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shadow_vector2011-09-12 05:41 pm
niyazi-a.livejournal.com) wrote in shadow_vector2011-09-12 05:41 pm
Entry tags:
Seeing the Light
Continuity: TFAnimated
Rated: PG
Pairing: Rodimus/Red Alert
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 1158
Prompt: Springkink 11 Sep TFA Hot Rod Red Alert playing doctor
It was dark, and everything hurt. Those were the first two facts to strike Red Alert on her return from…wherever. Consciousness, she guessed. But what came before that? She had no idea.
A sound: some metallic whine of pain. It took her a moment—all right, 5.52 microkliks—to realize that the sound was coming from her own vocalizer. Frag.
“Dark,” she managed—an experiment, really, to force the words out, to hear what happened when she tried to make an actual sound.
A sense of movement to her right. “Hey, Red.”
“Rodimus?” Her voice was still thread and weak. She forced power into it. “It’s dark.”
Another shift of metal. “The manual said you should be kept in the dark and quiet.”
“The manual.” Red Alert tried to push herself onto her elbows, flopping back as her gyroscopic stabilizers spun wildly. Her tanks lurched. She was almost glad she couldn’t see.
“Hey, I read!” A hint of Rodimus’s joking tone. Instead of grating it actually made her feel…better. Something familiar, at any rate. “…Ironhide had to show me how to use the index, though.” A chuckle.
“Going to tell me what happened?” Memory retrieval seemed like too much of a burden on her taxed cortical processes.
“You got hit. By a sonic disruptor. Ironhide recognized it by the sound.”
“A disruptor!” She tried to sit up again. “The others!”
A pressure on her shoulder, neutral, but firm. “We’re safe, Red Alert. They…they were after you.”
“Me?” Red Alert was no pacifist, but, yeah, she didn’t consider herself military target. Someone like Ironhide was a real threat. Or Rodimus himself, their Minor. But not her.
“Yeah.” Rodimus didn’t sound happy. A pause. “You…ready to try some light?”
She could feel what a grasp after a topic-change that was, and clung onto it with him. “I’m ready.” Anything better than sitting here feeling sorry for herself with her tanks fizzing.
“All right. Keep them shuttered till I say so.”
She fought to keep the impatience from her voice. She’d been doing this for megacycles: he’d…read the manual. “Fine.”
“Okay,” Rodimus said. “Here goes.”
Red Alert heard the telltale hiss of a field lantern igniting. She slitted her optic shutters, wincing at the blade of orange light that seemed to stab straight through her cortex to scrape against the back of her helm.
“Careful.”
“Don’t tell me to be careful, Rodimus,” she snapped. Like he was ever careful? Seriously. The mech was a gloryhound. And the only reason Hot Shot and the others looked up to him, the only reason it was remotely tolerable, was that he chased glory himself—he didn’t send his own mechs into danger he didn’t face. She kept her optics slitted and slowly the orange resolved, pixelating down to a picture—a shadowy ochre interior of a cave.
Not a medbay.
She didn’t know why she’d thought they were in a medbay—he’d never said it. She just…wanted to believe she was out of there. Her face fell.
He must have seen…something. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re safe. We get extracted in the morning. And the others have the perimeter secure.” He tapped his audial, sporting the small bulge of a secure comm node.
“I’m not worried.” She let her optics online a bit more, flicking over to Rodimus’s face. He looked worried. Which was…well, what did she expect. He read the manual. And Red Alert had read the manual too, and written it off as more or less useless in a real triage situation.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rodimus said, summoning a smile. It was low-wattage compared to his usual, but a damn sight better than that worried frown. “You’re not worried because you know you’re in good hands.”
Snorting, Red Alert shook her head, but then found herself clutching onto the hard stone beneath her as the gesture made her vision swim and swing wildly. “Where’s my fraggin’ scanner.”
She felt the cool metal box pressed into her hands faster than she expected. Her fingers wrapped around it, as though just its presence alone could stabilize her.
“Figured you’d want it,” Rodimus said.
“To make sure you didn’t royally frag up.”
He laughed. “No, because it’s your security thingus.”
Red Alert blinked. “Thingus.”
“Your woobie. Admit it.”
She did a data search wishing, for the ninetieth time, that she’d had a special tag for ‘Stupid Words only Rodimus Uses’. She should make one. Later, when her head didn’t feel like it was splitting open. “Woobie.”
Rodimus leaned over, to tap his bow, where he’d propped it against the stone. “Something you feel better just touching.”
She realized that she hadn’t even turned the scanner on; that she’d really just been clutching it in her hands. Her mouth pinched, feeling caught out. “That why we couldn’t pry that thing out of your hands after Oil Slick hit you with the Cosmic Rust?” She called up a scan. Huh. All things considered, she could have been a lot worse.
Didn’t mean anything other than Rodimus could follow instructions. That’s all.
A flicker of tension, that got boiled off in the smile, melting into the flickering shadows from the small lantern. “Definitely. Only way it would have been better is if I could have used the thing on Oil Slick himself.” The smile perked. “So that’s your woobie.”
Red Alert frowned. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not, Red.” The smile faded. “Actually…kind of worried about you.”
“Yeah.” She tightened her mouth, turning to stare at the wall. “Without me, who’s going to patch up your ego?”
The light fizzled, the lantern’s battery failing. The darkness swept over them again, like rushing wings.
“Slag,” Red Alert muttered, fingers finding, even in the darkness, the screen of her scanner. “Everything around here breaks.”
A soft noise beside her. Rodimus, she presumed, moving to monkey with the lantern. She stiffened at a hand on her shoulder.
“Not everything,” Rodimus murmured, and under the cheesy line, she could hear the strange, raw emotion in his voice. “Nothing breaks you, Red.”
“Rodimmmrph!” The rest of the word was cut off by a mouth on hers. A crackle, and the lantern popped back to life, throwing orange-white lights, like dancing, around the room.
He pulled back, abruptly, the lights skittering on his armor, and she could feel the sharp, nervous ex-vent on her chassis. “Going to sock me now, aren’t you?” All the arrogance was gone: he looked nervous, and exhausted, his smile as flickering and unsteady as the lantern. He had…really worried.
Red Alert glared for a klik, before grabbing him by the spoiler winglet, hauling him close into a longer, deeper kiss, her glossa flirting at the divide in his surprised mouthplates. She tipped back. “Oh. Just you wait.”
She felt his mouthplates curl against hers. “Waited this long….”
Rated: PG
Pairing: Rodimus/Red Alert
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 1158
Prompt: Springkink 11 Sep TFA Hot Rod Red Alert playing doctor
It was dark, and everything hurt. Those were the first two facts to strike Red Alert on her return from…wherever. Consciousness, she guessed. But what came before that? She had no idea.
A sound: some metallic whine of pain. It took her a moment—all right, 5.52 microkliks—to realize that the sound was coming from her own vocalizer. Frag.
“Dark,” she managed—an experiment, really, to force the words out, to hear what happened when she tried to make an actual sound.
A sense of movement to her right. “Hey, Red.”
“Rodimus?” Her voice was still thread and weak. She forced power into it. “It’s dark.”
Another shift of metal. “The manual said you should be kept in the dark and quiet.”
“The manual.” Red Alert tried to push herself onto her elbows, flopping back as her gyroscopic stabilizers spun wildly. Her tanks lurched. She was almost glad she couldn’t see.
“Hey, I read!” A hint of Rodimus’s joking tone. Instead of grating it actually made her feel…better. Something familiar, at any rate. “…Ironhide had to show me how to use the index, though.” A chuckle.
“Going to tell me what happened?” Memory retrieval seemed like too much of a burden on her taxed cortical processes.
“You got hit. By a sonic disruptor. Ironhide recognized it by the sound.”
“A disruptor!” She tried to sit up again. “The others!”
A pressure on her shoulder, neutral, but firm. “We’re safe, Red Alert. They…they were after you.”
“Me?” Red Alert was no pacifist, but, yeah, she didn’t consider herself military target. Someone like Ironhide was a real threat. Or Rodimus himself, their Minor. But not her.
“Yeah.” Rodimus didn’t sound happy. A pause. “You…ready to try some light?”
She could feel what a grasp after a topic-change that was, and clung onto it with him. “I’m ready.” Anything better than sitting here feeling sorry for herself with her tanks fizzing.
“All right. Keep them shuttered till I say so.”
She fought to keep the impatience from her voice. She’d been doing this for megacycles: he’d…read the manual. “Fine.”
“Okay,” Rodimus said. “Here goes.”
Red Alert heard the telltale hiss of a field lantern igniting. She slitted her optic shutters, wincing at the blade of orange light that seemed to stab straight through her cortex to scrape against the back of her helm.
“Careful.”
“Don’t tell me to be careful, Rodimus,” she snapped. Like he was ever careful? Seriously. The mech was a gloryhound. And the only reason Hot Shot and the others looked up to him, the only reason it was remotely tolerable, was that he chased glory himself—he didn’t send his own mechs into danger he didn’t face. She kept her optics slitted and slowly the orange resolved, pixelating down to a picture—a shadowy ochre interior of a cave.
Not a medbay.
She didn’t know why she’d thought they were in a medbay—he’d never said it. She just…wanted to believe she was out of there. Her face fell.
He must have seen…something. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re safe. We get extracted in the morning. And the others have the perimeter secure.” He tapped his audial, sporting the small bulge of a secure comm node.
“I’m not worried.” She let her optics online a bit more, flicking over to Rodimus’s face. He looked worried. Which was…well, what did she expect. He read the manual. And Red Alert had read the manual too, and written it off as more or less useless in a real triage situation.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rodimus said, summoning a smile. It was low-wattage compared to his usual, but a damn sight better than that worried frown. “You’re not worried because you know you’re in good hands.”
Snorting, Red Alert shook her head, but then found herself clutching onto the hard stone beneath her as the gesture made her vision swim and swing wildly. “Where’s my fraggin’ scanner.”
She felt the cool metal box pressed into her hands faster than she expected. Her fingers wrapped around it, as though just its presence alone could stabilize her.
“Figured you’d want it,” Rodimus said.
“To make sure you didn’t royally frag up.”
He laughed. “No, because it’s your security thingus.”
Red Alert blinked. “Thingus.”
“Your woobie. Admit it.”
She did a data search wishing, for the ninetieth time, that she’d had a special tag for ‘Stupid Words only Rodimus Uses’. She should make one. Later, when her head didn’t feel like it was splitting open. “Woobie.”
Rodimus leaned over, to tap his bow, where he’d propped it against the stone. “Something you feel better just touching.”
She realized that she hadn’t even turned the scanner on; that she’d really just been clutching it in her hands. Her mouth pinched, feeling caught out. “That why we couldn’t pry that thing out of your hands after Oil Slick hit you with the Cosmic Rust?” She called up a scan. Huh. All things considered, she could have been a lot worse.
Didn’t mean anything other than Rodimus could follow instructions. That’s all.
A flicker of tension, that got boiled off in the smile, melting into the flickering shadows from the small lantern. “Definitely. Only way it would have been better is if I could have used the thing on Oil Slick himself.” The smile perked. “So that’s your woobie.”
Red Alert frowned. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not, Red.” The smile faded. “Actually…kind of worried about you.”
“Yeah.” She tightened her mouth, turning to stare at the wall. “Without me, who’s going to patch up your ego?”
The light fizzled, the lantern’s battery failing. The darkness swept over them again, like rushing wings.
“Slag,” Red Alert muttered, fingers finding, even in the darkness, the screen of her scanner. “Everything around here breaks.”
A soft noise beside her. Rodimus, she presumed, moving to monkey with the lantern. She stiffened at a hand on her shoulder.
“Not everything,” Rodimus murmured, and under the cheesy line, she could hear the strange, raw emotion in his voice. “Nothing breaks you, Red.”
“Rodimmmrph!” The rest of the word was cut off by a mouth on hers. A crackle, and the lantern popped back to life, throwing orange-white lights, like dancing, around the room.
He pulled back, abruptly, the lights skittering on his armor, and she could feel the sharp, nervous ex-vent on her chassis. “Going to sock me now, aren’t you?” All the arrogance was gone: he looked nervous, and exhausted, his smile as flickering and unsteady as the lantern. He had…really worried.
Red Alert glared for a klik, before grabbing him by the spoiler winglet, hauling him close into a longer, deeper kiss, her glossa flirting at the divide in his surprised mouthplates. She tipped back. “Oh. Just you wait.”
She felt his mouthplates curl against hers. “Waited this long….”
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I loved this! VERY cute. You've hit on a pairing that I don't see much, but really enjoy when I do!
(Psst - I was the Topspin player in the NLL game *waves!!*)
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