Yes, robots do indeed looove mangoes. Just go along with it, okay? :D
Oddly enough, this one was the first one I thought of. In normal situations, robots and mangos would have absolutely nothing to do with each other, right? Pssh. Not in my brain. 8D
Title: Mango
Rating: T
Verse: G1
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Pairing: Starscream/Astrotrain
Warnings: Just a little groping this time.
Mango- a tropical evergreen tree, Mangifera indica, native to Asia, cultivated for its fruit.
"Ugh! Just what is this slag?" Starscream screeched unhappily as he stepped on another unfortunate tree. That tree, of course, happened to be bursting with over-ripe fruit and quickly seeped sticky, fruity mush into Starscream's foot thruster.
The lithe flyer growled angrily. Yet another complaint to add to this mission's report. The tropical weather was sticky and stiflingly hot, there was squishy slag EVERYWHERE, and his partner for the mission had a tendency to jump unsuspecting Seekers.
"Megatron would send me on this useless mission, the slagger!" He ranted grumpily. "That is why I should be leader! I would never even consider stupid missions like this! That glitching, old, ignorant fool!"
He stomped forward, pushing back the many trees in his way. It was just his luck that one of them, a giant of a tree overfilled with orange fruit, came straight back to hit him square in the chest, splattering sticky mango insides all over his cockpit. After a fast moment of shock, Starscream's anger hit a boiling point. He clenched his fists and drew in an air intake to screech his fury to the sky.
Taking advantage of the Seeker's distraction, his "companion" decided to make himself known, grabbing the seeker by the waist and pulling Starscream to his broad chestplate. "Well, what's this? You've gotten yourself all dirty, Starscream." Astrotrain purred, his dual-toned voice husky and low. He traced a glob of mango on the confused Starscream's shoulder. "Do allow me to … assist you in cleaning up."
Starscream could only watch in horror as the triple-changer, practically vibrating in arousal, licked a long, slow trail down his cockpit. 'Oh, slag.'