A/N: Heh, I love you guys. After the fourth review of, 'Wow, two updates in one week!' I lol'd hard. So thanks, all of you. 3
Disclaimer: In no way do I own Transformers or anything affiliated. I do not gain any money from these in any way.
Rating: T (for suggestiveness)
Oh, he was a torrent of rage and humiliation inside right now. Though he would never admit either, it festered in his spark, making his optics glow dark indigo and his bottom lip component to quiver like a sad sparkling. Prowl, oh darling Prowl and his ingenious little schemes. Never mind that it's raining, hailing, and lightning outside, a mix of weather so horrid in the region that the Decepticons probably were lounging around drinking energon and laughing at the Autobot's misfortune. A gentle touch whisked across his sensory net on his back, alerting him to the other's presence.
"Quit sulking, it could be worse." A cultured voice whispered from behind him, the rich tones whirled around Sunstreaker's audios like the hot steam encompassing both of the mechs. The golden mech heard a noise and shivered at he felt a stiff bristled brush slid into the back of his hip plating, scouring away the mud, watching as the mud and grime slithered in streams down his legs and into the drain in the floor.
"So says you; the mech who didn't have to go," he bit back, flashing his crystalline optics to the blue and white mech behind him, who was diligently brushing the mud off.
"Hmm," was all Mirage replied with, a tight lipped smile trying to blossom on his lip components. When Sunstreaker turned away again to stare resolutely at the opposing wall, Mirage did let a small smile on his face, his denta flashing in the soft lighting.
He dared to ask. "Where's Sideswipe?"
Sunstreaker growled, his upper lip curling back. "He's busy. Interfacing with Tracks no doubt," the golden mech mumbled. So busy in fact, that he couldn't even help his brother out with washing his back plating, oh no, he'd been forced to ask Mirage, this lithe little noble mech for help instead.
"Ah, I see," Mirage murmured, hiding his mirth with a soft chuckle instead. "Don't worry, I don't mind doing this."
Sunstreaker didn't say anything, but the tenseness of his posture made it clear that he had heard the other. Mirage continued his ministrations, coyly gentle and almost teasing as he cleaned out the mud and ground in sand from Sunstreaker's transformation cog in his hips, then moved up to the rear mounted engine. He grabbed a small nozzle of solvent off the wall and worked the mud out of the intakes, but his lips twitched as he bravely squirted a stream right down Sunstreaker's headers.
The golden mech cursed, spluttering obscenities as he jumped away and shook his frame, whipping around to glare at the other mech. Before Sunstreaker could start yelling, Mirage shrugged and simply said; "Whoops," but his optics shined brightly, even in the dim lighting. Sunstreaker could see the sparkle of amusement.
"That's terribly funny," he replied, his intakes coughing as the solvent leaked into the inner workings of his engine. It was a wretched slimy feeling, almost painful, making him shiver.
"It was an accident," the noble mech replied, the barest traces of a smile playing on his lips. "Come here," the blue and white mech beckoned to Sunstreaker with his fingers.
The golden mech faltered, but then held his chin up high, sneering. "No, I'm not stupid you slagger." He flitted away quickly, snatching up a shower nozzle with his own hand.
"It's war now," Sunstreaker murmured lowly, yanking the hosing out of the wall as he stalked around Mirage like a predator, optics dark with delight.
Unperturbed, the blue and white mech kept his shoulders squared with the other, frame loose and relaxed. "If you insist," he replied, still managing to keep his condescending tone, even though he was flaring with energy on the inside. Sunstreaker held both of his hands out away from his frame, making Mirage pay even closer attention to the wider stance so he wouldn't be fooled. "But I think you're forgetting one thing," Mirage waggled his finger as he spoke, optics following Sunstreaker's every move with a trained profession.
"What?" Sunstreaker started, but froze as the mech disappeared. Oh slag, he'd forgotten all about that in his enthusiasm. He was squirted simultaneously as he jerked away, the liquid hitting him square on the chassis. "No fair!" he hissed, dashing away and to the door. "I'm not putting up with this slag! Every single time Mirage, every time! I told you I wasn't going to help you again the next time you did this, no wonder nobody hangs around in the showers with you!" he danced away and out into the hall, careless that he was dripping solvent everywhere.
"Heh, heh," Mirage chuckled, happy now that he had the showers to himself without anyone disturbing his peace.