Part One: Together Again?! [KO x Fusion]

“Knock knock,” Knockout’s voice echoed through the cell along with the ring of his metal knuckles on the wall. Without moving, Fusion looked over at him, her blue optics partially shuttered and a look of annoyance on her dirty faceplate.

Being stuck in a mud pit had been one thing, to be found and ‘rescued’ by Knockout, quite another. Ever since she’d given in and returned to her native flyer state, she had experienced nothing but horrible luck one day after another. Knockout’s sudden decision to show up had been the worst yet. She was in too foul of a mood to fear the over-confident, narcissistic, merciless mech. The atrocities he had performed in the past were safely locked away and the key held tightly in the fist of her temper.

“Ohhh, we are in a foul mood, aren’t we Sparklet?” the tone of his voice, that smug-aft tone, was what got to her. He always thought he had the upper hand, that he could do and say whatever he wanted to her simply because she was smaller and weaker than him.

Not today.

Swinging her mud-caked legs from the berth she was perched upon and sliding off the edge, she glowered at him and marched toward the door of the cell. For a moment, Knockout’s optics widened before he relaxed and leaned against the side of the cell wall nonchalantly with his other servo on his hip. Smug bastard was well aware that she couldn’t do anything to him with the force field between them.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t speak her mind, of course.

“Look, you pompous aft, I never asked for your ‘help’. In fact, I was just fine never seeing your smug faceplate again,” Fusion snarled at him, pointing her digit at him, but keeping it clear of the force field. At least this time she wasn’t dangling from the ceiling.

“Mm, touchy,” was his response and she sneered up at him, adding the frustration of feeling the gritty mud in her joints to her sheer hatred of him at that very moment.

“Let me out of here and you’ll find out just how touchy I am,” Fusion snarled.

“Come come, there’ll be plenty of time for that later,” Knockout mocked with a twinkle in his red optics that sent chills up and down her backstrut while also fanning the flames of her anger. It was a peculiar combination of emotions.

“You’re disgusting,” Fusion snapped before turning her back on him and walking back toward her dirty berth with her wings rigid. She wouldn’t give him anymore enjoyment in seeing her suffer.  

“Now now, Sparklet, no need for name calling,” Knockout chided lightly, “or I won’t let you out to get cleaned up properly. Why is it that a little grounder like you would choose to have wings?” He had to admit to curiosity at the change in her design.

Ignoring him, Fusion pulled herself back onto the berth and crossed her arms over her chestplate, leaning back against the wall behind her. The wall was cold metal and perfectly vertical. Her wings didn’t fit very well behind her and were forced at odd angles but she ignored it. If she disregarded him and her discomfort, he’d leave and she could return to her internal brooding.
Knockout watched her as she walked, not above admiring her backside, even if it was covered in drying, caked on mud. She was acting different from her usual fearful self when he managed to get ahold of her and he had to admit, he sort of liked it. It was refreshing in its own way.

“So it’s to be the silent treatment, is it?” he spoke to the rigid form on the berth one last time before turning away and sauntering back toward the exit of the brig. Eventually he would get her to crack and when he did, that was when the fun would begin.