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ayngelcatTitle: "That Old Familiar Feeling"
Universe: G1
Rating: PG13
Characters: Octane, Moonracer, Chromia, Powerglide and an OC Copter
Warnings: None really. Sexual tension?
Prompt: #2 “In a bar at closing time”
Notes: More chiselling at the Femme Chronicles – and hurrah for Speedwriting for making me get off my aft and do it. This is set, again, in the former half of OP and co.’s four million year entombment. Set on Cybertron, then Ganthis, which in my AU is a moon of Cybertron as some know. The copter in this was going to be Blades but I realized he wasn’t created yet *fail* – even though I don’t pertain to the “Protectobots created on Earth” scenario. Still – I like to think this one shows some kinda ‘typical copter traits.’
THAT OLD FAMILIAR FEELING
Before ....
Moonracer would not let up on the subject. “So whaddaya reckon, Chromia? Elita’s drinkin’ too much. Don’t you reckon?”
Chromia looked at her sharply. “That ain’t for you to pass judgement on! Elita’s been to hell n’back Moonracer! We all got our ways of - dealin’ with stuff!”
Moonracer snickered. “I figured as much!”
The other femme looked cross, now. “What’s the deal, Moonracer?”
Moonracer’s intakes let out a long hiss. “Well - this thing about keeping up a 'military' appearance. Look like a neat, efficient, femmely outfit. No loud behaviour, no obvious interfacing and definitely no drinking. Doesn’t it strike you as – a little hypocritical?”
Chromia still looked reproachful. “Elita ain’t bothered, so long as its outta the public optic ....”
“That’s so boring!” said Moonracer, ignoring the disapproval. “But look – I understand the ‘keep up appearances’ thing. Now …” she grinned at her colleague, “can’t be in the public optic if we’re not here, can it? I’m thinkin’ of taking a trip off Cybertron. Wanna come with me?”
Chromia looked at her in surprise. “A trip off Cybertron? Where?”
“Ganthis! “ said Moonracer. “You know - Cybertron’s largest moon, home of the famous casino and hotel complex?”
Chromia snorted “That closed vorns ago! Those – triple changers – who used to run it – they turned Decepticon! They gave it all away.”
Moonracer’s optics gleamed. “Wrong!” she said. “They didn’t turn properly Decepticon, see? Octane and Blitzwing took off somewhere, and Astrotrain? Well, he was supposed to go to Earth, but he just kinda never went.”
Chromia looked doubtful. She raised an optic ridge. But Moonracer continued before she could speak. “Now it looks like Megatron ain’t coming back, they’ve set up shop again!” she said. It’s swingin’ over there! They got their own energy sources and everything.”
Chromia looked even more disapproving. But then, an impish look came into her optics. “They got good ‘grade?” she growled.
Moonracer nodded. “And rust sticks!” As many as you can chew.
Chromia glanced around, almost as though she expected an eavesdropper to emerge from the shadows. “Not a word to anyone! I – uh – I wouldn’t wanna worry Elita!”
Moonracer laughed. “As if!” she said.
........
And later ....
It was near closing time in the bar on the lower levels of the Ganthis Casino.
Moonracer was pleased with the way things had turned out.
A most uncharacteristically exuberant Chromia had disappeared some time ago with a green rotored mech and another femme – introduced as ‘Arcee’. They were from some strategic military outpost on the outskirts of the sector.
Moonracer couldn’t remember the name of it. She had been too busy looking at the green rotored one who had winked at her in the way of one accustomed to pleasing femmes. Although he seemed to be with Arcee.
Not that this had disappointed the femme-racer. She had had more than enough fun enjoying the range of mechs who had ‘approached ‘her. And whilst none of them ‘did it’ for her enough to make her want to ‘go off’ with any of them without a considerable greater state of inebriation, Moonracer had thoroughly enjoying flirting.
It didn’t even matter that Octane had been through twice, and that when he flicked his wings and flashed her a charming smile, all those sensations he’d always managed to inspire in her came flooding back with no less intensity than they had in vorns gone by. But no, Moonracer had told herself. She had made up her mind about Octane a long time ago. The triple changer was not the reason she had come here.
“What happened to your mate?” said a voice on her left. Moonracer turned to see the young blue and white rotary, the one who’d boasted that he was soon going to this military outpost the others had spoken of, was back and looking considerably drunker. “She’s a bit of all right your mate!” he declared. “Blue bits like mine!”
The mech looked barely out of initiation. Considering Chromia’s general disapproval of ‘the young’ and their ‘lip’ regarding most things they did, Moonracer thought it a good thing she wasn’t there – although it was an amusing thought. “I think she kinda goes more for her own age group!” she smirked.
“I ’m not that young!” the rotary protested. “I’d be outta college in a couple of years – well – if there was one to still go to. That mate of yours, that mech she was with, his name’s Springer. He’s an instructor at Kupp’s outpost. I’m gonna go there soon!”
Yeah, that was the name of the place. Kupp was some old timer who’s had an argument with Prime about outer sector defences and set up where he thought they were lacking. Springer ...
Moonracer thought of his handsome face and powerful physique, with the gleaming green panels. The sensation which rippled across her sensor net was not unpleasant at all.
“Your blue friend likes rotaries!” the blue and white one was grinning at her. “So do you – I can tell!” he grinned, knowingly. “And that one’s a triple changer.”
Moonracer hadn’t known that! She flushed a little, but nevertheless flashed him a charming smile. “I might be partial to the odd blade here and there.”
There was a chuckle from her other side. Moonracer turned to see another mech from earlier, the red flyer with the pompous manner and obvious sense of self importance, who she remembered from operations in the Kaon offensive. He’d reminded her his name was …. Powerglide? Yeah, that was it. With emphasis on the Power.
He also looked like a few more had gone down the hatch since earlier.
“Wanna get another drink?” he winked at her. “I was kinda thinking you might wanna party up with a real flyer!“
“Yeah – I’ll have one!” the rotary piped up, not hearing the ‘real flyer’ part.
The red mech cast a condescending look at him. “I kinda - wasn’t talkin' to you, buddy! I don’t make a habit of chattin’ up pre-init mechelescents. Why don’t you go buy yourself an energon cream?” He turned his attention back to Chromia. “So what’s it to be?”
The rotary bristled angrily, rotors twitching. “What makes you think you’re so flash?” he burst out. “Just cos you got fixed wings! Well I’m sure she’d rather be with me than an ugly old codger like you! Wouldn’t you?”
“Oh yeah? I don’t think so!” The red flyer snickered. “Maybe someone ougtta call the sparkling care service.”
The rotary was on his feet. “You wanna take this outside?”
“Well now – if you’re gonna be like that ….” Powerglide put down his drink.
Moonracer saw that the bartenderer spoke into his comm, and that one of the security mechs dressed in black slipped outside. She felt guilty, now. “As a matter of fact I rather like my own company,” she said. “And I can buy my own drinks. I’m sorry to disappoint you both!"
But the rotary was fired up – as they were inclined to get in these situations. “Put ‘em up, aft!” he declared. Meanwhile Powerglide was getting up slowly. His thickset body flexed, wings twitching as he cracked his knuckles. Can’t say I’m fond of unfair contests myself, he said. “But part of the experience of youth is learning when it just ain’t wise to take somebody on!”
Leaning on the bar, Moonracer put her helm in her hands. She let out a despairing sigh. This was all her fault!
“Gentlemechs?” There was a voice behind her. The bartender looked up and gave a short nod. Powerglide and Blades also looked up – and their faces stiffened. They both sat down again.
Moonracer sat up, feeling the ripple of a powerful energy field behind her. She did not even have to turn around to know who it was. “Octane” she murmured.
Octane addressed Powerglide. “You owe one Smokescreen a round of poker up on the seventh floor!” He said. “We kinda encourage a policy of finishing what we started here. I suggest you get lost, pal. And as for you ....” he turned to the rotary. “ ..... you shouldn’t even be here! You got age ID?”
The rotary scowled, but he’d lost his earlier cockiness. Sullenly, he pulled out a card and flashed it at the triple changer.
“All right, so you qualify!” Octane said. “Just! In the meantime, I suggest you stick to midgrade and keep your mouth shut. And don’t bother my regular customers, or you really will be history, got it?”
Powerglide got up and stumped off without another word, whilst the rotary retreated to the other end of the bar and skulked, scowling. Moonracer felt a touch on shoulder, a finger trailing down her arm. She shivered.
“This ain’t kinda much of a greeting, y’know?”
Moonracer didn’t want to turn around; didn’t want his optics roving hungrily over her frame, didn’t want the urges that brought about. Not from him. Not when she could have been any one of – well – of any number of attractive femmes. She’d already seen enough of Octane to know he hadn’t changed.
“Aww come on!” he crooned. “Y’know - you always had a lotta talents, Moon. But playin' drunken gamblers off at closing time wasn't one.“ He grinned, leaning close. “Gonna close up soon anyway. Wanna come for a private celebration?”
Moonracer felt the air from his intakes warm on her neck cables, felt the power of the energy field, the intricacy of the complicated transformation cogs clicking and turning, their superbly crafted components working flawlessly.
“Yeah …” she muttered. But she didn’t turn around.
Universe: G1
Rating: PG13
Characters: Octane, Moonracer, Chromia, Powerglide and an OC Copter
Warnings: None really. Sexual tension?
Prompt: #2 “In a bar at closing time”
Notes: More chiselling at the Femme Chronicles – and hurrah for Speedwriting for making me get off my aft and do it. This is set, again, in the former half of OP and co.’s four million year entombment. Set on Cybertron, then Ganthis, which in my AU is a moon of Cybertron as some know. The copter in this was going to be Blades but I realized he wasn’t created yet *fail* – even though I don’t pertain to the “Protectobots created on Earth” scenario. Still – I like to think this one shows some kinda ‘typical copter traits.’
THAT OLD FAMILIAR FEELING
Before ....
Moonracer would not let up on the subject. “So whaddaya reckon, Chromia? Elita’s drinkin’ too much. Don’t you reckon?”
Chromia looked at her sharply. “That ain’t for you to pass judgement on! Elita’s been to hell n’back Moonracer! We all got our ways of - dealin’ with stuff!”
Moonracer snickered. “I figured as much!”
The other femme looked cross, now. “What’s the deal, Moonracer?”
Moonracer’s intakes let out a long hiss. “Well - this thing about keeping up a 'military' appearance. Look like a neat, efficient, femmely outfit. No loud behaviour, no obvious interfacing and definitely no drinking. Doesn’t it strike you as – a little hypocritical?”
Chromia still looked reproachful. “Elita ain’t bothered, so long as its outta the public optic ....”
“That’s so boring!” said Moonracer, ignoring the disapproval. “But look – I understand the ‘keep up appearances’ thing. Now …” she grinned at her colleague, “can’t be in the public optic if we’re not here, can it? I’m thinkin’ of taking a trip off Cybertron. Wanna come with me?”
Chromia looked at her in surprise. “A trip off Cybertron? Where?”
“Ganthis! “ said Moonracer. “You know - Cybertron’s largest moon, home of the famous casino and hotel complex?”
Chromia snorted “That closed vorns ago! Those – triple changers – who used to run it – they turned Decepticon! They gave it all away.”
Moonracer’s optics gleamed. “Wrong!” she said. “They didn’t turn properly Decepticon, see? Octane and Blitzwing took off somewhere, and Astrotrain? Well, he was supposed to go to Earth, but he just kinda never went.”
Chromia looked doubtful. She raised an optic ridge. But Moonracer continued before she could speak. “Now it looks like Megatron ain’t coming back, they’ve set up shop again!” she said. It’s swingin’ over there! They got their own energy sources and everything.”
Chromia looked even more disapproving. But then, an impish look came into her optics. “They got good ‘grade?” she growled.
Moonracer nodded. “And rust sticks!” As many as you can chew.
Chromia glanced around, almost as though she expected an eavesdropper to emerge from the shadows. “Not a word to anyone! I – uh – I wouldn’t wanna worry Elita!”
Moonracer laughed. “As if!” she said.
........
And later ....
It was near closing time in the bar on the lower levels of the Ganthis Casino.
Moonracer was pleased with the way things had turned out.
A most uncharacteristically exuberant Chromia had disappeared some time ago with a green rotored mech and another femme – introduced as ‘Arcee’. They were from some strategic military outpost on the outskirts of the sector.
Moonracer couldn’t remember the name of it. She had been too busy looking at the green rotored one who had winked at her in the way of one accustomed to pleasing femmes. Although he seemed to be with Arcee.
Not that this had disappointed the femme-racer. She had had more than enough fun enjoying the range of mechs who had ‘approached ‘her. And whilst none of them ‘did it’ for her enough to make her want to ‘go off’ with any of them without a considerable greater state of inebriation, Moonracer had thoroughly enjoying flirting.
It didn’t even matter that Octane had been through twice, and that when he flicked his wings and flashed her a charming smile, all those sensations he’d always managed to inspire in her came flooding back with no less intensity than they had in vorns gone by. But no, Moonracer had told herself. She had made up her mind about Octane a long time ago. The triple changer was not the reason she had come here.
“What happened to your mate?” said a voice on her left. Moonracer turned to see the young blue and white rotary, the one who’d boasted that he was soon going to this military outpost the others had spoken of, was back and looking considerably drunker. “She’s a bit of all right your mate!” he declared. “Blue bits like mine!”
The mech looked barely out of initiation. Considering Chromia’s general disapproval of ‘the young’ and their ‘lip’ regarding most things they did, Moonracer thought it a good thing she wasn’t there – although it was an amusing thought. “I think she kinda goes more for her own age group!” she smirked.
“I ’m not that young!” the rotary protested. “I’d be outta college in a couple of years – well – if there was one to still go to. That mate of yours, that mech she was with, his name’s Springer. He’s an instructor at Kupp’s outpost. I’m gonna go there soon!”
Yeah, that was the name of the place. Kupp was some old timer who’s had an argument with Prime about outer sector defences and set up where he thought they were lacking. Springer ...
Moonracer thought of his handsome face and powerful physique, with the gleaming green panels. The sensation which rippled across her sensor net was not unpleasant at all.
“Your blue friend likes rotaries!” the blue and white one was grinning at her. “So do you – I can tell!” he grinned, knowingly. “And that one’s a triple changer.”
Moonracer hadn’t known that! She flushed a little, but nevertheless flashed him a charming smile. “I might be partial to the odd blade here and there.”
There was a chuckle from her other side. Moonracer turned to see another mech from earlier, the red flyer with the pompous manner and obvious sense of self importance, who she remembered from operations in the Kaon offensive. He’d reminded her his name was …. Powerglide? Yeah, that was it. With emphasis on the Power.
He also looked like a few more had gone down the hatch since earlier.
“Wanna get another drink?” he winked at her. “I was kinda thinking you might wanna party up with a real flyer!“
“Yeah – I’ll have one!” the rotary piped up, not hearing the ‘real flyer’ part.
The red mech cast a condescending look at him. “I kinda - wasn’t talkin' to you, buddy! I don’t make a habit of chattin’ up pre-init mechelescents. Why don’t you go buy yourself an energon cream?” He turned his attention back to Chromia. “So what’s it to be?”
The rotary bristled angrily, rotors twitching. “What makes you think you’re so flash?” he burst out. “Just cos you got fixed wings! Well I’m sure she’d rather be with me than an ugly old codger like you! Wouldn’t you?”
“Oh yeah? I don’t think so!” The red flyer snickered. “Maybe someone ougtta call the sparkling care service.”
The rotary was on his feet. “You wanna take this outside?”
“Well now – if you’re gonna be like that ….” Powerglide put down his drink.
Moonracer saw that the bartenderer spoke into his comm, and that one of the security mechs dressed in black slipped outside. She felt guilty, now. “As a matter of fact I rather like my own company,” she said. “And I can buy my own drinks. I’m sorry to disappoint you both!"
But the rotary was fired up – as they were inclined to get in these situations. “Put ‘em up, aft!” he declared. Meanwhile Powerglide was getting up slowly. His thickset body flexed, wings twitching as he cracked his knuckles. Can’t say I’m fond of unfair contests myself, he said. “But part of the experience of youth is learning when it just ain’t wise to take somebody on!”
Leaning on the bar, Moonracer put her helm in her hands. She let out a despairing sigh. This was all her fault!
“Gentlemechs?” There was a voice behind her. The bartender looked up and gave a short nod. Powerglide and Blades also looked up – and their faces stiffened. They both sat down again.
Moonracer sat up, feeling the ripple of a powerful energy field behind her. She did not even have to turn around to know who it was. “Octane” she murmured.
Octane addressed Powerglide. “You owe one Smokescreen a round of poker up on the seventh floor!” He said. “We kinda encourage a policy of finishing what we started here. I suggest you get lost, pal. And as for you ....” he turned to the rotary. “ ..... you shouldn’t even be here! You got age ID?”
The rotary scowled, but he’d lost his earlier cockiness. Sullenly, he pulled out a card and flashed it at the triple changer.
“All right, so you qualify!” Octane said. “Just! In the meantime, I suggest you stick to midgrade and keep your mouth shut. And don’t bother my regular customers, or you really will be history, got it?”
Powerglide got up and stumped off without another word, whilst the rotary retreated to the other end of the bar and skulked, scowling. Moonracer felt a touch on shoulder, a finger trailing down her arm. She shivered.
“This ain’t kinda much of a greeting, y’know?”
Moonracer didn’t want to turn around; didn’t want his optics roving hungrily over her frame, didn’t want the urges that brought about. Not from him. Not when she could have been any one of – well – of any number of attractive femmes. She’d already seen enough of Octane to know he hadn’t changed.
“Aww come on!” he crooned. “Y’know - you always had a lotta talents, Moon. But playin' drunken gamblers off at closing time wasn't one.“ He grinned, leaning close. “Gonna close up soon anyway. Wanna come for a private celebration?”
Moonracer felt the air from his intakes warm on her neck cables, felt the power of the energy field, the intricacy of the complicated transformation cogs clicking and turning, their superbly crafted components working flawlessly.
“Yeah …” she muttered. But she didn’t turn around.
