[ficDead End/ Breakdown- "Spoiler"
Fandom: Transformers G1
Pairing: (Dead End/ Breakdown)
Title: Spoiler
Rating: R
Warnings: Foul Language, pointless alt-mode smex, Gross violation of proper grammatical structure.
Word count: 500
Prompt: "Transformers, Dead End/Breakdown: patience and gentleness after a panic attack - If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?"

SPOILER

"Do you think my spoiler's too big? You do, don't you!?!"

Dead End hisses, tries to ignore the half-accusing, half-imploring note in Breakdown's voice. He checks his hand mere centimeters above Breakdown's gear stick, fighting the urge to throttle, and instead shifts his fingers to stroke the Lamborghini Countach's offending spoiler.

"No, it's fine, Breakdown. It's lovely. Like the rest of you. Now shut up and enjoy yourself."

Dead End dearly wants to get things going; he's high on octane, going at a hundred thousand horsepower, and desperate to crash into a tight little Lambo. He shoves his thumb into Breakdown's tailpipe just below the rear vents. From the thumb snakes a tiny synapse-cable-- highly illegal and purchased at great expense, mind you-- seeking sensitive engine wiring to tease and torment. Thumb-into-tailpipe is a desperation move. It's been known to overload weaker mechs in the past. Dead End hopes it'll drive Breakdown past his paranoia and into the good kind of crazy, the fun kind of crazy.

No such luck.

"Everyone stares at my spoiler," Breakdown mutters. "It's too big and flashy. Tell me it's not too flashy."

Dead End growls. "Perhaps I should simply snap it off. I'd be happy to oblige—

"--oh, of course I'm only joking, Breakdown! Stop blubbering, darling. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to..."

...so long as you let me have my way with you within the next five seconds, Dead End adds.

Time to switch tactics.

"You, my dear Breakdown, are absolute perfection, top of the line Decepticon metal. You make me want to shag the living circuits out of you, to pepper this lovely blue stripe with kisses, just as I'm doing now…. Your axels are divinely-engineered; your bumper's stiff as Primus's ventricle rods.…" That's it: pile on the compliments. Bury Breakdown's petty paranoia beneath an avalanche of alluring words. Distract him just enough for a good shagging.

It seems to work.

Breakdown hesitates, then unfolds his scissor doors and nudges Dead End's unmasked lips towards the sensitive interiors. Dead End puts his hands on the stirring wheel, his lips on the dashboard pressure sensors, and drapes his electric field across them both like a second coat of paint. Forces thus arrayed, Dead End storms the castle, and finally, FINALLY Breakdown's defenses cleave before his assault. The Countach groans. The Countach moans. The Countach vibrates like a motherfucker. Their mutual rocking grows frenzied, grows so hard and fast and hot that Dead End has to reach out and hold on tight to keep from bucking off---

"Hey! You grabbed my spoiler!"

"…Uh...so?"

"So it IS too big! I knew it. I KNEW it!"

Momentum lost, electric fields fall flaccid as spent energon cubes. Dead End nearly shrieks with frustration.

"Oh, bugger the bloody spoiler, you mono-manic tit!"

He climbs off the Countach in disgust, wondering why he'd ever bothered. He knows his fellow Stunticon can't help being a head case, but Dead End's frustrated desire makes him peevish. Makes him petty. Makes him cruel. Dead End transforms, avoids Breakdown's remorseful gaze, and casts a final barb before rolling out:

"FYI, Breakdown, you're absolutely right. I'd have Hook hack it off, if I were you-- that monstrous spoiler of yours really puts Bruticus's backside to shame."

Exit.