Work Text:
“Oh no, that looks like trouble waiting to happen.”
Chromedome followed Rewind’s gaze and felt dread trickle up his spine.
Secluded in the far corner booth of Swerve’s, Brainstorm sat alone, his faceplates wrinkled in agitation as he furiously scribbled on a datapad. Well, that would explain the weary looks Tailgate and Swerve had been shooting over there.
Beside him, Rewind pointedly elbowed Chromedome on his hip, leveling him with a look of “that’s your friend. Deal with it.” Chromedome stared at his conjunx pleadingly but received no sympathies other than a firm pat on the thigh and a nod to move along.
Reluctantly, Chromedome left the group and slowly made his way across the bar. As he approached the back corner booth, he could feel the irritation and anger radiating off the engineer in violent, volatile waves.
“So,” Chromedome quietly began as Brainstorm jumped, “what are you doing?”
Upon realizing who was speaking to him, Brainstorm relaxed. Aggressively, he took a loud slurp from the swirly straw hanging from his mid-grade, optics laser focused on the datapad before him.
“Thinkin’ up some new slurs. Turns out, we don’t have enough.” Brainstorm stopped his scribbling enough to glance up, his field completely, genuinely serious. “I know, I’m surprised as well.”
Realizing this was not going to be a quick fix, Chromedome resigned himself to sitting across from Brainstorm. In truth, he should have known better. Afterall, nothing was simple with Brainstorm.
“Do I want to know why?”
Brainstorm shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you going to stop me?”
“I probably should.” Chromedome rested his chin on his servo, elbow firmly planted on the tabletop. “Then again, this will probably- actually, most definitely -come to bite you in the aft so why don’t you show me what you have so far?”
Brainstorm huffed, shoving the datapad across the table. “Nothing really, still workshopping. Haven’t found anything truly heinous yet. Most of them are bottom of the barrel insults so no judging.”
Chromedome let out a small laugh at that. “Knowing you, you’ll find what you are looking for soon enough, for better or for worse.” His optics flickered to the datapad to find a short, concise list. Surrounding it were little scribbles and doodles though Chromedome had a difficult time discerning what exactly they were supposed to be.
The list started off simple enough with general everyday curse words and generic insults. Quickly, more unique options filled the list:
- beakerfragger
- laserspike
- scopesucker
- microscrote
“Wow,” Chromedome cycled his optics beneath his visor. “I don’t know what I was really expecting. Hey, care to explain microscrote?”
Brainstorm rolled his optics like it was obvious .
“He’s a microscope and, as Rodimus would say, a ‘dickwad.’ Scrotum is an organic word for a human's reproductive organ and the rest is simply wordplay and wit.”
There was…a little too much going on there but Chromedome easily ignored all of that to exvent tiredly. “Oh. This is about Perceptor. Again.” He really should have seen this coming.
“ Again? ” Brainstorm slapped his servos on the table. “You act like I do this all the time.”
“You do.”
“I don’t .”
Chromedome ignored this as well. He didn’t have the patience to have this pointless argument again. It never went anywhere, not with the jet very much in denial. If only Brainstorm would finally admit his infatuation with his lab partner, then Chromedome could live a far more peaceful life. He’d also be about 730 shanix richer.
Looking down at the list once more, Chromedome bit back a laugh. “Aren’t these all a little sexual?”
Brainstorm stiffened. With his blast mask set aside, it was far too easy to see the shift in emotions across his faceplates: confusion, realization, indignation, embarrassment.
“N-No!” Brainstorm flapped his wings irritated. “I don’t want to frag him.”
“I didn’t say that,” Chromedome held up his servos defensively. “I was just pointing out a correlation in your results. See? I can be helpful to the scientific method.”
Brainstorm reached over and snatched back the datapad with one servo while hastily attempting to place his mask back in place. Once it finally clicked in place, Brainstorm turned back to his datapad contemplatively.
“I suppose they are a little crude.”
“And suggestive.”
Brainstorm tutted. “Me telling someone to frag themselves doesn’t mean I want to frag them . Otherwise, I’d be one of your many, many exs.” With a quick glance back, Brainstorm added, “That one time doesn’t count.”
“Agreed.” Chromedome rather not remember that night. There was a reason their relationship sharply remained friends . “However-” Brainstorm groaned “if you are just honest about your feelings, then you don’t have to do this for his attention-”
“It’s not for attention,” Brainstorm snapped. “Not his or anyone’s! And there are no feelings! And you know what, I’m going to make a slur about you!”
“Go for it. I’m waiting.”
Brainstorm clenched his digits around the datapad tightly. Chromedome could see the frustration bubbling up in Brainstorm as he struggled to come up with anything on the spot. With a hiss, Brainstorm tossed the datapad to the center of the table and crossed his arms across his chassis.
“There, are you happy?” Brainstorm asked, his field dejected. The anger seemed to have left his system, replaced with a tired melancholy.
Chromedome leaned over to pat Brainstorm on the helm in a move half playful, half affectionate. “That depends, are you done sulking? Are you giving up on this ridiculous project?”
“What project?”
Chromedome jumped, but it was nothing compared to the squeak that left Brainstorm as he whipped around to find Perceptor approaching their table. The other scientist raised an optic ridge at his co-worker’s reaction but otherwise seemed unphased. He nodded a brief greeting to Chromedome but otherwise his attention was solely on Brainstorm.
Bright yellow optics looked at Chromedome pleadingly. Clearly, the slightly inebriated Brainstorm was not ready to confront Perceptor, whether about the list he had made, whatever had made him angry enough to make said list, or the swell of feelings he was adamantly denying. Whatever the case may be, Chromedome was not a cruel mech. He gave his friend a kind, understanding nod, and then quickly stood up on his pedes. He clapped Perceptor on the shoulder and with a friendly shove, pushed him towards the seat he had just vacated.
“I’m sure Brainstorm would love to tell you all about it.”
Perceptor looked surprised but sat down all the same. Brainstorm glared accusatory daggers at Chromedome before turning sheepishly to Perceptor. Off the hook, Chromedome made his escape back towards the bar. Rewind looked up at him as he sat down, helm cocked questioningly.
“It’s settled.” For now.
Looking back, Chromedome couldn’t help the grin that came up beneath his mask as Perceptor reached for the abandoned datapad, only for Brainstorm to throw himself onto the table to stop him. The two immediately descended into arguing but that, at least, was normal. If anything, Brainstorm seemed to have finally perked up as he tucked the datapad away.
“Probably not getting the shanix tonight,” Rewind sighed.
Chromedome shook his helm as he turned away from the feuding scientists. He draped his arm around Rewind’s shoulders and reeled the smaller bot closer. “Definitely not tonight.”