Please note that this IS slash (as in man on man action) so if you don't like it, don't read past these words! You have been warned.
Title: At the Pub
Pairing: Implied Lockdown/Devcon, implied Sunstreaker/Sideswipe/everyone, implied Tracks/Devcon, implied Tracks/lambo twins, Tracks/Cliffjumper. Implications! Implications everywhere!
Verse: Humanized AU, but meant to take place in Animated
Rating: Pg-13 for molestations
Warning: Devcon being molested. But again, you're all cock blocked this chapter. No p0rnz.
Summery: A certain brunette bounty hunter is well sought after and gets some unsettling information.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, because if I did, it would pretty much all be porn.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Opening the door to the hole in the wall pub, Devcon sighed as a welcoming wave of warmth enveloped him. He was tired and the only thing he wanted was a cold beer before heading home to Lockdown. Stripped off his jacket he hung it on one the overflowing hooks in the tiny foyer. Odd, he thought, hardly anyone was ever here this late at night.
He opened the second door and walked into the pub proper. The bounty hunter was met by a mountain of noise. He resisted the urge to cover his ears as a cheer went up and mugs of green beer all around where lifted above numerous heads. The place was bursting at the seems.
"Just my luck." Devcon grumbled, pushing people aside to get to the bar. "At least it doesn't smell like Lockdown's haunt."
Halfway there someone pinched his ass. Glaring Devcon spun, but the offender was lost in the crowd. The night was already off to a great start.
He sank into the only empty bar stool in the place. He was crammed against a corner more annoyed then mad that his haven was now a hell. With all the ruckus going on around him he wasn't sure if his after hunt beer would relax his nerves at all. That was until he heard a friendly voice over the crowd.
"Devcon ol' boy! Where have ya been ya basterd?"
Devcon smiled at the man behind the counter as he sauntered over. At least he'd have good company. "Your accents' unusually thick tonight 'jumper. You been drinking?"
All of five foot nothing the with a thick shock of red hair, the owner of the pub was a man to be reckoned with, but when he drank he was in good spirits.
"What hot blooded Irishmen isn't drinking ta'night of all nights!" He asked indignantly.
Not that Cliffjumper need a reason to out drink the human race as whole, but Devcon found himself curious. Cliff didn't usually drink while tending the bar.
"What's so special about tonight?"
"Ye gods man!" Cliff exclaimed, putting a hand over the Irish flag pin that rested above his heart. "Do ya really not know?"
The red head reached over the counter an gave the bounty hunter a hard pinch on the chest. It was a little too close to his nipple for Devcon to be entirely sure that Cliffjumper hadn't aimed for it.
"Ouch!" Devcon snapped, pulling away. "What the hell was that for?"
The Irishmen laughed loudly and pointed out at the bar full of loud, rowdy people.
"Give ya three guesses."
Devcon sat up straighter and took better stock of his surroundings. Green streamers hung from the ceiling, numerous Irish flags where tacked up on the walls along with emerald shamrocks. A sea of green beer stretched from one wall to the other in the hands of people in deteriorating stages of drunkenness. Devcon groaned.
"Fuck it St. Paric-"
"Saint Patty's day!" Cliffjumper finished for him. "How the hell could ya forget?"
"Been busy." Devcon said.
"With that cop friend of yours? I would be." The man wiggled his eyebrows in what one had to assume he meant as a suggestive motion.
"Business," Devcon corrected nearly laughing at the man. "Not pleasure."
"Taken out the trash where ya?" Cliff smiled and winked.
"You could say that."
"In that case, first one's on me." Cliffjumper plunked down a mug of green beer and slid it over in front of Devcon.
"Thanks 'jumper."
"You're gonna need it."
Devcon only got in one slip and raised an eyebrow. "Need it?"
"It's St. Patty's day, and you ain't wearin' green." Cliff grinned slyly. "Which means that pretty arse of yours is fair game."
"Oh please. No one actually pinches anyone for not wearing-" Devcon twisted around and slapped away a hand that pinched his ass. "Hands off buddy!"
Cliffjumper howled with laughter and pounded the bar with a fist as Devcon shoved the drunk off him.
"Maybe not the ugly ones, but you boy'o, you are going ta be sore come mornin'!"
"Give me your pin then!" Devcon demanded.
"Not on your life." Cliff smiled. "I ain't want'n be pinched by these devils! They've been drinkin' fur hours and most are lookin' fur a warm body." The Irishman's blue eyes flicked up and down Devcon. "Or a hot one in your case."
Cliffjumper was pulled away by shouts for more liquor and refills, leaving Devcon in an even more sour mood. He'd only wanted a beer or two after a job well done and a little peace and quiet.
He yelped and jerked around as someone else pinched his ass. The drunk man smiled at Devcon's sneer and was shoved away. The bounty hunter went back to his drink as the noise grew in volume as more beer when around. As he downed the rest, the back of his neck itched. He raised a hand to it and felt goose bumps rise along his skin. That only happened when someone was watching him.
Discretely, Devcon looked around the pub as he set down the empty glass. Nothing seemed out the ordinary. People milled about, none taking any special interest in him, or so he thought. A pair moved out of the way and revealed a booth in the back that Devcon usually occupied. Tonight it had someone else sitting in it. Devcon locked eyes with him. Maybe it was the distance, or the bad lighting, but for a split second Devcon swore he was starting at Lockdown.
The man sat with his back against the wall, staring. The drink was set down and the man didn't avert his ruby gaze. He picked up a smoldering cigarette and put it to his pale lips that quirked up in the tiniest of smiles. Devcon scanned the man, trying to find his intentions in his face, but he got nothing. The brunette stared back, memorizing every detail and logging it way. The short cropped black hair with a single white streak in it, the pale skin all but hidden under a black turtle neck, the five o'clock shadow that dotted his chin.
Someone pinched Devcon's ass and brought him out of the impromptu starting contest. He nearly jumped out of his bar stool when someone slurred in this ear.
"Oh my, how firm!"
Devcon would have punched the man in the face for sliding his hands into his back pockets if he didn't look so damn familiar. That nasely New York accent was familiar too. Something about the perfectly styled black hair with the red streak in it, navy blue eyes flecked with a bit of red framed by annoyingly small yellow glasses jogged his memory. Could it be?
"Tracks? Devcon asked.
A flicker of confusion past over the man's flushed face, though it was hard to tell if it left or not.
"Beg pardon, but have I molested you before?"
"College, bout seven years ago. I'm Devcon. Not that'd you'd remember, we didn't travel in the social circles but..."
"Oh oh yes, I remember you now. Tall quite type with those ridiculous cowboy boots. Tell me, have you gotten more ravishingly handsome?"
Devcon put his hand in Tracks beat red face when he tried to lean in and kiss him.
"You haven't changed much either." Devcon said.
Cliffjumper picked that moment to appear as Tracked pushed Devcon up against the bar, rattling the empty glasses.
"Sorry, didn't mean ta interrupt."
"A little help would be nice!" The brunette snapped as the red head put his elbow up on the bar and watched as Tracks rubbed Devcon's ass.
"Oh sure." The Irishman smiled wickedly. "Tracks might like it if ya grab his arse back."
"Not that kind of help idiot!" Devcon said as Tracks licked the side of his face.
"Aw don't be such a prude Devy. Just have a bit o' fun. If ya really don't like him just knock him out."
"I don't want to hurt him. He's just four or five sheets to the wind."
"That's where the fun part comes in." the red head winked.
Devcon had enough. He found Tracks wondering hands, took them by the wrists and the drunk man's face was pressed into the bar the next moment. Tracks groaned as the brunette pinned his arms behind his back with an iron grip.
"Oh!" the New Yorker moaned, pushing his hips back against his captor's theigh.
Cliffjumper roared with laughter as Devcon scoffed.
"You always where a horny drunk." Devcon said as he let Tracks go before the man started humping the bar.
"You're lucky night." Tracks moaned spinning around before collapsing into the bar stool. Devcon caught him before he could fall. The man's hands where instantly on his ass as he burred his handsome face into Devcon's chest.
"Oh I should have remembered a body like yours. How did we never hook up in college?"
'Because you where more interested in being homecoming queen' Devcon wanted to say. Instead he opted for a casual; "I don't know."
"We need to go back to my place then," The man purred. "And correct that egregious error." His "egregious" sounded like it had a few extra letters in it.
"I'm taken at the moment." Devcon said pealing the hands off him only for them to reappear in other places.
"So? I'm seeing some one too. They won't mind."
"The only thing your seeing is double." Devcon said, holding on to the hands once he got them off again.
"Double digits you mean." Tracks said coyly, with a not so coy look down at Devcon's crotch.
"Jumper he's cut off." Devcon snorted forcing the New Yorker to sit down in the bar stool. "And do something with him."
"He clearly prefers to do something with you." The Irishman smiled. "I could watch though."
Devcon threw a glare at Cliffjumper who smiled back charmingly. Before Devcon could chew him out another hand cupped his ass and squeezed. Devcon turned back around and found two sets of bright blue eyes. Devcon was not drunk enough to be seeing double, yet identical faces leered at him as identical hands groped his ass.
"I've found out where our drinking buddy ran off too." The man with black hair said with an evil looking grin.
"It seems Tracks found us a new drinking buddy brother." the blonde one said looking equally evil. "A very sexy looking one."
"Oh look, it's the devils I was talkin' bout. Twin devils" Cliffjumper sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Boys!" Tracks said leaping up from the stool to throw his arms around Devcon's neck. "I saw him first! I'm taking him home!"
"Our home maybe," The blond purred as his hand slipped into Devcon's back pocket.
"Our bed is bigger anyways, Tracks, you know that." the black haired one purred.
"Mine!" Tracks snarled, pulling Devcon away from the twins.
"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, boys," Cliffjumper said, leaning over the bar. "Leave the poor boy alone. He can't handle you all at the same time." He tapped Devcon on the shoulder. "Or can ya boyo'? I'll start taken wagers."
"Do I get a say in things damn it?" Devcon snapped pulling Tracks's arms way from his neck.
"Nope." was the twins unison answer as Sideswipe hand slid down Devcon's thigh. "We are quite instant."
"I saw him first!" Tracks snarled.
"I'm taken already!" Devcon shouted about all of them.
He took Tracks hands from around his neck and spun the man around and pushed him onto the bar top, straight into Cliffjump's face.
"You wanta' get laid? Hump him. He's horny."
Cliffjumper opened his mouth to say something but whatever it was never made it past his lips because Tracks's were attached to them. Devcon shook his head as Tracks moaned and humped the bar as the Irishman nearly pulled him behind it.
"And as for you two," Devcon grabbed both of the twins hands and yanked them out of his pockets. "There is literally a bar full of ass for you to score with, mine is off limits."
The twins faces fell. "You sure? We would be happy to share you."
"Yeah, we share very well."
"If my boyfriend catches your hand on me, you won't have hands anymore. Or a face. Now get."
He shoved the twins away and kept pushing until both disappeared into the crowd. He turned back to the bar to find Cliffjumper and Tracks behind it, on the floor doing everything their clothes would allow. He scoffed and tossed a twenty over the bar, though Cliff should be paying him for hooking him up tonight.
He couldn't resist one final parting shot. "Get a room."
He got a waving middle finger from the Irishmen on his back as Tracks ripped his shirt over his head. Shaking his head he headed for the door. He was likely to have a quieter night at home with Lockdown riding his ass.
He looked back once more at the booth where the stranger had been starting at him. It was filled with a gang of giggling women now. He chalked it up to some passing stranger and went for the door before someone else propositioned him and Lockdown's hit list got a few names longer.
He was in the middle of pulling his jacket down form the hook when he was grabbed again. Spinning around with his 9mm halfway out of his jacket pocket, the bounty hunter came face to face with the red eyed man from across the bar. The stranger smiled, and the hairs on the back of Devcon's neck stood on end.
He was handsomer up close. His ivory skin was smooth as the jet black hair was silky. His high cheekbones looked like they could cut glass, and if it wasn't for his nose that looked like it had been badly broken multiple times, he could have been a male model. And if it weren't for the lack of face tattoos, the man could have been Lockdown's twin.
"I bet you've learned your lesson haven't you?" the man said, his low voice had a bit of a purring rumble to it that put Devcon on edge.
The brunette shook his head but kept his mouth shut. He kept his distance as the man got his own jacket from one of the hooks. He slipped it on and flashed a small, wolfish smile.
"Don't be such an easy target next time."
Devcon narrowed his eyes and pushed the safety off on the pistol in his hand. The man only grinned at him.
"You'll be wearing green next year won't you?"
Devcon's finger relaxed off the trigger and he slung the jacket over his shoulders still keeping his distance.
"Yeah I will." He agreed.
He turned to leave when his ass was roughly grabbed, and not like the horny drunks in the bar. His ass was squeezed and groped on a level nearly equal to Lockdown. Devcon reached back and struck. The blow was side stepped but the hand was knocked away. Devcon growled as the man smiled at him and stuck his hands in his coat pockets.
"Sorry," he purred, pulling out a pack of cheep cigarettes and an equally cheep lighter. "It was too tempting. Couldn't resist."
With no further explanation the man left, lighting up with a flare of orange light before disappearing in the the dark street.
Devcon yanked his coat on and left the bar in a foul mood. The ride home was silent, and Devcon came home to an even quieter home. Lockdown was still out. Devcon sighed and slid out of his jacket. After all the ass grab, he kinda wanted his lover to do a little himself. Locky came bounding through the door and sat at Devcon's feet. He made a face when the cat stood up and tried to put a dead rat in his hand.
"Good boy." he managed to say without gagging.
The black and white tom cat purred as Devcon scratched behind the new red collar he wore.
"Come on Locky, lets get you get you something to eat that doesn't have rabies."
The cat rubbed against his leg and troted inside, tail held high. Devcon chuckled as Locky dropped the rat in front of Lockdown's door and glanced back at him.
"Somehow I don't' think he'll like that." Devcon said as he closed the door on the cold.
He chuckled when the cat pawed at the door and then yowled. He looked most confused. Usually when he did that Lockdown appeared to yell at him.
"He's not home Locky." Devcon said as he laid out some fresh kibble for his four footed friend.
The tom cat eagerly trotted away from his "gift" and devoured the food. Devcon grinned as he leaned against the back counter watching the little black and white. Something crinkled in his back pocket.
"The fuck?"
Sliding his hand into his jeans, he pulled up a handful of paper. He looked the first piece over. It was a glossy business card with Tracks's name and phone number scrawled across it in flowing script. Devcon rolled his eyes. Leave it to Tracks to be too drunk to stand, but enough presence of mind to slip his number into a stranger's pocket.
The next was a pair of post-its. The yellow one read: "Sunstreaker- call me" with a number. And the other was red, and in far worse looking handwriting: "Or if your not into blondes- Sideswipe" with a number. Devcon snorted and tore them up without a thought. It was best Lockdown not know about them. He kept Tracks's card, just encase, and slipped it back into his front pocket.
His fingers touched something. He pulled his hand back out and found a folded napkin. When the hell had someone slipped something into a front pocket? He unfolded it slowly.
What is Lockdown hiding from you?
No name. No number. He flipped the napkin over, opened it, practically tore it apart but there was nothing else. Locky rubbed against his leg and looked up expectantly. Devcon picked him up and scratched the mismatched ears absently. The sapphire eyes stared at some unknown point as the cat purred away.
"What is he hiding from me Locky?" He finally asked aloud.
Devcon shook his head and set the cat down. The tom cat made a face and meowed, displeased the petting had stopped.
"He hides everything." he sighed, rolling his eyes. "He doesn't trust anyone."
He strolled out of the kitchen, cat in tow, and flopped down on his bed. Locky's collar jingled as he jumped up and curled up at his side. Devcon stroked the silky fur as he tried to stop thinking about that note. No matter how he rationalized it, it kept gnawing away at him. Who knew Lockdown better then him? And more importantly; was Lockdown keeping something from him?