![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
niyazi-a.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shadow_vector2012-05-27 06:20 pm
Hazing Haze
IDW
Ultra Magnus, Drift, Guzzle, Twin Twist, Topspin, Springer, Roadbuster, Kup
mostly crack, possible dubcon if you're super, super squeamish
for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
saeru's request, sort of. Yeah, I had no idea what you wanted so I popped on Katy Perry. I have no regrets.“So, you’re in, right?” Twin Twist grinned up at Ultra Magnus.
“I…suppose. Only because this is apparently part of your unit’s standing rules.” Rules, law and order. The three cornerstones of Ultra Magnus’s world. If he wanted to have any authority with the Wreckers, he’d have to become one of them: that much was clear. He just wished…Twin Twist didn’t look so happy about it.
“Excellent. You’re about to be initiated into a secret Wreckers tradition.” Twin Twist grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the dayroom. “You and Drift.”
“Drift.” Ultra Magnus frowned. The former Decepticon and Kup’s latest stray.
“Yep,” Twin Twist pushed him into the dayroom. The other Wreckers lounged in the room: Springer, Kup, Topspin, Roadbuster, Guzzle, their optics revolving to the door. Drift stood, a bit awkwardly, but quietly, by one of the tables. “Told you I’d get him.”
“It’s your charm,” Topspin said, wryly.
“That’s what they call it now?” Guzzle snorted.
“Jealous.” He flipped an obscene gesture to Guzzle, dragging Ultra Magnus up to the table, across from Drift.
“Right. Initiation time.” Topspin brought over a flat tray, piled with shots of refined energon.
Ultra Magnus looked over at Springer, expect him to put a stop to this. “It is against regulations for an officer of the law to be drunk on duty.”
“You’re off duty,” Springer said, one supraorbital ridge quirking up. “Until I say so.”
“And we ain’t the law,” Guzzle smirked.
Ultra Magnus pursed his mouth as the Jumpstarters lined the shots in front of them in two rows: one for him, one for Drift.
“Here you go,” Topspin said. “So there’s two of you, so this is going to be competition. Just to make it more fun.”
“Fun.” Ultra Magnus said the word as though it were vaguely obscene.
“Lame,” Twin Twist cut in. “Gotta sound, you know, ritually and stuff. Like this.” He shoved Topspin aside with his hip. He held his arms out, dropping his voice an octave: “One shall stand, one shall fall.”
“LAME,” Guzzle yelled.
“Where’d you hear that slag?” Topspin smirked.
“I dunno. It just sounds good.”
“Still prefer ‘Wreck and Rule,’ myself,” Springer said. “Catchier.”
“I got it,” Guzzle said. “One shall stand, one shall fall on his face and land in a pool of his own vomit. Better.”
“More accurate, at any rate.” Roadbuster chimed in. “I’ve drunk those things.”
Twin Twist glared in a circle, his shoulder drills spinning. “Ruining the fraggin’ ambiance.”
“Oh, by all means,” Topspin said, clutching his chassis in mock alarm. “Don’t let us do that.”
“Right.” Twin Twist turned back to them. “So, let me explain.”
Ultra Magnus grunted. “No need. Simple contest.” Simple mechs, the Wreckers, after all. Uncouth. He picked up his five shots in quick succession, tossing them down one after the other. “There,” he said, pausing to clear his burning throat. “Done. I have completed your ritual. May I leave?”
“…wow.” Topspin shook his head.
Guzzle snickered. “You are so going to regret that.”
“You didn’t let him finish,” Springer said. “This is only stage one. Stage two is where the real fun begins.”
Urgh. That word again. “Fine. Let’s move to stage two, then. I have things to organize.” Many things. Starting with these shotglasses. Which were entirely misaligned. He glowered at Drift, who was holding one of the shot glasses in his hand. “Well?”
Drift shrugged, tossing the drink back. Then blinking, shaking his head, coughing. “That…what is that?”
“Blackout,” Topspin said. “My specialty.”
“I can…,” a cough, “imagine how it got the name.” Another blink, and he looked at the remaining four shots warily. Topspin quietly preened.
“You can keep working on those. But yeah, stage two time.” Twin Twist grinned. “Next step: Truth or dare.”
“What?” Drift looked puzzled.
“Truth. Or dare. You pick one and we give it to you and you have to do it.”
Drift paused, considering. “Truth,” he said, finally.
“All right.” Twin Twist jerked his chin at Topspin. “Mech wants truth.”
“We’ll start easy. How did Turmoil know you? Back on the ship?”
Drift shrugged. “Former commander. We…didn’t get along. Disagreement of command styles.” He shot a worried look at Springer.
“Yeah, noticed.” Topspin laughed.
Interesting, Ultra Magnus thought. This silly initiation could reveal some quality intelligence on the Decepticons, after all. If…the Wreckers asked the right questions.
Which he rather doubted they would.
Twin Twist mouthed the word ‘lame’, before turning to Ultra Magnus. “All right. Your turn, Lawmech.”
Looking at the downright predatory grins on the faces, it wasn’t hard to choose wisdom. And Drift had done it and it was hardly bad. “Truth.”
“You suuuure?” Guzzle was nearly glowing with delight.
“I do not fear truth,” Ultra Magnus said, stiffly.
“All right then. What do you think about Drift, here?” Topspin said.
Ultra Magnus snorted. “Prone to re-offend. Highly.” The high grade made the lights seem too bright. He shook it off. He’d beat them at their silly game.
Optics turned back to Drift, who seemed unmoved. Drift held up one finger for a pause, throwing back another of the shots, before nodding. Guzzle bumped Kup, whispering, “He’s got that part down right, at least.”
“Better ‘n you,” Kup murmured back. “He’s still upright.”
Guzzle grumbled.
“Truth,” Drift said again, firmly, though the drink made his voice a little rough.
“My question, this time,” Twin Twist said. “Is it true you’ve ‘faced with Megatron?”
Drift nodded, a strange smile spreading on his face. “Back in the early days of the war.”
“But, you’re….and he’s….?” Guzzle held his hands out to mark the size difference. Drift shrugged. Guzzle stared, optics dipping to Drift’s pelvic frame. “Wow.”
“Real question is, did you ever top?” Roadbuster rumbled from the couch.
“Occasionally. When the mood struck.” The voice was quiet, serious, and entirely unashamed.
“That is two questions,” Ultra Magnus cut in. “The rules are one question.” He knew the rules, after all. And if there's one thing he couldn't stand, it was mechs breaking rules.
Guzzle and Twin Twist exchanged glances, both bursting into giggles. “All right, big guy. Your turn again. Truth or dare.”
“Truth.” He glowered. At them and at the floor, which was beginning to shift and heave under his feet.
“Would you ever do Springer?”
“Hey!” Springer bolted off the wall. “Don’t drag me into your shenanigans.”
“What?” Kup grinned. “Don’t you want to know?”
“Shut up,” Springer said, but he slouched back against the wall, folding arms over his chassis. “You heard the mech. And Wreckers don’t back down from challenges.”
“This line of questioning is highly inappropriate,” Ultra Magnus spluttered. “Chain of command. Fraternization.”
“Initiation,” Twin Twist said. “Over-fraggin’-ruled.” The rules for this 'initiation', Ultra Magnus decided, needed to come under some serious review.
“Answer the mech,” Guzzle said. “Unless you’re afraid.”
Ultra Magnus stiffened. He was not afraid. Not of their petty pranks. He’d show them. “In the…right circumstances, perhaps.”
“Right circumstances.”
“He means if all the paperwork’s been filled out, sent to Cent Hub and approved,” Guzzle said. The others laughed.
It was no laughing matter. Paperwork was of vital importance in these matters. It was in the Autobot Code.
“Perhaps!” Roadbuster said. “Hey, you got a ‘perhaps’, Springer.”
“Yeah, I’ll just pencil that in,” Springer said, rolling his optics. “For like….not in this lifetime.”
“That is my answer,” Ultra Magnus said, glowering. “Drift’s turn.”
“Dare,” Drift said, reaching for his third shot. He wobbled, visibly, having to stabilize himself—or the table—with one hand as he lifted the glass to his mouth. “Might as well.”
“That’s the fraggin’ spirit,” Guzzle said.
“Roadbuster,” Twin Twist prompted.
The large mech grinned. “Dare you to kiss Ultra Magnus.”
Drift tilted his head, looking up at the taller mech, who had gone rigid with outrage. “All right.”
“Drift,” Ultra Magnus said, shaking his head. “This violates…every possible measure of polite behavior.” And about sixteen subclauses of the Code. He began listing them in his head.
Drift shrugged. “Wreckers.” As though it explained everything. Drift drank another of the shots, quick and clean, before pushing his hand into Ultra Magnus’s chassis, one heel sweeping the larger mech’s ankle. Ultra Magnus fell back, lurching, into a chair someone shoved behind him. His hands flew back, clutching at the chair’s seat.
Drift stepped closer, lifting one leg to straddle Ultra Magnus’s thighs, letting his inner thigh trail slowly over the other’s hip, lowering his weight into Ultra Magnus’s lap. He gave a slightly bleary grin, face a hand span from Ultra Magnus’s. “You think this is tough,” Drift slurred, “you’d never make it as a Decepticon.” His grin quirked and before Ultra Magnus could register a protest, he ducked forward, his mouthplates moving over the other’s. Drift started slowly, just brushing the silky metal of their lip plates together, then tracing the line of his lips, the seam between them, with his glossa sending prickles of charge over Ultra Magnus’s net.
Drift tilted his head, probing with his glossa, hand coming behind the other’s helm, his optics lidding. Ultra Magnus could taste the blackout on his glossa, sharp and potent.
Ultra Magnus sucked in a sharp, high vent of air, feeling Drift’s weight over his thighs, the EM field buzzing against his, the mouth soft and insistent. The room seemed to spin around them: he clutched onto Drift’s white spaulders, fingers digging into the metal, as if bracing himself on the smaller mech, opening his mouth to protest, but finding his words swept away by a rush of heat and pleasure.
The last thing he remembered hearing, as the room spun into a blaze of color, was Twin Twist’s voice, saying, “Yeah, gonna call this one a win for Drift.”
[***]
Ultra Magnus woke, bolting upright. It took him five kliks to realize two things: he had fallen into recharge on the dayroom floor, and he was not alone.
Drift gave a sleepy groan, pulling himself up from where he’d slid off of Ultra Magnus’s chassis.
“Hey,” Drift said, scrubbing a hand over his face. He pulled away, untangling his legs from Ultra Magnus’s longer ones. And only then did Ultra Magnus realize, as the former Decepticon pulled away, that his interface hatch was open.
“What…what happened?” The pieces came to him dimly, in flashes: the initiation. The ‘blackouts’. Truth or dare. The kiss: Drift, hot and electric, sliding over his armor. Everything else slid into a haze of outrage and sensation.
Drift gave a quiet laugh. “You chose ‘dare’.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Oh god, this is so many of my favorite things in one place! Wreckers, booze, snark, sex, Drift and Magnus. And crack, delicious crack!
I probably should not enjoy Drift and Magnus together as much as I do, but it's the irony of the whole thing...um, and other relevant kinks. :3
no subject
Truth or dare?
no subject
no subject
Oh that was glorious. Perfect laugh to start the workday with.
no subject
Amazing Wrecker's tradition xD
no subject