Flirty.
Sometimes the battles with the Decepticons left the Autobots more than physically drained. When there had been another deadlock in a never-ending war and no one felt that they could continue any further, the Autobots took Junction number fifty-six off the highway and followed an old, no longer maintained road to a little dirt track. This is where they came to race and raise their morale in front of their human onlookers. Humans were, after all, so easily impressed – such a simple thing as changing from robot form to alt-form awed them.
Tonight, Raoul had managed to pull the regulars – Tracks and the Lamborghini twins – down to the arena. Somehow, Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Cliffjumper, Warpath and Skids had also been coaxed in to joining the gathering.
"I hope you're all lookin' your best," Raoul spoke to them from Track's interior. "Because, damn, if we don't have some hot babes there tonight!"
"What you find 'hot' might to us be as boring as a water boiler. Remember, we aren't flesh like you, Raoul," Tracks sniffed.
"T' state the obvious," Raoul rebuked.
"So what are we gonna find there, huh?" Bluestreak was on edge with excitement. "How many people will there be and will there be music and you said that there'd be fuel there I hope there's fuel there because I haven't refuelled yet toda-"
"Relax, you can eat there," Raoul replied, sinking further down into his seat.
"Well, I hope so, because I second Bluestreak's desire for sustenance," Skids included.
"Nearly there!" Sideswipe commented with almost giddy cheerfulness. His statement was proven true when they began to hear loud bass music; the melody was lost under the beat.
As they made their way off the last of the old road and into the track, they joined half a dozen other Earth vehicles racing around the trail. Fires burned in old drums and where flames caught printing chemicals on old cardboards, greens and blues flashed briefly. Men and women stood or sat about in groups, none wearing more than a pair of shorts and in the cases of the women, sometimes bikini tops. After examining the scene in his long denim shorts and shirt, Raoul felt decidedly overdressed. "Jazz would love this – shame he couldn't come this time," he said, chuckling at the recent memory of Ratchet and Wheeljack cornering the Porsche in the med-bay.
As soon as they arrived Raoul hopped out and all eight of the Autobots transformed. It came as no surprise when some of the audience rushed over and gaped at them, and Raoul began introducing each of them to the women in turn.
"And this here is Sunstreaker and Sideswipe." Gold and Garnet were wearing their most charismatic grins, bowing to the ladies and making sure their latest admirers managed to see them from every good angle.
"Hey, watch this!" Sunstreaker transformed and began speeding around the track, easily passing all other cars and splattering them with mud formed from the previous night's rain. The women giggled and wooed over him and his brother, who was soon following his example. Tracks was trying to impress the females with talk of his deeds and showing them his weaponry arsenal. Warpath was similarly trying to impress everyone in sight. Bumblebee and Skids soon joined a group for conversation… leaving Bluestreak to his own devices. He watched as Sideswipe played up to his audience and earned their admiration, while Sunstreaker tried his best not to gripe over the mud splattered over his feet. Without realising, he had sat down on one of the grassier banks and a group of humans had clambered all over him. One of the females was gossiping inanely at him.
"Huh? Sorry – what was that?"
"I said: 'what tricks can you do?' C'mon! Wanna show us how impressive you are?" Bluestreak stared from the twins to the track to the semi-naked humans resting against his chassis. It was nice to have attention – even if he did have to earn it. Finally, he set them all down and made the effort to calmly walk to the track. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe lay down and began arguing amongst themselves. He waited until he had the humans' attention. When he thought he had the eyes of most of the crowd… the show would begin.
Raoul watched as Bluestreak ran onto the track, jumped into the air and somersaulted into car mode. His Datsun form landed heavily on the ground but immediately picked up speed, spraying mud at all the cars that were unfortunate to be directly behind him. He effortlessly weaved in and out of the other drivers, in some cases turning himself around and going between two vehicles in the opposite direction. The twins sat there…stunned. He made it all look so controlled – so easy. They had never believed such an unwieldy alt-form capable of any form of skilled driving.
As Bluestreak made one final approach towards his audience, he slid to a near stop – coating the twins' chassis in a thick pelt of mud. Neither was impressed any longer. Before his motion was done he transformed back to his robot form and with hands on hips, he finished beside his female audience with a pose and a smirk of such calibre it could rival that of a Decepticon Air Commander. Mud splattered his legs, but other than that, only a splodge of mud marred his cheek. Suddenly all of the humans were enthralled by his presence, racing over to touch him and ask if he could do it again. Many wanted to get inside his interior. The other Autobots roused themselves from the surrealism and continued their conversations – all except for the Lamborghinis. Their mouths gaped open and shut for a while before it occurred to Sunstreaker that Bluestreak had taken attention away from him. His optics narrowed with displeasure.
"…You tart," he said at last. Bluestreak cackled.
Bonus:
A/N: This was actually written as the first part, but I wanted to put the 'slash' part second. Slash was not requested, but for some reason it came out like that. Hrmm...
Bonus: Flirty Bluestreak.
He looked so strong and agile to Bluestreak – a swift and silent untamed beast, like a node-owl or lithium-wolf. He was so coldly beautiful; the fact that that no one truly knew whose side he was on only added excitement to the danger. And although this mech had an entirely different function in the war compared to Bluestreak's… he was, at the wick of it all, a gunner like himself. This gave Bluestreak the perfect reason to strike up a conversation.
"Hi there, Mirage," Bluestreak called in sweet, dulcimer tones.
"Oh, hello Bluestreak," Mirage replied, busy cleaning his weaponry in the warm Spring air.
"My, that's a big gun you have there, Mirage," Bluestreak said almost reverently as he stood directly behind the spy. Mirage stopped his cleaning and swivelled to look at Bluestreak, full concern, full confusion spread across his faceplate.
"Er, why, thank you." The gun was the same one he had used day in, day out since joining the Autobot cause; he could not understand why Bluestreak suddenly felt the need to comment on it.
"Well, er, have you used it lately, Mirage? It doesn't look like you've used it recently and I don't think I've seen you practice with it for the past three mega-cycles so-"
"-No, Bluestreak, I haven't used it recently," The Ligier replied politely but firmly, very aware that when Bluestreak began ranting, it was hard to get him to stop.
"Oh." Bluestreak did not know what to say next and for an awkward moment, Mirage continued to polish and clean his weapon as the young gunner's optics burned into his back. He considered going invisible. "Well, Mirage, I think I saw the perfect target for you to use that big weapon on." The Datsun grinned as Mirage's curiosity suddenly piqued.
"Really? What is it? Where?"
"Well, I've got patrol duty soon, but in two cycles I'll meet you by the grassy knoll in the forest and show you myself." Bluestreak smiled and all but skipped away, never giving Mirage a chance to reply.
Bluestreak could barely hide his anticipation as he made his way to the knoll. All the way through his patrol, he had been impatiently waiting, jabbering on to Hound about anything and everything unrelated to the hunter to keep his mind away from Mirage. Close to the end of the patrol, Bluestreak had almost moved Hound to the point where even the mild-mannered jeep had been prepared to tell him to shut up. They had not parted on the best of terms, but nothing could dampen Bluestreak's mood right now.
The spot that Bluestreak had chosen was secluded and few mechs ever came this far into the forest. The ground seemed damp though – possibly from the mist and dew earlier that morn. Ah well, Bluestreak thought. He's not as proud over his body as Sunstreaker or Tracks – he won't mind a bit of moss or mud. He smirked. He might actually enjoy it. Bluestreak closed his optics to the dappled light and listened to the birds and the breeze in the pines. He did not so much as hear Mirage approach as feel him; a 'weight' – light and lithe though it was – that barely registered as an anomaly in such a natural place. He opened his optics and found the object of his lust waiting him on the bank below the knoll.
"Bluestreak?" Mirage called out, the wind scattering the remains of last Autumn's leaves against his feet.
"Right up here, Mirage!" Bluestreak called, a tremor in his voice matching the increasing charge his fuel-pump was feeling. Mirage began casually strolling up to him, the grace honed from vorns of stalking and stealth missions evident in his stride.
"Where's this game you told me about? I have to admit, my curiosity has barely been contained since you told me." He leant against a tree and looked around him; even in such a simple act he looked majestic. "So…where is this quarry?" Bluestreak gasped in air for the coming moment.
"Right here, Mirage!" With those words, Bluestreak flung himself at the proud Ligier. The younger mech barely had enough time to register the horror on the blue-and-white's faceplate before he became transparent. Bluestreak fell straight through his intended target and slid down the slope, mud and grass scraping and gathering along the ruts of his body and in his bumper and lights. When the scratching, screeching sound finally silenced, Bluestreak could make out the sound of footsteps fiercely wending their way in the direction of the base.
After a moment's contemplation, he sat up and sighed: what a fool he had been to think that Mirage would want anything to do with him. Still, it had not ended quite the way he had hoped it had.
"Bluestreak?" The gunner lifted his head at the sound of his name. "Bluestreak?" The voice was closer and clearer now. "Bluestreak, it's Trailbreaker! Mirage mentioned something earlier about a- oh!" Trailbreaker had finally made his way up the ridge and laid optics on Bluestreak's condition. "…Um, where's Mirage?"
"Gone," he replied in a dreary, matter-of-fact way.
"He just left you here on you own?" Bluestreak did not reply. "Well, I'm free for the afternoon and I'll spend some time with you." Bluestreak looked up from his muddy resting spot and smiled; perhaps his agenda had not gone as planned, but at least he had some company.
End.
A/N: I have no more requests, and therefore, there will be no more chapters. Request a prompt from my profile if you want more Bluestreaks.