A/N- I blame bittereloquence. Yeah. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
"Hey, Slingshot! I heard you finally shot a Decepticon!" Blades called mockingly as the Harrier limped into the otherwise-empty common room. It was sheer rotten luck that of the few 'bots not recharging, this particular Aerialbot would be the one to stumble in for a late-night cube of energon. But hey, I was bored anyway. "Aw, now I owe Streetwise a cube of high-grade. He said you'd get the guts to join the big boys one day, but I didn't believe him."
"Frag off," Slingshot snarled. "I pull my own. Why don't you go harass that worthless idiot you call a gestalt-mate? If there's anyone here who can't hold his own, it's First Aid."
Blades glared. "What did you call my brother?"
Slingshot glared back. "A worthless twit who doesn't have the courage to hold a weapon without shaking, so he hides behind the warriors and squawks about 'morals' and 'pacifism.' He's a slagging coward, no matter how you try to dress it up to cover for-"
Blades snarled and lunged. "You fragger!" Slingshot staggered under a punch. Blades used the opportunity to jump on him, sending them both crashing to the floor, punching and clawing at anything he could get a handhold on.
Desperate, Slingshot kicked out, catching Blades square in the abdomen, knocking him sprawling. Suddenly, the helicopter found the positions reversed, and now Blades was trying to fend off an enraged Slingshot.
Wrenching Blades' arm around, Slingshot's hand found his rotor assembly, using it to shove Blades face-first into the decking. Despite himself, Blades cried out in shock and pain as Slingshot's fingers bit into his swashplate.
"I'm sorry, was that a sensitive spot?" Slingshot gave him a nasty sort of smile. He rubbed his finger against the hinge. The Protectobot went rigid.
Smirking to himself, Slingshot pressed the advantage, working his fingers into the assembly and ignoring the badly-suppressed noises of protest from the mech under him.
Blades couldn't help the shudder that ran through his frame. The weight on his back shifted, Slingshot leaning into what he was doing. The little slagger is enjoying this! Seething, Blades gathered himself. Slingshot was so intent on trying to wring humiliating noises out of Blades that he'd neglected to keep a tight grip on the fighter's arm.
Twisting hard, Blades threw Slingshot off. The jet tried to scramble up, but Blades was quicker, getting him in a headlock before he could find his feet.
"Think that's funny?" Blades growled. Slingshot tried to pry Blades' arm from around his neck, to no avail. "Turnabout's fair play, Slingsies," Blades said mockingly, running his free hand down the joint where Slingshot's wing met his fuselage. Slingshot shuddered as Blades stroked along the edge of his ailerons, the Harrier's fingers biting into the arm restraining him.
Blades paused as he felt something slick on Slingshot's wing. Fluid was leaking from the gashes he'd inflicted when he first got his hands on Slingshot. Thoughtfully, he bushed his thumb against the torn metal and was rewarded with another shudder.
The position of Slingshot's fuselage and wings meant that Blades had to pull the jet back tight against him in order to keep an arm securely across Slingshot's neck. Experimentally, Blades scraped the edge of his helmet against Slingshot's nosecone.
Slingshot bit back a cry that was only half pain, but a choked moan managed to escape. He felt Blades' answering chuckle more than he heard it, vibrating down the length of his frame. Vaguely, he was aware that he should be trying to fight back, but the why was starting to get fuzzy. Besides, he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Blades to stop.
For his part, Blades was enjoying the sensation of having the jet pinned under him a bit more than he probably should have. Every time Slingshot squirmed, his armor scraped up the inside of Blades' legs, until it was all Blades could do to not overload on the spot.
And the little noises Slingshot kept making...
Blades' fingers found a new spot, and Slingshot bucked against him, grinding his body against the helicopter's. Primus... It was getting hard to think. Hot energon spilled over his hand as his fingers clenched, digging into one of the ragged gashes he'd left on Slingshot's wings.
Primus, what am I doing? Horrified, Blades let go of Slingshot. Sitting up, he stared down at the energon smeared across the white wings below him with a sinking feeling. "I-" he started to stammer an apology.
Slingshot twisted around, seizing him by a skid and yanking him back down. "You stop now, and I'm going to shoot out both your knees and stake you out in a scrapyard," Slingshot swore, voice rough.
Surprised, Blades ran a hesitant hand up the inside of Slingshot's wing, making him shiver. Encouraged, he let his hands explore, touching and stroking and scratching anything he could reach. Slingshot moaned, writhing under him. The jet pulled him down, hands sliding over his shoulders, catching on a ridge in his armor and sliding down to grip the wheels of his landing gear.
Slingshot arched as Blade found the sensitive spot right along his hip component with one hand, his other working its way up the trailing edge a wing flap. He cried out, his systems overloading.
Primus, I should have done this ages ago, was all Blades had time to think before his own systems overloaded.
They came to in a tangle on the floor, cooling systems working to deal with their over-heated engines. For a long moment, neither moved.
Slowly, Blades lifted his head off of Slingshot's chest. Slingshot stared back.
Then they scrambled away from each other.
Slingshot found his feet first, leaning heavily on the wall and staring down at Blades in dawning horror and embarrassment. "We-" He stopped, looking faintly sick.
"This never happened," Blades said flatly. "And if you spill one word, I'll slice off your tail fins and use them as Frisbees."
"Frag that, I've got a reputation," Slingshot snapped back. "One that doesn't include hopped-up whirly-gigs."
Blades didn't have the energy to belt him for the comment, so he settled for a rude gesture as he stalked out.
Slingshot glared at his backside. Glancing down at himself with a sinking feeling, Slingshot cursed. "Slag, how am I going to explain this to Silverbolt?" No help for it, he thought glumly as he limped for the repair bay. Blades's got it easy; he can just ask his brother for help. But I've got to go to Ratchet. Slagging Protectobots. And there was no way he was going to be able to hide the fact he'd gotten in another fight with Blades.
At least that's all they can tell, he thought, embarrassed.
"I am about sick of dealing with Slingshot," Silverbolt groaned, dropping heavily onto Hot Shot's berth. Being woken up from a sound recharge to go recover his idiot brother from an irate Ratchet had not been his idea of a pleasant way to spend a night.
"I know the feeling," Hot Spot muttered. "This is getting ridiculous. Blades couldn't even give me a reason for it this time, much less a good one. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed."
"I swear, we should just disarm them both and stuff them in a closet to work it out for themselves."
Hot Spot over up at the Aerialbot leader with a thoughtful expression. "That's actually not a bad idea."
Silverbolt smiled tiredly back. "They'd kill each other, even unarmed. But at least we'd have a few breems of quiet."
"Speaking of having time to ourselves," Hot Spot murmured, leaning over Silverbolt. "What do you say we take advantage of this time while we can?"
His smile turning to a full-fledged grin, Silverbolt caught the fire truck and pulled him down to the berth.