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wyntir_knightTitle: Jealous Smokescreen
Series: G1
Rating: PG
Summary: Smokescreen is getting tired of not having his efforts recognized. Ratchet tries to be the voice of reason and a wall to scream at.
Pairings (if any): No pairings, but does feature Smokescreen and Ratchet, with mentions of Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee.
Author’s Note: This is written in response to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
straya’s request for “Jealous Smokescreen” over at my 28 Smokescreens meme. This was requested almost two years ago, and yes, it has taken me this long to come up with an appropriate story. See the problem is, every time I tried to write it, I came up with a variant on Straya’s “Jealous Ratchet” or a slashy fic, and really, neither was appropriate. So now, nearly two years later, I have finally been hit with the proper inspiration to write this.
Straya, I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
Smokescreen was not amused. He glared angrily at the data pad in his hands as if he could change its content with his thoughts alone. When the information remained the same he vented his air filters loudly - mimicking a sigh of exasperation - and flung the pad at the wall.
"Hey!" Ratchet protested as he entered, ducking as the pad nearly collided with his head. "Watch it, will you?"
"We're not there!" Smokescreen growled, stabbing a blue finger at the pad.
"And?" Ratchet replied with a shrug as he began to search through Smokescreen's cabinets. "Hey, where's the Khalissian High Grade? Don't tell me you drank it all already."
“What do you mean, ‘and’?” Smokescreen asked, outraged.
Ratchet paused in his search and looked over at the Datsun.
“That’s the promotions list, right?” he asked, nodding toward the data pad.
“Yes! It is!”
“And, in case I’ve forgotten, remind me: you did turn down that promotion, right?”
“That’s not the point!” Smokescreen growled.
He stalked up to a cabinet, threw it open, and pulled out two cubes of energon. After handing one to Ratchet, he slumped onto the couch.
“Oh? And what is the point then?” Ratchet asked, as he sat in Smokescreen’s chair.
“The point is that we don’t get the respect we deserve around here!” Smokescreen railed. “The point is that every time a round of promotions comes up neither of us get any form of mention!”
“That’s because every time we get offered a promotion we turn it down,” Ratchet replied calmly. “You know as well as I do that official officer’s status would get in the way of our work.”
“Yes, I know that. And you know that. And Prime knows that. But they,” Smokescreen shouted as he stabbed a finger at the door, “don’t know that!”
Ratchet took a long sip of his energon and watched Smokescreen for a long time before responding.
“All right,” he said. “Something set this off. The promotions are just the last straw, as the humans say. So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to spend the rest of the day in here fuming?”
Smokescreen shot Ratchet a dark look.
“I am not fuming,” Smokescreen growled. “And even if I was, I have every right to! Just today Prowl intimated that I wasn’t doing my share. And Jazz! Well did you see the acclaims his team got?!”
“Yeah, the Special Ops trine got mentioned. So what?”
“So what?” Smokescreen asked, dumbfounded. He stood and began to pace the room angrily. “So what? So they weren’t the only ones out there! I put my aft on the line to give them the cover they needed to get past Devastator. Time and again I help that team out and I never get even so much as a ‘thank you’!”
Ratchet sat back and watched Smokescreen move about the room like a caged animal. Normally the tactician was calm. Problems generally rolled off of him leaving no signs of stress or strain, but Ratchet knew that sometimes even the staff psychologist needed to talk to someone. So he sat back and listened, sipping his high-grade in silence and occasionally nodding at appropriate intervals.
“I mean,” Smokescreen continued, “at least you get a certain amount of respect! Regardless of your rank. Not only do they need you to fix them, but they know you can reformat them all into toasters if you really wanted to. The only time they take note of me is when they need a distraction or a performance evaluation! It’s. Not. Fair!”
Smokescreen downed his high grade in one huge swallow and threw the cube across the room before falling to the couch again. He groaned loudly and scrubbed his face with his hands, finally calming down.
“You’re right,” Ratchet said. “It’s not fair. You could solve the problem by accepting a promotion next time it comes around … which we both know you won’t do. Or you could talk to Prowl. Pit, maybe we should both talk to him. I really don’t think he grasps the fundamentals of the problem.”
Smokescreen snorted inelegantly but said nothing.
“Or,” Ratchet continued with a wicked grin, “you could let me teach you how to toss a spanner. From what I’ve seen, your job around here would be a whole lot easier of you were allowed to beat your patients about the head a bit. From time to time.”
“I don’t think it’ll come to that, Ratch,” Smokescreen chuckled. He sat up and stretched slightly. “... I think I just needed to vent a little. Really, it’s not as bad as I make it ...”
“I know,” Ratchet replied. “But we all need a screaming wall sometimes.”
Ratchet stood and walked toward the door.
“Thanks for the Khalissian, by the way,” he said. “And just so you know, I was fully serious about teaching you to toss a spanner. As long as they don’t end up in my medbay after you’re done, that is.”
“Yeah, I may take you up on that,” Smokescreen chuckled. “I may just.”
Series: G1
Rating: PG
Summary: Smokescreen is getting tired of not having his efforts recognized. Ratchet tries to be the voice of reason and a wall to scream at.
Pairings (if any): No pairings, but does feature Smokescreen and Ratchet, with mentions of Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee.
Author’s Note: This is written in response to
straya’s request for “Jealous Smokescreen” over at my 28 Smokescreens meme. This was requested almost two years ago, and yes, it has taken me this long to come up with an appropriate story. See the problem is, every time I tried to write it, I came up with a variant on Straya’s “Jealous Ratchet” or a slashy fic, and really, neither was appropriate. So now, nearly two years later, I have finally been hit with the proper inspiration to write this.Straya, I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
Smokescreen was not amused. He glared angrily at the data pad in his hands as if he could change its content with his thoughts alone. When the information remained the same he vented his air filters loudly - mimicking a sigh of exasperation - and flung the pad at the wall.
"Hey!" Ratchet protested as he entered, ducking as the pad nearly collided with his head. "Watch it, will you?"
"We're not there!" Smokescreen growled, stabbing a blue finger at the pad.
"And?" Ratchet replied with a shrug as he began to search through Smokescreen's cabinets. "Hey, where's the Khalissian High Grade? Don't tell me you drank it all already."
“What do you mean, ‘and’?” Smokescreen asked, outraged.
Ratchet paused in his search and looked over at the Datsun.
“That’s the promotions list, right?” he asked, nodding toward the data pad.
“Yes! It is!”
“And, in case I’ve forgotten, remind me: you did turn down that promotion, right?”
“That’s not the point!” Smokescreen growled.
He stalked up to a cabinet, threw it open, and pulled out two cubes of energon. After handing one to Ratchet, he slumped onto the couch.
“Oh? And what is the point then?” Ratchet asked, as he sat in Smokescreen’s chair.
“The point is that we don’t get the respect we deserve around here!” Smokescreen railed. “The point is that every time a round of promotions comes up neither of us get any form of mention!”
“That’s because every time we get offered a promotion we turn it down,” Ratchet replied calmly. “You know as well as I do that official officer’s status would get in the way of our work.”
“Yes, I know that. And you know that. And Prime knows that. But they,” Smokescreen shouted as he stabbed a finger at the door, “don’t know that!”
Ratchet took a long sip of his energon and watched Smokescreen for a long time before responding.
“All right,” he said. “Something set this off. The promotions are just the last straw, as the humans say. So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to spend the rest of the day in here fuming?”
Smokescreen shot Ratchet a dark look.
“I am not fuming,” Smokescreen growled. “And even if I was, I have every right to! Just today Prowl intimated that I wasn’t doing my share. And Jazz! Well did you see the acclaims his team got?!”
“Yeah, the Special Ops trine got mentioned. So what?”
“So what?” Smokescreen asked, dumbfounded. He stood and began to pace the room angrily. “So what? So they weren’t the only ones out there! I put my aft on the line to give them the cover they needed to get past Devastator. Time and again I help that team out and I never get even so much as a ‘thank you’!”
Ratchet sat back and watched Smokescreen move about the room like a caged animal. Normally the tactician was calm. Problems generally rolled off of him leaving no signs of stress or strain, but Ratchet knew that sometimes even the staff psychologist needed to talk to someone. So he sat back and listened, sipping his high-grade in silence and occasionally nodding at appropriate intervals.
“I mean,” Smokescreen continued, “at least you get a certain amount of respect! Regardless of your rank. Not only do they need you to fix them, but they know you can reformat them all into toasters if you really wanted to. The only time they take note of me is when they need a distraction or a performance evaluation! It’s. Not. Fair!”
Smokescreen downed his high grade in one huge swallow and threw the cube across the room before falling to the couch again. He groaned loudly and scrubbed his face with his hands, finally calming down.
“You’re right,” Ratchet said. “It’s not fair. You could solve the problem by accepting a promotion next time it comes around … which we both know you won’t do. Or you could talk to Prowl. Pit, maybe we should both talk to him. I really don’t think he grasps the fundamentals of the problem.”
Smokescreen snorted inelegantly but said nothing.
“Or,” Ratchet continued with a wicked grin, “you could let me teach you how to toss a spanner. From what I’ve seen, your job around here would be a whole lot easier of you were allowed to beat your patients about the head a bit. From time to time.”
“I don’t think it’ll come to that, Ratch,” Smokescreen chuckled. He sat up and stretched slightly. “... I think I just needed to vent a little. Really, it’s not as bad as I make it ...”
“I know,” Ratchet replied. “But we all need a screaming wall sometimes.”
Ratchet stood and walked toward the door.
“Thanks for the Khalissian, by the way,” he said. “And just so you know, I was fully serious about teaching you to toss a spanner. As long as they don’t end up in my medbay after you’re done, that is.”
“Yeah, I may take you up on that,” Smokescreen chuckled. “I may just.”
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no subject
Date: 2 May 2008 21:18 (UTC)Enjoyed muchly, ma'am!
no subject
Date: 2 May 2008 21:30 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2 May 2008 23:38 (UTC)Favorite line has to be Smokescreen growling that he's not fuming! *grins*
no subject
Date: 3 May 2008 00:11 (UTC)no subject
Date: 3 May 2008 10:17 (UTC)Of course, this leads me to wonder if anyone has ever introduced the Autobots to the game of Darts. Be a good one for Ratchet and Smokescreen to play over drinks...
no subject
Date: 3 May 2008 15:00 (UTC).... That's a really good idea, having them playing darts together. I may have to borrow that idea!
no subject
Date: 3 May 2008 17:58 (UTC)Poor Smokey. Everybody has their days when they feel unappreciated. It's simply salt in a wound to have to continually have to turn down a promotion like that. Knowing how it would make you incapable of doing the thing that you're appreciated for.
And no, Ratch, I don't think Prowl understands the problem at all. XDD
no subject
Date: 3 May 2008 18:58 (UTC)no subject
Date: 6 May 2008 04:39 (UTC)no subject
Date: 6 May 2008 10:40 (UTC)I always figured that the two health professionals would have some kind of a back story going on, and yes, I think there might be a future story involving spanner-toss training!