|28 Perceptor: Naughty
||[Sep. 1st, 2007|12:02 pm]
~*Organized Rambles*~ Fanfiction Page
Title: Well Returns
For: 28 Perceptors “Naughty Perceptor” prompt
Fandom: TF: G1
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor, Wheeljack
Summary: Beware the quiet smart ones.
Notes/Warnings: requested by ravynfyre :D. Takes place right after Season One.
Hazing. One would think that it only occurred in human frat houses. But it seemed that instances of it pop up throughout many different cultures, species even. One such occurrence took place not too long ago with the arrival of reinforcements from Cybertron to the Ark. Wheeljack could only say that finding his old colleague decked out in rude Earth sayings and silly string during Perceptor’s odd slips into recharge (the culprits likely to be the minibots. Especially after Wheeljack discovered the rather crude phrase having to do with a professor and a muffler, one of Brawn’s new discoveries, scrawled onto Perceptor’s scope).
Perceptor’s reaction to the whole ordeal was suspiciously calm.
A few days later, Wheeljack entered his labs to find Perceptor tinkering absentmindedly with some defunct circuits.
To say that the expression on Perceptor's face wasn't perfectly smug would be missing an observation. It wasn't often that such a look surfaced onto the red scientist's features. But when it did, even Wheeljack knew to feel slightly apprehensive...and the Autobot engineer was feeling very apprehensive.
"Uh, what are you up to, Perceptor?"
Like quicksilver, the grin on said Autobot’s face smoothed away into an innocently inquisitive smile as he turned away from his work. The fact that the Perceptor was so easily distracted from the lab was enough to ring klaxons in Wheejack’s warning systems, but he pressed on, hand lighting carefully on the other mech’s shoulder.
Perceptor responded with a disarming tilt to his head, but his optics were all but glimmering in bright anticipation. “There’s no need to extrapolate with such a concerned expression, Wheeljack,” the scientist returned to his tinkering–rather, his fidgeting. "There's nothing going on here at all."
As if right on cue, grumbles and noises of outrage echoed in through open doors. Wheeljack peered out and stumbled back into the lab, wheezing noises that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter exiting his vocalizer, his head-lights flashing a cheery, spastic, blue. What marched past the doorway was something quite out of the ordinary: Trailbreaker and Inferno hefted a long bench–part of the minibots’ favorite rec room table–between them. Stuck on it like human dashboard ornaments were Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Windcharger, and a very irritated Brawn. The group of them had at least a bit of sense to look slightly shame-faced as they caught sight of Perceptor curiously watching them bob by on their make-shift litter.
“Ah...I take it you found some use for that viscous polymer solution you stumbled upon then?” coughed Wheeljack lightly when the strange procession was out of sight as it headed around the corner for the med-bay.
“I have no idea of what your question pertains to,” Perceptor replied evenly as he mopped up a tiny spill of solution from a lab counter. Wheeljack only eyed said spill and the scientist before turning away, fins still flashing in silent laughter. Loud growls and bangs could now be heard through the thick wall that separated the med-bay and laboratories. Wheeljack pretended not to notice the pleased expression that alighted on Perceptor’s face.
The fact that he’d deal with Ratchet’s quick ire later seemed to have completely slipped the other’s mind.