Old fic found in the stuff pulled off my last computer, written between the airing of the second and third seasons of TFA. Not quite sure why I didn't just post it then, as it was finished. Silly little cracky thing.
(From the header I had saved in the file): Partially inspired by the fact that the Starscream clones are nothing but fun, and partially by what we've learned of the characters that are set to appear in season 3.
Her fellow clones held none of her interest. She could have any of them any time she wanted. How boring. Megatron was a very attractive target, except for the unfortunate fact that no one knew where he was. That put him well out of her Earth-bound reach, for now.
She could pursue Blitzwing, she supposed. At least one of his personalities had expressed interest, and the other personalities bore different enough mindsets to make it a challenge. But the mech was... well, to be quite blunt, he was incredibly ugly. His energy field was twisted and unhealthy, putting off conflicting signals that were hideously jarring. She'd sooner interface with an Autobot. (Which was, of course, also out of the question.)
Lugnut, on the other hand... now there was an attractive prospect. Strong, carrying an impressive amount of firepower. Not as agile as those of a build like hers, but sporting a frame perfectly suited for his intended purpose. More importantly, his energy field was incredibly attractive. Unwavering, devoted... such exotic traits to find in a Decepticon, from what she'd gleaned of the somewhat corrupted memories Starscream had passed on to her. The very concept of possessing those traits was incredibly foreign, so very mysterious. She thought this might be what it was like to have a crush.
Which was why she was more than a little upset when he said no. Now more determined than ever, she refined her approach and tried again, to the same response. And again the third time. After the seventh rejection, she finally snapped and asked why.
The other clones scattered when she stormed into the room, literally spitting sparks.
"Why, you're looking beautifully murderous today," her golden brother simpered. She punched him, shooting wildly at a white form that fled just after declaring, "I'm not scared!"
"A consort," she raged, "he has a slagging consort!"
If this "Strika" ever showed her no-doubt ugly faceplate on Earth, she'd best be prepared to prove herself worthy of Lugnut's affections. This was one femme who'd not be giving up without a fight.