I'm never really sure what to put in the before story notes, so most of these are going to be short or, like last chapter, nonexistent. Suffice it to say, this is not the strangest pairing you're going to see here. Though I personally found a lovely irony in it. ^ - ^
Words: 658
Chapter includes: No real warnings, lots of narcissism
Disclaimer: Only the demented plot, what there is, is mine
_(*)_Denial_(*)_
It was one of the sols Knockout was trying to convince himself it was not true. He was recharging somewhere and when he awoke he would be alone in his berth, bots to repair (or demolish as he willed) waiting for him and no bondmate who'd just dumped several cans of paint on him in a kaleidoscope of clashing colors.
Glaring at Bulkhead he clenched his dente and fists.
"Oops, sorry 'bout that Knockout. My bad." The mech really did look apologetic, but still! His paint! Turning on his heel he started for the washrack in the hopes of getting it off before it dried. Luckily his mate preferred slower drying paints so he had time to blend the colors.
When he'd awoken to discover what Primus had done to him the first thing he'd tried to do was repaint his servo. He could deal with the sparkbond, but really! The only saving grace was that when he transformed his servo wasn't visible so it didn't ruin the look of his alt.
Meeting his bondmate in person was another can of bolts. The mech had run up to greet him, tripped over his peds and landed on him. He'd insisted on a complete stripping down, repaint and buffing after that; his mate apologizing while he ignored him the whole time.
Stepping through into the washrack he continued doing just that, ignoring his mate while turning on the solvents. He only acknowledged the mech when he picked up a sponge in his pincher and started cleaning the plating along his back struts. Humming in pleasure Knockout let his mate pamper him.
At least one good thing came out of this. As one of the more petite Decepticons, combined with his liking for larger partners, Knockout formerly had a hard time finding partners that didn't try to dominate him.
He didn't think Bulkhead could dominate him without direction if he tried.
Leaving the solvents he stood under the vents letting the warm air and the towel in his mates servos dry him.
Finally properly looking at Bulkhead, Knockout watched him tap his pincers together. He knew the mech wasn't as stupid as he seemed most of the time. You just had to wait for him to spit out what he was thinking.
"I kinda wanted to show you something. I worked really hard on it and... well, I just completed it."
Letting his mech shift on his peds for a klick Knockout waved his servo and nodded. "Very well, let's get this over with. I have a shift in a couple of joor and I have to get ready." It wouldn't due to show up looking less then perfect.
Following after the green mech he examined his finish, absently noting he'd need to wax before he left the building. Sensors giving warning he stopped as his mate did before he could run into him, then stepped up to his side.
Still looking nervous Bulkhead triggered open the door to his studio and then went over to an easel set off to the side where it would get good air circulation.
"Well, here it is."
Knockout studied the painting. Bulkhead was no Sunstreaker, but it was actually a very good painting. It was obvious how much work and care had gone into each stroke. It's wasn't incredible, but still it...
"You painted me."
From the silence Knockout could tell Bulkhead wasn't even venting. Turning from the painting of himself lost in thought over a datapad, end of the stylus caught in his lips, to his lover he made a decision.
"Come along." Leaving the studio he led Bulkhead to their berthroom.
Some sols, the only thing keeping Bulkhead alive is that if he killed him Knockout would die too. Sometimes it wasn't as bad as all that. It helped that he does love the annoyance and terror to his paint.
Not that he's going to be saying that to anyone.
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