A Freudian Swipe
Yes, I know, it's a remake of a Freudian Slip but bear with me. These things aren't easy to name ya know! Thankfully, my mother comes through every time!
I really dont know WHERE my mind comes up with these...
{{-}} {{-}} {{-}} {{-}}{{-}} {{-}} {{-}} {{-}}{{-}} {{-}} {{-}} {{-}}
"Ah, right this way, mechs and femmes," Sideswipe said to the swelling crowd. "Right this way and prepare yourselves for a sumptuous feast!"
Every set of optics looked expectant, some lustful. They had witnessed the delicacies provided by the new establishment that catered to…. unusual, tastes. There was always a massive crowd and a waiting list that stretched into the cosmos.
Sideswipe smiled, making several feminine sparks flutter. He gestured for the crowd to follow him and with a nod, Sunstreaker opened the door to the inner sanctum. There was a moment of silence as the assembled bots stared in awe and delight, struck dumb by the sheer beauty and magnificence of the delicacies. Then as the full weight of the moment and delicious feasts were observed, applause and appreciative babble broke out. Sideswipe raised his servos, drinking in the adulation while trying to calm the crowd so he could speak.
Sunstreaker leaned against the door, watching as the patrons filed in, drawn to Sideswipe and the decadence he offered.
"There will be only four allowed per table so chose wisely." Sideswipe's voice echoed in the room. "Once you chose a table you will not be allowed to change."
Several mechs and femmes looked crestfallen, no doubt wanting a sample of all the delights. With the price they paid for admission, one would think they would have unlimited trips to the flavorful bounty.
"Shall we?" Sideswipe asked, his optic caught by a deep blue femme that had white accents. Her optics were a soft golden color that Sunstreaker would find desirable.
"The first offering is a wonderful Prime parfait," Sideswipe said, looking over his leader's frame as it was smothered in a thick, heavy cream with assorted berries. Prime wore a goofy, lopsided expression, apparently not minding the fact he was being offered as food to a very hungry crowd.
"Next, we have a Caramelized Datsun." Sideswipe stopped by Prowl's table, showing the black and white officer completely covered in a mahogany dressing. Caramel dripped from high doorwings in silky spiderwebs. He looked strangely at peace with the sticky substance.
"Here we have a Ratchet Raspberry tart." Sideswipe looked to the medical officer who scowled, his mouth full of raspberries. "Be warned with this one. It looks good but packs quite the punch."
Sideswipe ignored Ratchet and went to the next table, where Jazz was buried under a mound of brownies, ice cream, chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and chopped nuts. "And here we have some Jazz Sundaes, marshmallows are optional."
"And here…" Sideswipe paused before shaking his head in slow motion. "A Wheeljack soufflé but it appears as if it has collapsed…. Again."
"We also off a Cliffjumper Casserole," Sideswipe said, pointing to the fuming mech who was baked neck deep in noodles, vegetables and cheese. "A lovely, creamy Bumblebee Bisque that will go splendidly with a Blaster BBQ. If you want something more substantial, there's Grilled Ironhide, Mirage-kabobs, pan seared Perceptor, and oven roasted Gears." Sideswipe pointed to the glaring minibot. "Be warned, he's gamey."
"Tracks treacle, fresh caught Powerglide and glazed Bluestreak," Sideswipe said, looking to the grey gunner who was trussed up, his doorwings sporting little white decorative cuffs. "Smokescreen a la orange and Huffer under glass. Believe me, he's better that way."
The crowd came to the last table which was surprisingly bare.
"Odd. I don't recall seeing another on the menu for this evening," Sideswipe muttered. "There must have been a mistake."
"Oh no, there's one more dish." Sunstreaker said, looking to the hungry gazes surrounding them.
"What is it?" Sideswipe asked, wondering who was left to be placed in a dish to be served.
"You," Sunstreaker said, shoving Sideswipe forward. Instantly he was covered in a fine dusting of white, his body freezing into position. "Sugar coated Sideswipe. The last course of the evening."
Sideswipe's optics widened in fear as several of the bots advanced, their mouths opening to reveal long, pointy steel teeth and crushing mandibles. He tried to escape but they were upon him, clawing, biting, scratching, gnawing.
With an audio piercing scream Sideswipe bolted upright on his berth. His optics were wide, crazed, his ventilations coming in short, rapid bursts. His spark was pounding a techno beat in his chest.
Sunstreaker reared back to keep from colliding with his twin as he sat up. His expression was neutral, but there was annoyance filling the bond.
"What was it this time?" Sunstreaker asked in resignation. He had a feeling where this was going. It was happening a lot lately.
"You were going to eat me!" Sideswipe gasped before checking over his person for bite marks.
"I wouldn't eat you," Sunstreaker assured his brother. "You're junk food and I have my figure to maintain."
Sunstreaker rose from his brother's berth and went to his own, stretching out on its cushioned surface to return to charge. His own dreams of lusty femmes had been interrupted by his brother's spark call.
"I dreamt we opened a restaurant and cooked the guys!" Sideswipe said, still shaken up over the realistic dream.
Sunstreaker turned his helm in slow motion, his blank expression falling upon his brother. "Food?"
Sideswipe avoided his brother's gaze. That was all Sunstreaker needed to know.
"What did you have to ingest this time?" Sunstreaker asked in exasperation. Sideswipe had gotten off on a new tangent of experimenting with organic foods. Perceptor was to blame and if the science mech didn't leave the easily influenced and gullible Lamborghini alone, Sunstreaker was going to have words with him.
Sideswipe muttered something unintelligible before he lay back down.
"What?" Sunstreaker prompted. He really didn't want to know, but if Sideswipe had any negative reactions to organic foods, then Perceptor, and Ratchet, would need to be aware. Course there was a chance Ratchet would throttle Perceptor if he found out what the scientist had talked the resident idiot into trying. It bore some thought. "What did you ingest?"
"Oreos! Okay? Happy?" Sideswipe snapped and rolled to his side, facing the wall.
A minute passed by. Sunstreaker lay, open mouthed, and gobsmacked. A stray thought worked its way into his processor and before he could stop himself he asked, "How did they taste?"
Sideswipe felt his anger bleed away, a smirk forming. "Good. Really good!"
"Like?" Sunstreaker prompted.
"There is no other thing in the universe that can compare to the taste of chocolate." Sideswipe confided in his twin.
"That good?" Sunstreaker sounded intrigued.
"Hmm," Sideswipe said, his analyzers relaying the phantom taste.
"How many did you eat?"
"Eight bags."
"What?"
"Yeah, Perceptor only let me have eight. He said he didn't know what the side effects would be."
Sunstreaker closed his optics, his curiosity now peaked about the sensational taste known as 'chocolate'.
Another minute passed before Sideswipe spoke, his voice barely over a whisper.
"Sunny?"
"Yeah?" Sunstreaker answered despite the nickname.
"I'm hungry."
{{-}} {{-}} {{-}} {{-}}{{-}} {{-}} {{-}} {{-}}{{-}} {{-}} {{-}} {{-}}
Someone told me that the bots can ingest organic food and burn it as a fuel. I don't see how that is even possible, but my mind went to Oreos.
And was anyone else drooling over the 'dishes"?
I wouldn't mind a few 'servings'
