The Frosting on the Cake

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

G
TFA Inamorato AU
Barricade/Blackout
sorta schmoopy.  For tf_speedwriting prompt 1

Parties were not supposed to suck. This was not, perhaps, sage wisdom, but the fact that Barricade couldn’t even make snark anymore was simply another sign of how much this party sucked. 

How bored was he?  He was so bored that he was going to make a list of how bad this party sucked.

First, frag.  Music?  Maybe someone would call this music.  To Barricade, it was the Sonata of Boredom, the Tune of Tedium. It sounded like the musicians themselves thought it was too much fraggin’ effort to carry a melody.  Drone, drone, drone.  Clearly, Barricade thought, his four optics sweeping across the room of glittering, milling guests, the music was some sort of Autobot psy-op.  Not like ‘lull into a false sense of security’ (Ha! Good luck with that!);  more like ‘lull you into a coma’. 

Not that the guests needed much of a push. Barricade was pretty sure that a more boring guest list had never been assembled in the history of Cybertron. He’d rather pull duty with Shockwave again, and all Shockwave did was polish his antlers and gush about how awesome Megatron was. 

Urgh.  That hadn’t been fun either, but mostly because you couldn’t really complain about it. “Hi, yeah, Shockwave REAAAAALLY likes Megatron,” wasn’t likely to get a lot of sympathetic audio. 

Except from other mechs who’d pulled duty with him. Sort of a secret club of misery.

But this guest list was a who’s-who of everyone who thought they fraggin’ mattered on Cybertron: Sentinel Magnus who puffed his chest more every time he caught sight of Megatron that Barricade was beginning to wonder if—and kinda hope—he was going to explode. That Optimus mech, standing pigeon-toed and slightly clueless, spilling politeness the way Oil Slick sprayed his latest concoction.  Starscream, smug and sneering, as though being condescending was his assigned task.

Probably was; at least it was something he was good at. 

And the Elite Guard.  Only thing half of them were ‘elite’ at is being snobs.  Sure, Barricade would have found all their weapons and gadgets and stuff pretty handy himself. And that Circuit-Su was no joke, but that was only a handful of them. The rest of them pretty much got away with inflated egos and bluster, sort of like mini-Sentinels.  Whole thing was a pretty much an anti-rogue’s gallery. No wonder Barricade felt out of place.

Right. Music: sucked. Guests: sucked. What else? Oh right, food. 

Frag, he would stab someone in the optic with a toothpick for some of Bonecrusher’s cooking. Then stab himself in the optic for admitting it. But point was that this food sucked.  If he was going to eat Aunt Bottie’s Famous Batter Dipped Rust Sticks, he could do that at home and watch something interesting. Or paint dry, which was more interesting than conversations he heard swirling around here. 

Barricade wasn’t exactly a food snob, but even he felt a little ripped off. You know, big gold star, high security event, he’d kind of expected exotic and exciting. Stuff he’d never heard of, and probably couldn’t spell. Something he could tell Blackout about, and they’d look up together, the copter’s beady red optics wide and glowing. 

Yeah, Blackout. Missed your Basic Education Graduation for boring conversation and stuff we have in the fridge. 

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t by choice: when Megatron assigned you to his personal security team, he didn’t want to hear excuses.  And, at least Megatron had a good side: he paid well. Barricade was already figuring out how to spend the money. Maybe a weekend trip to Botropolis.  You know, as a graduation present. And an apology.   

Never gonna make this mistake again, Barricade thought, scowling from his guard position by the end of the hors-d’oeuvre table. His job was to be as menacing and offputting as possible, so the Elite Guard maybe didn’t get any not-really-very-funny ideas.  And in the mood he was in? He didn’t have to work very hard at his glower.

//Hey!//  The comm popped alive on his personal channel.  Blackout, his deep voice almost burbling with excitement. //How’s the party?//

//Boring.// With a garnish of guilt.  //Guess you’re done now.//

//We just finished! I wish you coulda been here, Barricade.  We had singing and a really nice speech and we all got gift certificates for more education programs and, and, and…cake!//

//Sounds…fun.//  Not really, but Blackout made anything fun.  Something about being like terminally excited about everything was kind of contagious. Blackout wouldn’t even have noticed—or cared—that everyone else in his graduating class was a sparkling. 

//It was!  Woulda been more fun if you were here and stuff, though.//

Barricade’s lower optics closed. //Yeah. I know. I’m…really sorry, copter.//

//Don’t be!  I gave tons of rides, too! And did I mention we had cake?//

Frag.  Barricade could see it now: Blackout, loaded down with sparklings, zipping them over the schoolyard.  His mouth twitched at the image, and then back down. He’d give anything not to have missed it. 

//And everyone said I was a model student and everything!//

No argument here: Blackout studied harder than Barricade had ever done, once he’d gotten the datapad.  //Proud of you, copter.//  The sincerest words Barricade had ever spoken. 

//I know you are, Barricade. An-and I couldn’t have done this without you.  You always believed in me and stuff.// A snurfle over the line.

Barricade felt his spark shrink a size or two.  Guilt sucked even worse than this party.  //…really sorry.//

//Don’t be sorry, Barricade!  I save you some cake!//

//Cake.// What? 

//I know you wanted to be here and all so I saved you some of the cake. It’s awesome.  Three colors of frosting, Barricade. Three!//

//That’s…some colorful frosting.// Really. //Sounds way better than anything we’ve  got here.// Truth.

//Yeah! I took a flashsnap of the cake for you so you could see it, too! It was actually kinda fun to save up stuff, because then I can, you know, like live through it twice!//

That was…not something Barricade had ever thought of. //You’re really smart, copter.//

A silence at the compliment, but Barricade could practically feel the glow of the blush.  //I can’t wait to show you all my stuff when you get home.  And the cake!//

Yeah. And the cake.  //Can’t wait.// 

The party still sucked, but he felt something warm against his spark that blunted the edge, something to look forward to that made this just the build of anticipation.

And it wasn’t cake.

Comments

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

aaaaawwwwwww!!! *wibbles* This is so sweet!

[velvet-infinity.livejournal.com]

Trust Blackout to make the night all better ^^

You've given a way for TFA Blackout to wiggle his rotory way into my heart X3

[silaphet.livejournal.com]

There sincerely isn't a heart big enough for me to convey my supersaturated joy with this fic. Barricade's unmitigated misery always translates into the crackiest snark, and Blackout ... i just ... so good it hurts to talk. Thank you!!!

[eerian_sadow]

d'awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!! <3

i am ded from cute and fluffiness. <3 i absolutely adore these two.

[suncharger.livejournal.com]

That was so cute! Made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Well done!

[playswithworms.livejournal.com]

ZEEEEEEEE!!! So schmoopy and wonderful! <3
I love how Blackout is all burbly and doesn't care in the slightest that he's the oldest one in the class. And Barricade snark, always the best XD

[toyzintheattik.livejournal.com]

OMG, you always deliver so much BAWWWWWW with these two. What a funny/sweet/wonderful story. <3