robothell | (no subject)

Entry tags:

sixshot | phase6kindofbot

(no subject)

Who: Sixshot, Tarn and anyone.
Where: Some place!
When: The day after prom!
What: Sixshot trying to deal with the devastating aftermath of the spectacularly disastrous prom party.
Warnings: Awkward teenage super robot drama. Also discussions of sex?

For Tarn

Unfortunately for Sixshot's new found sense of shame, the six-former's sense of obligation was still stronger. It took a bit more motivation than usual to drag himself out of humiliated hiding, but he manages it and arrives a prim ten minutes early to the agreed meeting point.

And then he just sits.

And tries not to think too hard about the upcoming talk, quietly grateful that his canine face wasn't too expressive.

If Tarn tries to kill him today...

Honestly, Tarn wasn't going to kill him today because, frankly, Sixshot wasn't going to let him. He was not going to die being known for what happened last night, so help him Primus.

Open

The giant murderous space dog is attempting a new strategy: being small.

And hiding.

After shoving most of his mass into subspace, Sixshot was quickly being enlightened to the fact that the dead city actually had a surprising amount of hiding places. He'd never though about it before: Phase Sixers didn't hide after all. Ambush tactics were for the weaker.

On the other hand, Phase Sixers also were never trained to deal with social situations gone so awry that they would actually want to hide. Sixshot certainly never was, anyways.

He quietly curses Megatron's short-sightedness because, clearly, this was all his creator's fault, and shuffles deeper into the hole.

To most outsiders, he was barely more than a white nose sticking out of a wall.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rampage shift in front of the hole and glares into it. "Stop moping and come out or I'm going to drag you out."

Come get a crab hug, Sixshot, it'll make you feel aaaall better!

"I am happy in my hole, Rampage." What? "And if you try, I am going to bite you and then neither of us will be very happy."

Neverrrrrrrrrrr

"You're coming out," Rampage says. Seriously, Sixshot, getting bit isn't going to ruin this mood!

Bracing his feet, he reaches in to grab onto Sixshot's doggy cheeks and start dragging him out.

"Rampage, I swear-" Then the crab is grabbing his cheeks and Sixshot makes the most undignified growling noises of all time as Rampage starts pulling him out.

There's a slow screeeeeeeeee of claws against concrete and metal as the Sixer stubbornly tries to resist.

Bit by bit, Rampage backs away from the hole, extracting Sixshot from the wall like a particularly stubborn bullet from a wound. It helps that Sixshot is shrunk down, it gives him a much better grip.

He laughs loudly, "Out!"

"WHY are you even dragging me out?" Sixshot whines, a pile of rubble steadily building in front of his claws as Rampage pulls. "What is the point of this? This is completely unnecessary!"

"Because you need some tender loving care," Rampage says as he drags Sixshot out far enough to wrap an arm around to neck... and proceeds to give him a noogie that would probably rub a hole through an average mech's plating.

YOWLING. SO MUCH UNHAPPY YOWLING.

"RELEASE ME," Sixshot howls once he manages to get over the sheer rudeness of this, trying to shove Rampage's hideous face away with his paws.

Rampage's only response is to laugh raucously, shifting into his usual tone of sounding utterly mad. Apparently that's just how his laugh sounds regardless of his mood. He plans to noogie Sixshot until the top of his head is utterly bare of paint, never mind that the metal of his face creaks dangerously under the pressure of Sixshot's paws, his head tilting back at an awkward angle.

"No mercy for the miserable!"

That was about the point where Sixshot finally gets infuriated enough to actually pull all of his mass back through subspace. Suddenly, the armful of a dog become the more typical Cybertronian-building sized dog.

Grip broken as Sixshot's neck is rather suddenly much larger, Rampage lets out a shot 'whuf' of air as he's very rapidly covered by Sixshot's full bulk. He gives the large dog a hard shove. Don't think he can't push you around if he wants just because you're stupidly large, Sixshot!

"Well, that wasn't polite," he says casually.

"Oh, like pulling my out of my hole was polite." Cue Sixshot pointedly shifting more of his weight onto Rampage's frame, a deep, distinctly ticked-off growl rumbling through his frame.

"Hmph!" Rampage doesn't even bother to struggle, he just wriggles his arms out so he can cross his arms behind his head. "What's got you in such a foul mood, anyway?"

"Nothing that's any of your business."

Although if Rampage didn't know, that meant at First Aid hadn't told him at least.

It was a relief, but also confusing: he'd have thought First Aid would have happily given the crab-mech the details of last night's party. He'd certainly seemed mad enough.

Rampage would totally clutch at his chest if Sixshot wasn't sitting on him. "You wound me! I thought we were friends."

Yeah, First Aid was kind of busy working off his anger with Rampage in ways other than talking last night.

That sure was some very enthusiastic anger working outness. Something, Sixshot really wishes his nose wasn't so sensitive.

"I'm not sharing any sordid details with you, friend or otherwise," he puffs, wings flicking petulantly.

So enthusiastic! Just... wow. Who knew the little guy had it in him.

Huffing in vague annoyance - he's too cheerful right now and doesn't care nearly enough what Sixshot was angsting about to actually be annoyed - Rampage continues to lounge under the giant dog.

Staring at Sixshot for a moment, he asks, "...Want to have sex?"

Cue spluttering.

"Rampage," Sixshot manages after a bit, optics wide. "You don't just ask people to have sex with you!"

No, that doesn't seem right.

"Well, you DO, but only certain people!" Wait, no, how does he explain this. "I mean- you don't- you can't-"

Rampage didn't expect Sixshot to get flustered, but he becomes progressively more amused as Sixshot proceeds to ramble and stutter at him.

"Well that was informative," he says when Sixshot pauses, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He actually is kind of interested in what Sixshot is failing to say, but he's not nearly as curious as he is entertained at having put his friend so off-guard.

"Stop enjoying this," Sixshot grumbles once he manages to stop spluttering. "okay, so, basically, no. No I don't want to have sex with you and especially not right now." And especially not after last night which Rampage doesn't seem to know about and that is good because this Phase Sixer was not talking about it.

"Also, try to have sex with people in your age range and try to avoid anyone less than five months old. Or drunk slash drugged unless that was their plan or something. Definitely not anyone unconscious and absolutely not anyone dead."

Rampage just laughs, clearly still enjoying Sixshot's consternation. He offers a little shrug. "I thought it might cheer you up. It cheered me up. But it seems you're far too busy being miserable to enjoy yourself."

His horns droop slightly as Sixshot starts going over the apparent rules of sex. Frowning a bit, he thinks out loud, "First Aid isn't in my age range. And he was drunk."

Did he do something wrong? It certainly hadn't felt wrong. It was one of the few times he'd felt right about himself and his mutant spark.

Just like that, his cheerful edge evaporates and he shoves at Sixshot until he can squeeze out from under him.

"I am not done," Sixshot growls, reaching out to flatten Rampage down with one massive paw.

"If First Aid was happy when he woke up, that's fine," he continues. "But try and avoid situations like that because if your partner was so drunk they weren't in their right mind when they consented then you're going to be woken up with a gun shot through your head."

"Also, the age range thing is just so you avoid getting manipulated by older mechs." It was something Sixshot had been given a Talk about when an ex-elite had goaded him into, well, Things when he was younger. "It stops being really relevant after you hit half a century. I don't think First Aid was manipulating you, but be wary of others."

Rampage squawks as Sixshot shoves him back to the ground, the dog earning himself a Most Offended Petulant Teen Glare (TM). His face relaxes into more of a vague pout as Sixshot continues talking.

"It's not like I'm planning to interface with a wide array of people," he says with a slight huff. "I don't like most people."

He doesn't notice that implies he likes Sixshot. Whoops.

Sixshot nooootiiiceeeessss~

Fortunately for Rampage's dignity however, he has the grace to not mention it.

"You're going to live for millions of years," the wolf mech reasons. "You don't know that for sure and it's better to know earlier."

IT'S NOT LIKE HE LIKES YOU OR ANYTHING, DUMMY. He just hangs around with you a lot because you're fun to bother, gosh.

Rampage gives a loud snort, trying to cross his arms but foiled by the large paw on his chest. "I can tell when people have bad intentions, you know."

It comes part and parcel with having an empathic spark. Ain't no-one can lie to the crab.