A/N: Just a silly bit of fluff to pass the time while I drag my heels and get the next chapter of "Warped" finished. :) (Just as I get over ONE cold, I get ANOTHER one. D'oh.)
Sliight spoilers. Those of you who watch my LiveJournal have probably seen this already, but I figured I might as well share it here too. ;) I have a couple more shorts to upload later.
This is set towards the end of "Warped". Jazz (for once) hasn't been roped into spark-sitting, but still gets caught up in the twins' mayhem.
The Dot Plague?
Midmorning on the Ark, and Skywarp's twins were playing a very high-speed game of "chase" down the corridors – at least, it was either that or how-many-can-we-trip-over-today, and no-one seemed willing to openly label it as either. The exact nature of the game seemed fairly abstract – there was no chaser, and no chased, as such, they seemed to be trying to catch each other and avoid being caught in equal amounts, and showing a fairly impressive display of teleport accuracy in the process, pouncing and vanishing while the bewildered twin was still recovering his or her wits.
"Woo, slow down you two," Jazz laughed, scooping Footloose up as she passed him in the rec-room doorway; Slipstream had already dived for cover behind the nearest couch. "What are you doing?"
Footloose made a frustrated noise and wriggled in his arms. "Jas, no fair! Lemmego!"
Slipstream peeked out, saw she was captured, grinned, teleported up to Jazz's shoulder and dramatically stuck a small round blue sticker to his sister's nose, then was gone.
"Ja-as!" Footloose squealed her frustration, involuntarily flickering her blinkers. "Making me loo-ose!"
Jazz quirked a brow, realising that the little femme was already covered in bright blue dots, mostly over her back and arms – and in her hands, she clutched a sheet of similar stickers, except these were a lurid shade of fluorescent pink. Aha. So, that explained the game. Stick labels to your twin without getting labels on you in return. It was frankly quite amazing it hadn't turned into a sticky-dot-covered wrestling match, yet.
"Where'd you two troublemakers get them from?" Jazz wondered, amusedly.
Footloose gave him a guileless look. "Spike gave."
"Ri-ight. Just like he 'gave' you that glue you used to stick Screamer's data-pad to his desk two days ago?"
She giggled at his exaggeratedly-suspicious tone of voice, and headbutted his chest. "Down now please Jas?"
"Why, so you can coat more things in pink stickers?"
"Not 'more things', only Seem." She gave him her biggest, widest-eyed most appealing look.
"All right." He caved in and lowered her to the floor, but kept hold of her arms, just for now. "If I find spots anywhere else, I'll know who to tell the Police to arrest for graffiti, won't I?"
Footloose sucked her fingers. "Ooh."
He leaned closer and asked, more conspiratorially; "So who's winning?"
She gave him a sneaky smile and patted her chest.
It was only once she'd finally vanished to find her twin that Jazz realised the backs of his arms had been coated in a sneaky layer of pink dots.