Sideswiped

AN: Got a lot of questions about the werewolves. Honestly folks, Sideswipe was blending reality and fiction. His circuits were scrambled so nothing was making any sense. He was thinking of movies as being real life and was enacting the 'horror/supernatural' aspect with the 'detective/cop' show. And remember, he didn't know who Bluestreak was at the beginning.

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"Okay mechs, the game is Tell No Lies," Smokescreen said, setting up the shots of high grade. "Last one to remain conscious, and Tele-Tran is monitoring, is the winner. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Came the response from Jazz, Ironhide, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Tracks, and Mirage.

"Don't know why we're playing this again," Ironhide groused, staring at the cube as it was divided between the players. "We know whose going to win."

Mirage and Jazz shared a look, both having cultured tanks that allowed them to hold back more high grade than most. Their only true competition was Smokescreen, who seemed to have two hollow legs, a reserve tank, a fast analyzer and distribution processor. The mechs had learned of the drinking game last week, after hearing their new human allies speak of such games. Sparkplug recalled some vivid college years, Spike safely at school and not overhearing the sultry details of his father's earlier days. As soon as the college pranks and drinking games came up, all mechs on the ARK snapped to attention and absorbed the information.

Sideswipe just left the brig for the most recent 'college related' prank. It had worked beautifully, but had caught Prowl and Prime in the trap and earned the front liner a three day stint. He laughed the entire trip to the brig, sparkles falling from the senior officers in a parade like shower. Prime wiggling his aft to a gentle rain of sparkling glitter remained transfixed foremost in the frontliner's main memory banks.

"Just a note of caution," Ratchet called to the guilty mechs at the table. "The next drunken mech who makes a pass at me will find out how aggressive a medic can be when sufficiently aroused." Ratchet offered a lecherous grin before adding, "And I wont be a gentlemech about it."

With a cheeky look he exited the rec room, his circuits singing with the happiness that only comes from seeing a group of war torn veteran mechs visibly blanch at the prospect of what would be done to their fragile bodies while intoxicated.

"Well, that's as good as reason as any to join AA," Sideswipe said, giving the glowing shot of high grade a frightened look. It had taken the twins all week to brew this new batch, but now it wasnt so inviting.

"He couldn't handle our engines," Sunstreaker said, his dark manner causing the lighting overhead to dim. Ironhide leaned away from the golden warrior out of the instinct for self preservation.

"I don't ever want to test that theory," Sideswipe admitted, not bothering to hide a shiver.

"I'll give you good odds on interface related injuries,' Smokescreen taunted, trying and failing to ignore the irate glare thrown at him from Jazz and Ironhide. They both liked and respected the CMO. And they were downright terrified of him on any given situation.

"I'd rather keep my parts on me and not in a specimen jar," Sunstreaker added, recoiling a little at the thought of someone getting that close to him. Just the thought sent chills along his spinal strut.

Smokescreen grinned and started the game, declaring he had never started a 'barroom brawl'. The other mechs, minus Mirage all took a shot of high grade. It went down smooth, as always with the twins particular brew. Next it was Tracks, who declared he had never been so drunk he went home with a stranger.

He was the only one who didn't take a shot. He smiled, thinking he had the game in hand.

Every since Sparkplug recalled some of his college days to the mechs, they had been keen on practising the drinking games. Well, some bots were more keen than others, the terror twins at the top of the list. They wanted anything that would give them the advantage. So here they all sat, declaring secrets they normally wouldn't divulge, all in the name of gaining the upper hand to get the other players drunk before them.

Mirage indulged that he had never berthed anyone of low standing. That brought a round of confusion until he elaborated that he only indulged in pleasure with the high priced courtesans and other Tower brats such as himself. Sideswipe admitted to never berthing a courtesan and with a simpering look, Mirage took a shot. Sunstreaker was next, and couldn't help but admitting that he never drank from specially brewed high grade by the elite of Cybertron. Mirage took another drink, Jazz and Ironhide soon following.

The game went round and round, each level getting more and more intense, and outlandish with each ingested shot. Two hours later, it was Jazz, Smokescreen and the twins remaining. All four were intoxicated with the abundant charge from the high grade. Jazz was swaying, his vision focused on the shot glass that held the pretty swimming liquid he was drowning in.

"I've neffer faced a bonded," Jazz said.

The twins and Smokescreen took shots, their optics bleary and difficult to focus. Sideswipe hiccupped with an electronic noise before filling his emptied glass.

"I'ff neffer faced a Prax-shun," Sideswipe admitted, then added, "Shame too…. Preffy door w-lings."

Jazz and Smokescreen shook a shot. Jazz hiccupped and fell sideways in his seat, his systems so overcharged they buzzed in his frame like angry hornets.

That left Smokescreen and the twins. Three arch rivals that always tried to one up each other, the Praxian always ending up on the top of the dominance list. A fact which irked the twins and caused them no undue amount of stress and worry. They couldn't fathom how the sneaky Praxian was able to ingest so much high grade and still function. The twins had learned how to hold their high grade while fighting in Kaon. They were well versed in the art of intoxication, Sideswipe moreso than Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker turned blurry optics to his opponent and smiled, "I've neffer ash-ked about feelings."

Smokescreen smirked but took his shot. He licked his lips and said, "I'ff neffer had a twin."

Both Lamborghinis took their shots, their heads buzzing with the symphony of overcharge.

Sideswipe hiccupped and gave his most studious-while-drunk-stare and added, "I'ff neffer won against you wiff drinking hi-hic!-grade."

Smokescreen took a shot, his expression one of soured drunkenness.

"I'ff neffer won neffer," Sunstreaker added.

Smokescreen took another shot, his optics threatening to go blank from the overcharge.

"I'ff neffer lost to you," he said, trumping the twins at their own game.

"Cards," Sideswipe smiled, still not drunk enough to catch the loophole.

Smokescreen frowned, trying to remember the thread of conversation, when Sideswipe interrupted his garbled thoughts.

"I'ff neffer had doorz-w-lings," Sideswipe slurred.

Smokescreen growled low and took a shot. His door wings hitched high on his back, then sank to match his drunken stupor.

"I'ff neffer had d-loor wings," Sunstreaker added, causing Smokescreen to pout and take another shot.

"I'ff neffer not had door-slings," Smokescreen said, causing both twins to frown in confusion. He frowned too, trying to remember the conversation, and out of habit, all three grabbed their glasses and downed their shots.

With a high pitched squeal, Smokescreen keeled over, his systems firing off the excess charge in a fit of static.

"We'ff won," Sunstreaker said, elated that they had finally out drank the resident lush.

"Finnaly," Sideswipe muttered, moving to get up but the heavy weight in his pedes prevented movement.

With a groan he bent double, releasing the catch along his ankle. A thin tube was exposed. Sideswipe snapped the end off and allowed the backed up high grade to flow onto the floor. He turned to the other pede and repeated the process, emptying his newly installed reserve tanks of the purple charged fluid. The puddles looked exactly like a mech purging his tanks, so their clever deception was safe.

After a couple of minutes Sideswipe sat back and sighed in triumph. He noted Sunstreaker fumbling with his hidden release and with a clearer processor, he undone the catch that allowed his twin to expel the excess fluid.

"Smart idea," Sideswipe said when he noted Sunstreaker's optics return to their usual icy blue glaze.

"We can't beat him without some help," Sunstreaker said, stretching and feeling the lethargy of overcharge leave his system.

"I wonder how he does it?" Sideswipe said, getting to his pedes and traveling around the table to accost his opponent.

Smokescreen was draped across his chair, door wings drooping at odd angles. Sideswipe approached, the heady fumes of high grade wafting across his sensors so strong they gave him a processor ache.

"Primus, we drink a lot," Sunstreaker said, looking at the large puddle on the floor where the twins had emptied their hidden reserve tanks.

"All in the name of justice," Sideswipe said as he looked Smokescreen over. Sunstreaker's snort escaped his notice as he glanced along the Praxian's body. Wires, cables, plating, all seemed to be in order. Smokescreen's physique didn't differ from Prowl's or Bluestreak's, and the twins had enough close encounters to notice any oddities to a Praxian frame.

"Check his tank," Sunstreaker said, drawing up next to his twin and looking over the Praxian. He gave a shiver of disgust. The bulky frames weren't pleasing to the optics. At least not in Sunstreaker's opinion.

"I'm not sticking my hand anywhere inside his internals," Sideswipe said, pushing Smokescreen off his seat. He landed with a clanging thump onto the floor, where Sideswipe rolled him onto his back, mindful of the lax doorwings.

"Funny how a Praxian build is rather bulky and uninteresting when they are active," Sunstreaker said, his artistic optic catching the light and angles of the sleeping Praxian now sprawled in surrender on the floor. "But they change completely into something unique and attractive when unconscious and unsuspecting."

Sideswipe offered a low hum for an answer, his hands pressing along Smokescreen's body. After searching his torso, he opted to check the Praxian's pedes, thinking that he too had secret reserve tanks installed. But upon further examination, Sideswipe found the usual metal and glass that decorated the Praxian's pedes.

"I don't know where he puts it," Sideswipe admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation. His overcharge reared it's head, the residual charge lingering along his relays though his reserve tanks were empty. He collapsed beside of Smokescreen, his head buried along a shoulder and doorwing.

"Sideswipe, what are you doing?" Prowl asked.

Sunstreaker offered his customary sneer of contempt before giving a disgusted look to his twin.

Sideswipe rolled sideways, glancing at the SIC with one bleary optic before muttering, "What does it look like?"

"I suggest you take your liaison to another location," Prowl deadpanned, flicking a door wing in irritation.

Sideswipe nuzzled against Smokescreen's panels in an affectionate, suggestive way. Prowl wondered why his brethren wasn't responding to the stimuli. When Smokescreen's head lulled to the side, Prowl had his answer. He frowned, hands on hips, exasperation written all over his features.

"Sideswipe, Smokescreen is unconscious," Prowl informed the drunken warrior.

"I know," Sideswipe said, wrapping an arm around the Diversionary Experts waist, his fingers nimble along the seams. "I won the game."

"I see," Prowl said with a sigh. He was well aware of the contest between the two. The only thing he couldn't understand was why Sideswipe was showing such affection to a mech he considered his sworn enemy. "So why are you molesting him?"

Sunstreaker snorted. Sideswipe giggled, his fingers playing more animatedly across the unconscious mech's torso.

"Can't very well do it while he's awake!" Sideswipe answered with an electronic snort that died in his vocalizer as he frowned at the Praxian. His fingers brushed something strange along Smokescreen's left 'rib'. "What's this?"

Prowl looked to what had drawn the drunken frontliner's attention and gave a shrug. "That is where his secondary relay is located."

"Second?..." Sideswipe frowned, his fingers tracing the weld scar.

"Smokescreen was damaged at the beginning of the war," Prowl said, giving the frontliner a mixed look. "His main absorption array was damaged so Ratchet installed a secondary system. He is able to use his primary array to absorb fuel, or reroute his systems to the secondary redundant system, which utilizes at a slower absorption rate."

"What?" Sunstreaker asked, fanning his face to get the fumes of high grade away from him.

"Smokescreen can alternate between which absorption array is active and use the other as reserve," Prowl explained, not understanding why both twins were looking mutinous. "Due to such augmentations, he can remain active for twice the length of time before charging and refueling, which enables him to perform his job when on the front lines."

"Sure it does," Sunstreaker said, turning his murderous gaze to Smokescreen.

"I thought you knew this," Prowl said, looking from one twin to the other.

"No, we didn't," Sideswipe said, leering over the unconscious Praxian. "But rest assured, we will remember it and use it accordingly."

Prowl opened his mouth to argue, but then he recalled all the times that Smokescreen had lured the twins into a drinking contest. The abuse and blackmail the twins had to endure was enough to make anyone crazy with revenge. And as he gazed between the two of them, he saw Sideswipe's hand caress along a door wing. Something told him that retribution would be swift, though not lethal.

Which was odd, considering it was the twin terrors.

But Prowl had no reason to believe that Smokescreen would come to harm. The twins would enact their pranks, get their revenge and Smokescreen would learn his lesson. And he needed to learn it. Many a soldier had fallen victim to his ruse. It was time he got a dose of some good old fashioned comeuppance. Prowl offered a curt nod and took his leave.

If anyone could deal Smokescreen out a dose of medicine, it was the two bitterest pills in the Army.

And Prowl silently cheered them on.

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Reviews would be loved and boy do I need the positive energy right now!

*hugs to all*