"I thinks it's soooo cute dat you think you cin make th' universe a betta' place."
The irreverent voice from the doorway made Dinobot freeze, the warrior's optics temporarily widening before narrowing into angry slits of crimson light. He didn't have to turn around to visualize Rattrap, the foul vermin, temptation and repulsion rolled neatly into one beautiful, golden package, sneering at him, arms folded over his chestplates, hips tilted at an angle that was both mocking and beckoning. How any one mech managed to be so many contradictory things at once and still be above them all, the Saurian didn't know, but somehow, the rodent did it. Just thinking about it drove him mad and made him want to claw his own CPU out.
And he could. Not. Stop. Thinking about him.
i"Vermin,"/i he growled, venom dripping from every syllable as he drew the word out, imbuing it with all the distaste and resentment he could manage. "What is this, hrm, drivel that is pouring from your slag-tainted lips this time?"
"Oh? Thinkin' 'bout my lips taday, are ya?" A chuckle, amusement and arrogance making the rodent's voice lilt as he spoke. There was a small shuffle, then rhythmic pattern of swiff-clang as the diminutive spy crossed the room, the swagger of his footsteps ringing in Dinobot's audios. The Saurian cycled air through his vents, servos clenched into fists on his desk. He wanted so badly to leap from his seat and throw the tiny mech from his quarters, but he knew that would just be giving Rattrap what he wanted.
Then again, maybe that's what the rodent wanted him to think. Mind games where never his specialty, but Rattrap played them with the sort of expertise that Megatron would have found impressive. A shame that he used his talent purely for selfish purposes and taunting Predacon turncoats. Well, two could play at that game, but Dinobot really didn't feel like following the rules.
Ignoring the part of himself that was demanding he throw Rattrap, and everything that reminded him of Rattrap, violently out the window, the warrior turned his chair to face the tiny Maximal and none-too-gently grabbed him by the waist, pulling him into his lap. He expected resistance, but the tiny mech was all too happy to fold up into his lap, one arm around the warrior's neck and his head tucked beneath his chin.
Hrm, of course. He was over thinking things again. Rattrap didn't care what his reaction was, as long as he wasn't being ignored. He could still pick the rodent up and dump him outside of his room, but then the foul wretch would just pound and scratch at the door until Dinobot relented and let him back in. Better to keep him close and quiet. After all, he was small enough that Dinobot barely felt his weight in his lap, and he wouldn't interfere with his view of his laptop.
Curling one arm around Rattrap's tiny waist, Dinobot muttered to himself and turned back to his desk, reclining into his chair and settling into it more comfortably. Miraculously, Rattrap stayed quiet as Dinobot worked, running battle simulations, reviewing past encounters with the Megatron's forces, and generally preparing for the worst. The only sounds in the room was the click of the mouse, the clack of the keyboard, and the whir of three sets of fans running in tandem.
One megacycle quickly passed, then another, and another. Before Dinobot knew it, half the day had gone by without a fuss. He accomplished more than he ever expected to in so short a time, and felt as though he was running out of things to keep him occupied. Strange that Optimus had not called him with some task or another, but Megatron had just suffered a painful defeat a few days prior, and the benevolent commander must have decided his soldiers had earned a few days respite.
But what really amazed him was how still and quiet Rattrap had been. It was a rare treat indeed for the rodent to be so well behaved. Even when he was occupied with some minor repair job or looking over some data, he did not sit still or silent. He always whistled, hum, sang or talked to himself. A foot bounced in place, a servo drummed on the console, or he wiggled his hips in a little dance.
He must have been recharging, the warrior mused, shifting the rodent slightly, pulling his legs up onto his lap and moving his head to his shoulder. Rattrap whined in protest, one hand sliding to Dinobot's chest, and tilted his head up to scowl faintly at the raptor. His crimson optics were dimmer than usual, but he was still very much awake, much to the warrior's surprise.
Time passed slowly, then faded away into nothing as they sat together, optics never breaking. A strange feeling settled in Dinobot's spark, and he found himself wishing the moment would never end. He knew it would, eventually. Optimus Primal, or Rhinox, or someone would call for them, or Rattrap would open his thrice-damned mouth and say something to ruin the mood, or perhaps Megatron's pride would recover faster than usual, and he'd attack the base. Or maybe the warrior would simply run low on energy, and he'd have to put Rattrap down so he could refuel. Who knew? But the moment would never last long enough, it simply couldn't.
He sighed.
"Y'cain't save me," Rattrap murmured, pulling his head out from underneath the warrior's chin and looking up at him earnestly.
"Rodent, I do not know what exactly you are talking about," Dinobot began slowly, looking down to meet Rattrap's optics, "but if this comes from some foolishly conceived feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt, I can assure you, I hardly think you need saving, and though sometimes you anger me with your thoughtlessness, I do not wish to change you."
A wry smile tugged at the spy's lips and he let out a dry little chuckle. "Dat's a lotta pretty woids dere, Dinodip, but I don' believe ya fer a nano."
"Of course you don't," the raptor smiled, his face softening for the briefest of moments. It was funny how endearing he considered the rodent's mistrust. Of course, trust was a rare thing among Predacons, and he'd be sorely disappointed if Rattrap simply dropped his guard around him, no matter how many times they sought one another out.
Turning his gaze from the pouting mech, Dinobot saved and closed what he was working on and pulled up a bookfile. The story was familiar enough that he could have recited it from heart, but there was something he enjoyed about seeing the text on the screen, written in its strange, alien language.
"Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene," he murmured, nuzzling the top of Rattrap's braincase, drawing a quiet, incoherent sound from the tiny mech. "From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes a pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; whole misadventured piteous overthrows do with their death, bury their parents' strife."
"Sounds pretty."
"For someone whose verbal repertoire is as entrenched in pop culture as yours, I am surprised that you've not heard of Romeo and Juliet before."
"Poetry's considered pop culture?"
Dinobot chuckled. "Where I am from, yes, it is. Tis the prerogative of a warrior to express himself in battle, and such emphatic outpouring of one's spark can not be chronicled lightly. The words must flow across the screen as a blade doth dance from foe to foe, leaving behind naught but bloody carnage in its wake."
"Sweet Primus. You must write the craziest mission reports."
"I have been told that I am far more verbose than most commanders feel necessary," the raptor agreed, shrugging one shoulder.
"Yanno, if ya used smaller woids, more people might undastand what'cher sayin'."
"Are you admitting ignorance?"
"I admit nothin'," the rat smirked, squirming around as if he was trying to burrow into Dinobot's chest. It made the warrior laugh softly and wrap both arms around the rodent's slim form, enveloping him completely. A few quiet, content moments passed, then Rattrap felt the need to break the silence.
"So, is dere any more ta dat Romeo an' Juliet poem thing, or wazzat it?"
"Would you like to hear more?" Dinobot asked slowly, surprised and pleased by the question.
"Well, I figyah, if we're gonna be sharin' a berth regularly, I might as well learn a ilittle bit/i 'bout'cher hobbies an' what not. An' besides," he added, bashfully looking down and twiddling his fingers, "I kinda like lissenin' t'ya talk."
"Hrm, I suppose that, so long as there is nothing better to do, that I might indulge you, my poorly educated companion," the warrior smirked, sinking just a bit deeper into his chair as a puff of warm air huffed over his neck.
"Edjicated nothin', Lizardlips. Just shut up 'n read."