Drifting Flames - Morale Booster
Transformers IDW/AU verse
Warnings: Drug use, future robot love, emotional journey and all the shit in between that makes the ending worth it!
Warnings so far: Shameless flirting, sexual references, drug references and mention of applying cream to private areas.
It was getting late as Drift and Rodimus arrived to their final destination of the day. They had already completed their shopping for their necessities, such as ointment for Rodimus, a special medicine for Drift, along with a canister of regular energon that should last them a week. So far, out of their sixty credits, they had fifteen left and they both agreed it wouldn't hurt to have a single round or two at Foulhead's. Drift believed they earned it.
Foulhead's Bar. That was where they were, outside a run down bar that served cheap energon cocktails and decent electron brews. Out of all the bars in Dead End, this one at least had a decent receiver with some decent networks, along with chairs and tables that didn't break the moment you touched them. The decorations weren't too bad either, fuse tubes that glowed different colours and strange statues that must have fallen from the cities above. The only thing that would drive one away from this particular bar was it's host, the infamous Foulhead. He was a slimy old codger who made lewd comments to all his patrons but everyone put up with it, for it was a small price to pay to get a decent round of drinks.
Rodimus and Drift were regulars so they were used to Foulhead and his crude ways., though Rodimus pointed out that if the "slime spewer" so much as touch him he would rip off his interfacing equipment. Entering the establishment they found that it was full of the usual crowd, some getting drunk out of their minds and others glued to the receiver. Foulhead was serving his unique cocktails but paused when he noticed who walked in.
"Well if it ain't the whore and the junkie," he cheered, giving them his signature broken grin. "Come on in and buy my drinks or get the hell out."
The two mechs looked at each other and rolled their optics. That wasn't the worst they had been called by the bar owner, but they were used to it. They sat at their usual spot by the bar, their favourite drinks already in front of them. Foulhead may be the lowest of low but he was good at his job.
"You know, Foulhead," started Drift, "you would get a lot more customers if you started keeping tabs."
Foulhead sneered at him. "What, so you can get free drinks and use your credits to buy more fucking boosters while I go broke? I think not, you booster sucking leech." Drift sighed as Foulhead turned his attention to Rodimus. "Though I might accept a different kind of payment from your friend here, if you know what I mean?" he slurred, giving Rodimus a look filled with obvious lust.
"In your fucking dreams," spat Rodimus.
"Oh come now Roddy," purred Foulhead, leaning over his bar to get closer to Rodimus. "One quick round with me and you'll get free drinks for life. I might even get your friend here some quality circuit boosters."
Rodimus just stared at him, not at all intimidated. "I'd rather jump in a smelting pit than let you fuck me," he growled. "Now let us drink in peace." Foulhead snarled, muttering "fucking spike sucking whore," as he left them alone.
"Makes me wonder if we should find a new bar," pondered Drift aloud, slowly sipping his brew.
"I'd give anything for a bar where he wasn't the bartender," hissed Rodimus. "Unfortunately we live in Dead End and this bar is the only decent bar Dead End has to offer." Sad but true. All the other bars either sold sludge or you'd have to pay a fee to enter.
"Remember when we first came here," started Drift, suddenly recalling an amusing memory. "He thought you were a hooker he hired and I was an extra."
Rodimus suddenly snorted as he too recalled the event from long ago. "The slag head said something about you not looking slutty enough," he chortled. "You suddenly got offended and punched him the face."
"I think I was mad he thought I was a whore," mused Drift.
"Oh, and how'd you think I felt?" pouted Rodimus, folding his arms and huffing.
Drift bit his lip and quickly turned the conversation around. "You did punch him too when he said that he'll charge extra if you hit me."
"Eh, that slagger had it coming," spat Rodimus. "At least he's too scared to come anywhere near me when you're around."
"You more dangerous when I'm not around." Drift took another sip of his drink. "You attacked that dealer who stalked me, and from what I heard he fled Dead End."
Rodimus gave him a cocky smile. "I gave him a warning, not my fault he failed to acknowledge it."
The two continued to consume their drinks as the bar started to fill up with more customers, all who got a rude greeting from its host.
"Why the hell is he so rude to everyone?" growled Rodimus.
"Because he knows he runs the only decent bar in Dead End, so he can be as rude as he wants, they'll just keep coming back," answered Drift.
Rodimus hated to admit it but it was all true. "You know what I think?" he said suddenly. "I think you and me should open up our own bar."
Drift suddenly snorted with laughter but he spotted that serious look in Rodimus' optics. "You're serious?"
"Why not? It can't be that hard," chirped Rodimus, drifting off into his dreamland. "All we need is a big building, an energon supplier, and some bar stools."
"And a receiver," suggested Drift.
"A big receiver," corrected Rodimus, "bigger than that one, and with more channels."
"Maybe a music system?" pondered Drift, not realising he was getting into the whole idea.
"With a DJ!" exclaimed Rodimus, his whole face lit up. "And we can serve snacks, and come up with all sorts of cocktails."
"We would need decorations and decent lighting."
"I'm thinking neon lights that change colour, with mirror spheres and light up floors. I heard there are floors that light up as you walk over them."
"And a energon fountain, right before everyone enters."
"With mesh curtains hanging from the ceiling."
"Oh and a VIP section, I heard you need one of those in a good bar."
"It would make all other VIP sections look like crap!"
Drift laughed as Rodimus continued to talk of their dream bar. "What would I do then?" he asked.
"You would be behind the bar serving drinks, of course," replied Rodimus. "I would be the host, welcoming our guests in."
"How come you get to be the host?" pouted Drift.
"I'm prettier then you," teased Rodimus.
"They might want a handsome host, not a pretty one," argued Drift, "and besides if you're behind the bar, mechs would constantly buy drinks from you."
"True," mused Rodimus, "or we can just swap jobs every now and then."
"Alright then, what would we call it?" queried Drift.
"Oh it has to be catchy name, one that everyone will remember," answered Rodimus. "Maybe something like R&D?"
"That sounds silly," muttered Drift, "what about, Our Stop?"
"What kind of name is that?" snapped Rodimus, "No way in hell would anyone remember that stupid name."
Drift cringed. "Ok then, what would you suggest?"
"I'm... I'm gonna have to think about it," sighed Rodimus in defeat. "Still I guess the name can wait till after we opened it."
Before Rodimus could continue, someone nudged him and told him to hush. The two mechs looked over to see a few mechs, clutching their Primus charms with all their might, were watching some big new story over the receiver.
"Our top story at present is, of course, the concern over Nova Prime's health," informed the media mech on the screen. "The 24th Prime in the Primus lineage has had health problems of late, though not life threatening it does mean he will have to limit his public appearances. A mass crowd of his followers has gathered outside Iacon's Medical Institute to wish him a fast recovery. More on the scene."
The screen then displayed a crowd so big that one would think that Cybertron couldn't possibly hold so many mechs. The crowd was screaming and cheering, holding up Primus banners and torches, all in honour of their beloved Prime.
The screen continued to scan the crowd as someone spoke. "I am standing outside the Medical Institute of Iacon, where Nova Prime is having special treatment for his unique condition. As you can see the streets are crowded with his followers, all who have come to wish he makes a speedy recovery and to pray for him. Though he is in no life threatening position, Nova Prime will have to undertake regular treatments and long periods of rest which will mean he will no longer attend public events or attend the senate gathering. His successor, Nominus, has stated that this could go on for a few centuries, but as tradition goes he will not take the title of Prime until Nova Prime has passed. He will however take on some of his duties, as best he can. Back to you at the studio."
The screen then displayed the media mech from before. "Although it is true Nova Prime will not recover for a few centuries, there has been talk that his recovery could be sped up, and this has been confirmed by-"
"Turn that scrap off already," someone in the bar screamed, throwing an empty glass at the screen.
The screen suddenly displayed static and Foulhead roared with rage. "Do you have any idea how much that fucking cost me?" he screamed. "You're paying for that!"
The mechs who had been watching the broadcast were also angry. "How dare you, you faithless scrap! We wanted to see our Prime!"
"Ha, like he would ever want to see you lot," shouted another bar patron.
"Come say that to my face, you slag eater!"
"Eat sludge, you waste of metal!"
Within the span of a minute or less, a full scale bar fight suddenly erupted within the establishment, with everyone either throwing glasses or throwing punches. Smaller mechs flew across the air as they were thrown at larger mechs, whilst the larger mechs slammed their smaller opponents all over the room, crushing them against walls or tables. Foulhead had already pulled out his blaster and fired off a few rounds in an attempt to cease the fight, but everyone ignored him. Furniture broke as they were used as weapons, and already there were casualties.
Drift and Rodimus looked at each other as the fighting continued around them. "Time to leave?" suggested Drift. "Time to leave," agreed Rodimus.
The two mechs fled the bar as quickly as possible and just in time, for the enforcers had arrived in full force to break the fighting up. The two snuck away but paused for a moment as they watched as a particularly big red and blue one just charged in to stop the fight, easily pushing the squabbling bar patrons aside as if they were made of a light aluminium. A moment later three mechs with cuffs were tossed out of the bar, and more began to follow. Not wanting to stick around in case they got in trouble, they proceeded to walk home.
"Foulhead's hasn't a fight in while," laughed Rodimus, wiping off some shattered glass that fell between his seams. "He's gonna be so mad when he gets fined for firing off that unlicensed weapon."
"How do you know it was unlicensed?" asked Drift.
"The slagger was trying to use it to woo me over," muttered Rodimus. "Kept going on and on that he would convince the enforcers it was just there as a decoration and it wasn't really loaded."
The pair laughed as they carried on. "Can't believe the whole thing kicked off over the Prime," said Drift with a laugh. "Those Prime lovers can get real weird sometimes."
"You can't blame them though," sighed Rodimus. "They were just standing up for what they believed in."
Drift gave Rodimus a funny look. "Don't tell me you worship Primus and the Prime's too?"
"No," replied Rodimus, "but I have prayed to them before. I know it sounds silly but it helped me a little. Of course nothing happened but it just made me feel better." He looked over at Drift with a gentle gaze. "Haven't you prayed to Primus before?"
"I might have," replied Drift, "but I don't think it ever helped. It certainly never made me feel better."
"Is that why you took the drugs?" asked Rodimus.
"No, but I remember a Primus priest used me as an example of what happened if I rejected faith." Drift sighed as he scratched off some chipped paint. "It's a little sad though that mechs worship that stuff down here. It doesn't exactly help them."
"I guess the mechs down here need it, a little faith to keep them going," said Rodimus, looking up at the towers that loomed over them. "Some mechs need to believe in something that gives them a purpose in life. As long as they have something to cling on to then they can keep going. Some mechs don't need it but there are those who have to believe or else they lose hope."
Drift smirked as Rodimus finished. "You could pass yourself off as a Primus priest with that little sermon you just gave."
Rodimus laughed and pushed him. "I think they would rather come to see me, not listen," he snickered. "Besides we have something to cling onto, right?"
Drift appeared puzzled upon hearing this. "What do you mean?"
"Our bar silly," laughed Rodimus.
Drift replied with an, "oh," and smiled as Rodimus continued to talk about it, despite Drift knowing that there was no way they could create such a place down here.
The two continued to chat and joke about their day so far until they reached their little home. Their neighbourhood was quiet as normal, only more dirt and grime and possibly some new residents. The water still leaked from the pipe outside and it was still cold and damp on the inside. Once back inside their home, the two carried out their final tasks for the day. Rodimus tinkered with a fuse until it glowed enough for them to see and Drift pulled out their berth. They placed their new canister of energon on a table, grabbed their old one and hanged it upside down so the last few drops would eventually spill into the new batch.
Drift looked up to see Rodimus was sitting on a box with his ointment and staring at him with an unsure expression. "Ah," was all that Drift said and turned his back to his friend.
Trying to ignore what Rodimus was doing, Drift tried to lose himself in his thoughts. He felt bad for Rodimus, having to put that stuff around his valve every night. The first time he applied it to himself, Drift walked in on it and there was a lot of freaking out. Rodimus then explained that he was carrying an ITD, an Interface Transmitted Disease he caught at his old job. He fled before he could get it treated and the only way to calm the burning sensation he felt in his private areas was to apply a cheap ointment. It wouldn't get rid of the ITD but it helped. The only way to get it treated correctly was to see a medic but raising 500 credits between them would take a very long time.
Drift himself had to take a special detox medicine. Whilst Rodimus treated himself, Drift pulled out the bottle they had purchased that day. Sine Drift abused himself with a countless number of drugs, he had to take this medicine to help detox his system. He had taken so much drugs in a short span, he had difficulty functioning throughout the day. He would be unable to walk, unable to tell reality apart from fantasy, and get violent without warning. Rodimus bought him his first bottle and said it would help him during his withdrawal. Taking a quick swig from the bottle, Drift gagged as the bitter fluid spilled down his throat. It tasted like scrap but it helped.
"I'm finished Drift."
Drift looked over his shoulder, just in time to see Rodimus fasten his interface panel in place. "Feeling better?" asked Drift.
"The burning is gone, so yeah I feel a little better," said Rodimus with a smile. "How was the medicine?"
"Bitter as always," muttered Drift, placing the bottle on a makeshift shelf.
After a quick little tidy up, Rodimus and Drift climbed into their berth. The berth was big enough for them to recharge in their own personal space, but Drift still felt strange sharing a berth with Rodimus. It wasn't fear out of catching his ITD, nor the belief that Rodimus was going to try and seduce him, but it was just that Drift had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable to another. He had always kept up his guard, for it was the only way to survive in Dead End. Someone may offer you to share their home, share their energon, but when you wake up the next day you would find your credits stolen or worse. Despite knowing Rodimus for a while, it still felt odd to be so close to someone and let your guard down.
He wondered if Rodimus felt the same way.