raisedbymoogles | And yes, I did have to look up how to spell it.

Title: Onomatopoeia
Rating: R
Content Notes: dirty thoughts, general goofiness
Pairing: Implied Rodimus Prime/Galvatron and Cyclonus/Galvatron
Summary: Cyclonus and Rodimus discuss the only thing they have in common.

"Hey. Cyc."

Cyclonus deliberately read to the end of the page and tabbed over to the next one before answering. "What."

"What do you think? 'Clang' or 'clank?' "

Cyclonus's processor parsed that several different ways, but none of the options it presented made any sense. He lifted his head to fix a glare on the Autobot reclining most disrespectfully on his host's berth, on his back with his legs up and propped against the wall. "What," he demanded flatly, "are you talking about?"

Rodimus Prime tapped his stylus absently on the edge of his datapad. "When he 'faces. Does he go 'clang' or 'clank?' "

Cyclonus didn't have to ask who Rodimus meant by him - who else could be the subject of discussion, after all? - but that still didn't explain Rodimus's question. "You've developed a sudden interest in onomatopoeia, Prime?" he asked lazily, masking confusion with disinterest.

Rodimus flickered the datapad he held at him. "Bad poetry. It's kind of a tradition."

"Autobots." Cyclonus allowed himself a half-smile at Rodimus's shameless laugh of agreement. "It is a deeper sound, Rodimus," he added. "I don't think either of those words are quite appropriate."

"Yeah, you're right." Rodimus nibbled on the end of his stylus. "Maybe 'clonk...' " Cyclonus shook his head in mild disbelief that the Prime actually seemed serious about this - well, as serious as he ever got, anyway. "Mmm. It doesn't really capture the resonance of his body, does it?"

"Hmm... not especially." Cyclonus thought of deep, powerful vibrations against his pelvic plating and shivered.

"That's what I thought." Rodimus's stylus scribbled on the pad's surface. "What do you think about 'clong?' "

"I don't..." Cyclonus held down another shiver and tried again. "I don't think mere language can properly capture the experience of his body, Rodimus. 'Clong' may be as close as you will ever come."

Rodimus thought about that - or, perhaps, thought about things relating to that, judging by how his optics dimmed and he squirmed a little on the berth. It was quite an appealing visual, when connected with the thought of their current topic of discussion. "Yeah," Rodimus answered, his voice a touch staticky. "I guess that works." He cleared his vocalizer and started in on his datapad again. "Right. So, 'clong'..." His voice faded into a mutter as he worked, leaving Cyclonus free to return to his reading - although by that point, something far more interesting had entered the room.

"How about 'boom?' "

Rodimus paused. Very deliberately, he craned his head past the newcomer to glare at Cyclonus. "You could have told me he was coming in."

"Could have." Cyclonus made no effort to hide his smirk. "Didn't."

"You bastard." Rodimus grinned, then pitched his datapad upward and rolled off the bed, landing on his feet in an easy, fluid motion; Galvatron quickly caught the datapad, giving Rodimus a few long steps' head start before the Decepticon Lord gave chase with only a brief, meaningful glance spared for Cyclonus.

That glance was enough to make Cyclonus's circuits fire. Sliding down in his chair, the spacejet fumbled to open a comm line. //Why in the galaxy are you running, Prime?//

//Duh, Cyc,// came the cheerful reply. //So he can catch me.//

Cyclonus had to admit that made a disturbing amount of sense. He listened over the comm line, engine humming, to the sounds of the chase - the clatter of footsteps, Rodimus's breathless laughter, Galvatron's roars - and the inevitable capture, a cacaphony of clashing metal and cries that no language could ever come close to describing.

Not, Cyclonus was sure, that Rodimus wouldn't try.

And yes, I did have to look up how to spell it.

no subject