"Do you surrender?"
A growl.
"Never."
And he lands the killing strike.
After a moment, Sky Grant throws his hands up with an exaggerated pained shout, and Dean stretches on his seat, lying comfortably against the back with a triumphant and smug smile on his face.
He doesn't even bother bringing the poker chips on the middle of the table closer to him, for the Tetrajet pilot had bet all his remaining ones, so the game is over.
And Dean Twain is the uncontested winner.
Sam, his twin brother, rubs one ear with a scowl as the curly-haired man finally stops his theatrics to slump in his seat.
"You cheated."
"Did not." Dean answers calmly, picking up the cards and chips, but not for a new game.
It's almost time for their scheduled outing, accompanying some kind of new model of Cybertronian, or whatever.
"Hey, Sammy—"
"Don't call me that."
"—what was it that we were supposed to do today?" He asks, not missing a beat, and receives a deadpanned look from his older brother for his troubles.
With a tired sigh, Sam Twain leans back against his own seat, arms crossed against the chest of his glaring bright yellow—golden—suit, one hand combing black locks away from his face.
If it wasn't for their suits, gold-yellow for Sam and red and black for Dean, no one would be able to tell the twins apart.
He knows, because he can barely hold back his laughter every time he remembers that morning he 'borrowed' his brother's suit and had the whole base calling him 'Sam'.
Their fair skin, midnight black hair and gray-green eyes are the very same shade, after all, and the only help those are in distinguishing them is the fact the older brother combs his in the mornings while the younger doesn't bother with it, thus usually having his raven locks spiking a bit.
Like the Devil's horns, Grant is fond of telling him, before the two of them exchange mischievous smiles and get on with the prank of the week.
Nothing too serious, of course, because no one wants Commander Storm angry at them—meaning, they enjoy being alive too much, thank you—but it isn't like dyeing someone's hair—or skin—bright blue ever hurt anyone, right?
"A new model of Tetrajet is going to run the field test, and we're going to be part of the ground forces deployed to keep guard." His twin answers, taking him out of his musings, and, after a moment, he nods.
"I knew it was something like that."
"You're going to babysit the Earl siblings?" Grant asks, finally getting over his monumental loss in their poker game to look at the Twain curiously.
"Wait, the Earl siblings? But isn't Silas Earl afraid of heights?" Sam returns, exchanging a look with his brother.
"Yeah, but it isn't like you can actually tell when you're inside a Tetrajet." The pilot answers with a dismissing shrug. "Why do you think he can still be active if that wasn't so? The guy can't even stand on a chair, for crying out loud!"
"I think we've never been on the field with them before." Dean muses to himself, but his brother immediately shakes his head.
"Not with all of them, but we have. Remember Felicity and Sid?"
"How could I forget? The girl almost crashed because she got 'distracted' chasing after a Runner!" The younger twin answers with a burst of laughter, and Grant immediately snorts.
"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it. She's infinitely worse when she's outside the Tetrajet. If it wasn't for Ritta, her older sister, she would be walking into walls every two steps."
"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?" Both brothers ask in unison, and the pilot shakes his head with a wide smirk.
After exchanging a look, the twins shrug and get to their feet.
"So, what kind of new Tetrajet are they giving them?" Dean asks as they calmly get out of the Rec Room.
"I'm not sure, but it's supposed to improve both power and teamwork." The curly-haired man answers with a deep thinking expression.
The brothers scowl in unison, even if they're not looking at the other to know it is so.
"Why didn't they give us that? We're the best when it comes to teamwork!" Dean protests, feeling insulted.
And with good reason.
When it comes to working with another, no one can beat them. In fact, they've managed to earn the title of 'Terror Twins', so efficient are they when fighting together.
"Hey, don't ask me. I just heard it is all part of some new project, something called Superior Combining, or something like that, and the orders came from Engineering, of all places. I think they did that because they're five siblings, and you're just two." Grant answers, shrugging without a care despite being faced with both twins' scowls.
After another look between them, the brothers calm down with a couple of sighs.
Whatever that 'Superior Combining' thing is, they'll be seeing it for themselves in barely—
"Fifteen minutes?!" Dean squeaks, staring bug-eyed at the watch he's just pulled out of a pocket.
Sam lets out a loud curse before the two of them burst out running through the corridors, hoping against all hope that they'll be able to change into their battle suits and be at the docks in time to avoid a reprimand.
And, after the outing is over, Grant will pay for laughing his ass off as the brothers run away.
No one messes with the Terror Twins without paying the price.
"G'd m'rn'ng…"
About to enter his office after answering absentmindedly with his own 'good morning', August stops, a confused frown on his brow as he processes what he has just heard.
And then, he turns to the table by his side, where his assistant, a young blond boy—Henry Lee, or something—is writing on a datapad.
Only, he isn't 'writing' as much as he's 'doodling', head resting on a hand while the other moves slowly over the screen, until the pen collides with the border, startling the teenager into almost jumping out of his seat.
"Are you alright, Henry?" He asks, confused at the behavior of his usually happy and active and focused assistant, as the boy rests his head on his hand once more.
"Jerry." The youngster returns with an awkward nod. "And I'm fine, S'r… just a bit tir'd…"
"My apologies, Jerry." He answers, stepping closer to the desk to get a clear look at the boy's face, hidden by his bowed head and his messy hair. "Why are you so tired, if I may ask?" He questions, his voice sounding disapproving as he frowns down at the teenager.
He's at that age, after all… But he should know better than to go partying when he knows there'll be work to do in the morning.
"Dunno… J'st woke up tir'd…" The boy answers, letting the pen down to bring his other hand up and rub his eyes. "But I'm fine, I c'n work. R'lly…"
And that's when he looks up to give him a reassuring smile that is all but reassuring.
The boy looks pale, paler than ever before, but his cheeks and nose are red, and there are bags under his puffy eyes.
"Oh, Jerry, what…" August lets out before he can stop himself, leaning over the desk to put a hand on the teenager's brow before taking it off with a hiss. "You're burning up. Why didn't you call in sick?"
"I'm fine…" The teenager repeats with a bit more strength, though it sounds more like a whine to the Civilian Commander.
"No, you are most definitely not fine. Let's call your parents, or your guardian, and get you back home. Take as many days as you need to recover. And that's an order." He answers, standing tall and firm when the boy looks ready to protest.
"I don' have paren's. Or guard'n. I'm eighteen." He grumbles, leaning against the back of his seat—and turning paler at the movement, a hand covering his face with a groan.
August grimaces before letting out a sigh and approaching the boy.
"Alright. Let me take you to the infirmary." He whispers, kneeling next to his assistant and putting a hand on a forearm to give him a reassuring squeeze.
"But—"
"No 'but's." He cuts almost immediately, and, to his surprise, Jerry snickers, hands still covering his eyes.
"No butts…" He repeats between his soft chuckles, and August has to smile at that, shaking his head.
"Alright, smart guy. I don't know what meds you took before coming here, but no more of those for you." He answers, voice still soft but clearly amused, before picking the teenager up bridal-style, pressing him against his chest and letting him curl closer to him with another groan. "You're not going to be sick, are you?" He asks with slight hesitation, because he really doesn't want that on his suit.
"'M sick alr'dy…"
"I'll take that as a no." August mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes before starting to walk towards the infirmary.
"Nooooo…" Jerry moans pitifully after a couple steps, and the Civilian Commander stops with a confused and worried frown.
"No? No what? Are you alright?"
"Tell th' world to stop movin'…"
"Ah." August answers simply, grimacing. "I'm sorry about that, but I need to take you to the infirmary."
"Noooo…" The boy repeats once more, whining this time, and, deciding to ignore the teenager for his own sake, the Civilian Commander lifts a foot—
And puts it down again without having moved from his spot, looking down at the teenager curled against his chest, hands gripping the flaps of his jacket and face buried in his shirt, because he can feel moisture through the thin elegant fabric.
"Jerry?" He calls softly, lowering his head.
A sob is all that answers him.
Starting to panic, August looks around, as if a miracle would make Shepherd or another of the doctors materialize in the corridor, but nothing happens.
He's alone.
Slowly, careful not to jostle the teenager in his arms, the Civilian Commander backtracks until he can put the boy down in his chair.
Only, his assistant doesn't seem willing to part with him, for he only tightens his grip on August's jacket as soon as he tries to do so.
"Jerry, come on, let go. I'm going to call Doctor Shepherd to give you a check up, and he'll have you feeling better in no time." He pleads softly, hoping his voice doesn't sound as begging to the boy as it does to his own ears.
"Nooooo, Sh'p'rd's scaryyyy…"
August laughs softly at that, before catching himself with a couple coughs.
"Yes, I know. But he's a good doctor too. Come on, don't you want to feel better?"
Silence.
"Yes…" The boy grumbles softly, and, reluctantly, lets go of the Civilian Commander to curl in his chair, his tear-streaked flushed cheeks hidden almost immediately from view behind his pulled up knees.
August can only look at him in worry for a moment before moving to the intercom to call Ryan to his office to take a look at Jerry.
After the doctor gives him a gruff 'five minutes', the man steps away from the table and looks once more at the pitiful ball of yellow and white that is usually his efficient and chirpy assistant.
With a sigh, he carefully sits down at the edge of the chair and puts a hand on Jerry's head, carefully and softly smoothing his hair down into a semblance of his usual self.
After a moment, the boy relaxes and, without previous warning, moves so that he's leaning against August instead of the back of the chair.
The Civilian Commander freezes for a moment, startled at the move, which gives Jerry enough time to curl closer to the man and make himself comfortable.
And, when he returns to his caresses, it is with a small fond smile on his face.
Jerry is asleep by the time Shepherd arrives, breathing a bit labored, but, after a look, Ryan confirms it is nothing more than a bout of flu, so August gets the teenager back into his arms and carefully brings him to the infirmary to leave him in his friend's care.
He isn't yet back at his office and he already misses the boy.
Fifteen minutes of rummaging around stacks of pads, he starts to miss his assistant.
Only after he founds the needed datapad, half an hour after he began the search, does he realize what he had thought.
Thinking back to the teenager now in the infirmary, August smiles.
And to think he didn't even know the boy's name this morning…
AN: And I'm back with this fic too! Albeit with just another 'drabble' set... But worry not! Next chapter is ready for posting, probably on Sunday or Monday ;)
The first drabble is here to show the Terror Twins in the Protectodome, and I managed to sneak a cameo from the Aerialbots (three guesses as to who Felicity, Ritta and Silas Earl are), and, of course, who could I also show in there other than their fellow prankster Skywarp/Sky Grant? ;P The mech wouldn't let me leave him out...
And the second is a cute scene between Optimus/August and Bumblebee/Jerry, as well as the famed "30 minutes to find a file" scene XD
So, that'll be all for now. More in a couple days!
Giddy: I'm really happy you liked this tiny thing so much ^^ As for Cyclonus: He wasn't even in the first draft :P And when he finally wormed his way into the story (alongside Scourge and Galvatron), I most certainly didn't expect him to turn into what he is now, nor just how big a part he would end up playing. I was pleasantly surprised that he did, though. The story has benefitted a lot from him.
Guest: As I always say, "better late than never". Nevertheless, I'm sorry it took this long...
