080831 - Sticky Green Treats
Jul. 31st, 2008 02:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
koilungfish18/6/08 - 22/6/08 - Ill
23/6/08 - 14/7/08 - Holiday
15/7/08 - Ill
16/7/08 - Ill
17/708 - 784 words on Glass Diamond, 262 words on The Other God of Charr
18/7/08 - Ill
19/7/07 - Ill
20/7/08 - 4344 words on Huskarls
21/7/08 - 746 words on Huskarls
22/7/08 - 1386 words on Deeper Down
23/7/08 - Ill
24/7/08 - Ill
25/7/08 - Day Off
26/7/08 - Ill
27/7/08 - Ill
28/7/08 - Ill
29/7/08 - 727 words on Huskarls
30/7/08 - Ill
31/7/08 - Ill
19/8/07-21/8/07 - Sticky Green Treats
Optimus Prime walked into the restaurant followed by four drunken Aerialbots and a feeling of prophetic dread. The restaurant was expensive, Slingshot was absent without known sobriety and he had perhaps two hours to find the missing Aerialbot before the entertainment compound closed to visitors for the night. Behind him, Silverbolt went "oooh" in the vague way he'd been going "ooh" and "aah" at anything reflective since Prime had found him in the road, flat-drunk and leaning on a lamppost.
The restaurant was hushed, that deep quiet that softly says "Money". The walls and ceiling were dark, the floor covered with a dark maroon quilted padding. Strips of highly polished bronze ran up the walls, broad bands of mirror-chrome ran parallel along the walls, and small round mirrors in clusters of seven were set in the ceiling, reflecting the light from the small white lamps in the corners of the ceiling.
There was a soft bubbling sound near Prime's knee. He looked down and saw a sleazard - of course it was a sleazard, the entire compound was owned and run and staffed by sleazed, that's why all the rooms had padded floors, why there were seven mirrors to every lamp, why there were no windows - a sleazard, smartly dressed in formal maroon unitard and kilt, looking back up at him.
"Is Mr Big Robot seeking something?" the sleazard said, blinking its big pebble-round yellow eyes at him. It spoke rather good Monacusian, better than most of the sleazards Prime had spoken to in the last three hours.
"Yes," Prime said, quickly looking over his shoulder at his wobbling charges. "I'm looking for another robot, like them. Similar size, similar colours."
The sleazard looked at Aerialbots and rubbed his chin. "Mr Other Big Robot is here," he said thoughtfully, "but asked not to be disturbed."
Prime frowned. That didn't sound like Slingshot. "I'm afraid if my friend is here, he probably can't afford to pay."
The sleazard waiter nodded. "Mr Other Big Robot is not paying. Mr Other Other Big Robot is paying. Has paid. Has asked not to be disturbed."
Who on Cybertron is Mr Other Other Big Robot? Prime wondered, feeling the sinking sensation of despair creeping into his fueltank. "I really need to speak to my friend. I'm concerned about his - health." Well, his sobriety. What would Slingshot be doing in a place this expensive?
The waiter looked pained, shifted from one foot to the other, tail-tip twitching. "Is restaurant policy to respect wishes of paying customers."
Prime winced. He was broke. Even if the Aerialbots had any energon left, it probably wasn't enough to buy an appetizer here. "I'm sorry, but I have to speak to my friend. His brothers -"
"Is all family?" the sleazard said.
"Yes, yes, I suppose ... " Prime said, shrugging a little, taking another quick look at the Aerialbots. Silverbolt and Fireflight were staring at the shining mirrors, the Aerialbot leader swaying gently from side to side. Skydive looked embarrassed. Air Raid just looked sick.
"Most apologies, Mr Big Robot and Family!" the waited said, bowing energetically. "Please accompany me. Family of Mr Other Other Big Robot most welcome here!"
"He thinks this other Transformer's going to buy us a round," Skydive said softly as they followed the waiter across the thickly padded floor. The tables weren't visible as they passed, each behind a screen of thick black wood. Chrome circles and clusters of mirrors glimmered on the screens. Prime heard faint hints of muffled conversations, the clink of ceramic and crystal.
At least this place is big enough for me to stand upright, he thought. There were only seven restaurants that catered to "outsize" aliens in the sleazard compound, and this was the last one they had left to check.
The sleazard led them deep into the restaurant, right to the back. The booths here were bigger, the screens reaching the ceiling, and the mirrors were fewer. The sleazard stopped at the entrance to one booth, held out a hand and bowed. Prime nodded, thanked him quietly, went around the corner into the booth and realized he'd made a terrible mistake.
"Prime!" Megatron exclaimed, letting go of Starscream's waist. The jet leaned back against Megatron's knees, blinking at Prime and his conga-line of wobbly jets. "What in Cybertron's name are you doing here?"
"That's a question I should ask you," Prime said, opening his hand to grab his gun. Then he noticed that Megatron's cannon was propped up against the wall to the tyrant's left, whilst Starscream's guns lay on the scattered cushions on the far side of the table. " ... what's going on?"
Starscream tipped his head back and groaned in exasperation, then turned to Megatron and, to Prime's deep mortification, yanked the warlord's head back to kiss him hungrily. Megatron's arms slid back around Starscream, fingers interlocking across the jet's lower back. At Prime's elbow, Air Raid groaned and sat down with his arms folded over his midsection.
Megatron disengaged from Starscream and tipped his head to one side to look over his lieutenant's shoulder at the Aerialbot. "Your warrior is malfunctioning," he said distractedly, possibly because Starscream was running a finger around the muzzle of his back-cannon.
"He drank something that wasn't designed for Cybertronian consumption," Prime said, trying to recover some poise. His mortal enemies seemed entirely unconcerned by their presence. Megatron hadn't even glanced at his cannon, and Starscream seemed utterly unperturbed at being unarmed with his back to an enemy. He hesitated, uncertain. What kind of a plan is this? Are they trying to catch me off guard by acting inoffensive? If they are genuinely uninterested in fighting, what has caused this sudden change? A twinkle of fluttered in his core. I doubt it could be a permanent change ... but it is pleasing to see them without rage or aggression, just ...
Starscream gasped as Megatron's mandenta scraped his lower lip. The flier shifted, the line of his backstrut curving as he swayed from side to side. Prime heard the clink-creak-tink as Starscream's pelvis moved in slow circles over Megatron's trigger-guard, and blushed until his aura was tight against his hull.
Megatron put his hands on Starscream's hips, stroking the sharp edges with fingertips and thumbs, then gently held Starscream, stilling him.
"Prime," the tyrant said, voice sluggish. "You haven't answered my question."
"I was looking for Slingshot," Prime replied, wondering if the Decepticons actually had something to do with the Aerialbot's disappearance.
"Hnah," Starscream went, a quiet and disinterested sound. He leaned back against Megatron's knees.
"He's not here," Megatron said, running his hand up Starscream's side and stroking the flier's chest-vents with his thumb. Starscream's optics dimmed, narrowed, his smile turned up a fraction higher. Prime had never seen them so relaxed, so mellow ...
... so drunk.
He looked back at the table, a block of black marble almost as tall as his knees, polished to a glass-fine sheen. In the center was a polished crystal dish, almost as broad as Prime's forearm was long. It was filled with iridescent, highly potent energon. Around it were several smaller dishes - smooth, shallow, charcoal-black pottery, sleazard traditional-style. All contained remnants of glowing liquids or flakes of energon wafers; one still held a number of brightly glowing green sticks, another a handful of rubbery-looking red cubes, a third a few luminous pink lozenges.
"Megatron," Prime announced, "I'm here to stop whatever it is you're planning." Silverbolt sat down. Fireflight flopped down as well, then tipped forward and sat, head hanging and looking barely conscious.
"You are not!" Starscream exclaimed twisting around in Megatron's lap and sweeping his hand back in a gesture of dismissal.
"You're here to stop me from taking a holiday?" Megatron asked, putting his arms around Starscream's waist and stroking the bases of the jet's wings. Starscream moaned and suddenly Prime was unimportant again, staring bewildered as Starscream tipped his head back, closed his optics and made soft noises of delight as Megatron's fingers worked his wings. "We even paid."
"With energon stolen from Earth," Prime reminded the Decepticon.
"With energon levied from our protection racket on Monacus," Megatron said, and Prime realized how drunk the Decepticon was to give such information away casually.
"This is the only place that won't pay," Starscream said, not opening his optics.
"So, rather than burn up energon destroying the place, we let it be known across Monacus that their protection money is ending up here," Megatron finished, running his thumbs up the seams between Starscream's wings and torso. "I doubt they'll last long."
"And you expect me to believe you're just taking a holiday?" Prime asked, feeling he should try to force the Decepticons to leave.
Megatron smirked, resting a hand on Starscream's side. "What does it look like, Prime?"
"Shiny," Silverbolt murmured hooking his fingers at the bowl of green treat-sticks. He tried to pull it to him, but was too uncoordinated to actually get hold of the Decepticons' leftovers.
"Silverbolt, leave that alone," Prime ordered. It's not yours, you've had enough already and I wouldn't trust Decepticon food.
"I wouldn't let him eat those," Megatron murmured, running a hand down Starscream's cockpit. The jet made a soft sound of enjoyment, pressing into him. Prime's fueltank curdled with embarrassment. "Those are full of ..." He trailed off, laughed softly and smirked at Starscream.
"Full of what?" Prime asked, bending down to pull Silverbolt back.
"Jet aphrodisiacs," Megatron said simply.
"Hey!" Starscream said, sounding barely peeved. He pulled himself away from Megatron to look around. "Those are mine." He reached out and pulled the little bowl away from Silverbolt. The Aerialbot commander reached after the vanishing treat, tipped over, and fell on his side with a flump of cushions. Starscream, apparently too drunk to even smirk, smiled contently as he picked up his bowl and took one of the green sticks from it.
Megatron's optics took on a sudden sharp glint. Starscream caught his look, and then he smirked, a sly knowing look. He brought the green stick to his mouth and ran the tip along his lower lip. Megatron's mouth opened slightly, optics bright. Starscream's glossa slipped out and licked the end of the green treat. Prime looked down at an odd sound from Fireflight and saw the Aerialbot biting his knuckles and staring at Starscream with optics like moons.
Megatron caught Starscream's hand, and Prime saw in the look that passed between them - the faint shifts of mouth and optic, the slight tilts of head, the turn of the hand - a wordless argument. Megatron's fingers closed on the green treat and Starscream relinquished it without protest. The flier tilted his head and smiled sideways at the warlord.
Megatron put the green treat into his mouth, catching the end between his mandenta so the bright green tip showed between his lips. Starscream chuckled softly, optics narrowing a hairsbreadth, and leaned forwards to catch the end of the treat between his mandenta.
A trickle of neon green energon spilled between their mouths, dripping onto Megatron's chin before Starscream's glossa curled around the treat and lapped it away.
23/6/08 - 14/7/08 - Holiday
15/7/08 - Ill
16/7/08 - Ill
17/708 - 784 words on Glass Diamond, 262 words on The Other God of Charr
18/7/08 - Ill
19/7/07 - Ill
20/7/08 - 4344 words on Huskarls
21/7/08 - 746 words on Huskarls
22/7/08 - 1386 words on Deeper Down
23/7/08 - Ill
24/7/08 - Ill
25/7/08 - Day Off
26/7/08 - Ill
27/7/08 - Ill
28/7/08 - Ill
29/7/08 - 727 words on Huskarls
30/7/08 - Ill
31/7/08 - Ill
19/8/07-21/8/07 - Sticky Green Treats
Optimus Prime walked into the restaurant followed by four drunken Aerialbots and a feeling of prophetic dread. The restaurant was expensive, Slingshot was absent without known sobriety and he had perhaps two hours to find the missing Aerialbot before the entertainment compound closed to visitors for the night. Behind him, Silverbolt went "oooh" in the vague way he'd been going "ooh" and "aah" at anything reflective since Prime had found him in the road, flat-drunk and leaning on a lamppost.
The restaurant was hushed, that deep quiet that softly says "Money". The walls and ceiling were dark, the floor covered with a dark maroon quilted padding. Strips of highly polished bronze ran up the walls, broad bands of mirror-chrome ran parallel along the walls, and small round mirrors in clusters of seven were set in the ceiling, reflecting the light from the small white lamps in the corners of the ceiling.
There was a soft bubbling sound near Prime's knee. He looked down and saw a sleazard - of course it was a sleazard, the entire compound was owned and run and staffed by sleazed, that's why all the rooms had padded floors, why there were seven mirrors to every lamp, why there were no windows - a sleazard, smartly dressed in formal maroon unitard and kilt, looking back up at him.
"Is Mr Big Robot seeking something?" the sleazard said, blinking its big pebble-round yellow eyes at him. It spoke rather good Monacusian, better than most of the sleazards Prime had spoken to in the last three hours.
"Yes," Prime said, quickly looking over his shoulder at his wobbling charges. "I'm looking for another robot, like them. Similar size, similar colours."
The sleazard looked at Aerialbots and rubbed his chin. "Mr Other Big Robot is here," he said thoughtfully, "but asked not to be disturbed."
Prime frowned. That didn't sound like Slingshot. "I'm afraid if my friend is here, he probably can't afford to pay."
The sleazard waiter nodded. "Mr Other Big Robot is not paying. Mr Other Other Big Robot is paying. Has paid. Has asked not to be disturbed."
Who on Cybertron is Mr Other Other Big Robot? Prime wondered, feeling the sinking sensation of despair creeping into his fueltank. "I really need to speak to my friend. I'm concerned about his - health." Well, his sobriety. What would Slingshot be doing in a place this expensive?
The waiter looked pained, shifted from one foot to the other, tail-tip twitching. "Is restaurant policy to respect wishes of paying customers."
Prime winced. He was broke. Even if the Aerialbots had any energon left, it probably wasn't enough to buy an appetizer here. "I'm sorry, but I have to speak to my friend. His brothers -"
"Is all family?" the sleazard said.
"Yes, yes, I suppose ... " Prime said, shrugging a little, taking another quick look at the Aerialbots. Silverbolt and Fireflight were staring at the shining mirrors, the Aerialbot leader swaying gently from side to side. Skydive looked embarrassed. Air Raid just looked sick.
"Most apologies, Mr Big Robot and Family!" the waited said, bowing energetically. "Please accompany me. Family of Mr Other Other Big Robot most welcome here!"
"He thinks this other Transformer's going to buy us a round," Skydive said softly as they followed the waiter across the thickly padded floor. The tables weren't visible as they passed, each behind a screen of thick black wood. Chrome circles and clusters of mirrors glimmered on the screens. Prime heard faint hints of muffled conversations, the clink of ceramic and crystal.
At least this place is big enough for me to stand upright, he thought. There were only seven restaurants that catered to "outsize" aliens in the sleazard compound, and this was the last one they had left to check.
The sleazard led them deep into the restaurant, right to the back. The booths here were bigger, the screens reaching the ceiling, and the mirrors were fewer. The sleazard stopped at the entrance to one booth, held out a hand and bowed. Prime nodded, thanked him quietly, went around the corner into the booth and realized he'd made a terrible mistake.
"Prime!" Megatron exclaimed, letting go of Starscream's waist. The jet leaned back against Megatron's knees, blinking at Prime and his conga-line of wobbly jets. "What in Cybertron's name are you doing here?"
"That's a question I should ask you," Prime said, opening his hand to grab his gun. Then he noticed that Megatron's cannon was propped up against the wall to the tyrant's left, whilst Starscream's guns lay on the scattered cushions on the far side of the table. " ... what's going on?"
Starscream tipped his head back and groaned in exasperation, then turned to Megatron and, to Prime's deep mortification, yanked the warlord's head back to kiss him hungrily. Megatron's arms slid back around Starscream, fingers interlocking across the jet's lower back. At Prime's elbow, Air Raid groaned and sat down with his arms folded over his midsection.
Megatron disengaged from Starscream and tipped his head to one side to look over his lieutenant's shoulder at the Aerialbot. "Your warrior is malfunctioning," he said distractedly, possibly because Starscream was running a finger around the muzzle of his back-cannon.
"He drank something that wasn't designed for Cybertronian consumption," Prime said, trying to recover some poise. His mortal enemies seemed entirely unconcerned by their presence. Megatron hadn't even glanced at his cannon, and Starscream seemed utterly unperturbed at being unarmed with his back to an enemy. He hesitated, uncertain. What kind of a plan is this? Are they trying to catch me off guard by acting inoffensive? If they are genuinely uninterested in fighting, what has caused this sudden change? A twinkle of fluttered in his core. I doubt it could be a permanent change ... but it is pleasing to see them without rage or aggression, just ...
Starscream gasped as Megatron's mandenta scraped his lower lip. The flier shifted, the line of his backstrut curving as he swayed from side to side. Prime heard the clink-creak-tink as Starscream's pelvis moved in slow circles over Megatron's trigger-guard, and blushed until his aura was tight against his hull.
Megatron put his hands on Starscream's hips, stroking the sharp edges with fingertips and thumbs, then gently held Starscream, stilling him.
"Prime," the tyrant said, voice sluggish. "You haven't answered my question."
"I was looking for Slingshot," Prime replied, wondering if the Decepticons actually had something to do with the Aerialbot's disappearance.
"Hnah," Starscream went, a quiet and disinterested sound. He leaned back against Megatron's knees.
"He's not here," Megatron said, running his hand up Starscream's side and stroking the flier's chest-vents with his thumb. Starscream's optics dimmed, narrowed, his smile turned up a fraction higher. Prime had never seen them so relaxed, so mellow ...
... so drunk.
He looked back at the table, a block of black marble almost as tall as his knees, polished to a glass-fine sheen. In the center was a polished crystal dish, almost as broad as Prime's forearm was long. It was filled with iridescent, highly potent energon. Around it were several smaller dishes - smooth, shallow, charcoal-black pottery, sleazard traditional-style. All contained remnants of glowing liquids or flakes of energon wafers; one still held a number of brightly glowing green sticks, another a handful of rubbery-looking red cubes, a third a few luminous pink lozenges.
"Megatron," Prime announced, "I'm here to stop whatever it is you're planning." Silverbolt sat down. Fireflight flopped down as well, then tipped forward and sat, head hanging and looking barely conscious.
"You are not!" Starscream exclaimed twisting around in Megatron's lap and sweeping his hand back in a gesture of dismissal.
"You're here to stop me from taking a holiday?" Megatron asked, putting his arms around Starscream's waist and stroking the bases of the jet's wings. Starscream moaned and suddenly Prime was unimportant again, staring bewildered as Starscream tipped his head back, closed his optics and made soft noises of delight as Megatron's fingers worked his wings. "We even paid."
"With energon stolen from Earth," Prime reminded the Decepticon.
"With energon levied from our protection racket on Monacus," Megatron said, and Prime realized how drunk the Decepticon was to give such information away casually.
"This is the only place that won't pay," Starscream said, not opening his optics.
"So, rather than burn up energon destroying the place, we let it be known across Monacus that their protection money is ending up here," Megatron finished, running his thumbs up the seams between Starscream's wings and torso. "I doubt they'll last long."
"And you expect me to believe you're just taking a holiday?" Prime asked, feeling he should try to force the Decepticons to leave.
Megatron smirked, resting a hand on Starscream's side. "What does it look like, Prime?"
"Shiny," Silverbolt murmured hooking his fingers at the bowl of green treat-sticks. He tried to pull it to him, but was too uncoordinated to actually get hold of the Decepticons' leftovers.
"Silverbolt, leave that alone," Prime ordered. It's not yours, you've had enough already and I wouldn't trust Decepticon food.
"I wouldn't let him eat those," Megatron murmured, running a hand down Starscream's cockpit. The jet made a soft sound of enjoyment, pressing into him. Prime's fueltank curdled with embarrassment. "Those are full of ..." He trailed off, laughed softly and smirked at Starscream.
"Full of what?" Prime asked, bending down to pull Silverbolt back.
"Jet aphrodisiacs," Megatron said simply.
"Hey!" Starscream said, sounding barely peeved. He pulled himself away from Megatron to look around. "Those are mine." He reached out and pulled the little bowl away from Silverbolt. The Aerialbot commander reached after the vanishing treat, tipped over, and fell on his side with a flump of cushions. Starscream, apparently too drunk to even smirk, smiled contently as he picked up his bowl and took one of the green sticks from it.
Megatron's optics took on a sudden sharp glint. Starscream caught his look, and then he smirked, a sly knowing look. He brought the green stick to his mouth and ran the tip along his lower lip. Megatron's mouth opened slightly, optics bright. Starscream's glossa slipped out and licked the end of the green treat. Prime looked down at an odd sound from Fireflight and saw the Aerialbot biting his knuckles and staring at Starscream with optics like moons.
Megatron caught Starscream's hand, and Prime saw in the look that passed between them - the faint shifts of mouth and optic, the slight tilts of head, the turn of the hand - a wordless argument. Megatron's fingers closed on the green treat and Starscream relinquished it without protest. The flier tilted his head and smiled sideways at the warlord.
Megatron put the green treat into his mouth, catching the end between his mandenta so the bright green tip showed between his lips. Starscream chuckled softly, optics narrowing a hairsbreadth, and leaned forwards to catch the end of the treat between his mandenta.
A trickle of neon green energon spilled between their mouths, dripping onto Megatron's chin before Starscream's glossa curled around the treat and lapped it away.
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Date: 2008-08-01 05:45 pm (UTC)