My entry for the 'Vampire' square for the Fall 2016 tfrarepair bingo.

"How did you even get this stuff, Rattrap?" Cheetor squinted at the glass of violently green liquid, "It looks like the Axalon's spent fuel rods."

"Tastes like it too," Rhinox said, half-amused, as he contemplated his own glass of probably toxic sludge.

"Alright then, hand 'em back," Rattrap gestured over his shoulder, "Lizardbreath'll take 'em. Primus knows how much we're gonna need to get that stick out of his tailpipe."

"Feh. Unlike you, rodent, I have not burnt out my taste sensors on the contents of," Dinobot snarled and sat up as straight as he could, "gutter pipes. Perhaps this… gathering is nothing more than a desperate cry for intervention?"

"Intervene this, Birdbrain," Rattrap made a rude gesture with his free hand. "'Sides, ain't like it'll do any harm. The Boss Monkey enforces a strict no gamblin' policy, eh, otherwise you'd be broke faster than a speeding 'bot from Velocitron."

"Of course. How could you emerge victorious against anyone other than an inebriated wreck?"

Rattrap leaned back and smacked Dinobot's glass upwards as he took a sip, splashing the violently green liquid across his chin and down his chest. Dinobot retaliated by snatching Rattrap's half-empty glass out of his hand and dumping it over his head.

"Eyyy!" Rattrap shot to his feet, dripping… whatever it was that inhabited his glass across the floor.

"Simmer down," Optimus grabbed Rattrap's shoulder and pushed him back into his seat.

"Ah, c'mon, Fearless Leader, Chopperface started it."

"And I'm finishing it. Simmer down."

Rattrap grumbled, but resettled himself in his seat and poured himself another glass.

"Can't you two keep from squabbling for more than five minutes?"

"I dunno, Rhinox," Cheetor grinned, "seems a little complicated for them."

"Eat it, Spots."

"Rattrap."

"Alright, alright," Rattrap held his hands out in surrender, "I get it, Boss Monkey. No pickin' on Freckles here."

"We spend all day fighting Preds, and then you decide to come home and argue. Seems a little bogus, if you ask me." Cheetor thought for a moment. "Hey! We should do one of those drinking games, like, uh, which Predhead is the worst! Aw, man, did we whoop their tails today or what?"

"How, pray tell, does that qualify as a game, kiddo?" Rattrap raised a brow at him.

Cheetor shrugged, and curled his shoulders in, "I think it'd be fun. We could give them points and everything."

Optimus patted Cheetor's shoulder. "Sounds like fun, Cheetor. Let's try it."

"Bossanova!" Cheetor punched the air and narrowly missed Rhinox's head. "Uh, sorry, Rhinox. It'll be mondo cool, I promise, Big-bot."

"Alright, how's it work?"

"Uh," Cheetor sucked air through his teeth, "er."

Dinobot snorted and swallowed the rest of his drink.

"It was a cool idea, I swear." Cheetor held up his hands defensively, "I just, uh, don't know how it'd work." He thought for a second. "Okay, who's the creepiest Predacon?"

Rattrap rolled his eyes. "Dinobutt. It's been Dinobutt the last five times you asked and it's gonna keep bein' Dinobutt. You seen his teeth?"

"Whatever. I think it's Tarantulus. He's a mega-creep. He tried to eat me, like some kinda cannibal, or a vampire!"

The rest of the Maximals stared blankly at him.

"A vampire?" Rhinox rumbled.

"Yeah!" Cheetor nodded enthusiastically. "You've never heard of 'em? Seriously?"

Optimus shook his head. "I can't say I have."

"Dinobot, how about you? You like that one Earth guy. The writer."

"Yes," Dinobot nodded, "I like the one. Humans are a largely useless species, otherwise. Besides, I only have the poetry because I managed to smuggle it across the embargo."

"Aw, man," Cheetor groaned. "Uh, okay. So humans have this thing called vampires, which is like some nasty disease that makes them drink the blood of other humans. It's just like Tarantulus, except he isn't sick, he's sick."

"I agree with Cheetor," Optimus said, "At least Megatron doesn't try to eat us."

"Hm," Rhinox stroked his chin, "Scorponok has my vote. I've never seen someone so… obsessively loyal like that."

"Who do you think is the worst, Dinobot? I mean, you actually lived with them, yeah?" Cheetor snickered, "I bet old Mega-dork sings in the washracks."

Dinobot snarled. "He does. Opera. It's awful."

"Eh-he, no wonder you defected, Chopperface."

"It certainly wasn't for the atmosphere."

"Ah, so who is it?" Cheetor said before another fight could break out. He did his best to look cute and imploring, all big eyes and goofy smiles.

Dinobot leaned back in his chair. The metal creaked uncertainty under his weight. "Tarantulus, no doubt."

"Alright!" Cheetor fistbumped Optimus.

"Waspinator is a close second."

Cheetor boggled. "Wait, what?"

"That pile of scrap? Yeahhhh, I'm sure he's terrifyin', Dinobutt."

"Cowardice suits you, Vermin."

"You wanna another glass down your chest? 'Cause I ain't drunk enough that I can't hit what I'm aimin' at."

Optimus leaned over and plucked the glasses out of both Dinobot and Rattrap's hands.

"Okay, but like, spill, DB. What in the spotted heck did Waspinator do that's as bad as old Creepy-Crawly?" Cheetor wiggled his fingers in front of himself demonstratively.

"The two were… engaged."

The other Maximals looked at each other. Cheetor shrugged. Rhinox looked like he wanted to go to sleep and wash his hands of their shenanigans. Shenanigan, really. There was only ever one and it was the Beast Wars.

"In… combat?" Optimus suggested, brows raised.

"In," Dinobot shuddered and leaned even further back, clearly uncomfortable, "affairs."

"Woah, like dating?" Cheetor gaped. "I didn't know Predacons dated!"

"Well," Rhinox frowned, "they are still Cybertronian. I guess… romance isn't out of the picture."

"Well, it's a picture I don't wanna see," Rattrap rubbed the side of his head, "Yeesh. So, hey, eh, where do you think all those legs go?"

Optimus covered Cheetor's ears.

"Big-bot!" He whined, batting Optimus' hands away.

"Rattrap," Optimus sighed, "can't you at least pretend to be appropriate?"

"Hey, appropriate ain't got nothing to do with it. Ol' Chopperface over there is droppin' the biggest gossip I've heard since I was on Triglex Alpha chattin' with a waitress about how many cassettes Soundwave could fit into his deck."

Cheetor covered his mouth, which was gaping. He had gone through military school without hearing stuff as dirty as Rattrap in casual conversation.

"Rattrap," Rhinox snapped.

"Yeah, yeah," Rattrap waved his hand, "You know if you didn't want me to keep talkin', you coulda just given me back my drink."

Dinobot snorted. It was as close to a laugh as he ever got.

"So, uh, like, what was so bad about them?" Cheetor pressed, leaning forwards slightly. "Is Waspinator a vampire like Tarantulus? Are there vampire wasps?"

"They used the most vile terms of endearment."

"Well, like what? C'mon, DB, don't hold out on me."

Dinobot's face curled as he tried the summon up the memory. Privately, Cheetor suspected that most of his processing power was devoted to honor, both as a concept, and as a subject of quotations, and coming up with increasingly obtuse insults about Rattrap. It was like he just didn't want to repeat himself. Ever. Cheetor wondered if he kept a tally.

"Something to the effect of: spark of my spark, my love for you burns brighter than all the lights in Neo Crystal City. Perhaps, I need you the way the moons need the sun." Dinobot shuddered. The room fell quiet.

"And then, Waspinator: Spiderbot is flatterer," he continued, in a surprisingly good, if undignified, imitation of the Predacon in question, "then they," he shuddered again, a full body display of complete and total disgust, "held hands. It was foul."

"...That's creepy to you?" Cheetor squinted.

"Of course," Dinobot pounded his chest with a fist, then scowled at the tacky, green residue on his hand, "Such vile acts; does it not revolt you?"

"Uh, well, romancy stuff is for total lamers, and I'm too slick for like, cuddling, but yeah," Cheetor shrugged, "hand-holding and… weird poetry. That's in all the romantic holovids and stuff."

Optimus nodded. "Cheetor's right. Those are normal things for couples to do. Waspinator and Tarantulus might be, er, creepy, but you picked a poor example of it."

"Agreed," Rhinox drummed his fingers on the table, "and I've actually been in a relationship that lasted more than a month."

Optimus glared at him.

"I cannot believe this Maximal nonsense! Vermin!" Dinobot turned to Rattrap, "Must I be forced to rely on your pestilence for sense?"

"Well, hey, I'm not a, uh, romantic kinda guy, if you know what I'm sayin', but if a pretty dame tried that with me? I, eh, wouldn't say no," Rattrap scratched the side of his face and shrugged sheepishly.

Dinobot growled—that sorta nasal noise he made to show… basically every emotion, really, but here it was clear he was baffled.

"What's dating like for Preds, then?" Cheetor gestured to Dinobot. "I mean, do you go to theme parks, or, uh, holovids," Cheetor scrambled for another example. It wasn't that he'd never actually been on a date, but, uh, it was that he'd been on too many dates, on account of being such a suave and cool 'bot to hang around, and they all blurred together. He was a real Casanova. Pure truth. He uncrossed his fingers. "Regular parks. A… dance," Cheetor trailed off. "Anyways, like, how are Predheads supposed to show affection?"

"Through combat, of course!" Dinobot said emphatically.

Cheetor's gaze flickered to Rattrap for a fraction of a second. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Even he wasn't stupid enough to touch that.

Optimus scoffed. "You can't be serious. That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Oh?" Dinobot bared his teeth in what could technically be considered a grin.

"How can a relationship survive fighting all of the time?"

Cheetor looked at Rattrap again and bit his mouth shut. Nope. Not touching it with a ten foot pole.

"Predacons are different," Dinobot offered, "To show one's strength is… honorable."

"So fightin' is showin' strength? How about coups? What, is the flyin' lizard just spending all day, every day flirtin' with Megs, then?"

Dinobot rolled his eyes. "Terrorsaur is disgustingly desperate."

Rattrap slapped his face. "You know I was jokin', Dinobutt."

"You should not joke about such serious things as romance," Dinobot wagged a bony finger, "It only betrays your ignorance, rodent."

"At least it don't betray my faction, Lizardlips."

Optimus stepped between the two before they could start throwing punches. Or drinks.

"Alright, that's enough. This has been… enlightening, but the next duty cycle starts in a few hours. And you can't beg off work for a headache, Rattrap."

"Hey!"

"Come on, go," Optimus shooed them out of their chairs. Rattrap stumbled a bit, but otherwise managed to keep himself upright. Dinobot, for all his blustering, looked a little less stable, but that was probably because he had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling.

Cheetor yawned and stretched his arms above his head, arching his back, well, like a cat. "I'm beat. Time for this cat to count some cyber-sheep. Night, Big-bot!"

"Goodnight, Cheetor."

Cheetor waved at Rhinox and ducked around Rattrap and Dinobot, who had lapsed into another argument.

What a weird night. He had never really cared to pay attention in any of his culture classes in school, because flight lessons were way cooler, so most of his knowledge of Predacons was admittedly flawed, if not outright missing. Whatever.

He paused by one of the portholes in the side of the ship. The two moons of this strange and dangerous planet sparkled brilliantly in the warm night, bright against the darkness.

"Need you the way the moons need the sun," he muttered under his breath, "Huh. Kinda sweet." He paused, then amended, "For a creepy vampire."

Title comes from Seal's Kiss From a Rose.

From BW episode Victory:

"Give Waszzpinator more room! Tarantulas fat enough already!"
"If Waspinator does not stop cuddling me like a stuffed toy when he sleeps, I'll eat him as well!"
"No, you won't!"
"Yes, I will!"

For reference. I didn't pull this out of thin air.