TF: Jealousy
Rating: PG
Series: G1
Summary: A look into the inner workings of the Stuncticons
Warnings: Potential fluff if you read between the lines.
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: This is for the gestalt_love June Challenge - Jealousy in the ranks. So I started off trying to include all the Decepticon gestalts… and failed. Then I thought, why not just concentrate on your favorites… so I did. And hence… this. And blah, I’m not impressed with it, but the muse has disappeared.
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
It was jealously, pure and simple. Breakdown was jealous of him. Jealous of the way he carried himself, of the way he dared mechs to look at him, wanted mechs to look at him. He was everything that Breakdown wasn’t.
“Stop watching him.” Dead End drawled, optics focussed on his bookfile.
“What?” Breakdown jumped; unaware that Dead End’s attention had been anywhere else aside from his bookfile.
“Stop watching Drag Strip. He’s going to notice sooner or later and he’ll slag you for it, you know he will.”
“No he won’t.” But Breakdown didn’t feel as confident as he sounded.
“Why do you keep watching him?” Dead End asked, putting his bookfile down. He watched Breakdown surreptitiously; well aware the Lamborghini didn’t like optics on him.
“He’s…” Breakdown shook his head, lost for words to try and explain how he felt. “I’m jealous.” He eventually whispered, so low that Dead End’s audios barely registered it.
“Jealous of him? Why?” Dead End scoffed. He just couldn’t understand why Breakdown would be jealous of Drag Strip. Now, if he was jealous of Wildrider, he could understand that. Wildrider had a zest for life that Dead End just didn’t have. Or didn’t want to have. Yet he still felt a pang of jealousy when he watched his brother approach everything with the exuberance that was uniquely Wildrider.
“Because… because he’s everything I’m not. He doesn’t mind being looked at. He wants to be looked at. And his paintjob…” Breakdown trailed off, a wistful expression on his faceplates. If Dead End could have rolled his optics, he would have. As it was, he settled for shaking his head at Breakdown.
“I cannot believe you are jealous of Drag Strip of all mechs.” He murmured, focussing his attention back on his bookfile. But he wasn’t really reading it any more. He was thinking about Wildrider. And attempting not to look over at him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Breakdown keeps staring at you.” Wildrider cackled almost gleefully over a private commline to Drag Strip.
“Shut up.” Drag Strip retorted, intent on buffing out a minor scratch in his paintwork.
“He’s looking at you.” Wildrider didn’t take any notice of Drag Strip. “He keeps trying to pretend that he’s not but he is!” Drag Strip finally looked up at Wildrider.
“Shut up.” He repeated, flinging his buffing cloth at the Ferrari. Wildrider just laughed. But he did shut up. And subspace Drag Strip’s cleaning cloth. Leaning back, Wildrider looked across the room at Breakdown. Sometimes, he found himself staring at the Lamborghini, almost jealous of the way he thought before he acted. Frag, the mech thought twice before he even got out of the berth in the morning! Sometimes, just sometimes, Wildrider found himself wondering what it would be like to not rush into things the way he did.
Drag Strip growled and got up, heading for his own room to pick up another cloth.
“Losers, the lot of you.” He muttered as he walked out. Wildrider shrugged and bounced over to where Dead End and Breakdown were talking quietly.
“Hey guys, what’s up?”
“Wildrider.” Dead End barely looked up from his bookfile, trying hard not to let the smile on his face show.
“Thought I might join you now the oh high and mighty yellow one has gone.”
“Fine.” Breakdown shrugged. He didn’t mind Wildrider joining them, though he wished that Drag Strip hadn’t stalked out.
“Great!” Curling up against Breakdown, Wildrider chatted aimlessly about the last time he’d left the base. Dead End found himself listening to the Ferrari, wishing that he was impetuous as the other.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And that was how Motormaster found them when he went looking for his team; Dead End reading his bookfile, throwing glances at Breakdown and Wildrider who were curled up next to one another recharging. He felt a pang of jealousy as he looked at them all, wishing that perhaps they’d actually feel comfortable enough to do that with him one day. And then he immediately dismissed the thought.
“Get up you lazy fraggers. Megatron needs us.”