Bumblebee looks around to make sure Smokescreen’s naggy red botfriend wasn’t around, and holds up the glowing cubes. The aroma wafting off them is intoxicating.
"So, Smokescreen, sorry for the harsh treatment earlier. I’m here to make it up to you. Join me for a drink?~"
He really, really, wants to pull that servo off his chest, and he does manage to reach up to grab Bumblebee’s shoulder tire, but can’t bring himself to cause any harm.
"So you have a normal mouth? Hmm." Another new factoid for the day. The normal dentae were less worrisome, at least. Maybe he won’t get his plating pierced again.
"I don’t know. Play games, discuss tactics- though I doubt I would do that with you, considering how young you are. Why do you want to be on my good side, though? I’m not very good company. And I don’t enjoy working in teams, either. You’re just wasting your time."
As Smokescreen touched Bee’s shoulder tire, he forced a moan, faking arousal “Oh yes, Smokey, you know where I like it~” He licked the other mech’s faceplate again, but without extending his glossa too much.
"Maybe I’m bored, and need company. We’re nearly the same age. Are you really rejecting my company because of a creation date? Surely you are lonely. Playing with your little puzzles and yourself would make any mech go mad…" Bumblebee finally stands on his stiletto pedes, freeing Smokescreen from his reclined position. The dark scout’s frame was unbearably hot. He needed to spar, or find another way to release the pent up energy.
"These games…do they help with ‘frustrations’, or has your chemical circuitry been neutralized?"
"Mr. Noble bot?" That’s the first time he’s been called that. And he’s not at all sure how to feel about that, nor is he sure what to do with Bee playing with his face. It doesn’t feel like he can do anything.
"Knock Out? He’s not a clone- well. Not really. He pretended to be one at one point, but he isn’t. Not really. He’s from some other universe, where the Decepticons are actually competent, and the Autobots are even more pathetic than they are here. I first met him when this other Decepticon mind medic was trying to do something- and we tried to offline each other when we saw each other. I suppose things have become better since then."
"What makes him worth the effort?" He had to stop for a moment, not sure how to explain this stuff- wanting to not say anything, but words he’d never say to anyone else normally coming out. "I actually care for him- love, I suppose. I’ve seen him at his worst, and his best, and I enjoy every day I can spend with him. Urgh- this sounds horribly soft. I suppose it is. It’s none of your business."
Bumblebee snickers and drums his talons over Smokescreen’s chest. quite sated with his perch. “You’ve seen me at my worst too, so what makes company superior to mine?”
Bumblebee retracts his fangs and transforms his jaw from a snaggle-tooth insectticon nightmare back to a more normal mouth, with a very smarmy expression. “What could I do to get on your good side? I think we could make quite a team. Really change things. It would require some effort, which is something you seem reluctant to give.”
"I don’t care if I’m seen as a hypocrite by others- it’s for myself. And I stay in the hope that he might accomplish something. But I know he never will."
"I’ve- thought of it. But he’s not worth the effort. He’ll end up destroying himself soon enough. There are many, many other mecha who hate him, and someone else will do the work for me. I’d rather sit back, have a drink, and watch him finally destroy himself. And only a couple other mecha know. And absolutely no one gives a frag."
"What, are you planning on offlining me now? Great. Fantastic. Whatever." That would at least make him shut up about all of this stuff. He had no idea why he was saying this- why he wasn’t trying to run off. What did Bee do?
"Heh, well look at you, Mr. Noble-bot. Nothing is worth anything hm? And no, I don’t have any plans to offline our master." Bumblebee pulled on Smokescreen’s lower lip plate, just to play with his face, knowing the mech would be too compliant to shoo him away.
"This Knock Out clone, tell me about him. What is his purpose here? How did you meet, and what makes him ‘worth the effort’?" Bumblebee might be slightly jealous of said-red medic, as he literally has Smokescreen wrapped around his claw.
He wanted to just go “What orders? I don’t have to obey anything from you.” But what came out was more of a “Sorry.”
"No- no, I’m not. You can’t force me to."
Despite his own attempts to keep any explanations short, words sort of pour out, “I thought he would be better than this- I thought he would do so much for our world. Advance it, make everything better, fix the broken as frag politics. But see- just- see where we are now? Our planet is dead, we’re an endangered species that has been in a war for the remaining scraps of energon we can find- he’s not even trying to advance anything. I hate him- I hate putting hope into him, hate how I thought he was perfect for far too long.”
"The only reason I’m not a Decepticon is because it would be hypocritical to change after so long. Pointless."
Bumblebee’s optics twirled as he listened. Maybe Smokescreen wasn’t as stupid as he assumed, but he would never admit that.
"I see. Why would you care if you are seen as a hypocrite? It’s pointless to remain with a leader you hate. Ever thought of killing Prime? How many others know you hate him this much?"
The dark scout was trying to fingure out just what made Smokescreen tick, and if the other mech had a plan for killing Prime, he might just go along with it. He always wanted to be supreme leader of the Autobots, but like a metal cockroach, Prime never seemed to die.
He tries to avoid wincing, but shuts his eyes for a while after Bee’s screech, not letting go until he gets bitten by him. Bitten. The frag- is that a hole in his servo? That fragger- those servos are important! Maybe it was worth the effort to beat him up.
He spent the next few moments trying to kick, punch, and bite Bee wherever he could. That fragger had to pay- he damaged his servos. He damaged his servos. He bit him! After a few moments, he didn’t feel like he had the energy to continue- his mind wasn’t able to concentrate on even punching Bee. He couldn’t even think of better insults right now.
Smokescreen flailed about wildly at first, but then settled into a stupor, flexing his servos almost like a kneading cybercat. Bumblebee lifted himself off the other mech’s frame and scanned the room for a patch kit. There was one under a table, with a corroded torch. It would have to do. Bee took Smokescreen’s wobbling sevro and welded the puncture closed, to stop the bleeding.
"Idiot, why did you have to make me bite you? You should listen when a superior gives you an order!" Bumblebee had one too many screws loose in his helm with textbook sociopath programming. What he thought was acceptable social interaction clearly was not.
"Now Scrapscreen, I got some questions for you, and you’re going to answer me…Why do you hate Prime, and why are you still an Autobot if you hate him so much?" Smokescreen would be forced to give an honest answer as the Trojan took control of his circuitry.
"Then perhaps I shouldn’t bother. I’m not going to do it if you’re going to enjoy that slag. Even if it would be entertaining for me."
Smokescreen’s doing his best to contain himself, but he is pretty irritated by Bumblebee right now, to say the least. One servo’s going to go and try to pull a wing down, trying to damage it somehow.
Trying to cover up the shiver that went down his backstrut at the lick, he’s going to reach for that glossa, and give it a hard pull, inadvertently bringing Bumblebee’s face closer to him. Ah well.
"Just shut up. You’re not worth slag. You and me? We’re absolutely worthless. You aren’t worth any effort I put in. I’m wasting my time here, and the only reason I haven’t left is because you’re still on me. Get off."
Bumblebee belts out a deafening screech as Smokescreen yanks his glossa. It was obvious that the tactician would need to be tamed the only way Bee knew how. He retracted his glossa, bringing Smokescreen’s servo up to his fangs and chomping down hard, piercing the other mech’s plating.
Bumblebee’s fangs were not just for show or defense; each fang contained a different type of solution or venom - some deadly, some healing, but most used for program over-riding and manipulation. Bee injected a Compliance Trojan into Smokescreen’s energon via the puncture. It would take a few minutes to work, but once it did, it put the victim in a daze.
"Get off of me- urgh. What do you want, Goldbug?"
He’s going to get a grip on Bumblebee’s arm, tightening it while Bee’s fangs were against his crest, making a move to try to try to roll about and get Bee on the ground. It has been a while.
"I don’t feel like sparring with you. You aren’t worth the effort. But perhaps it would be enjoyable to make your faceplates unrecognizable."
"Good, that’s it…I’d like to see you try~" Bumblebee hissed as he taunted Smokescreen to fight back. The truth was, the dark scout was in need of a companion. Most of his team had already been scrapped and he was one of the few functioning seekers left. Yet he always had a fondness for Smokescreen, despite being a grounder.
His wings bounced a bit as he remained mounted on the other’s frame.
"Oh, I’m always worth the effort. Maybe I’ve been a bit hard on you. Prove to me you’re not a total bore." Bumblebee’s long, feeler like glossa extended and licked Smokescreen’s face plate deviously.