The Green Eyed Terrorcon

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG
IDW-G1
Terrorcons
refs to Sixshot/Terrorcons. 
for tf_speedwriting  prompt 'envy'

“He likes me best.  You’re fraggin’ delusional.”  Cutthroat folded his arms over his chassis, glaring at the others.  He jutted his chin at Blot. “Especially you.”

“I think his Blot Stank kind of shorted out his processor,” Rippersnapper said, nodding agreement.  “But let’s face it. Sixshot likes Hun-Grr way more than you.”

Hun-Grr said nothing, merely smirking. Yeah.  It was true.  He, uh, hoped. 

“No way.”  Sinnertwin flopped down onto the couch. “He likes me best.”

“Oh right,” Rippersnapper said. 

“Hey, I made the first moves on him. And he responded.”

“You jumped him! And he was…uh…he was only being polite.”

“Polite.” Sinnertwin chortled. “By…interfacing with me.” 

“Well,” Rippersnapper considered.  He was, he had long ago decided, the voice of sanity and reason on the team. And he had no idea when everyone else laughed when he said that. “It is Sixshot.”

They nodded.  Sixshot was extreme. He redefined extreme. So 'polite' to him really might mean ‘interface until you black out’. 

“And if he liked you so much, Cutthroat, why’d he break that sharkticon sculpture of yours?”  Sinnertwin grinned, showing teeth—a LOT of teeth.

“Oh, frag, not the fraggin’ sharkticon again,” Hun-Grr groaned.  

“It’s okay,” Cutthroat said, waving a hand, dismissively. “I’m so over that, now.”

“I told him he could break anything of mine!” Blot chirped.  “And I’d keep it anyway, because it was broken by Sixshot.”  He froze, optics widening. “Maybe I could get it framed or something!”

Hun-Grr lowered his head, rubbing his temples with his palms. “And…what did he say to that, Blot?”

“He said he’d keep it in mind!” Blot glowed. 

“Which is more than any of us do with anything you tell us,” Rippersnapper muttered.

Cutthroat nodded in agreement.  “So, Blob, does that mean I can break your stuff, too?”

“No!” Blot frowned. “You’re not cool enough to break my stuff!”

“Something we can all agree with,” Rippersnapper said. 

“Wanna bet?” Cutthroat glared at Blot.

“Oh, bring it,” Rippersnapper said.

“Mechs, really. Shut the Pit up.”  Hun-Grr pushed on his optics, trying to alleviate the stunning processor-ache he’d woken up with.  Sure, he’d woken up next to Sixshot, but just like a good gorging, there were…aftereffects.

“Well, you losers can sit here and fight over this,” Cutthroat said, pushing to his feet. “My turn on the roster.” 

“Don’t call us ‘losers’,” Hun-Grr said, tiredly. 

“Oh frag,” Rippersnapper muttered. “Not this lecture again.” 

Cutthroat, crossing behind Hun-Grr to head to the washracks, wobbled his head mimicking Hun-Grr’s mouth as the Terrorcon leader spoke:

“Because we’re a team and if one of us is a loser, we’re all losers.”

 Sinnertwin started snorting with barely-repressed laughter, watching Cutthroat. Hun-Grr whipped his head around, trying to catch what the other mech was doing. 

“Really don’t need this right now, “ Hun-Grr said.

“Need what?”  Cutthroat blinked in too-innocence.  “I’m just going to make myself sexy for Sixshot. Well. Even more sexy.” He made a coy sashay of his hips.

“Frag, that’ll take a few vorns.” Rippersnapper said.

“Possibly forever,” Sinnertwin added, chortling.

“I might take your turn for you,” Rippersnapper smirked. “While you’re doing that impossible task.” 

“You…wouldn’t…dare.”  Cutthroat growled, fists balling.

“Wouldn’t I?” 

Cutthroat’s gaze flew to Hun-Grr. “You wouldn’t! Tell me you wouldn’t let him. Come on! You set up the rotation, you gotta make him stick to it!”

“Frag, stop whining!”   Hun-Grr blinked in pain. “Look. Cutthroat. You go, I don’t know, in the washrack.  Rippersnapper, stop taunting him.  Sinnertwin, frag, stop doing that where we can see you!”

Sinnertwin’s head snapped up from between his legs. “What? I was bored. And…horny. A little.”

"And you have the manners of roadkill," Rippersnapper added, pretend-helpfully. 

“And me? What about me?”  Blot looked up, hopefully.  Trust him to get upset about getting left out of a dressing-down.

“You? Uhhhh,”  Frag it was hard to think with his head pounding like this. “You can take out the trash.”

“The traaaaaash?”  Blot drooped.

“And stay out!” Cutthroat snickered.

“Yeah, uh, Sixshot likes a clean place.  And I’ll make sure to tell him that you cleaned it.” 

“Yeah because everything about Sixshot is extreme,” Rippersnapper said. “Even his suspension of disbelief.” 

Blot perked back up, Cutthroat gnashed his teeth, and Hun-Grr began wondering if finally getting Sixshot was really a good thing, after all.

Nah, his interface systems purred at him, even through the grinding processor-ache.  Totally worth it. 

 

Comments

[gunmaxual.livejournal.com]

...right. So, standing there idly brushing my hair when it totally hit me. I almost inhaled hair.

There'd have to be a Bayverse crossover, but you've got scads of talent to spare.

Grindor. He's got that being-watched kink, and the Constructicons. There has be a video floating amongst the Decepticons somewhere. All I can think is Blot sending it, as a sweetly pathetic effort Hun-Grr could choke him for, to the Devil King while Sixshot is on a mission. So Sixshot gets this message entitled 'Thinking of you' from the Terrorcons...