(Hello friend; should have known you’d jump at the chance ;p)
“It’s snowing.”
Skywarp glared at his trinemate. “Very observant, Thundercracker. Did you know that things fall when you throw them?”
“Skywarp,” Starscream scolded as he rested a hand on Skywarp’s shoulder. “That wasn’t necessary.”
Skywarp let out a growl and looked away, returning to his datapad. The storm raging outside had put a complete damper on their plans to return to the Nemesis with Starscream’s field research. They were stuck in a cave until the storm passed, which could be days if Starscream’s readings were correct. They almost always were.
“It’s beginning to look a lot like,” Thundercracker started to hum.
“Fuck this,” Skywarp huffed.
Thundercracker burst out laughing. “That is not how that song goes, Warp!”
“It’s how I feel like the song should go right now,” he said. “Why must you taunt me with Christmas music?”
Once again, I had a rolplay inspired dream and once again, the dream was nowhere near what happened and completely ridiculous.
Eyup. So. This kinda happened.
That was, of course, until Optimus Prime had located their nest.
Optimus was rather well known among everyone as a mech who collected mates, planning with no small measure of psychosis to ensnare at least every flier that crossed his path, if not the entire populace. While Shrapnel was not necessarily his “type”, he had had the unfortunate circumstances to be in the wrong place at the very wrong time and, after an incident involving both parties in a brig and a series of Very Unfortunate Events That Shall Never Be Mentioned Again, Prime had become alerted to Shrapnel’s status as a living mech. As such, he was now a target.
Perhaps even more so, Shrapnel mused to himself, now that he was Thundercracker’s mate. If Prime gained Shrapnel, he would effectively gain Thundercracker as well. Even he had to admit that he was a much easier target than the jet ever would be. Prime had apparently experienced the same train of thought and now the truck was at the base of Shrapnel’s tree, trying to climb into his nest. However, despite his best efforts, Prime was not, as he had suspected, having an easy go of it.
“G-Get the frag away *zzk!* away!” the Insecticon shrieked, rearing back to launch another object at the Autobot leader’s helm.
“It’s nearly adorable how you resist,” Prime mentioned, ducking what appeared to be an unopened stack of human kitchenware. It shattered somewhere behind him. “You’ll regret that when I get up there to you.”
“N-No, you won’t *kzzk!* won’t!” Shrapnel yelled, rummaging around for something else to throw down. “Thundercracker will c-come back *kzzT!* back and—“
“We’ll all play in due time,” Prime said, glaring up at the Insecticon and holding out a servo. “You have one chance to come down on your own before I—“
SPLAT-!
Optimus Prime, leader of the fearsome Autobots and scourge of millions, was now covered in egg.
Thundercracker had a bad habit of bringing random objects he found back to the nest. It was a nearly daily occurrence, one that Shrapnel was well-used to. The items were usually donated or returned, occasionally kept if they were useful or pretty enough. One of the stranger acquisitions had been brought back just the previous evening. The jet had returned clutching an entire palette of chicken eggs. When interrogated as to how and why he had acquired them, the jet had evaded everything and snuggled the Insecticon into submission. Shrapnel had been planning on delivering them to a nearby homeless shelter, had they not spoiled by the time he had started out.
And now, there were an inordinate number of them and they were the perfect projectiles until Thundercracker could return to deal with the interloper.
“What the FU—“
SPLAT!!
Another egg sailed down and splattered across Prime’s optics, the Insecticon chittering a nervous war cry from the nest above him.
“Stay b-back *kzzk!* back!” Shrapnel yelled, leaning over the nest’s edge and waving one of the eggs as a warning. “I’ve got m-more *zrrt!* more!”
“Oh please! Like such a pitiful barrage could ever hope to—“
SPLAT-!
“STOP THAT!”
“N-No *bzzk!* no!”
“GET DOWN HERE, YOU BUGGY FUC—“
SPLATSPLATSPLAT!
When later asked, Shrapnel couldn’t tell you why he’d started laughing so hard. Maybe it was the sad fact that all he had to defend himself with was the unfertilized offspring of an organic fowl. Perhaps it was the furious string of yelling and curses from below him after he nailed Optimus in the faceplates with three eggs in a row. Or perhaps it was the unmitigated hilarity that was the self-proclaimed Emperor of Destruction with yolk covering his optics.
Regardless, Thundercracker ended up returning to a mate cackling like a madman in their nest, half a palette of eggs missing, and Optimus Prime covered in egg shrapnel and screaming obscenities he’d never even heard before.
“Shrapnel! Sweetember, you okay?!” The jet rushed over, barely cutting his thrusters before dropping into the nest besides his mate. “What the frag’s been going on…?”
“I’m fine *bZZk* fine!” Shrapnel replied, grinning. “Did you know that eggs are a good Autobot deterrent *kzzk!* deterrent?”
“—MURDERYOUANDEVERYTHINGYOUCAREFOR—“
“He sounds pretty pissed…” Thundercracker observed, prepping his blasters just in case. “Maybe we should clear out until he leaves…”
“Maybe *kzzk!* maybe…” Shrapnel shrugged, lobbing another egg at the ex-librarian. Neither mech heard the crack of a shell, but the renewed shriek from below them was enough indication that his aim had held true. “But every time he tries to go for the tree *bzzk!*, I nail him in the optics *zrrrt!* optics.”
“—YOURFRAGGINGEXHAUSTPIPEINTOATUBESOCK—“
“Okay, that’s it, Shrap.” The jet scooped his mate up with a light hum, ignoring the confused buzz from the smaller mech. “We’re going to head back to base. I’ll rebuild the nest there.”
“Why you didn’t in the first place *zrrrr* place is beyond me *kzzk* me,” Shrapnel countered, squirming just enough to get a good look at Prime as Thundercracker started to escort his mate away safely.
