(no subject)

The acrid scent of burnt rubber woke Breakdown. Knuckling blearily at his optics, he sat up on the yielding maille surface of the bunk, careful not to disturb the cyb still recharging beside him. Automatically, he scanned the room, looking for the thermal hotspot of a fire or components overheating, but the warmest thing in his sensor field was the doctor at his side.

He dropped a hand to Knock Out's shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hey, KO, we gotta problem, maybe."

Knock Out groaned in protest, batting his hand away. "And I was having such a good dream, too. I was pro racing in Altihex, mm, they used to have that beautiful track there..." He sat up with a huff, the recharge cable plugged into his side rasping as it dragged across the surface of their bunk. "What is it? --Lights!" he added.

The overheads switched on with a hum, starting dim and warming up to regulation ambient. As they brightened, the source of the smell became readily apparent. The chain-link covering of their bunk was scuffed black with transferred rubber, specifically at Knock Out's shoulders, and under his feet.

He must have been burning rubber in his sleep again. Recharge tics were common in Cybertronians, Knock Out had told Breakdown primly after the first time it had happened: unconscious physiological responses to the mental signals of a sleeping brain. Sufferers can't be expected to have any control over them.

Sleep skidding just happened to be a particularly embarrassing one, and there was a lot of transfer to the maille where Knock Out had been recharging. He hadn't burned this much rubber while he slept in a long time.

"Primus, doc," Breakdown said, surveying the carnage. He grinned sidelong at his partner. "Didja win?"

Knock Out just groaned again, and buried his face in his hands.