Kup has something to prove.
Title: Burden of Proof
Warning: Confusion, an old mech with something to prove, and various sexual happenings as a result.
Rating: R
Continuity: G1
Characters: Kup, Dinobots, Hot Rod, Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Prowl, Bumblebee, Spike Witwicky, Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet, Perceptor, Mirage, Onslaught, Blast Off, Ultra Magnus, Menasor, Laserbeak, Jazz, Megatron.
Disclaimer: The theatre doesn't own the script or actors.
Motivation (Prompt): Daendereth wanted to see Kup get some. Then a profoundly annoying Kup-hating anon bothered a bunch of people on Tumblr, and I decided Kup needed to get it all.
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Pt. 1
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The Dinobots thought he exaggerated all the time.
Objectively, Kup couldn't fault their skepticism. They loved Kup's stories and never skipped an opportunity to hear more, but the old sergeant edited his tales for their consumption. He knew his audience, okay? Most of his past adventures were tagged with content warnings in his memory files. He'd accomplished much in his long life, scandalized whole star systems and seduced their inhabitants, but the Dinobots just weren't mature enough to handle explicit details on the hows and whys. Without those, his tales lost impact. When he cut out crucial details, the endings didn't make as much sense.
Sure, he'd taken a battalion of raw recruits to Cligion-4 and survived. There had been a huge fight with the natives, as he said. Casualties left and right, exactly as he described. Nearly started a war between Cligion-4 and Cybertron, no lie. It was just that for the Dinobots, he glossed over the ending of that story into a vague, "I can be pretty diplomatic when I've gotta be." It lacked the punchline, see?
He didn't tell the Dinobots that diplomacy had entailed volunteering his battalion to be the sacrifices for the local fertility festival as a show of good faith. "We came in peace!" got hooting laughter from his normal audiences. The Dinobots just wouldn't get it.
So objectively, he understood. He didn't blame them for doubting his reputation when it was edited for content.
Subjectively, Kup took it rather personally when Grimlock scoffed in his face.
"You Kup talk big," the big lugnut said scornfully, "but me Grimlock not see you Kup do anything."
Across the basketball court, Hot Rod froze mid-stride. The ball bounced away with Slag and Snarl in close pursuit, but Kup's protégé stared in the opposite direction. Horror crept up his face. Oh, Grimlock didn't just. Tell him he hadn't.
Kup leaned back on the bleachers. Age-pale optics narrowed at the leader of the Dinobots. "Is that so?"
Grimlock's head turned toward his squabbling subordinates. Two Dinobots, one basketball; one of the three had a far shorter life expectancy than the others. Grimlock's tolerant expression said he wasn't going to do anything to extend that short lifetime. Even Prowl's tightfisted budgeting allowed for the purchase of one more basketball if it bought the Autobots an afternoon free of the Dinobots rampaging through the halls. "You Kup talk so much scrap, me Grimlock should invest in recycling plant."
Hot Rod did a wonderful impression of a bug-eyed Sharkicon soundless opening and closing his mouth. Oh, Grimlock had totally gone there.
"Scrap, eh?"
"Scrap." Grimlock nodded firmly. "You Kup put you Kup's money where you Kup's mouth is."
It took a moment to interpret that saying as a challenge instead of literal directions. Sometimes the Dinobots didn't bother translating idioms, and Kup wasn't about to eat credits to prove anything. "You want to see me do something?" He stood up, creaking and groaning as only an old mech could. "Oh, I'll do something."
A loud POP! announced the basketball's demise. It deflated where it hung from Snarl's mouth, but nobody was paying attention to it. Both he and Slag had their head turned in sudden alert. Hot Rod's energy field bled dismay through the basketball court like an early warning system composed of horror and humor. He stared at his mentor as if he didn't know what to do. His optics flicked between Kup and Grimlock. He should do something, but he didn't know what. Run? Hide? Start a betting pool?
Grimlock knew enough to take a step back, eyeing the old crank warily. Kup might talk up his adventures too much for the Dinobots' to believe, but they'd witnessed him run the other Autobots around the training grounds. Even Ironhide became a trainee whenever Kup turned drill sergeant. Grimlock was king, the leader of the Dinobots, but he felt a complete rookie about to be taken to task by the time Kup straightened up.
No, wait, Kup was doing that to him on purpose, and Grimlock was calling him on it. 90% attitude and self-made reputation didn't make up for 10% ability. Grimlock threw his shoulders back and glared down at the shorter mech. "Me Grimlock think you Kup won't do anything. Maybe you Kup can't do anything."
"You Grimlock better rethink that." Kup flashed a grin. "I'm going to do everyone."
"You Kup - " Confusion tilted Grimlock's head to the side. What? That made no sense. Kup should have said 'everything.'
"Me Grimlock not understand," he said after thinking about it. "What you Kup mean?"
"I mean that I'm going to do everyone."
It made no more sense upon repetition, but Grimlock was distracted from demanding a better explanation by the sight of the old-timer lifted his arms up into a casual stretch. Intakes skreeled. Cables popped, unkinking long and supple. Joints snap-cracked in and out of their sockets. Dull plating flared out from struts that didn't seem as age-frail anymore. Kup arched his back, head tipping from side to side as he worked his neck. He gave a low groan that woke a ripple of bright anticipation from Hot Rod, and the speedster's out-of-control energy field sparkled against Grimlock's in an eager dance.
The Dinobot took a wary step back. Was Kup going to attack him? The old mech didn't seem aggressive, but he did seem different. The stretching took away half his age. When he lowered his arms from over his head, he looked limber. Ready. Intimidating.
Grimlock stubbornly stood his ground.
Kup merely touched two fingers to his helm in sardonic salute before turning to saunter away. His hips had a weird pop to them. Grimlock's head cocked the other way as he watched them roll. A consequence of stiff joints locked up from sitting down, he assumed, although Kup didn't otherwise seem to have any aches anymore. He held his head high and all but strutted. It was strange. Grimlock had never seemed him walk that way.
Hot Rod took off across the court back toward the Ark at a sprint. Snarl and Slag chased after. They didn't know why he was so excited, but every Dinobot knew not to kill the messenger. Following the messenger usually led them to the fight.
They were disappointed to find nothing but some kind of consent form, this time. Hot Rod hurriedly set up shop in a corner of the rec room, tablet in one hand and stylus in the other. "Don't mind me! I'll be here all week. Nothing to see, move along, move along," he laughed at the room in general, overflowing with feckless merriment. The curious stares became significant looks exchanged across the room.
'He's gone off the road,' those looks said.
'Bonkers,' other looks agreed.
Hot Rod's optics practically sing-songed, 'I know something you don't~'
More speaking looks were exchanged. 'Should we be worried?' The tablet in the speedster's hand was given a few looks of its own.
The Dinobots gave each other one that could be translated, 'What is everyone looking at?'
Into the criss-cross of traded looks stomped Grimlock, who'd caught up at last. He glared at the grinning, garish Autobot sitting at the corner table. "You Hot Rod secretary? You Hot Rod take names of them afts him Kup kick?"
Hot Rod blinked and lost his grin. "You realize that it really doesn't mean he…you know what, sure. He'll kick aft, I'll take names." He ducked his head industriously over his tablet. "He'll do something with their afts, anyway."
The mutter could be barely heard. Hound and Blaster choked on their energon.
Grimlock asked him what that was supposed to mean, but Hot Rod just sniggered to himself and refused to explain. A second later, the Dinobots were pushed aside by the beginning of what became a line of Autobots. Blaster and Hound were first in line. What they were signing consent for, they wouldn't say, and Hot Rod wouldn't let the Dinobots see the form at all. His excuse was that they were ineligible due to Grimlock being the one to demand proof of Kup's epic awesomeness.
Well, that wasn't exactly what he said, but that's how the Dinobots interpreted the evil gleam in his optics. The important part was that they weren't allowed to sign up. They sulked out of the room when Ratchet agreed with Hot Rod - while signing the form himself. Hmmph.
Fine. Let Kup try and prove Grimlock wrong.
The rest of the week, the Dinobots were sorely confused by the other Autobots claiming to have gotten some action from Kup. Grimlock had staked out the training grounds. Snarl and Slag had hung out in the shooting range. They hadn't seen anything.
Yet Hot Rod showed them the list of names taken, and the Dinobot leader grudgingly conceded. Kup hadn't been exaggerating. Everyone Grimlock asked about it afterward skimmed over the details of how Kup had defeated them, but they still confessed to losing. Some of them seemed happy about it, even.
"Ambush," Optimus Prime said, optics crinkling in a smile. "I didn't see him coming."
"Used me 'gainst Prime." Ironhide's smile was lopsided but sincere. "Took me after Prime tapped out."
Prowl didn't look up from his work. "He made efficient use of the time allocated to him."
"I didn't stand a chance." Bumblebee put his hands up in protest of Grimlock's dismissive snort. "Spike was right there! What was I supposed to do, tackle Kup and hope we didn't land on him?"
Grimlock thought it unnecessary to ask what happened to Wheeljack. The explosion had been heard from the other side of the mountain, and gossip said Wheeljack's best shot hadn't been enough to make Kup falter. Grimlock was surprised his creator had emerged unscathed, considering the size of the crater.
Then again, Kup had apparently managed to take out two of the Autobot frontliners without more than scuffs and minor dents. That impressed him. Grimlock had passed Jazz and Ratchet hauling the pair of Lamborghinis through the halls and originally thought nothing more of it than simple exhaustion. He still didn't know how Kup had worn them out that badly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Sunstreaker growled.
"I want a rematch!" Sideswipe said at the same time.
"You missed the demonstration round," Ratchet informed them from the next table, and he smiled broadly at Grimlock's inquisitive look. "Yes, I took my turn. Somebody's got to teach you all how to give as good as you take." Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked envious. Ratchet just looked smug.
Grimlock's interest increased. "Teach how?"
Perceptor used his blandest voice in response. "It is in the library as supplementary instructional material now, if you feel a need for an academic analysis of technique. I recorded their bout and did my best to maintain an impartial narrative throughout my own turn in the following exhibition round. Kup's training methodology is riveting, first or secondhand."
Grimlock immediately lost interest. The Dinobots' collective lack of enthusiasm for boring instructional videos was notorious.
Strangely, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe burned rubber racing out of the room. Huh. He hadn't thought they were into listening to dry narration of educational material, either.
Mirage wasn't as hard to track down as he probably wished he was. Grimlock sniffed him out, invisibility or not.
"We did not fight," he insisted when Grimlock asked what Kup had done to win.
How typical of the noblemech. He wouldn't admit to something as uncouth as a wrestling match, or a shoot-out, or whatever it'd been that Kup used to defeat him. Because he had been defeated. Grimlock could smell how embarrassment heated the spy's plating.
"You Mirage's name on him Hot Rod's list," Grimlock said, and the hot metal smell betrayed what Mirage's tightly-leashed EM field never would.
The spy drew himself up, expression chilling to Artic levels. "Obviously I signed the form beforehand. It served to indicate my willingness in the event we crossed paths." His optics turned aside in a brief moment of what someone else might have labeled shy remembrance. Grimlock labeled it embarrassment. "One doesn't come across that sort of opportunity anymore. The experience was priceless."
Ah, so it was a terminology conflict. Mirage was balking at calling it a fight. Training, then. Admitting it was a fight would tear a strip off his pride. Grimlock didn't like losing, but he called a fight a fight. Training meant nobody won or lost, but he found Mirage's word games ridiculous. He could smell the truth wafting off the noblemech in gusts of warm air.
Unlike Jazz, who showed no sign of anything except having a good time. He freely confessed to ending up under Kup, not caring in the slightest that Megatron had called in the middle of things. Megatron. Even Grimlock would put combat on hold if the leader of the Decepticons called, but apparently Kup had different priorities. He'd finished off Jazz while Megatron watched, and the Decepticon had demanded the next match.
All of this led to the current absence of the old-timer, or so Grimlock was told. Events didn't precisely line up. People got suspiciously shifty when Grimlock asked questions about how one thing had led to the other. Kup was over at the Decepticon base setting the groundwork for a cease-fire right now, but Grimlock didn't trust everyone's reasons for why. The reasons kept changing.
Jazz claimed it was his fault. "Couldn't keep my mind on business," the black-and-white Autobot said with a rueful grin. He turned his hands up in a helpless shrug. "Megatron wanted a closer look at what Kup did t' me. Turns out he's got negotiable standards, 'least when Kup's the one negotiatin'. Who knew?"
The Decepticons, evidently. There were a few names scrawled far down on Hot Rod's list, beneath the consent form where most people stopped scrolling. Grimlock read them with some surprise. He couldn't just go ask them how Kup had defeated them, but he could ask Kup directly.
Kup shrugged in answer when he finally returned from the Decepticon base, cease-fire in hand. "Simplest strategy out there," he said, clapping a hand on Grimlock's shoulder. "I came in peace."
"That old joke?" Hot Rod teased. "Don't you ever get tired of using the same punchline every time?"
"Tell you what. You let me know if you want me to stop." Kup folded his arms, legs braced shoulder-width apart and mouth set in an oddly predatory grin. "Or I can keep using it over and over, and over, and over…again."
Hot Rod swallowed. Grimlock could hear his throat intakes work. "Um. No?"
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Grimlock glanced between them. He had the feeling he'd missed something.
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