned; his Imprinters had not taken well to the idea of their foundling growing up. By that time, Wheeljack had known enough about Seekers to get the gist of what those wing flickers meant, and even if he was not sensitive enough to pick up on the subtleties… well, curses were not really all that subtle, now were they? Holding back a snicker, Wheeljack sank back into his notes. Prowl had told Wheeljack, after being asked, that while door wings may emote there was no actual language attached to the movement of the appendages. Still, sometimes Wheeljack could not help but apply what his Imprinters had taught him to anyone with back kibble. It could produce some uniquely hilarious undertones to the conversations he engaged in.
Seeing that Wheeljack was once again deaf to the rest of the world, Skids glared at his smirking partner and hissed in aggravation. “What do you think you’re doing?” Stop drawing attention to me!
“Temper, temper.” Smokescreen kept his tone mildly chiding, ignoring the warning buzz of Skids panels. The Datsun turned just enough that his doors blocked Skids view of the common room, granting the illusion of privacy. It was pure coincidence that the move also prevented Skids from continuing his attempt to deactivate Beachcomber through the power of his ill-wishing. The diversionary tactician smiled blandly in the face of Skids affronted glare. “Come now; tell ol’ Smokey what’s bothering you.” And calm down, you’re slipping and someone will notice soon.
Skids snorted, but grudgingly relaxed. As he did, the few curious looks that the minibot’s bad mood had garnered glazed over and drifted away to other subjects.
Smokescreen blinked his optics in a rapid reboot cycle, shaking his head to dismiss the little voice that whispered :nothing-to-see-nothing-to-hear/ignore-it/somebody-elses-problem/carry-on: in the back of his cortex. If Smokescreen had not been who he was he never would have noticed it, but that was why Smokescreen had been the one assigned as Skids’ partner for the duration of the war in the first place.
“Nice try.” Smokescreen gave Skids a dry look. Yes, he knew what the minibot had tried to pull there, but see how he was not overreacting like a sparkling over it? “You can’t get rid of me that easily. Now fess up, what is it about Beachcomber that grinds your gears so bad?”
“Cliffjumper’s young.” Skids spat static as his tense sensor panels hummed an angry threat. “Cliffjumper is young, alone, and Beachcomber is his first lover. Their relationship is the result of overcharged shenanigans! He didn’t even have the common decency to court him properly!”
“Ah.” Smokescreen winced in sympathy and understanding. While Praxus was not quite as traditional as Vos, the diversionary tactician knew just how important proper courtship was. Just because it happened quickly was no reason to half-aft it. If anything, the faster a courtship went the grander the gestures you should make. As it was, Beachcomber and Cliffjumper’s relationship had been low-key until that notorious ‘morning after’ the victory party in question. With his background, Cliffjumper probably had no idea how insulted a traditional Vos-raised Seeker would be by a low-key relationship. It looked like Skids was one of the traditional sorts, and had already gotten offended on his kinsmech’s behalf. Who would have thought? Smokescreen grinned helplessly, shaking his head over his partner’s charming quirks. Really, Skids was adorable when he was in a snit.
“You know that there was no way Beachcomber would know what to do, right?” Smokescreen was determined to suppress his giggles until after the conversation was over. How was this his life? So much cute. “Even if Cliffjumper had cared enough about the proper forms to tell Beachcomber what they are..." It would’ve been a spectacularly stupid move on Cliffjumper’s part to do so.
“I know that.” Skids grumbled and sulked, slumping lower in his seat. Even Outsiders have rules for proper courtship. “The little scrap-pile didn’t even bother with those! They just fell into the berth together and never climbed out! Is it too much to ask for at least a gesture? That thing with Motormaster was a good start, but I haven’t seen anything since then that displays his intentions towards my kinsmech.”
“So it’s not the tradition you’re after as much as the proof of intent.” Smokescreen sat back to contemplate the situation. “The substance, not the form.”
“Precisely.” Skids nodded sharply, claws out and tap-tap-tapping away at the tabletop. “I cannot trust him with Cliffjumper’s affections until I see some premeditated act on his part that shows his devotion.” My Genitor dropped a slaver caravan into the Great Rift, freeing many Seekers and earning the attentions of my Formatter and his trine. My sister raced an acid storm with her trine to catch their mate. Meanstreak, Cliffjumper’s Genetrix, undermined the Altihex slave trade to free my niece Bullseye, Cliffjumper’s Formatter. “It is not unreasonable, I think, to want the same level of commitment for Cliffjumper.”
“Don’t you go putting words in my vocaliser.” Smokescreen thrummed a little warning through his engine. “I never said anything about you being unreasonable. I think you make a good point. So far, their relationship’s been an easy ride, and there’s no telling what’ll happen if it’s tested.”
“If only there was some way to do that.” Skids expression was nothing short of wistful.
“What? Test them?” Smokescreen paused, and a slow, evil grin crawled across his faceplates. “Some sort of… trial by fire.”
“Smokescreen?” Skids drew back warily at the devilish expression on the gambler’s face. Smokescreen’s reputation was not as bad as the twins, but all that meant was that Smokescreen was better at not getting caught. “What are you thinking of?”
“I just had an idea.” Smokescreen schooled his features and emissions into an expression of wounded innocence. “I just want to help you out. What do you think of this…?”
Smokescreen leaned in close and told the mini-Seeker his idea. It was a terrible, awful idea.
Skids loved it.
“That’s perfect.” The blue and red Flightless lit up with wicked glee. “It’s exactly what I want.”
“Shall we then?” Smokescreen issued the invitation with a wave of his arm.
“We shall.” Skids hopped out of his chair with a bob of his head and a happy smile, bad mood banished in favour of vengeful mischief.
/…/
It was nothing harmful, this plot to make Beachcomber prove his mettle, but it would force the geologist to stand up against opposition to his relationship with Cliffjumper and defend his right to be with his lover. It was not as flashy as say, storming a secret lab and freeing the prisoners, but neither Smokescreen nor Skids were willing to place Cliffjumper or Beachcomber in unwarranted danger just to sooth outraged traditionalist sensibilities. Pitting Beachcomber against peer pressure would have to do. Primus only knew that sometimes a mech would rather attack an enemy base than put up with the rumour mill at home.
A word here, an offhand comment there, and the gossip spread through the Ark.
All that was left was to wait for the right moment.
/…/
The scene was set, the buildup ready for the nudge into the climactic moment. Skids looked around and allowed himself to take the time for a moment of smug satisfaction. It was only a little bit sad how easy the Autobots were to manipulate, but to be fair, Skids had a megavorn of practice plus Smokescreen on his side. Now, to wait for his cue…
Skids turned to Smokescreen, put on an expression of fretful concern, and projected :listen-to-the-words: as the metaphorical curtain went up.
/../
“Why, you look worried, Skids.” Smokescreen, ever aware of his duties as base psychologist, leaned towards the minibot with a faint frown. “Is something bothering you? You know you can talk to me and it will go no further.”
“Well… I sure you know how we minibot’s look out for each other, and I don’t want to be the one pointing fingers…” Skids spoke slowly, almost reluctant, but needing to share his worries. Smokescreen nodded in encouragement, and Skids sighed, voice lowering discreetly. “I’m, well… to be honest I’m worried about Cliffjumper.”
“Oh?” Smokescreen’s doors twitched in surprise. “Why’s that?”
“I’m glad he’s found someone, I am.” Skids looked so earnest, wringing his hands in worry. “Only… only Beachcomber is so much older, and Cliffjumper is so young - as young as the twins and Bluestreak! So… I’m worried because they got together while they were overcharged, and what if… well. I’m sure Beachcomber wouldn’t knowingly take advantage, but maybe Cliffjumper, well… I’m pretty sure that Beachcomber is Cliffjumper’s first lover. What if Cliffjumper… he never holds back, you know how he is, and Beachcomber is so casual about everything. What if they’re not thinking the same things about their relationship? What if Cliffjumper doesn’t know he can say ‘no’?”
“I’m sure that there’s nothing to worry about.” Smokescreen’s voice was soothing, but a flicker of doubt and concern escaped his control. “Cliffjumper can take care of himself.”
“I suppose so.” Skids was obviously unconvinced, but allowed Smokescreen to turn the conversation towards other topics.
At the table behind the two doorwingers Ironhide turned and looked at Optimus. The Prime was obviously frowning behind his battle mask, as disturbed by the overheard conversation as the weapons master. Ironhide had something of a soft spot for Cliffjumper. He liked the tough little scrapper, and he would have had to of been blind to miss the crush Cliffjumper had on him when the red minibot had first joined up. Only barely more than a youngling, but braver than any full squad of Enforcers put together, and Ironhide could still remember the tactful, dignified way Cliffjumper had gotten over his initial infatuation. Still, when the scraplet fell, he fell hard, and Ironhide had the feeling Cliffjumper would excuse any number of wrongs committed in the so-called ‘name of love’.
“So.” Ironhide glowered at the Leader of the Autobots. “Are you going to deal with this, or do I need to get involved?”
“… I’ll talk to Beachcomber.” Optimus suppressed the urge to whine about the unfairness of it all. The things he put up with in the name of universal peace and harmony.
Forgotten in the background, Skids and Smokescreen exchanged victorious, conspiratorial grins and toasted a job well done with their half empty energon cubes.
(Word Count: 1,897)
EDIT: Spelling fixed 15/02/14
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So funny story. Not only is my internet connection being a fickle bitch, but Livejournal doesn't seem to be all that fond of my Notebook. *grumbles* DX
... Yeah, so anyway, the post I planned to make at midnight before going to bed has taken me two hours of frustration and clever use of the cut and paste option. I hope you all appreciate what I've gone through to bring you this. XP
So my mother dragged me off to some kinda self-afferming therapy clinic thing that "OMG changed her life!!" And I took some kind of personality test thing that basically said that to get long with me you need to a) give me my alone time, and b) refrain from emotional histronics. Gee Mum, so glad you shelled out $300 for a piece of paper that says the exact same thing I've been telling you about myself for the last ten years. I mean, it's not like I don't live with myself, eh?
Pfft.
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!! Well would you look at that, I finally managed to hit the Abandoned Cave at the right time to scoop up Valentine's Dragons. Go me. Also, much easier to scoop up the eggies I'm missing when people are busy chasing Holiday eggs.
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