Humoresque of a Little Dog

[thehardway]

Who: Ultra Magnus and Misfire
Where: Scavengers central
When: August 31st
Summary: Ultra Magnus visits Misfire. As you can imagine, hijinks ensue.
Warnings: N/A



It's well into almost two months that he's been doing this. Waiting specifically until he's sure that none of the other Decepticons are home until he pings Misfire so he can come in. It's not that he's afraid of Krok and the others, but rather he wants to avoid anything potentially awkward.

This kind of visitation is strange and he doesn't know what to make of it. Every time he stops by, he ends up hugging or cuddling the scraggly Decepticon; a dirty scoundrel who's undoubtedly broken the law, but here he is a civilian for the time being. Someone who needed his protection when Chromedome had, apparently, lost his mind and played with memories.

These days, he just wants to check in and make sure Misfire is okay. He doesn't know if that makes them friends or ... what it makes them, but Ultra Magnus feels he's doing the right thing.

"I'm here," Magnus sends his message to Misfire. "Open the door?"

Comments

[thehardway]

"You cannot remain filthy any longer, Misfire. There is no excuse. You do not live a life of scraping up materials to survive off of. You can and you will shower with me and that's final."

With determination, Ultra Magnus makes his way down to the showers. Despite Misfire's desperate struggles, Utlra Magnus proceeds anyway.

He shuts the door tight and begins turning on hot water to pour over both of them.

[misfier]

"I'M STRANGELY CONFLICTED!" On the one hand: showering. On the other: with Magnus. Such mixed signals here. Unfortunately his desire to not be clean outweighs his strange burgeoning appetite for the enforcer's beefy arms and solid chest.

When the water hits him, his wailing begins anew.

"I'M ACTUALLY DYING! HELP! MURDER!"

[thehardway]

"Settle down. You aren't dying! It's just water."

A strong hand clutches Misfire's shoulder, attempting to keep the Decepticon still. The pleas don't prevent Magnus from making his next move.

He has a scrubbing brush in hand, already soaped up and ready to clean with extreme prejudice.

[misfier]

"Somebody stop him! He's mad with power!" Misfire is actually pretty slippery when wet. It's all the dirt turning into mud, streaming off in long, gray and brown streaks.

The brush is just another horror, though he's started to stop thrashing at least and is now whimpering. It's progress.

[thehardway]

Seeing all of the disgusting dirt start to go down the drain is both horrifying yet also gratifying. There's some deep satisfaction in seeing it start to get washed away.

It'll only get better.

"You'll be fine," Magnus tells him sternly. "Stop squirming already."

Hopefully Misfire is prepared for it, because the top of his helm is started.

Brushie brushie brushie.

[misfier]

He's stopped thrashing, but he's still fussing and pushing at Magnus's arm ineffectually. Sullenly whining the whole time.

"There it goes. Millions of years of hard work. Down the drain. Literally."

This is probably the worst day of his life. Maybe.

[thehardway]

"Wait, are you telling me you stocked up on this thick coat of grime on purpose?" Ultra Magnus demands, staring down at Misfire.

[misfier]

Misfire's sudden silence is telling. He winces and looks down. Yeah.

Yeah he did.

[thehardway]

Lo and behold Ultra Magnus's sheer horror.

"What? Why?! Why would you ever do something like that!"

[misfier]

Silence. And then:

"I dunno. Things get boring and lonely in the army."