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He sighed, mixed with fear and agony. It was quite horrible, it really was, walking down the hallways with a big brush tucked under his arm and a bucket in the other. The Vehicons caste looks on the occasion they show, but they valued their lives more than a good joke.
I hate this, stupid Megatron and stupid Decepticons! Thought Starscream, it wasn't HIS fault the Predacon got muddied up in a fight with some Autobots, not even bringing something back as proof of a victory, besides the evidence of rainfall mixed with Earth's surface. Why couldn't the Autobots pick a drier place to frolic?
Shockwave should be the one to do it! Mused Starscream, however just like those simple Vehicons, he valued his life more than many other things. When Megatron wanted something, the whole universe would bow forth to see that it would happen, unfortunately
It wasn't like he didn't want to clean the slagging thing because he was scared of it or anything, no, of course not! It just wasn't his job and he had much more important tasks to do around the ship, moping and such. But now, everything that must happen would happen, grumbling to himself about nonsense as he walked the barren corridors.
The hanger the dragon stowed away on was one of many, seeming to take a preference to the one closest to the sky, and without a roof to shield the sun(which he could not blame it for, despite their spaciousness the indoor flight decks gave him a tinge of claustrophobia on his good days) which prompted most to avoid that specific area, as tame as the Predacon acted towards the drones. Compared to him at least.
It didn't even let him touch it, let alone try and clean it. But an attempt would have to be made regardless, to please Megatron that much to at least tell him he tried. Even if that alone wouldn't be enough.
There it was, the flight deck door. Sighing with great trepidation, among other things, he pushed forward and the automatic sensors opened the slide for him. He found himself squinting ever so slightly, as if in preparation for something terrible. But all he got was the Predacon laying down in the far end of the deck, nudging its muzzle with its large claws.
Huh. It was dumb of him for being intimidated by the otherwise kind of cute display of the dragon trying to get dirt off its nose, but referring to what exactly was doing it made it all the less adorable. The brush suddenly felt heavier in his arm's grip as he walked forward.
The Predacon perked up at hearing the footsteps, standing from its spot instinctually, growling as its tinted wings spread high. Starscream was not reassured by that at all, internals wobbly as he slowed, but still continued his leveled pace. It kept up the stance of power, but did not move otherwise, perhaps wondering why he was getting so close willingly.
He finally came up enough, a distance where the beast could lean its neck down and bite his head off. A comfortable thought. Still, the Predacon did not make any notions of attacking, just... staring, all the while not relaxing.
Swallowing hard, Starscream set down his metal bucket to the ground with an obnoxious clank, holding his brush out in hopes of giving it an idea of what he was going to do. Instead of a positive response, the Predacon growled again, looking at the big brush with squinted disdainful optics.
Slag, It probably assumed the tool was a weapon, having the expression of something that was about to retaliate. He was about to yell at it, but swallowed that down too. Now was not a good time to anger the thing, especially if he wanted to get up in its business.
"This will not hurt you, it is just a brush." He spoke almost calmly, shaky with fear still but trying hard to repel it. The Predacon still squinted, so he slid the handle in his palm and pushed the bristles against the other, the flexible metals tickling against his hand.
"See? No damage, just for cleaning."
It tilted its head strangely, before snorting and blinking at him. He supposed that was better than the bite mark he envisioned would be on his torso. It watched him with great intensity as he walked past it, spark shuddering in its casing as he did so. The faucet was a distance away, but the elastic rope was stretchy and long enough to cover the range.
Grunting as he pulled the cord along, the dragon never broke its deadly gaze, almost thoughtful of whatever he was doing. Finally, the hose plopped at his feet as he stood at the dragon's side, its head craning just barely as one optic observed. Almost relaxed, or perhaps just amused.
He grabbed the bucket and took out one of the contents, a nozzle for the hose that would give the water the desired spray. The other things next to the nozzle were some wash rags and a scratchy sponge, which he guessed wouldn't be necessary, as well as the soapy solvent that would assist his brush-strokes in getting the Earth of the dragon's hide.
He twisted the spigot on to the end of the hose, testing its tightness while hoping the old thing wouldn't break, it had been a long while since they needed the faucet for anything.
Turning up the dial, he pointed the hose end at his servo, seeing if it still worked while also demonstrating to the watching Predacon that the water was fine.
Promptly, the blast of water from the nozzle sent him skidding across the floor in a flurry, yelping in surprise before turning it off. Of course it was on pressure-wash, of course! The Predacon looked at him, seeming entertained by the sight as its head tilted down in his direction. Though whatever it felt could have just been speculation.
Groaning out bland insults to the device, he cranked the dial down much lower as he got up off the metal ground. He tested the water again, strong against his servo but not enough to make his armour shatter at the acceleration. His spark could not take another scare for today.
A sigh willowed out, staring up at the beast with a look of uncontrollable annoyance, who was surprisingly docile during all of this despite towering over him by many sizes. Probably still curious, he didn't think the thing knew what he was about to do, it never received a bath, unless Shockwave… he warded that thought away.
"I'm going to wash you." He said, not quite sure if the Predacon would hear. It continued its piercing gaze, a bit unsettled at how little movement it provided as it observed. Guess not, he thought to himself while also praying that whatever came next would not cease his existence.
Pointing the hose towards the Dragon's leg, it responded with that same warning growl, body tensing up and shoulders hunched. If it kills me, at least my death will be talked about. Thought Starscream, before switching the water on. If at most, in a humorous context.
The rush of water hit the side of the Predacon, it sneered greatly before almost immediately ceasing, optics widening in several long blinks. He casually wondered how many prayers he just made then, shifting the nozzle up to get more armour under the drizzle. It was in a half-shower half-jetstream current, powerful enough to get the base layer of mud off or instead wetten it and ease the amount of brush work.
Instead of looking at him, the beast turned its gaze to where the water hit him on the front-leg. It craned its neck in that nearly grotesque way again, trying to get as close to the water as possible. Starscream found himself grinning for a brief second when the Predacon flinched slightly as some water hit its face, doing it again just after the first time.
Its tail swayed, body flexing outwardly as if trying to get more soak. Starscream shifted the hose up a bit, moving across its torso and half-folded wings. Cord dragging on the metal, he moved over in front of the Predacon to get its neck and claws, a pang of fear going down his spine as his imagination played the many ways it could kill him.
None of those deadly scenarios came to fruition, instead greeted with the sight of the beast stretching its neck upward, head twisted to the side to watch him work. Steam rose on impact, the water was cold so he guessed the Predacon liked it so much for being a refresher from the heat it spat out. He moved around, getting the other side of its body. Steadily, the Predacon spread its large orange wings out, gesturing that they be rinsed to. Starscream rolled his optics and obliged, only doing so because of the almost guilty way its head turned away from him at the silent request. He never quite paid any attention to the impressive wingspan of the beast, now becoming more obvious at how both it and it's enormous wings shadowed his frame.
The mud on the Predacon's body was hot from its own body heat, mixing together with the water only made it slick again, or crumbled away the dirt that had dried. Only some of it washed away with the dousing, making Starscream a bit annoyed at just how much brushing he would have to do with the mud's skewed compliance.
Reaching one of the hinds, he became increasingly aware of the tail that continued swaying in slow steeping motions. It was the least dirty out of the rest of the body, and he was ecstatic for that fact, the spikes were just begging to prod one of his optics out. He quickly washed up the hinds while momentarily spraying the tail, yelping at how it twitched too close for comfort.
With that out of the way, Starscream retraced his steps with the hose in hand, going back to the start where the bucket sat. The Predacon watched and hunched ever so slightly, him trying his best to ignore the stares. He dumped out the contents, scooping up the soap container and squeezing some into the bucket. Kicking the rags away, he grabbed the hose again and sprayed the inside, allowing it to fill up with the solvent bubbles rising alongside the water.
Sighing and grumbling simultaneously, he dipped the brush inside before turning around, jumping back after noticing the Predacon's head was right in front of him.
"-Oh PRIMUS have mercy on my soul-"
He screamed out with a gravelly edge, not ready to have his helm chomped away by the beast in front of him. It was startled too, hissing and shrugging away, optics avoiding his own with a smug turn of the head. Well, he supposed his spark could take another scare for the day, but he was not ready to find out about more.
He growled a bit, not vocalizing his frustrations any further. Now getting a good look at the Predacon, he considered how he would go about this. It's chest was most of its body mass, as well as the horrifically big front legs and accommodating claws that could saw him in half.
And the long neck, it was bendable but the back would be a much harder palette, especially since the beast did not like listening to a word of him. He quickly discouraged the wonderment on why he was thinking so intensely about the best dragon cleaning positions in the first place, how the mighty have fallen.
He decided to go with the hardest first, annoyed as he picked up the abused rag, dipping it into the water and walking over to the Predacon's leg. It was still pouting, refusing to give him a direct glance, but he knew the single optic in his view was staring.
"Please don't freak out-" he spoke mostly to himself, intending for the other to hear. In a stupid moment, he bit on the rag and placed his hands on the dirty jags of the Predacon's armour, lifting himself up off the ground. Scaling the dragon would have been easier if it hadn't started moving in reaction, little shakes here and there as if to figure out what he was doing. It now finally looked to him, watching as he hilted himself finally on its back.
It was... not too uncomfortable, besides the obvious grime that stuck to his aft. He knew all of his bodily functions would give out in an instant if the Predacon decided to up and fly with him on it, but other than that notion it was alright. His long legs caught on the shoulder spikes, twisting those around every so often as he took the rag out from under his denta.
A shared staring fest between them and Starscream began rubbing the rag across the spine. The water would muddy quickly, but all he needed to do was loosen the dirt and a quick rinse would make it nice and shiny. Up, down, luckily the coating was not too thick, not having to strain his systems to the extreme with every arm movement.
It took a while of that repeated motion for him to notice the constant rhythm underneath him. Feeling the dragon's breathing with his thighs, lifting him gently with the movement. He never noticed the Predacon vent before, now realizing it would be stupid to assume it wouldn't. It unsettled him.
Eventually, cleaning like that began to get old, the rag was too small and he was getting nowhere. Moaning out a wordless complaint, he slumped over, peeking to see the Predacon was still looking at him. Finally, he looked back, and the Predacon seemed offended by it. They stared for a while, until his gaze fell to the brush inside the bucket.
The Predacon glanced as well, and Starscream got an idea that he was pretty sure would not work out.
"Can you grab that for me?" He made plenty of hand gestures to accompany the sentence, the beast's head turning back and forth to him and the brush. It understood what he was referring to, but whether or not it would listen-
"-gah!" Exclaimed Starscream as the dragon started walking, gripping on to the metal spikes for support. It didn't amble too far, only a couple steps before making a stop and dipping its head down. He was utterly surprised as it grabbed the brush handle in its mouth with a gentleness he'd never seen in it before.
Proven wrong as the Predacon suddenly brought the brush up and (most likely unintentionally) whacked him in the face. Seething, he took the handle from its mandibles, it chortled at him and perpetuated his annoyance. The bristles dripped with solvent and water, putting the brush under his pit and standing up on the back. It was hard to balance with his heels, but eventually he found a good position.
He swiped the brush over its neck, the Predacon's went back to its parallel position. He wondered why as the strokes continued, only then noticing it was leaning its neck backward ever so subtly. Guess it enjoyed it. He would too, the neck was a soft spot of his, it was probably the same for all Transformers as well.
He continued, startled a bit at the vibrations he felt under his feet, the Predacon rumbling happily at its spine being cleaned. Or maybe it was purring? It was a bit hard to tell, but the beast's joy was not unnoticed, trying his hardest not to express his amusion in any noticeable manner.
Switching around, he brushed up on the back some more, sitting down to reach farther down the tailbone. He sighed, wiping his forehead only to realize his servo was dirty, grumbling and beginning his descent from the Predacon's back. He found it more challenging than getting up, at least he could see where he was going before as he climbed the lone leg.
With a clink, he was back on the ship, leaning the brush back into the bucket and picking up the hose. It watched him, almost eagerly as he pointed the nozzle upwards. He turned the water to hot this time, seeing as cool water would only make the mud dry against its skin again.
The spray hit, seeing the mud slide off its body from where he loosened it, a bit glad for the ship's poor posture as the water wandered to the drain off to the side, a necessity for an outdoor deck to stop flooding. The Predacon flexed once more, in a prideful stance as the water rinsed off the tarnishing dirt.
His spark grew a few sizes at the way the Predacon's eyes closed as the water dripped down its head, leaning upward to get more. He hated describing anything as "cute".
Rinse done, shutting off the water and seeing the surprised look of the beast was one of the funniest things he'd seen in a while, though not so funny thinking about the possibly lethal reactions that could happen. Next, legs, tail maybe.
It was easier as he could carry the bucket around with him and not have to climb anywhere, standing to the side of one of the front legs. The cleaning was much simpler, taking the brush out of the bucket and starting the scrub. The armour in the legs was far less complex, less rivets and gullies he would have to force the bristles in. He hoped the Predacon wouldn't get bored and find entertainment in batting him like a cat toy.
Now, the beast stared forward rather than observing his every move, which lifted some stress away. What was also a stress reducer was the cleaning, brushing the leg up and down, getting some of the corners here and there and splashing the brush in the bucket every so often.
He didn't want to worry about the claws, but they were next on the bucket list. Thanks to the handle's height he didn't have to lean down too far to get them, though not as effective as he'd hoped. Each one was his arm's length, and much thicker, probably the dirtiest part of the body at that point.
It was a tad difficult as the large servo was tapped to the ground. Starscream was left frustrated by the roadblock, but he supposed there wasn't any cleaning critic watching and judging him about his poor attention to detail.
Just as he was having that thought, the Predacon's body lolled to the side in a sort of sway, repositioning itself ever so slightly, he watched curiously with a tinge of fear. Then, as it looked away from him, lifted the servo he was cleaning up to chest height.
He wondered if it could hold its balance like that, as well as immensely enjoy himself at the Predacon's forwardness. Complying with its request, he took one of the claws under his palm (remaining to the side of the servo of course, all it would take is one jab and he was done for) and examined it.
It felt sturdy, still dirty but he wanted to know how it would feel without the messiness. He detached the handle from the brush, it would only get in the way as he cleaned the single claw in swift strokes.
A grin grazed him, the scene reminded him of the time he caught Airachnid and Knock Out filing and painting their digits for hours on end, like he was giving the dragon a metal manicure. He got used to it quickly, moving on to the individual claws and the digits with an eagerness to continue and finish. He was done with the servo, letting go of it and the Predacon set down promptly. He hosed off the single leg, positive of the beast's disappointment that it would not get another full body rinse. Again, he went to the next leg, same as before but now with the added interested look that he purposely ignored. Another rinse and he went on.
The hinds were smaller, witnessing the struggle the Predacon had to balance without the support of the single leg. He decided to power through and lean down to clean it, putting a hand on the edge of its thigh to tell it to stop the efforts. It craned its neck as he did so, seeming confused. Starscream didn't know how to feel about the fact he intentionally went out of his way to give the thing less work.
Now, tail. It only swayed a little, probably tired from before. That was good, his wings didn't need holes sized perfectly to the spine's spikes. He touched one of the tailbones, rubbing it to let it know that it was just him. The tail stopped swaying all together, signaling that he should start working.
Rinsing the brush off, he did each column individually. It seemed like a daunting task, but again it was the least dirty part of the body and he did not have to spend much time on it. The Predacon curled its tail inward a bit, seeing it twitch with every stroke, probably having a hard time not moving.
It didn't matter much now, sighing at the completed task (while also very irritated that he still wasn't done yet). Ducking under the tail and reaching the hose again to rinse off the hinds and what he just finished.
Chest and head were up. The most intimidating part to do he would think, though so far the Predacon had proven it wasn't in the mood to damage his pride, at least more than it already was. He tried assuring himself that everything would be fine, but that other piece of him assured that it was okay to be frightened. Bleh, he was starting to think like an Autobot.
Dumping the water from the bucket and giving it a cleaner serving, he patted the brush inside and let it drip. He kept the handle off, seeing that he wouldn't need the room if he was going to clean its chassis up close. It leaned and nipped at its wing while he came up with the brush end, knowing its optic followed him regardless.
He stroked where the arm met the torso, seeing some dirt build up there, it flapped and folded its wings back to their respective sides, placing its full interest back in what he was doing.
He became more aware of breathing this time. Like the time he was on its back, he could feel the ups and downs of the cycling vents. Instead, it pushed against him, the brush coming closer and drawing away by a small margin. It was controlled, but also relaxed. He considered that maybe the Predacon held its vents when it was trying to appear more threatening, only now doing so because his presence was not alarming anymore.
The bristles went over the spike jutting from the center of its chest, the Decepticon brand blared deep. It was odd to feel how tarnishing the symbol was compared to the rest of the Predacon's body, like another piece of mud waiting to be cleaned off (his body subconsciously did so as the thought came, of course, a brand cannot be washed away that easily). He traced the lines of the label with his digit, spacing out from what he was doing.
It was not the beast's jaws that would break his daze, or anything resulting in his termination for that matter. Behind the sound of the brush strokes, there was a faint thrumming behind the sharp piece of metal. He stilled, standing straight as alloy.
That must be its spark, he concluded. He had to stop himself from pressing his head against the Decepticon symbol to find out, looking at nothing in particular. Eventually, peering up to see the Predacon watching him with curiosity. He sighed, and started to scrub once more, ignoring the odd feeling of intimidation its spark gave him.
Its armour was so intricate, Starscream wondered how something like this beast could grow and develop in a lab, or if its body was built personally by Shockwave. If it was the last, he considered getting an upgrade from their fellow strange scientist.
How did it get a spark? The Vehicons had sparks, artificial but still capable of sentience. They were cloned, made to be ideal for their identical bodies. But this unique creation, where did its spark come from? Was it cloned as well, perhaps a Vehicon trapped in the body of this violent beast? His ego made him unwilling to question Shockwave himself, but he wanted to know.
Or maybe it wasn't a spark at all, and just a mechanical heart akin to the mimicking machinery that attempted to create the sentience a spark had. Whatever it was, it made him feel small, everything about the Predacon did.
That idea would be reassured by the muzzle that touched his wing. He whimpered, putting a soapy hand over his mouth to silence himself, shocked out of his thinking but to a grateful extent. Turning around, the Predacon glanced at him sideways, leaning its neck far to reach behind him.
His wings dipped, feeling ashamed for getting so vulnerable around the dangerous beast. He reattached the handle to the brush, and with a quick rinse he repositioned himself to the Predacon's neck once more. It shook itself, water droplets flying as it crouched to adjust itself.
Quickly, he held the brush at an angle and dragged it along the underside of the dragon's neck. He thanked the Predacon in his mind for leaning down, even with his heels and handle he might've had difficulty reaching otherwise. It purred in a crescendo, a rumbling deep in its chest that got louder the longer he cleaned it.
Its eyes closed on occasion, obviously lost with the feelings. Starscream allowed himself to smile while it did, never could he have imagined this scenario in his mind. Anything involving the Predacon usually ended in him being left for scrap, but he couldn't think of any words to accommodate this situation.
The beast was already rid of the mud on its neck by this point, but Starscream was so captivated that he had to forcibly stop the movements and put the brush back into the bucket. Again, it looked at him sorrowfully. Though after seeing him reach the hose, it perked up in anticipation.
Water rushing and hitting its hide, he put his servos in the spray as well, washing off the dirt that stuck from the cleaning. Its wings spread wider than he'd seen before, casting the flow to them.
He did a full body soak this time, seeing as there was no reason not to double check his work. The Predacon squinted as its face was sprayed carefully, trying to open its optics while not liking the water in them. The metal of its body breathed out to get the hot water, calmed down in a contempt that Starscream envied.
After the rinse was done, he allotted some water to himself to get the grime off his body, also enjoying the brief warmth the shower provided. The Predacon shook itself again, much harder as a flurry of water met his frame. He grimaced, mad that the gesture didn't matter too much.
Sighing, he happily dumped the rest of the bucket's solvent down the deck's drain, signaling his completion. He collected the hose and shrunk it into its original post, putting the rags and brush into the now empty bucket.
Looking back to the Predacon, he had forgotten about drying it. Its armour was different, he was unsure if it would rust or be damaged by the water sitting on the plates. He didn't bring any towels, or a blower for that matter, optics going back and forth across the ship's expanse. It was an annoying set back, pondering his options.
"Hey." He spoke, getting the Predacon's attention that was focused on something in the distance. "You should go fly, it will get the water off quickly."
He couldn't tell if it understood him, it just kept staring at him like he was the most important thing in the world. His optics widened, a feeling of dread creeping up on him as that stare continued.
Frowning, he backed away at noticing the Predacon was walking towards him, eyes trained and deadly as it pounced. Screaming embarrassingly, he expected to crash to the floor, or be crushed to death. But instead, he was near comfortably fit into the dragon's palm, its weight being distributed away from him as he rested lopsided in its grasp.
"Hey! What do you think you're doiNG-!" He was cut off by the sound of wings flapping and smacking the ground, gusts of air propelling and making him queasy in the tank. Before he knew it, he was in the air by the beast's servo, wind hitting his body annoyingly and the frightening lack of control at the flight.
He wanted to yell at the Predacon, and he was, quite loudly at that. While also realising it probably took his words to heart. He supposed he needed to be dried as well, grouching about as the Predacon took to the skies.
The next time Megatron ordered him to clean the beast, he would bribe a Vehicon to do it for him.