Smokescreen and Swindle : Greed
Feb. 21st, 2011 07:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ayngelcatTitle: "Greed."
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ayngelcat
Universe: G1
Rating: PG
Characters: Swindle and Smokescreen, Vortex (in background) and mention of Prowl.
Warnings: Mention of smex, very mild.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story, and I sure as kell didn’t make no money.
Notes Written forultharkitty as part of Swindle and Smokey meme.
Prompt: "Greed." Scene: Swindle and Smokey in a casino.
Vortex manages to wind his way into the equation, as he often did in the course of their relationship. There will be second part to this.
Greed
After a while, Smokescreen inevitably came charging back through the glamorous, sparkly painted throng, clutching a fistful of credits. From his hidden booth behind the pillar, Swindle tore his optics away from the black ‘copter with the casually slung, quivering rotors. Hastily, he pulled a datapad out of his arm compartment, picking up his untouched drink and taking a large swig.
The red and blue grounder flopped down beside him, a half drunken grin on his face. His optics twinkled. “Look what I won?” He declared happily. In his hand was a not inconsiderable collection of credit chips. “All that from one spin of the wheel!” he said triumphantly. “Hey - you gotta get over there, Swin!”
“I will, I will!” said Swindle, studying the pad, which was actually displaying a screen nothing to do with ‘work’ at all. “I’m just uh - doing a few calculations!”
Smokescreen reached over, giving him an affectionate little hug and a kiss to the helm. “Yeah well don’t be too long. Round two coming up, Smokey strikes again! We’re gonna have a good one tonight, Swin.” He grinned. “Don’t you forget that!”
“Yeah!” Swindle said. “Good luck, hey! Put one on for me. I’ll be right there!”
As soon as Smokecreen had disappeared back to the roulette area, he tucked the datapad away and turned his attention back to the copter.
Jingly sensations danced up and down Swindle’s circuits. Primus, the guy was amazing!. Of course, it was hardly the first time he’d seen a rotory flyer. There were quite a few in Praxus where he grew up, even some at the college who were hopeful of a ‘military career.’ But they weren’t – like this. All kind of 'big' and wild and powerful and dangerous looking. And they sure as hell didn’t work for somebody like Onslaught, or have even a smidgen of the reputation this one evidently enjoyed.
All Swindle’s attention strained towards the copter. What was it that other grounder had said? “Him? He‘s a mercenary by trade. But he does all kinda jobs for a guy named Onslaught in his spare time. Makes sure nothin’ interferes with business – you know - like if it does, whoever did the interfering don’t never do it again.” The old timer had supped thoughtfully on his vintage ‘grade. “ Shifts some big stuff, that Onslaught. Can’t have nobody lookin’ after business that frags around.”
Swindle had found himself squeeing inside secretly, thrilled to bits at such a ‘dark’ and dangerous description of this life the copter led. “Doesn’t he ever get caught?" He’d whispered.
The mech had snickered. “Naaa – cops never get anything. Anyone talks to ‘em tends to not walk around in this realm much longer. Now that chief of Police, what’s ‘is name, Prowl ? Ooh yeah, he just about tears his tailpipe out. But they don’t never get the copter, see?” He lowered his voice. “It’s not just mechs are scared. Onslaught – knows the right people. The right sorta lawyers – if you know what I mean? An’ if the going gets rough – well Vortex there just heads off n’ makes a pot o’ gold fightin’ for some far flung cause in the outer quadrants or somewhere."
“Vortex!” Swindle had whispered. “Is that his name?”
“Yeah, the mech had grinned, eyeing him curiously. “Yeah – goes off on quite a regular basis, he does. “ Then he’d grinned, slyly. “Always comes back, though!”
The copter moved along the bar, his rotors shifting casually on his back. He moved easily, confidently, and with the air of one in a relaxing situation. Yet, even here, Swindle concluded – with another rippling thrill – that something about his movements gave the impression that all that could change in an instant, and that killing somebody who had ‘interfered with the business’ would be the least effort.
There was a flurry of blue and red and doorwings beside him. "Swin!" Smokescreen was back. And Swindle hadn’t had time to prepare. The grounder looked at his lover, then back at Vortex, then at Swindle again and then at the copter again.
“What?” He said.
“Nothing!” said Swindle.
Smokscreen frowned – and then his faceplates creased into an indulgent grin. “Swin! Always eyeing off the lookers. Greedy, that’s what you are! But hey, he is nice to look at, huh?” He chuckled, looking again in the copter’s direction. Then his expression turned more serious. “But now Swin, you don’t wanna go getting ideas. My cousin Prowl’s said plenty about him. Mechs that get tied up with him have a habit of disappearing. Mind you,” he slid into the booth beside Swindle, "Prowlie reckons it’s only a matter of time before they got enough on him to bring him in.”
"Oh! Well that’d be a pity!” said Swindle before he could stop himself, picking up his half finished drink and sipping at it rapidly, trying not to stare at the rotored form. “I mean, it’s - uh - kinda a pity so many the cops have to waste so much time on – one mech!”
“Oh it ain’t just him,” Smokey said, sipping his drink and snuggling next to Swindle and watching him closely. “There’s a few of them Prowl reckons, in cahoots. Few already got put away. Another couple kinda vanished after they talked to the cops.“ He laughed. “Gotta feel sorry for them. But well - you get into something like that, you kinda know what's coming someday."
Swindle thought of the chat with the old timer earlier and his circuits tingled again. He found himself not feeling sorry for such ‘dobbers’ at all and hoping it was indeed Vortex who’d 'demonstrated that they'd had it coming.' “That’s what happens, ain’t it?” He said. “That's how it is with those types. You frag up, they frag you!”
Smokescreen gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah well you just make sure you don't get yourself fragged in more ways than one." Finishing his drink, he slid a hand around Swindle’s shoulders. “An' I don’t want you to sit here looking at him. I want you to look at me! Don’t be greedy, Swin! You can’t have two of the best looking mechs on Cybertron! Besides, like I said,” he finished his drink, “ he might not be in circulation for too much longer ...” He smiled brightly. “But I will!”
Swindle was about to jibe back that this really did not come into it, because Smokescreen was sadly wrong, and he was hardly interested in the copter at all - hoping that Smokecreen would lgo away again, reassured but leaving the opportunity for more oggling - when a slender looking femme appeared from the direction of the playing tables area, painted in a stunning emerald and pale green.
Hips swaying, several pairs of optics fastened upon her as she made her way to the bar. The well fashioned, superior alloys of an elite caste rustled softly as she slid herself in beside the copter. Swindle caught sight of the copter’s black face as he glanced at her, noticing the femme regarded him as one with far more in mind than drinking.
Smokescreen shook his head. ”See – already hitched!” he said with a touch of triumph. “Pulls those kinda types all the time. Prowl reckons he doesn’t know what the attraction is. For mechs of that order, anyway.”
Swindle could absolutely see what the attraction was, no matter what the caste or creed. As he watched, the femme tucked her arm around the copter and now the two of them were leaving. Swindle got enough of a look to see the red optics glint in the handsome black angular face. And Swindle had to admit that his shiny blackness and her elegant green went very well together as they disappeared silently into the casino crowds.
And at the same time, reality dawned - and the green form was still in Swindle's mind as he reflected ruefully how one such as Vortex would never, ever have the remotest interest in one such as himself. Have them both? This here tonight, him hiding in the booth and peering out would probably be the closest he ever got. And Swindle ignored a most strange feeling twanging in his circuits - as though his fate and the copter’s were somehow inexplicably bound, and he would see him again, for sure - and returned his attention to his lover.
Smokescreen was staring at him, a 'hangdog' look on his grey face. “Really made an impression on you hasn’t he, Swin?” he said. He shrugged. “Well - I guess I could always go after him and arrange an introduction!”
Swindle looked at Smokescreen – and was suddenly touched by the 'hangdog' look. He thought of the usually cheerful countenance, the grounder's infuriating sometimes but loveable clowning, his energy, the fun they had together. It occurred to him at that moment that he actually loved Smokescreen, quite a lot, and that Smokescreen loved him, and that this was important. The world of Vortex seemed suddenly shadowy and menacing, as though marking out a path which would spell bad things if he ever chose to go down it. Life with Smokescreen, by contrast, was lightness and good times.
Swindle finished his drink. “Yep, well," he leaned across and kissed Smokescreen on the cheek. "I think I’ll give that a miss.”
No – it was not just greedy to fantasise about both, it was – stupid; unwise. And unrealistic.
“So what’s the go, Smoke?” he said, nuzzling against him.
The grounder sighed. “Didn’t do so well on that last one,” he said ruefully. “I need the Swindle luck factor.”
Smiling, Swindle kissed his cheek again, and his hand stole across to give Smokescreen’s knee a playful squeeze. “Well? What are we waiting for?’ he said.
Author:
ayngelcat Universe: G1
Rating: PG
Characters: Swindle and Smokescreen, Vortex (in background) and mention of Prowl.
Warnings: Mention of smex, very mild.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story, and I sure as kell didn’t make no money.
Notes Written for
ultharkitty as part of Swindle and Smokey meme.Prompt: "Greed." Scene: Swindle and Smokey in a casino.
Vortex manages to wind his way into the equation, as he often did in the course of their relationship. There will be second part to this.
Greed
After a while, Smokescreen inevitably came charging back through the glamorous, sparkly painted throng, clutching a fistful of credits. From his hidden booth behind the pillar, Swindle tore his optics away from the black ‘copter with the casually slung, quivering rotors. Hastily, he pulled a datapad out of his arm compartment, picking up his untouched drink and taking a large swig.
The red and blue grounder flopped down beside him, a half drunken grin on his face. His optics twinkled. “Look what I won?” He declared happily. In his hand was a not inconsiderable collection of credit chips. “All that from one spin of the wheel!” he said triumphantly. “Hey - you gotta get over there, Swin!”
“I will, I will!” said Swindle, studying the pad, which was actually displaying a screen nothing to do with ‘work’ at all. “I’m just uh - doing a few calculations!”
Smokescreen reached over, giving him an affectionate little hug and a kiss to the helm. “Yeah well don’t be too long. Round two coming up, Smokey strikes again! We’re gonna have a good one tonight, Swin.” He grinned. “Don’t you forget that!”
“Yeah!” Swindle said. “Good luck, hey! Put one on for me. I’ll be right there!”
As soon as Smokecreen had disappeared back to the roulette area, he tucked the datapad away and turned his attention back to the copter.
Jingly sensations danced up and down Swindle’s circuits. Primus, the guy was amazing!. Of course, it was hardly the first time he’d seen a rotory flyer. There were quite a few in Praxus where he grew up, even some at the college who were hopeful of a ‘military career.’ But they weren’t – like this. All kind of 'big' and wild and powerful and dangerous looking. And they sure as hell didn’t work for somebody like Onslaught, or have even a smidgen of the reputation this one evidently enjoyed.
All Swindle’s attention strained towards the copter. What was it that other grounder had said? “Him? He‘s a mercenary by trade. But he does all kinda jobs for a guy named Onslaught in his spare time. Makes sure nothin’ interferes with business – you know - like if it does, whoever did the interfering don’t never do it again.” The old timer had supped thoughtfully on his vintage ‘grade. “ Shifts some big stuff, that Onslaught. Can’t have nobody lookin’ after business that frags around.”
Swindle had found himself squeeing inside secretly, thrilled to bits at such a ‘dark’ and dangerous description of this life the copter led. “Doesn’t he ever get caught?" He’d whispered.
The mech had snickered. “Naaa – cops never get anything. Anyone talks to ‘em tends to not walk around in this realm much longer. Now that chief of Police, what’s ‘is name, Prowl ? Ooh yeah, he just about tears his tailpipe out. But they don’t never get the copter, see?” He lowered his voice. “It’s not just mechs are scared. Onslaught – knows the right people. The right sorta lawyers – if you know what I mean? An’ if the going gets rough – well Vortex there just heads off n’ makes a pot o’ gold fightin’ for some far flung cause in the outer quadrants or somewhere."
“Vortex!” Swindle had whispered. “Is that his name?”
“Yeah, the mech had grinned, eyeing him curiously. “Yeah – goes off on quite a regular basis, he does. “ Then he’d grinned, slyly. “Always comes back, though!”
The copter moved along the bar, his rotors shifting casually on his back. He moved easily, confidently, and with the air of one in a relaxing situation. Yet, even here, Swindle concluded – with another rippling thrill – that something about his movements gave the impression that all that could change in an instant, and that killing somebody who had ‘interfered with the business’ would be the least effort.
There was a flurry of blue and red and doorwings beside him. "Swin!" Smokescreen was back. And Swindle hadn’t had time to prepare. The grounder looked at his lover, then back at Vortex, then at Swindle again and then at the copter again.
“What?” He said.
“Nothing!” said Swindle.
Smokscreen frowned – and then his faceplates creased into an indulgent grin. “Swin! Always eyeing off the lookers. Greedy, that’s what you are! But hey, he is nice to look at, huh?” He chuckled, looking again in the copter’s direction. Then his expression turned more serious. “But now Swin, you don’t wanna go getting ideas. My cousin Prowl’s said plenty about him. Mechs that get tied up with him have a habit of disappearing. Mind you,” he slid into the booth beside Swindle, "Prowlie reckons it’s only a matter of time before they got enough on him to bring him in.”
"Oh! Well that’d be a pity!” said Swindle before he could stop himself, picking up his half finished drink and sipping at it rapidly, trying not to stare at the rotored form. “I mean, it’s - uh - kinda a pity so many the cops have to waste so much time on – one mech!”
“Oh it ain’t just him,” Smokey said, sipping his drink and snuggling next to Swindle and watching him closely. “There’s a few of them Prowl reckons, in cahoots. Few already got put away. Another couple kinda vanished after they talked to the cops.“ He laughed. “Gotta feel sorry for them. But well - you get into something like that, you kinda know what's coming someday."
Swindle thought of the chat with the old timer earlier and his circuits tingled again. He found himself not feeling sorry for such ‘dobbers’ at all and hoping it was indeed Vortex who’d 'demonstrated that they'd had it coming.' “That’s what happens, ain’t it?” He said. “That's how it is with those types. You frag up, they frag you!”
Smokescreen gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah well you just make sure you don't get yourself fragged in more ways than one." Finishing his drink, he slid a hand around Swindle’s shoulders. “An' I don’t want you to sit here looking at him. I want you to look at me! Don’t be greedy, Swin! You can’t have two of the best looking mechs on Cybertron! Besides, like I said,” he finished his drink, “ he might not be in circulation for too much longer ...” He smiled brightly. “But I will!”
Swindle was about to jibe back that this really did not come into it, because Smokescreen was sadly wrong, and he was hardly interested in the copter at all - hoping that Smokecreen would lgo away again, reassured but leaving the opportunity for more oggling - when a slender looking femme appeared from the direction of the playing tables area, painted in a stunning emerald and pale green.
Hips swaying, several pairs of optics fastened upon her as she made her way to the bar. The well fashioned, superior alloys of an elite caste rustled softly as she slid herself in beside the copter. Swindle caught sight of the copter’s black face as he glanced at her, noticing the femme regarded him as one with far more in mind than drinking.
Smokescreen shook his head. ”See – already hitched!” he said with a touch of triumph. “Pulls those kinda types all the time. Prowl reckons he doesn’t know what the attraction is. For mechs of that order, anyway.”
Swindle could absolutely see what the attraction was, no matter what the caste or creed. As he watched, the femme tucked her arm around the copter and now the two of them were leaving. Swindle got enough of a look to see the red optics glint in the handsome black angular face. And Swindle had to admit that his shiny blackness and her elegant green went very well together as they disappeared silently into the casino crowds.
And at the same time, reality dawned - and the green form was still in Swindle's mind as he reflected ruefully how one such as Vortex would never, ever have the remotest interest in one such as himself. Have them both? This here tonight, him hiding in the booth and peering out would probably be the closest he ever got. And Swindle ignored a most strange feeling twanging in his circuits - as though his fate and the copter’s were somehow inexplicably bound, and he would see him again, for sure - and returned his attention to his lover.
Smokescreen was staring at him, a 'hangdog' look on his grey face. “Really made an impression on you hasn’t he, Swin?” he said. He shrugged. “Well - I guess I could always go after him and arrange an introduction!”
Swindle looked at Smokescreen – and was suddenly touched by the 'hangdog' look. He thought of the usually cheerful countenance, the grounder's infuriating sometimes but loveable clowning, his energy, the fun they had together. It occurred to him at that moment that he actually loved Smokescreen, quite a lot, and that Smokescreen loved him, and that this was important. The world of Vortex seemed suddenly shadowy and menacing, as though marking out a path which would spell bad things if he ever chose to go down it. Life with Smokescreen, by contrast, was lightness and good times.
Swindle finished his drink. “Yep, well," he leaned across and kissed Smokescreen on the cheek. "I think I’ll give that a miss.”
No – it was not just greedy to fantasise about both, it was – stupid; unwise. And unrealistic.
“So what’s the go, Smoke?” he said, nuzzling against him.
The grounder sighed. “Didn’t do so well on that last one,” he said ruefully. “I need the Swindle luck factor.”
Smiling, Swindle kissed his cheek again, and his hand stole across to give Smokescreen’s knee a playful squeeze. “Well? What are we waiting for?’ he said.
