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“Hey. Hey. Choppaface, hey--”
“What.” Dinobot finally snaps, the sharp sound of his teeth clenching together sounding in the brief silence after the small outburst. He doesn't even have to look to his side to know Rattrap's narrowing his eyes—giving him that trademark glare. Dinobot scoffs, shaking his head and quickening his pace.
The sound of footsteps behind him grows louder as Rattrap has to quicken his pace, the difference in size between them coming into play as Rattrap struggles to keep up.
“Are ya even listen' to me, Choppaface?” Rattrap's voice has the tinge of a whine to it, and Dinobot grunts, not so much acknowledgment as a tiny warning for Rattrap to just stop the conversation. But no, this is Rattrap—the concept of not pressing Dinobot's buttons is apparently foreign to him.
“I was talking to ya! I'm still talkin' to ya—the least you could do is listen.” Rattrap sniffs, swipes his servo over his nose before continuing in his prattle. “Said we should stop for a moment. We've been scouting for a while—think it's time for a break. We've earned it, dontcha think?”
No. He didn't think they had earned it. But at some point while he was talking, Rattrap had stopped moving—and just had plopped down right next to a large rock, already leaning back and looking like he was planning to get quite comfy. Dinobot stared at him for a moment—feeling immensely irritated, because there was no time for resting during this war of theirs. And yet—
He really, really did not feel like arguing with a stubborn Rattrap that had obviously already made up his mind.
“...Five cycles.” He breathes out, cursing himself at this small defeat. Rattrap's face breaks into a little grin, and Dinobot looks away. He doesn't like it when Rattrap smiles. It makes him feel...an odd discomfort.
He clears his throat, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from one pede to another. Just because Rattrap is sitting down doesn't mean he has to. He can scout for any encroaching Predacons while Rattrap takes his little break, and then in five cycles, they can get back on the roa--
“Chopppppaface.”
Dinobot scrunches his face at the sing songy tone, and whips his head around to tell Rattrap to just shut up and focus on being, well, lazy—but he's confronted by a very different sight. Rattrap has two small cubes of—energon?
...High grade energon, it looks like. Which he is waving tantalizingly in the air, as if he's...
Offering one?
Dinobot stares at him, the silence stretching out for a moment before Rattrap breaks it.
“What are ya lookin' at me like that for? Never seen energon before?”
Dinobot blinks, still trying to process where Rattrap had gotten it from, and why he was being offered some. Or maybe he's being taunted? Yes, that has to—
“Choppaface, ya look like a gasket is about to pop. Come take the energon before I down both of these. I'll do it, ya know.”
Dinobot hesitates, still not quite sure if this is some kind of trap—he might reach for it, and Rattrap will grab it back—he startles out of this thought by thinking, why am I even worried about something so childish—and strides over in a few quick steps, plucking the small cube out of Rattrap's hand and staring down into it.
“...Where did you get this?” He murmured, slowly rotating the cube in his hand, just taking in the color, the scent—treasuring something he hadn't seen in what felt like...a very, very long time. He can practically feel Rattrap beaming—the smugness and delight radiating off him in waves. The Maximal reclines even further, sliding an arm behind his head and swirling the energon inside his cube.
Idiot. Dinobot thinks. Don't spill it.
“I've been savin' this for a long time, Choppaface. And well—I think today is as good a day as any, right? Kind of, eh—'Do it while you're still alive.' Ya know?” With that, Rattrap tilts the cube, taking a large sip before dropping it again, half the liquid gone and a heavenly look on his face as he relishes in the taste.
Dinobot looks down at his own cube again—debating on whether or not he should dwell on the very fact that Rattrap decided to give him this to him instead of downing the whole thing. It doesn't really make sense, but—don't look a gift...rat? In the mouth, he supposes. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he raises the cube to his lips for a small sip—and oh, that really is heavenly. It's hard not to just down it—but he commits to the tiny sip, letting it wash over his glossa as he enjoys the slight tingle it leaves in his throat, relishes in the strong taste. The mild buzz in his processor is almost soothing, and he lets his optics shutter for a moment, just taking a moment to appreciate the small things.
“Plus, ya need t'learn to relax, Choppaface. All that worryin'—yer gonna get a nasty look frozen on that handsome face.”
Dinobot's eyes shoot open, and he looks right at Rattrap in shock. But Rattrap isn't looking at him—just at his cube, following the liquid with his optics before letting out a laugh and glancing up at Dinobot, who is standing there, more or less frozen.
“Well, to me, for actually gettin' Choppaface to relax! Even if it's just for five cycles.”
The Maximal tilts the last contents of the cube back, draining it quickly, leaving Dinobot to overthink. Was that—a compliment? A compliment following an unusually kind gesture? And Rattrap just—he isn't going to acknowledge it.
Fine.
Fine, Dinobot thinks, feeling oddly warm and annoyed. Obviously, he hadn't had high grade in so long that the drink was affecting him more intensely than it would have before. The right thing to do would be to give Rattrap his drink back—but Dinobot is feeling a vague sense of possessiveness, and decides to keep it clutched in his hand. Staring at the ground, he hears Rattrap sigh, “Well, I guess we best be goin'—”
“No.” Dinobot says, sudden and short. He drops to the ground, tucking his legs and pedes up to him and holding the cube delicately between his claws.
“I'm going to finish my drink.” He growls. “It looks like you'll just have to sit here until I'm done.”
He refuses to look up. Refuses to acknowledge the grin that once again finds itself on Rattrap's face—and just focuses on nursing the cube, ignoring the way Rattrap sighs in delight and closes his eyes, relaxing happily in his spot next to Dinobot.
“Whatever ya say, Choppaface.”