Meet the Family
Author's Note: Taking a break from the smut to write a little bit (itty bitty little bit) of actual story. Don't worry, if I can actually finish the one I'm currently writing, we'll go back to the smut next chapter. Of course that chapter explains what's being referenced this chapter. So this may not make any sense yet. Any guesses? (aside from those "in the know") ;) Currently I've managed some semblance of chronology, which I am about to wreck with the (hopefully) next chapter. This was requested by Tiamat1972 on LJ. She wanted the twins meet the family. It was supposed to be fluffy, but didn't turn out quite that way. (This was also requested nearly a year ago... -blush- Can't believe it took me so long to write this).
Smokescreen liked being fashionably late. It let him quietly walk up, observing the three bots laughing at the table he was heading to. The red one sloshed his mid-grade, wrapped up in the grandiose gestures that accompanied his tale. He looked familiar, but Smokescreen saved that consideration for the moment, moving his observations to the other mech at the table. His golden plating shone with a recent waxing and he lounged in his chair, watching the other mech with keen interest. He had the air of assurance that he could have any mech or femme, assurance that had him glancing at the third member of their table with the confidence that came of knowing another intimately. It sent cold shivers down Smokescreen's wing panels.
He didn't like anyone looking at his sister like that.
She seemed oblivious to the golden mech's interest, but when she looked at him, she too had the look of one who knew the other far too well for mere friendship.
That couldn't be Sideswipe. No. the red one looked more like a Sideswipe. Indeed Prowl flirted shamelessly with him despite the glances she gave the other. Smokescreen couldn't puzzle out his presence.
The golden mech's optics suddenly locked onto him, and Smokescreen decided that it would be a prudent time to step forward and introduce himself.
Prowl followed the mech's gaze and her optics lit up. "Smokescreen!"
She stood, and dashed forward, her feet klanking rhythmically as she rushed into his arms. The two mechs watched them, jealous protectiveness vivid on their faces.
He squeezed her gently, hugging the femme he hadn't seen for over a vorn. "It's good to see you, too, sis."
She grinned up at him, dragging him forward with a tight grip around his wrist. "Sides, Sunny, this is my brother, Smokescreen."
Confirming the name for the face, Smokescreen tried to dredge up why he looked so familiar.
The red mech stood up, movements ponderously slow, optics wide. "That's your brother?"
Prowl paused in pushing Smokescreen into a chair. "Have you two met already?"
Smokescreen turned a puzzled frown on the mech. "I'm not really sure. He looks familiar…."
Sideswipe lifted his brow ridge. "Run a bet with a guy about who can get the most femmes and you only look familiar."
Every system in Smokescreen's frame froze at that, but he didn't have a chance to form a response because Prowl turned to the red mech.
"You used to live in Altihex, Sides?" She looked between them, optics narrowed. "What bet?"
Smokescreen ran through his memories, pulling up the mech's old comm. channel, and hoping he still had access to it. "Ix-nay on the et-bay."
Sideswipe tilted his head at Smokescreen, confusion knitting his brow ridge, but he addressed the femme, "I thought you'd looked into my history already, Prowl. You didn't notice that?"
Sunny rolled his head and reached out to whap the red mech across the back of his head. "That's before you became legit, dolt. Of course you're not going to be on the records."
Sideswipe blinked at his brother, his face almost blank. "Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that."
Sunstreaker snorted out of his strange headvents, taking another drink out of his cube. "Idiot."
Prowl continued to turn her head back and forth, looking at both mechs. "What bet?" she asked again, her doorwings twitching behind her shoulders.
Sideswipe laughed, setting his cube down. "Aw, you know how young mechs can be. It was just a small bet between me and your brother and couple of others. Think one of them was named Sp-"
Smokescreen blasted feedback over the comm., making Sideswipe stop mid-word and clutch at his audio horns.
Prowl turned to the mech, reaching for him in concern.
Smokescreen halted her with a hand on her elbow. "Why not let me take care of this, and you go grab your poor depleted brother some midgrade?"
She turned to him, her lips pinching down to a frown, her perceptive mind almost visibly working behind her optics. "What the frag did you do to him?"
He let go of her arm to raise his hands innocently. "Would I do anything?"
She pursed her lips and narrowed her optics at him. "You would if you're trying to get rid of me."
He let his optics widen in shock at the accusation, but knew he hadn't fooled his sister at all.
Still she huffed and stalked away, doorwings riding high on her shoulders.
"Ow. What the frag? Ow!" Sideswipe peered up at Smokescreen from where he still hunched over, holding his audio horns.
Smokescreen straightened in his seat, doorwings held stiffly out to the sides. "She does not need to know about anyone's involvement in that bet, least of all Springer's." He leaned forward, doorwings tilting back to catch his balance. "Maybe you'll recall the extra wager I made with Springer?"
Sunstreaker leaned back, and Smokescreen knew that he at least understood well enough to keep silent about it. Sideswipe on the other hand…
"Aww, frag! The was her?"
Smokescreen nodded once, lips pressed together in a thin line.
Sunstreaker sighed again from his vents. "She hasn't mentioned any other sisters it could have been. Not in my receiving range, at least. Stupid."
Sideswipe sat back in his chair, mouth hanging open at Smokescreen. "Slag. Oh, slag. You're right, we can't say anything about that."
"She's coming back," Sunstreaker murmured, draping his arm indolently over the back of his chair.
Smokescreen straightened, composing himself once more. He could see Sideswipe working out a story to tell the femme. They couldn't let her know about that bet.
The pit knows no fury like a femme scorned.