dunmurderin: A clownfish, orange and white, with a banner saying he is NOT a Combaticon!  So no one mistakes him for one, y'know? (armada Swindle)
[personal profile] dunmurderin
Title: Pillow Talk
Originally Posted: January 11, 2007
Characters: AEC Brawl, Mini-con Swindle
Word Count: 582 words
Rating: PG/Het references
Author's Note: Takes place some time after "On-Vacation Combaticons." Written for "Well-Shagged Combaticons." Takes place in AEC Combaticon alternate universe.

Pillow Talk

Swindle stood in front of the mini-bar and tried to figure out if a mini-bar taller than him was a typical case of Bulks misnaming things or simply pure good fortune on his part. He decided to wait until he was inside to fully make up his mind.

First, however, he had to figure out a way to get past the seal on the thing. If the prices in the local bars were anything to go by, the markup on the mini-bar would be downright piratical. Swindle would almost be impressed, if he wasn't the one about to be gouged.

Swindle paced back and forth in front of the mini-bar, studying it carefully. It was a computerized model, one that would restock itself from the hotel supplies after the guests checked out. Opening the bar meant that a signal would be sent to the accounting computer at the front desk and that charges would be tallied for any items taken out. Which would mean, if he couldn't find a way to fool the system, that Onslaught would complain about the extra expense. His new Commander was already tight enough about team expenses and no way was Swindle going to sacrifice his share of their next take just for a packet of energoodies and a him-sized bottle of high-grade.

Besides, he had to keep his skills in practice somehow.

He slipped along the side of the mini-bar, pushing it out from the wall. The unit squeaked against the floor. Swearing quietly, Swindle froze in place and looked toward the enormous sleeping form on the recharge berth. If he was lucky, it wouldn't move.

He wasn't lucky. With a grunt and a snort, Brawl shifted on the recharge berth and sat up.

"Swindle?" she said, her optics dimmed. "Baby, where you at?"

Swindle sighed, moved away from the fridge and wheeped at her.

Brawl grinned, patting the bed. "What're you doing over there? Hungry?" she asked. "Yeah, I guess you got reason to be, huh?"

Swindle chirped and swaggered back toward the bed, clambering back up the side and onto the bed. Brawl snatched him up, laughing as she cuddled him close. "Crazy," she said, her voice rumbling through him. "See, this is why I snatched you up. You may be little, but you make up for it in all the ways that count."

Brawl nuzzled the side of his head, hand rubbing the whole of his back. She sighed as she leaned back against the head of the berth. Swindle reached up, brushing his hand along the side of her face, feeling the deceptively soft armor on her cheek. He made a low cheep and whistle, raising the sound questioningly at the end.

"Again?" Brawl said, optics flickering. "Darlin', maybe you can go again, but I need a little -- no, make that a lot more time to recuperate!"

Swindle's shoulder wheels spun as he chirruped and gestured back toward the mini-bar. Brawl snickered. "Yeah, you really think you can do it?" she asked. "Without th' hotel or Onslaught findin' out?"

Swindle pushed back, shifting so that he could look Brawl in the optic. "Yes," he said, the Bulk-speech coming with an effort.

Brawl studied him, her fingertip running slowly down his side. "Well," she said. "Always did like a flask afterwards an' it is a pleasure watching you work, little mech." Picking him up, she set him on the floor beside the berth. "Whatever you're gonna do, do it slow. I wanna watch."
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