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wyntir_knightTitle: Untitled
Prompt: A well intended and specially chosen gift gets sent to the wrong character by mistake - with interesting consequences
Fandom: Transformers: G1
Characters/pairing: Smokescreen, Bluestreak
Rating: G
Summary: Smokescreen gets a present that was intended for Bluestreak
A/N: This was an attempt on my part to get back into writing based on a TF-Speedwriting prompt. I might expand on it, since it really doesn't have an ending.
---
Smokescreen sat down on the edge of his berth as his knees threatened to give out under him. The box in his hands was small and beautifully wrapped and the gift inside was nestled with the greatest of care. Praxian crystals glowing blue and green and yellow - just like the ones that used to grow in the High Park in the centre of Praxus. Someone had figured out how to grow them, how to harvest them, and how to prepare them. And then Smokescreen felt his spark clench as he saw the note nestled in within the folds of the wrapping.
“Dearest Bluestreak,” it read.
Smokescreen offlined his optics and swallowed hard. This wasn’t the first time something had been left at his door instead of Bluestreak’s across the hall. And it wouldn’t be the last time either. It didn’t meant that it didn’t hurt. It hurt like slag, especially when the gift was this thoughtful. This perfect.
“Nothing to be done about it,” he whispered to himself as he carefully repacked the gift. “Hey, Teletraan? Can you tell me where Bluestreak is right now?”
“I can,” the base’s computer said wryly.
“Smart aft,” Smokescreen replied with a small chuckle. “Seriously though, where is he? Something was dropped off for me when it should have gone to him. I want to make sure it ends up where it’s supposed to go.”
“He is currently in the mess hall,” Teletraan replied.
“Thanks, T!” Smokescreen waved at the nearest camera as he left his quarters, slight smile carefully placed on his face.
He had mastered that smile over vorns. Everything was fine. Life was great. There was nothing to worry about. He was everyone’s friend and there was nothing else going on at all. It had gotten to the point that he was almost able to fool himself with it.
Bluestreak was in the mess hall, just as Teletraan had said he would be, sitting at a table across from Prowl. The two Praxians speaking in low voices as they leaned over a box that looked identical to the one in Smokescreen’s hands.
“Hey, Blue!” Smokescreen said cheerily, ensuring that his smile was expressed in his optics and his doors. “This was dropped off at my door instead of yours. You’ll have to excuse me, but the note was on the inside.”
“Oh wow!” Bluestreak exclaimed as he took the box and opened it revealing the Praxian crystals. Identical to the ones in Prowl’s box.
The look of pure joy on Bluestreak’s face washed the hurt from Smokescreen’s spark. The kid was barely old enough to remember the Crystal Gardens and the songs they made when the wind brushed past the carefully manicured branches. He couldn’t begrudge Blue this happiness. He smiled and patted Bluestreak on the shoulder.
“I’m glad to see that you like it, Blue,” he said. “Someone clearly put a lot of thought into it.”
With that Smokescreen headed off to grab his daily ration.
Prompt: A well intended and specially chosen gift gets sent to the wrong character by mistake - with interesting consequences
Fandom: Transformers: G1
Characters/pairing: Smokescreen, Bluestreak
Rating: G
Summary: Smokescreen gets a present that was intended for Bluestreak
A/N: This was an attempt on my part to get back into writing based on a TF-Speedwriting prompt. I might expand on it, since it really doesn't have an ending.
---
Smokescreen sat down on the edge of his berth as his knees threatened to give out under him. The box in his hands was small and beautifully wrapped and the gift inside was nestled with the greatest of care. Praxian crystals glowing blue and green and yellow - just like the ones that used to grow in the High Park in the centre of Praxus. Someone had figured out how to grow them, how to harvest them, and how to prepare them. And then Smokescreen felt his spark clench as he saw the note nestled in within the folds of the wrapping.
“Dearest Bluestreak,” it read.
Smokescreen offlined his optics and swallowed hard. This wasn’t the first time something had been left at his door instead of Bluestreak’s across the hall. And it wouldn’t be the last time either. It didn’t meant that it didn’t hurt. It hurt like slag, especially when the gift was this thoughtful. This perfect.
“Nothing to be done about it,” he whispered to himself as he carefully repacked the gift. “Hey, Teletraan? Can you tell me where Bluestreak is right now?”
“I can,” the base’s computer said wryly.
“Smart aft,” Smokescreen replied with a small chuckle. “Seriously though, where is he? Something was dropped off for me when it should have gone to him. I want to make sure it ends up where it’s supposed to go.”
“He is currently in the mess hall,” Teletraan replied.
“Thanks, T!” Smokescreen waved at the nearest camera as he left his quarters, slight smile carefully placed on his face.
He had mastered that smile over vorns. Everything was fine. Life was great. There was nothing to worry about. He was everyone’s friend and there was nothing else going on at all. It had gotten to the point that he was almost able to fool himself with it.
Bluestreak was in the mess hall, just as Teletraan had said he would be, sitting at a table across from Prowl. The two Praxians speaking in low voices as they leaned over a box that looked identical to the one in Smokescreen’s hands.
“Hey, Blue!” Smokescreen said cheerily, ensuring that his smile was expressed in his optics and his doors. “This was dropped off at my door instead of yours. You’ll have to excuse me, but the note was on the inside.”
“Oh wow!” Bluestreak exclaimed as he took the box and opened it revealing the Praxian crystals. Identical to the ones in Prowl’s box.
The look of pure joy on Bluestreak’s face washed the hurt from Smokescreen’s spark. The kid was barely old enough to remember the Crystal Gardens and the songs they made when the wind brushed past the carefully manicured branches. He couldn’t begrudge Blue this happiness. He smiled and patted Bluestreak on the shoulder.
“I’m glad to see that you like it, Blue,” he said. “Someone clearly put a lot of thought into it.”
With that Smokescreen headed off to grab his daily ration.
no subject
Date: 7 Jan 2019 20:07 (UTC)I'm so glad to see the prompt spark off such a cool fic! <3
no subject
Date: 7 Jan 2019 20:32 (UTC)