No slash. No pairings.
"Breakdown!"
Breakdown jumped from stasis, optics wide and weapons ready as he scanned the battlefield for enemy targets. Only there were no Autobots around. And he wasn't on a battlefield. And instead of a gun, he was holding a sanitation mop.
He blinked. Where was he again?
Oh, yeah. He was still on the Nemesis. He had finished cleaning up Knock Out's work station, disinfected the Med-Bay, organized the interrogation equipment and helped one of the Vehicons, GR-3-G, buff out some scratches from his last encounter with an Autobot.
He must have fallen into recharge somewhere along the way. Now why had he woken up?
"Breakdown, where are you?"
Right.
"In here, Doc," he called back, replacing the mop and stretching his arms to loosen some kinked up wires.
The door slid open and the Medic bounded in with a stupid grin on his face. "You'll never believe what wonderful discovery I have made while exploring the human data net."
He bounced excitedly as he spoke. It was a side of Knock Out very few had ever seen. Breakdown considered himself lucky to be trusted enough to know the Medic so well. Friends were hard to come by in the Decepticon ranks. Especially if you were an ex-Stunticon.
No one liked Stunticons.
Actually, Knock Out was one of the only mechs he had ever met who didn't seem to have a problem with his past. Or his occasional stupidity. Or his long list of irrational phobias. Knock Out was probably the only person he'd ever met who honestly just enjoyed his company.
He smiled.
"What is it?"
Knock Out's grin grew wider, surprising the big, blue bruiser. "Random dance parties for no reason," he said in an excited whisper. He bounced a little more, waiting for his friend to respond.
Breakdown felt his optics brighten. "Random dance party?"
"For. No. Reason."
Starscream stalked down the hall, casually brooding over the state of the ship, the crew, his quarters, Megatron's leadership… the usual things. He wasn't actually annoyed with anything at the moment, but the Nemesis was unusually busy and he had a reputation to keep.
So he brooded.
He grumbled.
He lashed out.
He paused to listen to a catchy song.
Wait, what?
"What is that sound?" he asked no one in particular.
"I believe there's some kind of celebration happening in the Med-Bay, Commander," answered a passing drone.
Starscream regarded him with a simple nod and continued his walk through the halls.
The music grew louder and he was beginning to notice fewer and fewer Vehicons in the vicinity. On such a busy day, this quadrant was becoming particularly quiet. He turned to the security camera nearest him, knowing full well that Soundwave would be monitoring his every movement, and glared at it quizzically.
He wasn't sure why the music and the emptiness of the hall bothered him, but it did. And he wanted Soundwave to be just as bothered by it or at least curious enough to look into it.
He continued walking.
"Shake it! Don't break it! Took your Mama nine months to make it!" the Vehicons chanted. They didn't actually know what the chant meant, but they had been informed that it was the appropriate thing to say during such a display.
Breakdown punched and kicked at the air before dropping into a spin and striking a pose.
Knock Out held his prod like a cane and pranced around with an air of vanity. He did something he called popping and locking and swaggered about to the beat.
The Vehicons bounced in rhythm as they goaded the Medic and Stunticon on.
The music grew in volume and pitch for several seconds before plunging into deep, resounding tones; seemingly at Knock Out's command to "drop the bass."
Breakdown motioned for the Vehicons to join them in their display—a request they were more than happy to oblige—as the dance party steadily grew in with the additions of curios Drones making their way to the Med-Bay. Spirits were high as the worries and stresses of war faded into the pounding beat of the music.
Nothing could bring them down.
After a few hours the excitement began to fade as troops filtered through the doorway and back to their respective posts with full sparks and an air of joy in the glow of their optics.
Even after the last of the Vehicons had departed, Knock Out and Breakdown continued their fun with silly, little dances as they cleaned the room for the second time that day.
Starscream watched them skip and spin about from the door. His arms were crossed in a way that oozed smugness, but his face remained oddly stoic. "What exactly are you two doing?"
Breakdown jumped at the Commander's voice, dropping the supplies he had been gathering all over the floor. He quickly bent to pick them back up.
"Ah, Herr Commandant," Knock Out greeted smoothly. "Breakdown and I were just enjoying a little, well… enjoyment with some of the troops. No doubt you've noticed how dull this ship can be." He sent a casual glance in his partner's direction, making sure he wasn't too startled. He'd never understand how such a large, daunting mech could be shaken by someone as pathetic as Starscream.
And it simply would not do to have Breakdown disowned by the Decepticons because of his occasional bouts of illogical panic. No one could buff a bot like Breakdown could. So Knock Out had taken to covering up any perceived weaknesses of his friend with his own outgoing, narcissistic personality.
He could talk just about anyone away from Breakdown's quirks.
"I don't suppose you had hopes of joining our little rave?" the Medic asked, smirking at the surprised and slightly disgusted look he received from his superior.
Starscream sputtered as he searched for the right response. "Who- who do you think I am, Knock Out?" he spat. "Unlike you, I take my post seriously. I wouldn't dream of wasting my time on something as petty as a, a…"
"A random dance party," Breakdown offered.
Starscream sent him a glare. "Yes. That."
Knock Out grinned.
"Today was supposed to be productive with everyone working double shifts. Now half the crew has fallen behind on their duties and do you know who Lord Megatron will blame for that? Me!"
Knock Out shrugged. "Really, Starscream, I think you're being just a bit dramatic. Wouldn't you say so, Breakdown?"
Breakdown's optics widened. "Um," he scooped an armload of equipment off of a table. "I'm just going to go put these things away."
The Medic rolled his optics. Typical Breakdown. He turned back to Starscream, lazy optics meeting enraged. "Look, Commander, if it makes you feel better I'll turn that double shift into a triple shift to make sure my work gets done."
Starscream huffed. Punishment wasn't the same when his underlings suggested it themselves. "Fine," he grunted. "Make sure that assistant of yours does the same."
"Of course, Commander."
Starscream left and Knock Out could have sworn the Seeker trudged away with a pout on his face. How very intimidating. Ha!
The door to his private quarters slid shut with a hiss. He relaxed his wings and was lulled by the steady whirs of his joints loosening. This was his sanctuary. The only room that was not monitored by Soundwave. Though he did keep tabs on how long the Seeker spent in his quarters.
Here Starscream could allow his own mood to be lighter and happier without concern of how he might be perceived by the rest of the Decepticons.
He ex-vented and sauntered across the room to his desk. He lifted a datapad and read over its contents, only vaguely aware that he was humming one of the songs he had heard earlier in the day.
Battle strategies, training routines, daily assignments. He had gone over similar files hundreds of thousands of times, but this was his job. Soundwave may be head of security, but it was Starscream who had to do the truly tedious work. It was Starscream who had to read and plan and map and see to it that everyone had a job, everyone did their job, and every job fit perfectly with the others to assure that there would be no area left unattended.
And people wondered why he had such a bad mood.
He would normally sit while he worked, but he found it much more enjoyable to stand as he read at the moment. After a while he began pacing and swaying.
There was a song in his head, he realized, and he had no desire to chase it away.
He found it on the data net and streamed it through his personal pad, humming with the lyrics allowing his body to fall into motion with the beat.
He bounced.
He stepped.
He turned.
He swayed.
He swung his hips.
He smiled.
He turned the song up louder and allowed his mind to wander. Back to the days before the war. To the days that were to come when Cybertron would somehow be restored and the Decepticons would rule. He imagined his Trine by his side as he soared through the atmosphere.
He spun around and froze.
Megatron leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a wide smirk on his face. He laughed when Starscream's wings dropped in humiliation.
"Enjoying yourself, Starscream?"
The Seeker groaned. He would never hear the end of his.
Too tired to proof read. Let me know if I need to fix something. :)