raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2011-05-18 11:30 pm
raisedbymoogles) wrote2011-05-18 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
Drunken Conversations I
I've actually been sitting on this for a month, wondering if it was IC enough to post. I'm still not sure it is, but I'm throwing caution to the wind today.
Title: Drunken Conversations I
Rating: G
Fandom: Transformers G1
Characters: Cyclonus, Springer, Rodimus
Summary: Cyclonus and Springer talk about loyalty.
***
"You know what your problem is?"
Cyclonus lifted his optics from the table he sat at. Springer, just overcharged enough to be interesting, was pointing a large green finger at him. Cyclonus, in a similar state, arched an optic ridge "I know you're about to tell me."
Springer plunked himself down on the chair opposite him and gestured with a half-full cube - not his first, judging by the careless way it tipped in his hand, but then the party disguised as an interfaction cooperation session had been going on for some hours. "You think you're the only mech - the only person in the whole damn galaxy! - to ever have been loyal."
If he'd been entirely sober, Cyclonus would have glared, snapped, maybe even threatened to shoot the accuser. As it was, he simply lifted his chin in a deliberate display of arrogance. "Comparatively speaking, that's probably true."
"See? See?" Springer waved that finger again, and Cyclonus found himself wanting to insist it be registered as a weapon. "Well, lemme tell you - you're slaggin' loyal, but you didn't invent the concept. You ain't even alone at the top." He smacked his own chest with the hand not holding the cube. "I," he declared, "am every bit as loyal to Roddy as you are to Galvatron!"
"You," Cyclonus rumbled, leaning an elbow on the table, "are full of slag."
"How do you know?"
"For one thing, you refer to him as 'Roddy.' "
"So what? He's my friend!" Springer drained the rest of his cube and tossed the empty on the table. "Just 'cause I don't kneel to him doesn't mean slag. 'Loyalty' and 'obedience' aren't always the same thing."
"Ultra Magnus would disagree with you there, I think," Cyclonus pointed out idly.
Springer snorted. "Ultra Magnus is loyal to the office of Prime." Cyclonus didn't think that was quite accurate, but he was too amused by Springer's discourse to want to interrupt it. "I got Roddy's back. I look after his interests. I put my own aft on the line for him."
"Then why aren't you second in command?"
"Who'd want that job?" Springer grinned, and Cyclonus found himself chortling at the jibe, rather than bristling. "Nah," Springer concluded, leaning back in a self-satisfied attitude, "I can look after Roddy just fine where I am."
Cyclonus swirled his own cube thoughtfully. After a moment he asked, "Would you die for him?"
Springer scowled. "Are you slaggin' kiddin' me? Hasn't he had enough sacrifice to last him a dozen lifetimes?"
"If the answer is no, then say no." Determined, Cyclonus drained the rest of his cube. "There's no shame in it. Few are called to such a high level of service."
"High level my aft," Springer responded fiercely. "The answer is that it's a stupid slagging question. It's bad enough when one of us dies in battle, and that's just slag that happens. If I died in Roddy's service - deliberately - well..." The fierceness drained from him, and Springer shook his head, looking disturbingly sober in that moment. "Trust me, Cyc. That ain't no kinda loyalty to my Prime."
Cyclonus didn't question Springer's use of Rodimus's nickname for him. "Or your friend?" he asked carefully.
"Now you're gettin' it. Look. I'll show you. Hey, Rod!" he bellowed across the room. "C'mere!"
Rodimus Prime excused himself from his overcharged wreck of a conversation partner and approached. "Hey, Springer. Hey, Cyc," he greeted them both with equal warmth.
"Settle a bet for us, will ya?" Springer offered casually. "What's your idea of the perfect subordinate?"
Rodimus's lips quirked in a smile all out of tune with his optics, and it occurred to Cyclonus that the Prime was far too sober. "Someone who doesn't blindly follow my orders."
"See?" Springer shot at Cyclonus, who only nodded in thoughtful acknowledgement. "Siddown, kid. You aren't charged enough. Even the mighty Prime needs to cut loose and drink!"
Rodimus laughed and sat down with them, relaxing into a highly unPrimelike sprawl. "In that case, let's play a drinking game," he proposed, which sufficiently intrigued Cyclonus to let him table his thoughtfulness for another time.
Title: Drunken Conversations I
Rating: G
Fandom: Transformers G1
Characters: Cyclonus, Springer, Rodimus
Summary: Cyclonus and Springer talk about loyalty.
***
"You know what your problem is?"
Cyclonus lifted his optics from the table he sat at. Springer, just overcharged enough to be interesting, was pointing a large green finger at him. Cyclonus, in a similar state, arched an optic ridge "I know you're about to tell me."
Springer plunked himself down on the chair opposite him and gestured with a half-full cube - not his first, judging by the careless way it tipped in his hand, but then the party disguised as an interfaction cooperation session had been going on for some hours. "You think you're the only mech - the only person in the whole damn galaxy! - to ever have been loyal."
If he'd been entirely sober, Cyclonus would have glared, snapped, maybe even threatened to shoot the accuser. As it was, he simply lifted his chin in a deliberate display of arrogance. "Comparatively speaking, that's probably true."
"See? See?" Springer waved that finger again, and Cyclonus found himself wanting to insist it be registered as a weapon. "Well, lemme tell you - you're slaggin' loyal, but you didn't invent the concept. You ain't even alone at the top." He smacked his own chest with the hand not holding the cube. "I," he declared, "am every bit as loyal to Roddy as you are to Galvatron!"
"You," Cyclonus rumbled, leaning an elbow on the table, "are full of slag."
"How do you know?"
"For one thing, you refer to him as 'Roddy.' "
"So what? He's my friend!" Springer drained the rest of his cube and tossed the empty on the table. "Just 'cause I don't kneel to him doesn't mean slag. 'Loyalty' and 'obedience' aren't always the same thing."
"Ultra Magnus would disagree with you there, I think," Cyclonus pointed out idly.
Springer snorted. "Ultra Magnus is loyal to the office of Prime." Cyclonus didn't think that was quite accurate, but he was too amused by Springer's discourse to want to interrupt it. "I got Roddy's back. I look after his interests. I put my own aft on the line for him."
"Then why aren't you second in command?"
"Who'd want that job?" Springer grinned, and Cyclonus found himself chortling at the jibe, rather than bristling. "Nah," Springer concluded, leaning back in a self-satisfied attitude, "I can look after Roddy just fine where I am."
Cyclonus swirled his own cube thoughtfully. After a moment he asked, "Would you die for him?"
Springer scowled. "Are you slaggin' kiddin' me? Hasn't he had enough sacrifice to last him a dozen lifetimes?"
"If the answer is no, then say no." Determined, Cyclonus drained the rest of his cube. "There's no shame in it. Few are called to such a high level of service."
"High level my aft," Springer responded fiercely. "The answer is that it's a stupid slagging question. It's bad enough when one of us dies in battle, and that's just slag that happens. If I died in Roddy's service - deliberately - well..." The fierceness drained from him, and Springer shook his head, looking disturbingly sober in that moment. "Trust me, Cyc. That ain't no kinda loyalty to my Prime."
Cyclonus didn't question Springer's use of Rodimus's nickname for him. "Or your friend?" he asked carefully.
"Now you're gettin' it. Look. I'll show you. Hey, Rod!" he bellowed across the room. "C'mere!"
Rodimus Prime excused himself from his overcharged wreck of a conversation partner and approached. "Hey, Springer. Hey, Cyc," he greeted them both with equal warmth.
"Settle a bet for us, will ya?" Springer offered casually. "What's your idea of the perfect subordinate?"
Rodimus's lips quirked in a smile all out of tune with his optics, and it occurred to Cyclonus that the Prime was far too sober. "Someone who doesn't blindly follow my orders."
"See?" Springer shot at Cyclonus, who only nodded in thoughtful acknowledgement. "Siddown, kid. You aren't charged enough. Even the mighty Prime needs to cut loose and drink!"
Rodimus laughed and sat down with them, relaxing into a highly unPrimelike sprawl. "In that case, let's play a drinking game," he proposed, which sufficiently intrigued Cyclonus to let him table his thoughtfulness for another time.