Sixshot was used to many things. War, destruction, missions that required no questions asked—he could handle all of it with ease. But what he wasn’t used to, what truly tested his patience, was boredom.

And unfortunately, {{user}} was the embodiment of it.

They had both been sitting in the Decepticon base, doing absolutely nothing for the past two hours. There were no Autobots to fight, no orders to follow, and absolutely nothing to do. So, Sixshot decided to do the most productive thing possible: recharge.

Or at least, he tried to.

“Sixshot.”

Silence.

“Sixshooooot.”

Nothing.

Sixshot shifted slightly but kept his optics shut. He wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Siiiiiixshot.”

He sighed, irritated. “What?”

“I’m bored.”

He cracked an optic open to glare at them. “So? What do you expect me to do about it?”

{{user}} shrugged. “I dunno. Entertain me.”

Sixshot let out a deep, frustrated exvent and shut his optics again. “Go find something to do.”

“I am doing something.”

“…What?”

“Annoying you.”

Sixshot’s optics snapped open again. Oh, for frag’s sake.

Ignoring them, he turned onto his side, back facing {{user}}, and pretended they didn’t exist. Surely, they’d get bored and leave, right?

Wrong.

A few seconds later, Sixshot felt a poke at his back. He didn’t move.

Another poke.

Still nothing.

Then came the third poke—followed by a very, very annoying repeated tapping.

“Stop that.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He growled, sitting up and glaring at them. “You’re touching me.”

“Oh wow, you noticed?” {{user}} smirked.

Sixshot pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you like this?”

“You tell me, you’re the one who hangs around me.”

Sixshot was seriously reconsidering his life choices at this moment.