AN: All the G1 \^o^/
Monitor Duty
Prompt: Game
Characters: Red Alert, Sideswipe
Universe: G1
Word Count: 594
Summary: "Blackmail" is the worst word a security specialist can encounter.
"So…"
"Quiet, delinquent!"
Sideswipe's optics flickered in exasperation as he twirled around in his seat. Boredom gnawed at the edge of his processor, but he fought it back by tapping his fingers against the keys of the monitor in front of him. Monitor duty was always boring, but Prowl always managed to somehow make it worse when it served as a punishment.
Probably because he always made the punished perpetrator work directly with Red Alert, the most high-strung, paranoid little glitch Sideswipe knew. At least when he was on regular duty, he'd have someone like Blaster or Bumblebee sitting between him and Red. Now there was no one there to serve as a buffer for when the Security Director leaned over and slapped his tapping fingers away. "No playing games. This is punishment."
Sideswipe snorted and exited out of the game his fingers had unconsciously pulled up for him. It wasn't his fault that was his usual routine when on monitor duty. "This is so boring."
"Stop whining and act like a big 'bot." Red Alert leaned in closer to one of his numerous monitors, and Sideswipe spun around in his chair again with an agonized groan. "You wouldn't be in this situation if you could control your hooligan urges."
Sideswipe snorted once more at the Security Director's choice of words. In his defense, the "prank" he was being punished for now hadn't even been his idea. He just hadn't protested when his brother came to him, demanding retaliation in the form of replacing Track's wax with the glow-in-the-dark putty he had "lying around" after the snobby mech had insulted his paintjob in front of everyone.
Sunstreaker had been very pleased with the results.
The red front-liner finally sighed, finishing one more spin in his chair. To alleviate his boredom, he made a show of stretching his stiff joints, fully ignoring Red Alert's pointed glare in his direction. It wasn't until he was hanging upside down on the arm of his chair that Sideswipe caught a glance of his companion's private monitor. The front-liner instantly popped back up and allowed a devilish grin to spawn. "Oh, Red."
"What now?"
"Wha'cha doin' over there?"
To his credit, Red Alert didn't so much as flinch at the knowing tone Sideswipe's voice carried. He leveled an "officer's glare" on the other Autobot and clicked a key on his keyboard. "My work."
"It don't look like it." Sideswipe's grin expanded when Red Alert finally shifted. The front-liner leaned closer and found it amusing when Red Alert attempted to hide the game he had caught the mech playing. "Is that…so you're the one who's been winning all of Smokescreen's credits!"
"This doesn't leave this room!" Red Alert hissed, blue sparks flying from one of the horns on his helm to another. "Do you hear me, Sideswipe?"
"What?" Sideswipe dramatically tipped his head to the side, cupping his audial with one hand. "I think I just heard Section 12, Subsection 4, Paragraph 5 of the Autobot Code."
"How do you—"
"Hey, a troublemaker's gotta know the rules in order to skirt around them." Sideswipe's indigo optics brightened at Red Alert's defeated sigh. "So…"
After an aggressive glare that didn't faze Sideswipe in the least, Red Alert reluctantly pressed a key in front of him. Sideswipe's monitor flickered from the dull communication logs to the title screen of the game he always played. The officer overseeing his punishment scowled for the rest of the time they were together, but Sideswipe didn't mind as he totally crushed Bumblebee's previous high score.
Twenty Credits
Prompt: Practice
Characters: Sunstreaker
Universe: G1
Word Count: 100
Summary: The Starving Artist.
Sunstreaker scowled at the mech in front of him and tried not to take the close scrutiny of his finest work to spark. "What's it worth?"
"This? About twenty cred." The mech took a step back when he finally noticed Sunstreaker's scowl. "Look, that's just how the market works! Anything without a famous name attached to it will go nowhere."
The mech paused. "Keep practicing, and maybe a wealthy mech will be interested someday. 'Til then, I'll give you twenty."
Sunstreaker swallowed his pride and nodded. Twenty credits—that would get him and Sideswipe a cube of Energon for tonight.
Engineering Optimism
Prompt: Lucky Break
Characters: Wheeljack, Sunstreaker
Universe: G1
Word Count:486
Summary: Wheeljack has the tendency to look on the bright side of things.
"Well, at least we're not—"
"Don't say it." Sunstreaker glared when he saw Wheeljack's vocal fins innocently flash in the dark, cramped space they were trapped in. "There's only two steps separating us, and I won't feel guilty for knocking you out."
Wheeljack's fins briefly illuminated the space with a pink light before Sunstreaker turned away. Really—as if the day couldn't get any worse. First he had to deal with angry little Mini-Bots because his brother was a moron, then he had to sit in the brig because his brother was a moron, then he had to repaint all the scuffs that came from the angry munchkins and sitting in the brig because his brother was a moron, and finally he was sitting in a cramped hole…because his brother was a moron
Sunstreaker was beginning to sense a very prominent pattern in his life.
"Ya know, we coulda—"
"Wheeljack. Nothing you say can make this better."
"Just hear me out!" Wheeljack seemed surprised when Sunstreaker turned back around, the fins that decorated both of their helms nearly clashing in the tiny space. "Uh…"
"What?"
"We could have fallen into an active volcano." The space was illuminated once more with a bright blue flash, allowing Sunstreaker to perfectly see his current companion. "Or we could've been eaten by a giant fish. Ya know, like in that story that Jazz—"
"I know what you're talking about." Sunstreaker stared in the direction Wheeljack sat. He waited a moment for the engineer to light the area again before growing impatient. "Is that seriously all you're going to say about this?"
"Hm? Oh, no! That device could've created a black hole that sucked us up into another dimension where we're only about five inches tall. Or we coulda been zapped to a planet inhabited by natives that would've forced us into a game of life and death for their own entertainment." Wheeljack paused. "Or—"
"You can't seriously think any of that would happen from your explosions."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Wheeljack waved a hand before realizing that their current location wouldn't allow the movement without hitting Sunstreaker in the face. "Sorry. But it doesn't matter if that could possibly happen or not. The point is that it didn't, and we could've been in a much direr situation than just stuck in a tiny hole twenty feet from the surface where I know the others are already beginning to dig us out. In the grand scheme of things, we're pretty lucky to be here."
The space went black and quiet for a moment before lighting up again, Wheeljack's vocal fins painting the dark rock a happy yellow as he began to hum. Sunstreaker huffed and slouched as much as he could in the tiny space. However, he slowly began to relax as time passed.
At least his brother was being a moron for someone else right now.
