A little notion I came up with last night and, surprisingly, sat down and wrote straight off the cuff with only a quick read-through-and-fiddle this morning. 'S a record for me... see what you think.

Sparring partners.

Face-off. The two combatants eye each other over the field of honour, both watching, waiting - for the right moment to strike.

Starscream threw himself into a blurring whirl of motion, lightening fast punches near-impossible to see as he dove into the fray. For all his training being a few million years out of date Dreadmoon reacted quickly; blocking most hits and returning a few of his own, he kicked out at Starscream's legs and backhanded the seeker hard enough to send him sprawling.

Almost.

The jet jumped and turned, spinning with the punch while hitting Dreadmoon in the side and leaving a dent deep enough to hinder his movements. The monitor stumbled and reeled, giving Starscream the split-second pause he needed to land and whip back around to face his opponent. Dreadmoon flapped his wings, trying to regain his balance before Starscream struck again, but left it a second too late - the seeker hurled himself forward and mimicked the earlier move, cutting Dreadmoon's legs from under him. Unfortunately for Starscream, Dreadmoon had the presence of mind to kick out as he fell, slamming into the seeker's midsection and leaving him shaking out the glitches in his vision from a cosy dent in the far wall.

Scowling himself out of the wall-induced daze, Starscream quickly wriggled and squirmed his way out of the twisted metal, landing back on the floor as balanced and ready as anyone could be while seeing stars.

His commendable poise and grace under fire was marred somewhat when he saw his bondmate's predicament.

As he was built primarily as successor to a monitor, with no more specific battlefield capabilities than a standard factory-built Decepticon, Dreadmoon also had large, rather ornamental wings. They served their purpose - mainly for steering while flying in robot mode, and formed his hull as a spacecraft. Unfortunately, this fancy piece of ornamental engineering meant his wings were, as I said, pretty large - and curved.

The sight that met an astonished Starscream's optics was...interesting to say the least. Dreadmoon, knocked on his back, was desperately wriggling and kicking to try and get back on his feet. He wasn't too successful - in fact, he reminded Starscream of an irate Insecticon.

The seeker struggled to hide a snigger.

The monitor tried to kick and roll onto his side, but his wings hindered him yet again as Dreadmoon couldn't quite manage to lever himself up and over the curve of his awkward appendage. Glaring up at his partner, he froze as a laser barrel came gently down and rested delicately against his forehead.

"Bang," Starscream said softly, a smile tugging at his mouth "you're dead."

"You said no weapons," Dreadmoon muttered, still struggling to sit up.

"True, but I also said to pretend it was real," the seeker smirked, the smile starting to run away with itself as the gun quivered with Starscream's suppressed laughter. "Your wings are too long, love."

"Blame Seaquake if you like" the monitor shrugged. "Primus knows, I do."

"They're not that bad, surely..." The jet knelt next to Dreadmoon, the gun barrel not moving a micron. The monitor shivered as Starscream accidentally brushed against the traitorous wings, sensors prickling at the unexpected contact.

"They...have their uses," Dreadmoon admitted, "but not in fights."

"Not when you get knocked over you mean!" the seeker laughed, removing the gun and flopping haphazardly on the floor while Dreadmoon glowered. "I haven't seen anything so... so..." He trailed off, laughing too hard to speak.

The monitor sighed. It was his own fault, he supposed, for suggesting Starscream sparred with him in the first place - but the seeker had been edgy and in one of his inexplicable, sudden crotchety moods, so Dreadmoon had needed a distraction as well as combat practice. Who better to ask than the Decepticon Air Commander, after all? Still...

He started when Starscream suddenly leaned over and plonked himself solidly on the monitor's chest, feet on his wings. He hadn't expected the jet's mood to change so abruptly - again - so Starscream still managed to catch him off guard. Leaning forward on the heels of his hands the seeker looked down at his bondmate, purring smugly, "Still, they do have their uses..."

Well and truly pinned, Dreadmoon watched as Starscream's optics softened. The seeker carefully folded one wing back as he slipped down beside his bondmate, nestling close and wrapping an arm round Dreadmoon's waist as the monitor turned slightly to look at him. Lying together on the floor, Starscream atop one indigo wing, they settled into a companionable silence, listening to the soft hum of internal systems starting repairs on the scrapes and dents from their unusual sparring match.

Starscream chuckled to himself. Dreadmoon cocked his head slightly, helmet striking a clear, crystalline note on the floor. "What?"

The seeker grinned at him, optics sparkling wickedly. "I was just thinking...how much more fun training back at headquarters would've been, if I'd had company."

Dreadmoon sighed again, affectionately resigned, and snuggled back into his bondmate's arms.

Ahh... See? I can write a snuggly fic with no actual...er...snuggling involved! Go me... heh. As always, read and review.

Again, Starscream's © Hasbro (I know for definite now - I just bought another TF graphic novel...) Dreadmoon's © Wayward, but the story's © me. But how well it would work if everyone pulled out the copyrighted characters is beyond me... ;)