Work Text:
Deadlock cut a swath through the battlefield, his vents steady and even, every twitch of his trigger finger another Autobot felled, another opening for the others to press in hopes of breaking through. They needed to win this, needed to take or take out the Autobot weapons factory before it could deliver its promised higher-powered blasters to their enemy’s hands.
“How many are you at?” a familiar voice asked, and Deadlock fired at its owner without looking. It wouldn’t matter even if he did, he’d never been able to land a shot on this Autobot.
“Sixty.” he replied, his hand flashing out to nail a grounded aerial who was trying to get airborne again. “Sorry, sixty one.”
“I’m at eighty two.” Hot Rod laughed, sliding down an embankment into view. “Looks like someone’s losing his touch.” he smiled, bright as any star and ten times as smug. Deadlock fired at him again, but Hot Rod twisted out of the way, spoiler fluttering in unabashed excitement. “Can’t hit me~” he teased, and Deadlock lunged at him, claws swiping through air as Hot Rod transformed, wheels spitting up zinc dust gone muddy with spilled energon and other sundry internal fluids.
“I’m going to rip your fragging spoiler off!” he roared, transforming and chasing after Hot Rod, picking bots off with his integrated weapons as they raced through the battle, weaving between clusters of fighting mechs. His was the more powerful engine, but Hot Rod’s lighter armour let him ride atop a thin dry crust made by his outlier flames while Deadlock was left slaloming in the mud.
“Can’t hit me, can’t catch me,” Hot Rod laughed, loud and bright, and Deadlock’s focus narrowed down to just the flaming red bumper and golden yellow spoiler in his headlights. “Is there anything you can do?” Hot Rod cranked sideways, skidding in a quarter circle and loosing a gout of flame at Deadlock as his attempt to match the expert maneuver left him sliding wildly through the mud. “Aside from frag up, of course.”
Deadlock gunned his engine, and as soon as his front wheels caught on the ground dried out by Hot Rod’s attack he was flying. He transformed just before impact, and when they stopped rolling he had Hot Rod pinned in root mode under him, his claws sunk into the Autobot’s spoiler and weight pressing him into the mud. “I can do this.” he growled, and Hot Rod’s optics went wide, his field flaring with a tangle of emotions. Deadlock couldn’t tell what all of them were, but he could tell that it wasn’t bad.
His frame moved automatically, and Hot Rod arched up against him as their lips crashed together. His mouth tasted like copper and zinc and energon, and when he pulled himself away Hot Rod pressed up after him, stopped only by Deadlock’s claws pinning his spoiler in the mud. “See you next time, Hot Rod.” he purred, and slammed his forehelm against Hot Rod’s hard enough to fritz his own optics. Hot Rod, with his inferior armour, collapsed outright.