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Barricade, Frenzy, Starscream (who is just there to be annoying, natch)
crack
for my magical 28 Barricades meme, bathtime...with soap crayons.
“How the frag you get so dirty, anyway?” Barricade griped. Yeah, on second thought? He probably didn’t want to know. Bad enough to have to clean up after Frenzy’s messes, without the added insanity.
“Because dirty is fun! Clean is boring! Dirty fun! Fun fun dirtyfun!” Frenzy chirped, his blue optics moving wildly on their eyestalks. He squirmed in Barricade’s grips, four arms smearing the purple-brown greasy…whatever it was all over Barricade’s wrist tire. It looked gross, and smelled…worse, if that was even possible.
“Not fun,” Barricade growled. “Especially not stinky-dirty.” Which Frenzy was.
“Stinky?” The head tilted. “Stinkydirty?”
Frag. Barricade had forgotten: techlings didn’t have some of the threat/perception modules that fighter frames had. Frenzy was stripped down to do what he did best—infiltrate and compromise programming. And he didn’t need to smell to do that.
“Yeah, you go in that Autobot base right now, they’re gonna smell you coming a kilomechanometer away.”
That stilled Frenzy. One thing that he apparently liked more than ‘dirtyfun’ was the chance to play with code. Autobot code. He drooped. “Don’t wanna be dirty,” he said, his voice small.
Frag yes. Progress.
“Which is why we’re going to the washracks,” Barricade explained, patiently. Well, semi-patiently. As patient as you can be when you’re talking to Frenzy. And are Barricade.
Frenzy wriggled in his grasp, turning around to peer down the corridor. His small claws gripped around Barricade’s larger talons. “Washrack! Washrackclean! Cleanfrenzy!” His spindly legs kicked happily as Barricade slapped the doorpanel with his free hand.
Frenzy continued his chirping, happy squeals, that seemed to echo around the enclosed space. Barricade glared down Grindor who had stopped, cleansing rag in hand, to stare, his cheek flanges clapping shut because of the smell. Yeah, real thrill for me, too, Barricade thought.
Frenzy pawed the air as Barricade marched resolutely past the taproom, his legs kicking, frantic. “Cleanfrenzy! CLEANFRENZY!!”
No way. Frenzy in the room with the ceiling cleanser taps, around other mechs, was a formula for disaster. And while Frenzy drove Barricade crazy, no one got to stomp the little techling into paste except Barricade. “Yeah, I hear you.” Me and half the fraggin’ ship. “But dirty like this, you need a bath.”
Frenzy’s eyestalks shifted, dubious. “Bath? Bathnofun!”
“Bath plenty of fun, you little freak,” Barricade snapped. “More fun than me shoving your head in a chipper-shredder.”
Well. More fun for Frenzy. There were times when Barricade found that chipper-shredder fantasy pretty fraggin’ entertaining.
Frenzy tilted his head to one side, then the other, then back again, lost in thought, one hand tapping against another like some code. “Mmmmmaybe….Frenzy try bath!”
“So fraggin’ thrilled to hear that,” Barricade muttered. You know, since the little freak had no choice. He crossed the threshold to the room that held the bathing tanks. Frag, these all looked…really big. ‘Course, they were designed for multiple frame-size use. But at least no one was in here.
He kicked one of the taps on with his toe-spike, and for once, for a moment, at least, Frenzy went quiet, studying the gushing pour of cleanser from the tap. Barricade let it fill halfway, figuring that was more than enough wet chaos, and leaned over, dangling Frenzy over the rippling surface. “Get in.”
Frenzy craned his face over Barricade’s hand, extending one spiny, spindly foot for the surface. He jerked it back abruptly, with an incoherent howl, collapsing in a tight ball around Barricade’s hand.
“What? What?! Too hot? Too cold?” How did he know the right temperature for techling bathing? Not really anything he’d ever listed in his ‘hobbies and interests’.
“Boring!!”
Barricade growled. “Boring,” he said, “Is not a temperature.” He bent down and thrust his other wrist in the cleanser. Barely above lukewarm. “Now get in there.” He shook his hand, trying to dislodge the techling, but Frenzy clung on, all four arms, and both of his feet digging in under Barricade’s plating. “Get. In. There.”
The head shook, frantic. “No! It’s boring and you can’t make me! Can’tmakefrenzy!”
Maybe, Barricade thought, I should shove my own head in the chipper shredder. At least there’d be no more of this. “Oh, but I can, you little squirmy fragger.” He bent over, shoving his hand up to the elbow under the cleanser surface.
He watched Frenzy flail, limbs thrashing, little feet kicking. It was…actually pretty slaggin’ gratifying. And the slimy…crud that detached itself from Frenzy as he threw his little fit was pretty gratifying, too.
He relented, and let go, and Frenzy came up, spluttering, eyestalks pointing down, looking as drowned as a techling could look. Before Frenzy could say anything, Barricade’s comm chimed. Frag. Like he needed this. He thrust a cleansing rag and a brush at the techling, and said, “You know what to do with these. Be back in a klik.”
He stomped out of the room, leaning against the doorframe. “What?!”
“Why, Barricade,” Starscream’s voice purred over the channel, “You sound…perturbed.”
“Pertur—look, this is all your fault, jet.”
“All my fault? I normally keep excellent records of my misdeeds, Barricade. Have I missed one?”
Barricade could hear the smirk over the comm chan and he wanted to reach over it and slap the fraggin’ smirky calipers right off the jet’s face. “I didn’t want a partner. I work best alone. You slaggin’ know this.”
Starscream tsked. “So like you, Barricade. Only seeing your side of it.”
Barricade spluttered a few obscenities.
“Now. Think of Frenzy.”
“Do I have to?” He was trying really hard already not to think of the little techling, and the ruin he’d find back in that room.
“Yes.” Starscream gave an amused mew. “But think of this, Barricade. You do not need a partner, but Frenzy does. And I could not think of a better mech to…tolerate his idiosyncrasies.”
“You mean you couldn’t think of anyone you hated more,” Barricade retorted.
“Come now, Barricade. He idolizes you. And his operational efficiency—including time not spent in repair bay getting patched up over his latest…amusements—has increased considerably. You’re a great service to the Decepticon cause.”
“Martyr, more like.” But yeah, he had seen much fewer Frenzy-beatings listed on the ship logs.
“I doubt that, Barricade. You have survived far worse than what a…hyperactive little techling could do. Think of your warrior pride.”
Yeah, like he had any left. But, point taken. He was not going down at the hands of…Frenzy.
Speaking of…those four little hands could get up to a lot. “Gotta go,” he muttered.
A snicker. “So loyal, you are, Barricade,” Starscream said. “Go check on your charge.”
Yeah, well thanks for the slaggin’ permission, Barricade griped, cutting the comm. He vented a slow cycle, steeling himself before crossing the threshold again.
And stopped. What the…?
Frenzy had wrapped the towel around his lumpy little head like a turban, one hand scrubbing with the brush idly down his back while the other three were…writing something on the sides of the tub with little colored sticks.
“What the frag are you doing?” he said. “That slag better come off!” Or there would be another Frenzy-beatdown on the daily log. By Barricade. He’d log it in himself and even sentence himself to a night in the brig…just for the peace and quiet.
“Comeoffcomeoffofcoursecomeoff,” Frenzy muttered, waving the brush hand negligently. “Coloredwriteysoap!” He turned. “SEE?” He held out a blunt blob of red. “Writeysoap! Fleshieshavewriteysoap!”
Ick. Frenzy had brought squishy-contaminated stuff on the Nemesis? Then again, all the purplebrown gunk he’d been oozing was probably the same. And at least this didn’t smell like much other than paraffin.
“Slaggin’ writey-soap,” he muttered.
“SLAGGINWRITEYSOAP!” Frenzy parroted, gleefully. “Writewrite and cleanclean!”
“The object was to cleanclean you!” Barricade snapped. Holy frag, he was starting to talk like Frenzy. His life was officially over.
“Cleanfrenzy already clean!” Frenzy tried to show Barricade one of his feet, to prove his point, but he overbalanced, in a splashing flail of limbs and colored bits of soap and a brush that whanged right against Barricade’s groin.
Fraggin’ OW. Barricade snatched at the foot, hauling Frenzy up upside down, dangling from his spindly ankle. Frenzy waved.
“Look like I drawed you!” he chittered, one hand pointing at the tub’s side which sported a crude blue stick figure with baleful buggy red optics and an oversized frown, the ends of which apparently rested on his chassis.
“Drew,” Barricade corrected, mindlessly. “And no more drawings of me. Ever.” If he actually looked like that, he’d throw himself in a smelter. “And what the frag is this?”
Frenzy gave a cackle. “Autobotbasebase.”
“It looks kind of…yellow. And melted.” Maybe he should consider getting Frenzy some sort of optical enhancement. Or serious debugging.
“ON FIRE!” Frenzy crowed, throwing his arms over his head in jubilation. Only, upside down, they pointed at the ground.
Well, that was something Barricade could get behind. And it showed Frenzy hadn’t forgotten his next mission. “Yeah, all right. On fire.” He tilted his head at a red and blue figure running from the, uh, ‘base’, little stick arms flailing, mouth open in an O of surprise. “That’s Optimus?”
“ON FIREPTIMUS!” Another cheer.
Barricade snorted. “Looks pretty good on fire.”
“I know!” Frenzy said, nodding sagely. “All Autobots better on fire. On Firenhide! On Firatchet!”
“Heh. Even sound better on fire.” Now you’re talkin’, weirdo, Barricade thought. On Firenhide. That was actually pretty good. “Hey, where’s Bumblebee?” Fragger better be on fire, too, slaggit.
“He’s here!” Frenzy pointed back to the Barricade stick figure, at a yellow smear under stick-Barricade’s feet. “Bumblebeestomped! Not coolenoughbeonfire!”
Barricade flicked his wrist, flipping Frenzy upright. “Damn straight,” he said, nodding, studying the drawing. “Know what, freak? You’re not so bad.”
Frenzy looked up and only then did Barricade realize the techling still had one of his little soap crayons in his hands, scribbling on Barricade’s wrist tire.
“FBBFF?” Some kind of code?
“FRENZYBARRICADE’SBESTFRIENDFOREVER!!!!”
Ugh. That stuff BETTER wash off.
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Date: 2011-01-04 02:01 pm (UTC)I adore your Frenzy!
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Date: 2011-01-04 02:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-04 02:22 pm (UTC)Also, "ON FIREPTIMUS!" That is so much fun to say!
This is hysterical. Great job.
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Date: 2011-01-05 03:40 am (UTC)Glad you liked! :D
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Date: 2011-01-04 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-04 05:42 pm (UTC)Oh my goodness, that was so adorable. I don't think I'd ever be capable of writing Frenzy the way that you write him. Or like, at all. He talks so fast, and you really bring that through, even though you don't really use that many words. He seems so energetic and I feel a little sorry for Barricade for having to put up with him, but he actually does it pretty well. He'd be a good babysitter. And after thinking about that statement for a moment, I've realized that it's pretty far from true, but he does deal with Frenzy well and it just makes an adorable relationship between them and adorable ficcage from you.
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Date: 2011-01-05 03:42 am (UTC)Glad you liked! :D
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Date: 2011-01-05 03:46 am (UTC)In all the times I've watched the movie, I've never considered Frenzy's unusual speech patterns to be a stutter. It's always seemed to me to be more like the excited, kind of childish and fast-paced chatter that you write him with.
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Date: 2011-01-04 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-05 03:44 am (UTC)And if Frenzy's starting to sound logical to you...! O_O
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Date: 2011-01-05 04:06 am (UTC)Crayons! On-Firehide! Painfully boring water! *flails* I scared my cat laughing...
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Date: 2011-01-06 04:09 am (UTC)(Though driving Barricade nuts with him is pretty fun!)
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Date: 2011-01-05 05:03 am (UTC)I love love LOVE the way you write Frenzy! So cute!
"FRENZYBARRICADE'SBESTFRIENDFOREVER" Poor, poor Barricade. XD
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Date: 2011-01-05 02:44 pm (UTC)Hyperactive, genius, four-year-old. Gotta love it. As long as you're not the car. :-P
However, I can see Starscream's POV: Barricade's probably the only one stubborn and contrary enough to not let Frenzy "win" by provoking him into a fit of temper.
"FBBFF"? :snort: Not touching that one, but, “ON FIREPTIMUS!”? "On Firenhide! On Firatchet!”? ROFLMAO! (On, Dasher! On, Dancer! etc, etc. :hides:)
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Date: 2011-01-06 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 12:52 am (UTC)He drooped. “Don’t wanna be dirty,” he said, his voice small.
Aww, so cute Frenzy! And wow, way to turn around.
“Boring,” he said, “Is not a temperature.”
wow... this... reminds me remarkably of when my nephew needs a bath. o_O;
“ON FIRE!” Frenzy crowed, throwing his arms over his head in jubilation. Only, upside down, they pointed at the ground.
CUTEST MENTAL IMAGE omgfrenzyislove
and someone somewhere needs to make a FBBFF icon. srsly.
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Date: 2011-01-06 04:12 am (UTC)Glad you liked! :D
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Date: 2011-01-07 03:52 pm (UTC)"All Autobots better on fire. On Firenhide! On Firatchet!"
Bwahahahahah. *snuggles Frenzy and starts drawing on Barricade*
ETA - I think your Frenzy is based on my kids.
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Date: 2011-01-10 04:46 am (UTC)There were times when Barricade found that chipper-shredder fantasy pretty fraggin’ entertaining.
But he still keeps Frenzy from getting stomped (and corrects his grammar, which is adorable), and yeah, Firenhide! and smushed flat Bumblebee...
Love the way you write both of 'em.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-10 03:14 am (UTC)Or would you be happier if I punched you?