A Very Long Walk off a Short Loading Dock [Transformers, Mixmaster/Scavenger, PG]
Title: A Very Long Walk Off a Short Loading Dock
Author: poptartodoom
Rating: PG, if you squint.
Warnings: None, really. No plot to speak of.
Wordcount: 657
A/N: Wow, I'm rusty. I apologize for this travesty. -_-
Prompt: Transformers, Mixmaster/Scavenger: drugs slipped into someone's drink - I can't deny it with that smile on his face/Oh, it's not the kill, it's the thrill of the chase!
Summary: Scavenger knew better.
It was just one of those things that made so much sense at the time, Scavenger reasoned, and yet, he just knew that he'd hate himself in the morning. He knew better than to take any energon Mixmaster offered to him, no matter how earnest the chemist looked or how many times he swore he'd not drugged it this time, honest. Yes, he knew better, and yet here he was, more or less at Mixmaster's mercy.
Mixmaster had begged and pleaded and whined and Scavenger at last acquiesced. He knew the moment he plunged his fuel siphon into the cube that it was tainted, but he still obediently drained the cube, and then let Mixmaster haul him off and get him comfortable somewhere back in the bowels of Mixmaster's lab.
"If you'd wanted a playmate," Scavenger slurred, doing his best to sound scolding, "you could've just asked."
"But it's much more fun to do it this way," Mixmaster replied with a wave of his hand. "Don't you agree, Scavenger? You're so laid back now! It'll be much better now that you're relaxed." Mixmaster ran a delicate finger down Scavenger's shovel-arm, teasing the tines a bit. Scavenger purred despite himself and his optics dimmed.
"Maybe..." Scavenger wriggled a little and folded his arms under his head, lying on his stomach on a berth half-shrouded in shadow. Jar upon jar of chemicals and substances lined two of the walls, a third was blocked by the lab bench where most of Mixmaster's apparatus lay, and Mixmaster himself blocked the exit. Scavenger sighed. It was too much work to fight Mixmaster at this point, and he was so tired. "You know, it's kinda pervy of you to want me half-conscious," Scavenger scolded again, but then he was distracted by the fingers of his left hand. The joints were a fascinating bit of work, weren't they?
"Yes, well, at least this way I know you're not going anywhere," Mixmaster replied agreeably, calling Scavenger's attention away from the study of his fingers. "Would you like some more energon?" The chemist offered another shimmering cube, smiling earnestly.
Scavenger blearily stared at it before shrugging noncommittally. At least this way, he'd be blessedly unconscious, and he never could tell Mixmaster no when the chemist was smiling like that. "Why not," Scavenger mumbled, offering his fuel siphon. "Do your worst. But if you bend up my shovel, you're repairing it."
"Nonsense." Mixmaster plugged Scavenger into the cube before wandering over to the nearest lab bench, where he picked up a large jar full of what could only be described as a translucent lime ooze. "I just needed someone to test my newest concoction out on, and the others wouldn't have it. Psh. They don't know what they're missing out on."
Scavenger eyed the container warily. "...And that would be...?" He shuddered as he imagined what horrible fate that lime green goo could have in store for him. Would it melt his exostructure, leaving his chassis bare for some horrible experiment? Would it burn like the smelting pits but never actually melt him? He'd heard stories of Mixmaster's victims, but he'd still never imagined he'd become one. He'd thought being a Constructicon made him officially off-limits for Mixmaster's experiments.
"Wax!" Mixmaster crowed triumphantly, pulling out a buffing cloth. "Specifically designed for the Constructicons, no less. It'll resist scratches and dings better than any other. The others just didn't want to be pretty," he scoffed.
Scavenger's CPU screeched to a halt. He couldn't help but feel like he'd taken a very long walk off a very short loading dock. "Wait," he managed, as his drug-addled CPU struggled to compute Mixmaster's words. "You drugged me to haul me off and wax me?"
"Yep." Mixmaster looked at Scavenger oddly, as one might study a strange-looking bug. "Why, what'd you think I was going to do?"
"Nevermind," Scavenger mumbled. Mixmaster hummed in triumph and gave Scavenger the best waxing of his life.
Author: poptartodoom
Rating: PG, if you squint.
Warnings: None, really. No plot to speak of.
Wordcount: 657
A/N: Wow, I'm rusty. I apologize for this travesty. -_-
Prompt: Transformers, Mixmaster/Scavenger: drugs slipped into someone's drink - I can't deny it with that smile on his face/Oh, it's not the kill, it's the thrill of the chase!
Summary: Scavenger knew better.
It was just one of those things that made so much sense at the time, Scavenger reasoned, and yet, he just knew that he'd hate himself in the morning. He knew better than to take any energon Mixmaster offered to him, no matter how earnest the chemist looked or how many times he swore he'd not drugged it this time, honest. Yes, he knew better, and yet here he was, more or less at Mixmaster's mercy.
Mixmaster had begged and pleaded and whined and Scavenger at last acquiesced. He knew the moment he plunged his fuel siphon into the cube that it was tainted, but he still obediently drained the cube, and then let Mixmaster haul him off and get him comfortable somewhere back in the bowels of Mixmaster's lab.
"If you'd wanted a playmate," Scavenger slurred, doing his best to sound scolding, "you could've just asked."
"But it's much more fun to do it this way," Mixmaster replied with a wave of his hand. "Don't you agree, Scavenger? You're so laid back now! It'll be much better now that you're relaxed." Mixmaster ran a delicate finger down Scavenger's shovel-arm, teasing the tines a bit. Scavenger purred despite himself and his optics dimmed.
"Maybe..." Scavenger wriggled a little and folded his arms under his head, lying on his stomach on a berth half-shrouded in shadow. Jar upon jar of chemicals and substances lined two of the walls, a third was blocked by the lab bench where most of Mixmaster's apparatus lay, and Mixmaster himself blocked the exit. Scavenger sighed. It was too much work to fight Mixmaster at this point, and he was so tired. "You know, it's kinda pervy of you to want me half-conscious," Scavenger scolded again, but then he was distracted by the fingers of his left hand. The joints were a fascinating bit of work, weren't they?
"Yes, well, at least this way I know you're not going anywhere," Mixmaster replied agreeably, calling Scavenger's attention away from the study of his fingers. "Would you like some more energon?" The chemist offered another shimmering cube, smiling earnestly.
Scavenger blearily stared at it before shrugging noncommittally. At least this way, he'd be blessedly unconscious, and he never could tell Mixmaster no when the chemist was smiling like that. "Why not," Scavenger mumbled, offering his fuel siphon. "Do your worst. But if you bend up my shovel, you're repairing it."
"Nonsense." Mixmaster plugged Scavenger into the cube before wandering over to the nearest lab bench, where he picked up a large jar full of what could only be described as a translucent lime ooze. "I just needed someone to test my newest concoction out on, and the others wouldn't have it. Psh. They don't know what they're missing out on."
Scavenger eyed the container warily. "...And that would be...?" He shuddered as he imagined what horrible fate that lime green goo could have in store for him. Would it melt his exostructure, leaving his chassis bare for some horrible experiment? Would it burn like the smelting pits but never actually melt him? He'd heard stories of Mixmaster's victims, but he'd still never imagined he'd become one. He'd thought being a Constructicon made him officially off-limits for Mixmaster's experiments.
"Wax!" Mixmaster crowed triumphantly, pulling out a buffing cloth. "Specifically designed for the Constructicons, no less. It'll resist scratches and dings better than any other. The others just didn't want to be pretty," he scoffed.
Scavenger's CPU screeched to a halt. He couldn't help but feel like he'd taken a very long walk off a very short loading dock. "Wait," he managed, as his drug-addled CPU struggled to compute Mixmaster's words. "You drugged me to haul me off and wax me?"
"Yep." Mixmaster looked at Scavenger oddly, as one might study a strange-looking bug. "Why, what'd you think I was going to do?"
"Nevermind," Scavenger mumbled. Mixmaster hummed in triumph and gave Scavenger the best waxing of his life.