robothell | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Brainstorm & Spin
What: Brainstorm works on a horny bow
When: Over time after sex pollen
Where: HIS WORKSHOP
Warnings: regrets and a cupid's bow

Never teach Brainstorm that something can be an effective distraction or deterrant, because he'll find a way to turn it into a weapon.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what happened in the aftermath of the pollen. After seeing half the planet incompacitated by their own interface protocols, it gave him a few ideas for a new concept.

Brainstorm hangs upside down from the ceiling of his workshop, gently running his fingers over the lightstring connecting one limb of the bow in his hands to the other, testing to make sure it responded to his touch. That part was easy -- it's not like he hasn't used lightstring before -- but the actually affects of the ammo was still a work in progress.

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"No," Spin grumbles immediately, rotor twitching with irritation. After a moment however, he adds, "Kinda tingly? But I think that's mostly just the engex."

He gives Brainstorm another good second of glowering before going back to nursing the cup of engex. Honestly now, the things he puts up with.

"Oh." Brainstorm doesn't try and hide his disappointment. "Probably the engex."

Had he skewed his results by offering him the engex? No, he had been certain that this was the right adjustment. A normal mech would have probably been heating up but Spinister-- he had some sort of special powers or something. He'd assume he's asexual if he hadn't had a personal demonstration that was not the case.

The jet practically flops back to his workspace, dramatically disappointed, and starts working on the bow again.

Rolling his eyes, Spin makes his way over to casually flick the tip of one of Brainstorm's wings. Then he wanders away to start clearing a decent path through the piles of stuff his friend had left haphazardly scattered about, nursing his energon all the while. He spends a good twenty minutes doing that before quietly disappearing once again.

It's a good week before the heli returns, even dustier this time.

"I," he declares, grabbing the nearest dusting brush and finding a corner with the least amount of sensitive electronics around. "Am going to steal this."

The door stays intact this time, somehow.

Wow, Spinister looks like he rolled around in an underground pit for fun and Brainstorm was definitely glad he was staying over there because he didn't want to suck dust into his vents.

Brainstorm makes a face and gets up, picking up a tarp, and then drops it on the floor and pushes it closer to the large heli with a pole.

"It can't be that dirty. What did you do? Dig a hole and roll in it?"

"Ugh no, we just keep getting dust blown in everywhere. No big buildings to block them out in the wastes," Spinister gripes, kicking the tarp out flat on the floor before going back to dusting. It takes a good five minutes and back cycling his vents out several times to get the majority off.

He quickly opens the door and shakes the excess dust off the tarp before rolling it up and making his way to the shower once again.

"I'm going to take some of the cleansing solution with me before I leave!" he shouts before shutting the door. "Tarn's downright filthy!"

At this point, Brainstorm was pretty used to Spinister taking a shower at his workshop if just because he didn't have his own shower in the wastes. He tries to imagine what that's like, then decides it's too horrible. Even as a MTO, he's had access to cleanliness his entire life.

Spinister's arrival was quite convenient though. He'd finished the most recent adjustment to the bow the day before. Brainstorm goes to dig out the weapon while the heli was in the shower. He'd could probably shoot the mech as soon as he left the room.

There's a long stream of grumbling and cursing and aggressive scrubbing from the shower that eventually fades away into silence and the static sound of liquid pattering. Spin stays in for a couple minutes longer than usual but he does come out eventually, clean and steaming from the shower.

"I do not miss having no showers," he sighs, kicking the cleanser off his feet and spinning up his rotors a little to shake more off before reaching over to grab a towel. "Have you got any kind of canister I can borrow? I was going to bring my own but all the big ones went off tumbling in the wind while I was sleeping."

Edited 2015-12-27 23:38 (UTC)

Brainstorm had the bowstring pulled back and all ready to shoot when Spinister comes out and asks that question. It makes him hesitate, which means he loses the element of surprise, so he gently stops aiming and sighs.

"Am I going to get them back?" No, probably not, but he goes to find some canisters for the heli anyway.

"Do NOT. Shoot that thing at me," Spin warns the moment he catches sight of the bow. After a good moment of glaring, he eventually adds, "I'll keep them secured but Tarn'll get suspicious if they only appear whenever I've got cleanser."

"I'll trade something for it?" he offers, tucking his towel under and arm before he steps out of the stall and pops one of his hip compartments open, taking out a jar with some kind of luminescent, crystalline plant inside it. "I found this thing in the corners of the building we're camping out it. Figured you might like it."

"It doesn't hurt though, does it?"

Gosh, don't be so dramatic, Spin. It's not like you're actually getting injured when he shoots you.

Still, Brainstorm stops searching for those canisters in favor of going over to look at the jar. The taps his finger against it, squinting.

"Does it do anything?"

"How about I point it at you and see how much fun you have," Spinister snipes back, making a rude face.

"They explode into flames if you pop them." Holding up the jar so that Brainstorm could see it better, the heli grins. "Pretty good alternative to energon for fire fuel, but you gotta keep a bit of a ways away, otherwise you end up with scorch marks."

"I didn't make it for me," he huffs.

Brainstorm wraps his hand around the lid of the jar and pulls it towards him, tugging it out of Spinister's hands.

"I could probably find a use for it. There are more out there?"

"They pop out of the ground by the hundreds when we hit a dark cycle." Spinister relinquishes his hold on the jar easily enough, watching Brainstorm examine the specimen.

"I can pick more if you want? Tarn'll notice if I bring armfuls of them over, but I can hide some jars just fine from him."

"More's better."

One little specimen would be enough to study but for practical use, one probably wasn't enough. Brainstorm was already considering the possibility of flamethrowers and firebombs.

He goes and squirrels the jar away before returning to fishing out the canisters, dragging them over to complete the trade.

"You're so worried about Tarn noticing. Where does he think you're going?"

"Where else?" Spinister huffs, accepting the canisters and tucking them away next to the shower so that he could fill them before he left. He still had some time.

"I'm a Scavenger. I scavenge." Despite the tiredness in his tone, there's still a good amount of pride. "The fragger knows we need a lot of stuff to make that scrap pile of campsite some place liveable."

That's a point. Brainstorm thought for a moment Spinister told Tarn he was going somewhere specific though. Truthfully, he's pretty glad that the scavenger was taking precautions. Best not to draw attention to his workshop.

"What's he even do all day?" Brainstorm can't imagine Tarn actually being useful for any sort of chores. His experience with high ranking mechs that actually did any grunt work was lacking.

Still, as he puts the jar down in his workspace, he takes the moment to pick up the bow again, turn around, and fire off a dart before Spinister has the chance to protest again.

"Well, his knee's still messed up from ticking off the baby Megatron so he kind of limps around and angsts about how he doesn't get to bang Sixshot any- OY!"

Spinister's indignant yelp precedes some crashing and banging as he reflexively jumps at the strange not-pain of the dart hitting his chest and topples over a work bench.

"YOU!" he growls, leveling the most deathly glower on the smaller flier, armor plates flaring. "ARE IN SO MUCHNNNGh...!"

Hot.

It felt like a supernova had gone off in his spark chamber and Spinister's back arches into an almost impossible curve, hands denting the edge of the table.

Brainstorm, being the coward he is, ducks and covers as soon as Spinister's voice took that murderous tone. He watches the heli from beneath the table, cautiously observing his flailing and arching.

That's different.

Maybe bad different?

Brainstorm becomes suddenly anxious that he's accidentally killed Spinister. He certainly doesn't want his first -- and only -- kill to be one from some stupid miscalculations. That worry isn't enough to draw him out from under the table though. Nope, he has enough sense to keep hiding.

"It's okay, Spin! What are you feeling?" he calls out, peeking out around the table siding.

Spinister is going find something throw at Brainstorm just as soon as he can get his limbs coordinated enough for it. He just- he just needed a few seconds.

"What-" he croaks, sliding to the floor, onto his knees, his vents frantically cycling cool air into his systems. "What'd you do?"

The heat lances down his spinal strut and tightens in a hard coil behind his interface panel, drawing a breathy gasp from the heli.

From under the table Brainstorm couldn't quite tell what was going on with Spinister. He could hear the sound of his vents, but that could mean anything. Either way, the bow did something but determining what that something was was still up in the air.

"If I told you what the bow does that would be cheating!"

Better not to put any ideas into Spin's head and such.

"What are your symptoms?"

"I. Am going to kick." There's a pause because Spin's struggling to cool down. "Your scrawny little aft!"

Easier said than done right now. It felt like his armor was too tight. It felt like everything was on fire. It felt like someone'd injected liquid golden pleasure into his fuel lines and it was making holding onto his anger harder and harder.

His armor was steaming hot, evaporating the last traces of cleanser from the shower. It's pure luck that he spots a flash of teal under one of the tables out of the corner of an optic- and then sheer willpower that drags him to his knees and onto his feet.

"C'mere!" he snarls, staggering towards to the table, reaching out to flip it right the hell over.

That's terrifying.

Brainstorm realizes he overestimated Spinister's friendliness about two seconds before the table gets flipped away and his cover vanishes. Luckily, he has about four million years of practice at running away, so even as the table crashes down he gets on his hands and knees to scurry away.

And that's when he realizes the jar had shattered, and his table was now on fire.

"Oh. Pit."

He flops onto his back to face Spinister, crab walking away.

"The fire control system is gonna go off! Truce? Truce!!"

Brainstorm sure was awful slippery for a jet. That or Spinister's reaction time was considerably slower than usual, which is why he doesn't really process anything the guy shouts at him as he turns after the escaping afthead.

He manages two steps before his knees give out again. The heli's hand darts out as he falls, grabbing at Brainstorm's leg to try and drag the squirming fragger back towards him so that he could-

So that-

Those were awful tasty looking legs.

He is so dead.

Brainstorm squeals when Spinister's hand clamps over his leg and throws his arms up to protect his face from a pummeling. No no no! How was he even going to explain to Ratchet why he had the slag beaten out of him.

Smoke slowly fills the lab, but when the punch never comes, Brainstorm parts his arms slightly to peer between them at the mech, his optics wide and worried-- for his own safety. Spinister was okay and all but his own life was more important. He tugs his leg hesitantly.

Right about then, the sprinkler system comes on, showering his work, the fire, and both of them in cool water. Brainstorm groans.

The cool water makes Spin gasp the moment it hits his too-hot plating bringing with it a few seconds of precious clarity. Seconds that he uses to level some more glaring at Brainstorm, but at least it was a calculating glare and not a murderous one.

He reels Brainstorm in and boots his heli engine up so fast and so hard that it screeches as it winds up, sending ground-quaking thrums through the entire lab.

"You're an aft," Spin hisses, pressing the jet's fauld armor flat against his chest- right up against the source of all the strut shaking vibrations.