A/N: I just felt like writing pure banter. x]
This is TC and Skywarp-centric, no slash, just Skywarp being a prat.
Title: Substance
Characters: Thundercracker & Skywarp
Genre: Humor
Summary: Skywarp consumes weird things, but Thundercracker does not appreciate his efforts to share.
Substance
Thundercracker kind of expected to see Skywarp that day. He saw Skywarp every day in one way or another, whether he liked it or not.
What he did not expect was for Skywarp to use the door.
Thundercracker swiveled quickly in his chair at the sound of his door sliding open without his permission, but relaxed slightly upon seeing the familiar black and purple paintjob of a certain menace. He was immediately suspicious.
Skywarp never used the door, and he told him so.
"You remembered how to open a door?" Thundercracker quirked an optic ridge. "Well I'm impressed."
There was no reply, though, as Skywarp half walked, half stumbled into the room, arms folded across the lower region of his frame, looking quite ill.
Thundercracker tilted his head suspiciously, setting aside the datapad in his hand. "The slag is wrong with you?" he mumbled, leaning slightly forward in his chair.
Skywarp opened his mouth, but closed it before a syllable could be uttered. He took a moment to consider his response.
"I just consumed 48 gallons of crude oil."
Thundercracker visibly recoiled. If he had been expecting a strange answer, he had not been disappointed.
"… What?"
"48 gallons. Crude oil. The unprocessed stuff that makes you gassy."
Skywarp was looking at him expectantly, though Thundercracker could only seem to stare and blink stupidly for a very long moment, quite unable to find his voice. He realized that he did not even have anything noteworthy to say once he was finally over his initial shock. Still, Skywarp stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to once again make everything better. But Thundercracker was not a medic- he did not know exactly how unprocessed oil would affect a Cybertronian's systems. Obviously it was not a good idea, seeing as though his Wingmate looked unwell and had used the door.
His optics flickered in thought, carefully choosing his next words.
"I…" He paused. "I honestly do not know why I am surprised."
Skywarp apperantly took that as his cue to explain himself, regardless of whether or not Thundercracker had any desire to listen. Taking a few steps closer, the purple seeker tightened his arms around himself and began to talk very animatedly for a mech who looked dead on his feet. Thundercracker listened painfully, though he knew that he would regret it.
"So me and Dirge were on patrol, right? And like what always happens when we're on patrol together, we started to inflict bodily harm on each other. Which is always, always fun, by the way. After trying to impale things on his head for a while, while he tried to defile me like the slagging creeper he is, he got tired of existing and offlined himself with a blunt object."
Thundercracker said nothing. Skywarp laughed harshly, waving his hand dismissively.
"… I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Sorry to get your hopes up." Skywarp flashed him a charming grin. "So like I was saying, I wish he had tried to offline himself with a blunt object, but as it so happened, he just decided to test my superior potency and robustness. My potent robustness." Skywarp shifted, suddenly looking somewhat uncomfortable as his story progressed. "So… he told me that he'd give me 20 credits if I drank 45 gallons of crude oil. So, right then and there I-"
"Let me guess—" Thundercracker cut in, an optic ridge raised jadedly. "-you rejected the dare like a responsible, rational mech and decided against stooping down to Dirge's level of indecency in favor of preserving your dignity and well-being. Then you walked away without hurting anyone, read a book, helped one of the Cassetticons reach the energon dispenser, and spent the rest of your day not saying or doing anything stupid."
"Slag no!" Skywarp barked another harsh laugh. "I exceeded expectations and drank 48 gallons! And look-" Skywarp held out his hand. "- I'm 20 credits richer and 48 gallons heavier. Heh, that conehead is such a sucker."
Thundercracker stared at his Wingmate as if he could not believe what he was hearing. While Skywarp smiled proudly, Thundercracker looked torn. He stood up slowly, deciding against breaking the fact that it was not Dirge who was the sucker to the proud, darker Seeker. Still, he found himself speechless. He hesitated, reaching his hand forward as if to place a consoling hand on his shoulder, but pulled it back, mouth set in a straight line.
"You just… you are…" Thundercracker rested a hand on his helm, sighing. "You are too much."
Skywarp smiled sheepishly, stepping closer to Thundercracker's position. "Naw. I just drank too much."
"You…" Thundercracker's fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to run his hand down his face in frustration. He was not really sure what to do. He was sure that Skywarp had searched him out because he wanted him to do something, but Thundercracker could only suggest sending him to Hook- which he knew Skywarp would not do. "Well..." He began lamely. "Do you feel like you're about to keel over and die?"
Skywarp poked at his chassis experimentally. "Not just yet. Then again, I could just be so excited about my 20 credits that I could be ignoring the symptoms of death. Do I look pale to you?"
"Okay, not dead... Do you feel well enough to fly?"
"Slag no." Skywarp laughed airily.. "My tanks are so full I don't think I could even achieve liftoff. It's like gaining an elephant. I don't even know where all of the oil went- I'm not any bigger."
"Maybe you should have considered a possible inability to fly before acting on Dirge's proposition."
"It wasn't a proposition. It was a he-man competition."
Thundercracker looked resigned. "Okay. I'm done asking questions. As long as you are still able to stand upright and hold a gun, regardless of how full of disgusting organic matter you are, you can ingest whatever you please."
"Fantastic, because I ingest whatever I please anyway."
"Oh yes. I know better than most."
"But this time… I kind of… don't think it's settling with my tank."
"Well you do know that crude oil is not good for you, correct? Especially 50 gallons of it."
"I kind of figured… but I got 20 credits. Also I'm not dead, so that's always good. What is not good is how I am feeling. I feel… kinda like…" However, Skywarp was not able to finish his sentence, and Thundercracker watched with a sinking feeling as his face went slack. Just as Thundercracker took a instinctive, concerned step forward, Skywarp took that opportunity to keel over and begin the long, loud, and grotesque process of purging his tanks of the 50 gallons of crude oil that he had very recently consumed.
All over Thundercracker's floor.
All over Thundercracker's feet.
The blue Seeker's face fell flat as he stared blankly ahead, listening to Skywarp's noisy heaves of digusting, wet, organic material. For reasons that he could not even begin to explain, he felt quite incapable of moving. He was welded to the spot, unable to stop the continued flow of purged oil from hitting his legs.
"That's right." Thundercracker mumbled with all of the excitement of a mech covered in bile. "Just let it all out. All over my thrusters. Because this is my life."
Skywarp's heaves diminished after several long moments, and he remained keeled-over, panting, and shivering. After one more moment, he pushed himself upright, actually having the audacity to look slightly impressed by the sheer volume of his mess.
"Woah." Skywarp muttered, optics half shuttered as his systems tried to regulate themselves. "That was… intense."
Thundercracker wanted to punch him.
Instead, he inhaled slowly and counted to ten in three different language, trying not to think of all of the unhygienic matter that was now all over his legs.
Unfortunately, the less he thought about the unhygeienic matter, the more he thought of new, creative ways to maim, harass, and otherwise murder Skywarp. The only thing that kept him from acting on his thoughts was his inability to move a microinch.
"Feel better?" Thundercracker asked slowly, his wings rigid as a physical manifestation of his discomfort.
"Yeah." Skywarp looked up from surveying his slowly advancing mess, his mouth lifting into an almost-proud smile. "Yeah… I think I am-" except Thundercracker did not find out what Skywarp thought that he was, because at that moment, the purple jet once again dipped his cranium and began a second round of purge-on-the-wingmate's-legs.
Thundercracker's hands instinctively formed claws at his sides. He shuttered his optics, and did the only thing that he could think of to temporarily distract himself. He prayed.
"Dear Primus... I know that you hate me, I know that you have always hated me. But please..."
"Huh." Skywarp mumbled after his final heave. "Don't remember eating that."
Thundercracker inhaled slowly."-please try your best to hate Skywarp at least twice as much."
Thankfully, the small prayer to Primus provided him the opportunity to remind himself that just because his best friend was eradicating disgusting organic matter all over his feet, it did not mean that he was likely to be an acceptable new home for any of the repulsive bacteria residing in the substance.
'Soap.' He reminded himself. 'Soap is good.'
Unshuttering his optics when he was sure that he could look at his wingmate without throttling him, he set his face into an expression that he hoped looked more calm and less like he was in pain. "… Now do you feel better?"
"Yeah…" Skywarp blearily mumbled, still bent over with his hands on his knees. "I think I'm finally done…"
Thundercracker braced himself, looking down at the pool of oil that had not been there mere seconds before.
"Yeah. That looks like about 50 gallons to me."
"Oh… good." Skywarp pushed himself into an upright position, suddenly finding it within himself to smile. "I feel much better."
Thundercracker responded to Skywarp's smile with an expression that articulated his agitation.
"I am so glad I could be of service. Are you sure you don't want to flush your radiator on my computer console while your at it? Maybe an oil change on my berth?"
Skywarp's smile wilted slightly.
"You're cranky. Did you miss Oprah again?"
"No I did not miss Oprah. You just purged half-digested fuel all over my legs." Thundercracker stated.
"Yeah… I guess I did, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"You are stronger for it.
"No. I am not stronger for it. I am disgusting now. I am soiled."
"It's a good look for you."
"It's all over my floor. Everywhere."
Skywarp glanced down, looking slightly uncomfortable. "…It's a good look for your floor."
"There are tree branches in it."
"Point?"
"Did you really eat tree branches? Really?"
"If I said yes?"
"For the love of Vector Sigma's spherical torso..." Thundercracker rested his face in his palm. "Tree branches? What haven't you eaten?"
"Well." Skywarp rested his hands on his hips, actually looking as if he was seriously consider the question. "I won't eat mothballs ever again…"
"Mothballs... you ate mothballs." Thundercracker laughed humorlessly.
"I tried some Windex, too. That one was a dare. The mothballs were plain curiosity."
"So, ingesting weird things and purging is normal for you."
"Nah. I don't like to waste, so I never really purge."
"And I don't suppose it was possible for you to turn the other direction before you decided to purge this time? One of the supposedly rare times you decided to do so?"
Skywarp looked contemplative. "… Nooo. Not really, no. It didn't quite cross my mind. What did cross my mind, however, was 'I think I need to purge and TC's legs look like a good place to aim for'. Didn't want to make a mess, you know."
"Good job." Thundercracker tilted his head towards the slowly spreading mess. Skywarp followed his subtle head-tilt.
"Thanks. It seemed logical at the time."
"And I don't suppose..." Thundercracker began through clenched denta with forced patience, "that you could have just said no to Dirge like a normal self-respecting mech and get overenergized on real energon? Or is the normalcy just too novel of a concept for you? We could have avoided this. All of this." Thundercracker gesticulated towards everything.
Skywarp looked proudly at all of that, and only managed a grin. "What do you think?"
"I think you don't know what self-respect is and would have consumed the crude oil regardless of whether or not you knew that you would vomit it all over my legs and my floor."
"Sounds about right. Good to know that my aim is so spot-on. I should get a promotion."
"I have a feeling that Megatron would not be impressed with your ability to hit your desired target with your regurgitated fuel. Especially if you aim for his legs."
"I'd be impressed. In fact, I am impressed. I deserve some energon. To celebrate!"
"How can you even think about energon after you just… this." Thundercracker once again gestured to the floor.
"Easy." Skywarp shrugged. "You should try it sometime."
"No." Thundercracker frowned. "First off, there is half-digested oil and remnants of tree branches all over my legs. As a result, I have lost any appetite I may have had before you decided to throw up on me."
"Well go find it. I'm starved."
"No, because you don't deserve any. You deserve to clean this up and give me the twenty credits you got from Dirge."
Skywarp's jaw dropped.
"Are you crazy? Don't answer that- yes, you are a screwloop. Look, you don't have to get any energon if your appetite is so wimpy and feeble with no biceps to be spoken of, but as far as I am concerned, I am now running on empty. I also risked my life for these 20 credits. You only got vomited on. By the way, that-" Skywarp pointed towards the 'oil-spill'. "-is gross. And you are stepping in it. That was in my tank, you know."
"Believe me. I am well aware." Thundercracker said dryly. "Now give me the 20 credits and clean up your mess."
"These are my credits. Get your own."
"Okay." Thundercracker narrowed his optics. "So you come into my room to spout your stupid-antic-of-the-hour, thrust your credits in my face, then proceed to spout your oil on my legs. Right after I showed you some concern, I might add. Now after you throw up on me and get half-digested tree branch lodged in my knee-joint, you refuse to clean it up. I see how this is."
"I never said I wouldn't clean it up. I just said that these credits are mine." Skywarp arched an optic ridge. "Don't jump to assumptions. Besides, it's not like you had anything better to do when I came to visit. Still don't, by the looks of it."
"And you do?"
"Yes. Because of unforeseen circumstances, my fuel tank is now low, and I require sustenance. Energon sounds lovely."
Thundercracker's expression twisted into one of disgust as he once again looked down into the pool of rejected fuel. "There is something wrong with you."
"What's so wrong with being parched? It tends to happen when everything that was once in your tanks is now out of your tanks. Besides, I don't think that I have to remind you that I'm not the one standing in a pile of purged fuel. Now that is questionable. You can step out of it any time you would like, you know."
"If I move I am afraid I may not be able to resist the urge to permanently disfigure you." Thundercracker lifted a single foot, cringing at the slight 'slop' noise that the movement made and frowned deeply at Skywarp's soft exclamation of 'ew'. He placed his foot back in the mess, blowing air slowly through his vents.
"Just clean up this mess and get out of here, Warp." He shook his head. "I truly do not have the patience for your nonsense today. Truly."
"You always have patience for my nonsense, TC. Today's no exception." Skywarp smiled toothily.
"No. Not today." Thundercracker's wings twitched as he began to slowly side-step from the mess. "You drank a fraggin' raw compound trying to impress Dirge, came to me to make it better, expelled it from your systems, and now you will not commit to cleaning it up." He looked half mournfully, half in revulsion at his oil-coated legs. "That is absolute nonsense that I do not have the patience for."
"I wasn't trying to impress Dirge. I was trying to skewer things on his head before proving my masculinity to him, remember?"
"Well your masculinity is all over my floor." Thundercracker snapped.
"You wouldn't be so upset if it wasn't your floor. Or your legs. But at least you have manly legs now. No need to thank me."
Thundercracker's optics narrowed. Skywarp lifted his hands to accentuate his shrug.
"Look, I know you're kinda weird about organic matter, but it's clean. Really. It's not going to eat through your paint or anything. I promise, I'll get this cleaned up."
Thundercracker's iotu==
Besides, look at it this way-" Skywarp said, clasping a hand on his friend's shoulder, avoiding the mess. "-at least it wasn't my floor."
Thundercracker's expression turned to one of cold vehemence. Skywarp removed his hand from Thundercracker's shoulder, challenging his wingmate's expression with a less-than-convincing angry look of his own.
"Get out, you unhygienic creaton of the Inferno."
Skywarp blinked his optics.
"What?"
"Get out of here."
"But I haven't committed to cleaning up your floor yet."
"Just go get your energon and be stupid somewhere else. I was busy, now I have to clean up your mess, and I don't feel like speaking to you." Thundercracker put his hands on his hips, expression severe. Skywarp parted his lips.
"But I don't want to be stupid somewhere else."
Thundercracker huffed, thrusting a finger towards his door. "Well too bad, you pitspawn. Get out."
"Hey, lighten up TC. I'm just trying to make myself feel better. You're having the counter effect."
"I don't want you to feel better. I want you to feel terrible."
"It's not like I could help it. It was going to come out one way or another."
"Get out."
Skywarp heaved a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "You always get snippy when you're dirty. Look- just go to the washracks and I'll box up this regurgitated oil and dump it on Dirge's berth, okay? Then we can get energon and forget all about how I ejected 50 gallons of raw oil faster than Soundwave has ever ejected Lazerbeak."
Thundercracker stared at him through narrowed optics.
Skywarp hitched his shoulders in an exasperated half-shrug. "What else do you want from me? The leg of Optimus Prime? A statue erected in your honor? A soul?"
Thundercracker looked contemplative for a long moment as if seriously considering the offers. After a long moment, he opened his mouth.
"Fine."
"There we go. Some cooperation. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Skywarp looked slightly relieved.
"I expect my statue to be complete in two weeks time."
"Oh ha. You funny mech."
"Why… must you be so trying?" Thundercracker rested a hand on his helm, his frustration replaced by weariness.
"Because you put up with it, mostly. I probably wouldn't throw up on Starscream—he would hurt me. You on the other hand… are more irritated with the fact that it's nasty, not so much that I was the one who did it."
Thundercracker blinked, lifting his hand slightly off of its position on his helm. "I…" He paused for a moment before exhaling a scoff. "I think that it is gross, I think that I am irritated that it is you because it is always you, and I think that I still kind of want to hurt you but probably won't."
Skywarp smiled knowingly.
"I think that you just envy me because I don't have a fun capacity of a vacuum tube."
"I think that if you don't shut up, I'm going to shove my cannon up your aft and fire it."
"Then again, I guess vacuum tubes can be fun…"
Thundercracker nodded curtly in approval, leaving footprints of oil as he made his way towards his door.
"I'm going to the washracks."
"Good thing, too. I lied earlier. Regurgitated fuel-coated legs are not a good look for you. A clean, shiny TC that has the ambiguous aroma of half-eaten energon goodies is a good look for you. The only thing better than that would be a new purple and black paintjob, because they are both attractive and engaging."
"Clean up your bile and don't talk to me until you wash up." Was all Thundercracker said before exiting his room.
Skywarp smiled to himself. "Good friend…" He mumbled to himself as he began to survey his mess.
Grabbing Thundercracker's discarded datapad from his berthside table, he used it to begin pushing the oil underneath his friend's berth. "I would never admit to such a thing."
What Thundercracker did not know would not hurt him.
A/N: Skywarp is a glutton and TC is a germaphobe. Extreeeemmmeee character development.
