Notes: This is a piece that takes place some time after my fic Another Tomorrow. If you haven't read that, I strongly suggest you take a look at it before reading this, or some of it may not make sense.

I may continue this. I am not sure yet if I want to or not.

Anyway, happy reading!


"Should go back to way you were before, Terrorsaur."

It came out of the blue, one day.

Waspinator was huddled on the ground, trying to repair a computer console, a wide array of parts and tools and little finicky pieces of circuitry scattered around him. He'd been working on that very same computer for some time now and seemed to be making little-to-no progress.

Well, that's how it looked to Terrrorsaur, anyway, but what did he know about fixing computers?

Said pteranodon was slouched on a rock, lazy in the sun. To all outward appearances, it seemed as if he was just slacking off, basking in the late morning warmth and polishing himself. He really didn't have anything to do; most of the repair work was Waspinator's alone and Inferno, now that he was more functional, insisted on doing the hunting and gathering of parts - A task Terrorsaur was more than happy to let him have.

But despite his apparent idleness, Terrorsaur did have a goal: Keep Waspinator safe from the still-malfunctioning Quickstrike. It was easy to be lazy and keep an eye on his partner at the same time, after all.

"What the slag are you talking about?" Terrorsaur glanced up at the smaller mech, uncertain what exactly he meant.

Waspinator took a second the respond; he was busy trying to solder a microchip to a circuit board and that took most of his focus. "…Purple iz not good color for Terrorsaur. He looked better red. Should rescan old alt." The statement was incredibly matter-of-fact, as if it were truth, rather than opinion.

"Why in the Pit would I want to go back to that?" Terrorsaur sneered, "I was slow in that body, and weak. This is a much more effective form. The cold doesn't bother me as much, I'm faster than you now, more aerodynamic, and my weapons are far more deadly. No thanks; I think I'll keep the purple."

There was another long silence. Waspinator, it seemed, was purposely not looking at him, a thought which Terrorsaur found annoying. People should always look at him; he was a glorious mech.

"Were better before." Waspinator stubbornly insisted, still focused intently on what he was doing.

…It was very annoying not to be acknowledged.

The truth was, Waspinator had always had a difficult time not looking at Terrorsaur in the past. He'd been smitten almost since the moment they were first introduced, even when Terrorsaur had insulted him and scoffed at his abilities. His partner had treated him decently at best, terribly at worst, but…Waspinator never could help it. The spark wants what the spark wants.

But lately…He hadn't been wanting Terrorsaur so much.

Sure, he was still the same on the inside, but…Ugh. That transmetal body. Waspinator hated it.

"Better? How was I better before? I just told you all the things that make me superior as I am now! How can you possibly still think I was better before?" Terrorsaur huffed, dropping his polishing rag in favor of folding his arms and sulking - He always had been a tad dramatic, "You tell me, Waspinator. What made me better, huh?"

"…Were beautiful before." Waspinator finally glanced up, watching as Terrorsaur blinked at the unexpected answer, his mouth opening and closing a few times, no words coming out.

Well. That had shut him right up.