"The extremity of your incompetence is unfathomable, vermin!"

"Hey! It wasn't my fault I too was distracted by your nasty smell to notice the Preds. Eh, I'm surprised your stank didn't put me into stasis lock hours ago, lizard lips!"

It was childish and immature, the way that they treated each other, like playground puppy love where "you have cooties" equates to "I think you're cute." Only, in their case it was "you're stinky"-"I like you."

Perhaps, at one point and time, the pair's verbal stabs had been sincere, but if they were they hadn't remained that way for very long. It was obvious to the Maximals that the raptor and the rat held some degree, however minor, of affection for one another other. Why else would each invest so much time and heated emotion in the other? Hatred was not represented in such a way, Rattrap and Dinobot knew that, regardless if either would ever admit it.

People who truly hate one another tend to gravitate towards avoidance, or awkward silence when together. Dinobot and Rattrap were rarely not working together, and they were most definitely never silent.

"I am impressed that you can smell anything over your own nauseating own odor, cheese lips!"

"I'm a rat, what's your excuse? Next to you I smell like a bed of roses!"

"The only way that you could smell anything even vaguely approaching the realm of tolerable, rodent, is if you were a rotting carcass! Because that stench would at least carry good news with it."

"If you hate it so much, why not do us both a favor and go slag yourself, Dino-butt!"

Optimus simply rubbed his temple with a resigned sigh. It would seem that those two were absolutely hopeless, but he knew better. It had been a rather slow realization, but somewhere along the line the gorilla-bot had begun to nurse suspicions of there being something between his comrades. Perhaps he'd been cooped up on the primitive planet for a little too long and was getting his circuits crossed, but Optimus was fairly certain that there had to be something there.

The signs weren't particularly overt, and the casual observer would likely not notice them at all, but as the leader of the Maximals it was his job to be aware of the inconspicuities of his crewmember's actions. Furtive little nuances, such as the fact that neither really let anyone else get away with calling them degrading names so easily. And it was the truth that they casually touched one another more so than anyone else in the base did. Simple little things such as hands on shoulders when one was injured, or the way that Dinobot would sometimes help Rattrap compensate for his vertical problem, without ever chastising him for it. . .

And yes, Optimus realized, the main thing about their dynamic that spoke of something other than hatred between them was the fact that neither really ever aimed for nerves that mattered. Sure, Rattrap would freely question Dinobot's loyalty to the Maximals, but the ex-Predacon did that enough himself to make the subject a fairly open one. Rattrap never, however, insulted his honor, likewise Dinobot never intentionally tried to prod any of the rat's sensitive wounds.

Though a little immature, neither bot could possibly be dumb enough to think that their silly jabs actually hurt one another. It was that that first caught Primal's attention and caused him to be more aware. As best he could figure, Rattrap initially started bickering with Dinobot to relieve his real tension and apprehensions of having a Predacon join their ranks. The ex-Predacon had merely retaliated. And this pattern had continued even after they'd come to be friends because, Optimus theorized, neither simply knew of any other way to deal.

Dinobot had been a Predacon for all of his existence, and quite obviously was very unsavvy in the department of interpersonal relationships. Likely, he knew no other way to communicate beyond challenging others and shouting-matches. Rattrap was no prime example of a communication expert himself, just a more personable loner. These facts did little to show promise of a peaceful relationship upon the horizon.

"Come back and say that to my face you slaggin' saurian!" The small bot yelled as he chased down the corridor after his reluctant-comrade.

"Hey Big Bot," Optimus was brought out of his thoughts by his young protégé's voice.

"Yes Cheetor?"

"Do you think those two will ever stop?" The wave of a spotted paw indicated the now empty hallway.

With an exaggerated exhale, followed by a good-natured half-smile, he answered: "that's one arena where even I have the sense not to be too optimistic."

"But why do they hate each other so much? Dinobot's proven that he's on our side now; Rattrap needs to lighten up." Ah, good old Cheetor. Optimus couldn't help but smile. He knew that the young bot looked up to all of his teammates very much, Dinobot included, and just wanted everyone to get along.

"I really don't think that they do, Cheetor. Some people just have a harder time showing they care than others."

"Well, they could at least learn to not show it so violently," Rhinox, who'd been silent until then, interjected from where he was working across the room. "This is fourth computer consol they've broken this month. The second one this week!"

The Maximal leader sighed. The two could exchange jokes about one another's maternal-units till kingdom come for all he cared at this point, so long as they learned to stop half-demolishing the base every time that they did so. "It's true, they have been exceptionally destructive lately. . . Any ideas Maximals?"

"We could lock them in a room together and not let them out until they get along," Cheetor piped in, but was interrupted by Rhinox.

"Or until they slag each other. . . "The large green bot just shook his head grimly. "I think that locking them up together would be too dangerous—and not just for the base!"

"Well then, what are we going to do?"

While his teammates had been discussing the issue at hand, many ideas, none of which had born fruit, whizzed through the gorilla-bot's processor. What could be done about it? Obviously punishment, at least for destroying parts of the base, but that was a short-term solution to what had clearly evolved into a very long-term problem.

Suddenly, the monotonous voice spilled forth from the computer system, effectively capturing all of their attentions. "Warning, Predacon activity in sector Gamma, coordinates 330. Units Terrosaur and Waspinator."

"Psh," the cheetah dismissed the situation with a roll of his optics. "What else is new? Those two are always working over there."

"The Gamma system is pretty far away, better send in Airazor and Tigatron," Rhinox was just about to push the comnlink button when Optimus quickly stopped him.

"No, don't send them. I have a much better idea." As realization hit the other two, the Maximal trio shared in a collective smirk.

oOoOoOoOo

Short breaths snorted through his velociraptor nostrils. Chasing Rattrap about the base had given his fuel-pump quite a workout, one that he wasn't entirely appreciative of thanks to the newfound necessity for oxygen that his beast mode had inflicted upon him.

Now, sitting upon his cold steel bed, starring idly over at his clone's pelt on the wall next to his extra swords, Dinobot cursed the vermin for making him short of breath. Then, for good measure, cursed him again for all the times over the past few months that the Maximal had managed to put him in such a state without even trying. Without even moving, speaking, or even being present!

Lightly snarling Cybertronian curses to himself as he either shivered or trembled, Dinobot curled his beast form into a tight ball for warmth. Sometimes, he considered defecting from those he had defected to, simply for the higher temperatures of the Darkside. There were other reasons, certainly, to rejoin the Predacons aside from the climate. They were logical, and sometimes even honorable, reasons, yet there was something that kept him at the Axalon and under the Maximal's command. Or rather, someone, and that someone was also the current bane of his existence.

Rattrap had started it, really he had! If the rat had ignored him, acted pleasantly, or even if he'd been out rightly hostile Dinobot would have fared much better in dealing with him than he was now. This love hate, cat and mouse tug-o-war had been the small Maximal's game and the Predacon had simply played along.

Unfortunately though, there was no magical reset button, and certainly things couldn't go on as they had been for much longer. Dinobot's feelings were clouding his judgment, and his mind was often preoccupied when he needed his processors to be at 100. Simply put, Rattrap's effect upon him was lessening his abilities as a warrior.

But how can things possibly change from what they have become, when they are so deeply set?

"To the Pit with that vile Maximal rodent."

oOoOoOoOo

"Eh, stupid Dinobutt," the small bot mumbled as he licked at the mech-fluid that his short rat arm bled where Dinobot had managed to nick him with one of his claws. Nothing serious, but that was beside the point.

"Me and my big mouth. . ." Then snidely, "or should I say: my big mouth and I?" Lately Dinobot seemed to have been lack for anything else to chide him for and resorted to picking apart the rat's grammar.

Transforming into his robot form, Rattrap walked over to his dart board, which rather than a bull's eye sported an image of everyone's favorite ex-Predecon, and grabbed his darts. Throwing sharp objects at one's supposed enemy's face was always relaxing, at least is used to be. As the tension between them grew greater, the greater the outlet for such stress needed to be. Dart throwing simply wasn't cutting it any longer.

"Stupid," one dart thrown.

"Slaggin'," another whizzed across the room.

"Good. For. Nothing." Dart, dart, dart.

"Dinobot!" The last dart, the only one that had managed to hit the target, despite the fact that Rattrap was a very good shot, had landed square in the middle of the picture-Dinobot's torso-plate, right where his spark would be.

With a rather fed up "eh," the bot stuck his tongue out at the photograph, then plopped himself down upon his bed. Slag him, he thought to himself. Rattrap didn't know why he couldn't keep his mouth shut around the raptor, and save himself the trouble of fighting with him so much. Especially in light of the fact that he knew they had come to a point where the animosity was no longer real. . . No, that wasn't entirely true, he knew the reasons why.

The tension between them had evolved into a thick, nearly tangible thing and the only way the rat-bot knew how to keep himself from saying something that he'd really regret was to keep the conversation, if their arguments were worthy of such a term, going.

But he wondered sometimes, when lying alone at night and contemplating their turbulent situation, if avoidance was really the best way to deal with whatever it was between them. . . If he never managed to say the things that he knew he would regret, would he regret not saying them?

As he was about to make up his mind on the subject, a voice crackled through is comnlink. "Rattrap and Dinobot, report here immediately."

"Oh boy, just what I need now," he whined more to himself that to Optimus on the other end of the line. "More of Chopperface to brighten up my day."

oOoOoOoOo

It didn't take long for both to make it back to the bridge of the Axalon, making faces at one another as they came down the hall.

"What did you call us in here for?" The gravely growl was irritated, which was far from unusual.

Holding up his finger in a gesticulated scold, the Maximal leader harshly began: "You two have been very bad lately--destroying our base and its equipment--the Predacons do that well enough themselves, they don't need your help!. . . Thus you need to be punished." At least Rattrap had the tact to at least pretend to be a little ashamed. Dinobot merely glared at the rat.

"I agree, the rat's behavior is most obnoxious. Though as leader it is your duty to see out that he is penalized, Optimus Primal, I would not be opposed to administering the assuredly brutal sentence myself, were you not up to the task." A grin accompanied the words as Dinobot leered down at the rat.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Quickly came the screeched protest. "What makes you think this is all my fault? It's you who keeps lasering and stabbing the slag out of everything 'round here!"

"Nothing would be destroyed if you didn't keep dodging, cowardly mouse!"

Across the room Cheetor failed at suppressing a giggle.

"And what are you laughing at, fur ball?"

"I'm sorry," he snickered, "but there's something so Freudian about that—"from there the cat-bot's words faded into nothing but a long string of laughter.

Dinobot, the only one who probably even grasped the meaning of Cheetor's words, was far too furiously humiliated to question how in the Pit the cheetah even knew who Freud was. Mech-fluid flooded to his face plates, discoloring his cheeks.

Rattrap, for his part, was unfamiliar with whoever this Freud bot was, but he could tell that if the implications were bad enough to make old Dinobutt blush that it was pretty bad.

"Ey, Pussycat, I don't know what the Inferno you're talkin' about, but take it back or I'll beat those spots outta your sorry hide!"

That's enough!" Optimus interjected, just in time to keep things from getting interesting. "Dinobot, Rattrap, it takes two to tango." The mention of dancing enhanced both the cat's laughter and the raptor's chagrin. "You're both equally at fault. . . Now, there has been a lot of Predacon activity up in the Gamma quadrant. I want you two to go and check it out then report back to me. . . Tomorrow morning."

"Scouting fine, I can handle—tomorrow! What the slag do you mean tomorrow!"

"We're not letting you back in once you leave until tomorrow. And," Optimus emphasized. "You have to stay together. We will be checking in on you randomly. If you're not together when we call, the scouting mission will be extended."

"And I thought you Maximals were opposed to cruel and unusual punishment."

"Optimus!" The rat-bot drew out a long, exaggerated whine. "You can't possibly do this to me! I'm too good to be Predacon food."

"As if I would ever be desperate enough to actually devour your vile body, Vermin!"

"Out both of you. Now!" Both bots were protesting all the way to the door and down the hatch. Their whines could be heard even through the Axalon's thick metal structure, and even as the two bots fled from the auto guns, which Optimus had so kindly turned on to give the two bots a motivated start.