* * *
There were two pairs of arms wrapped around him, and Drag Strip and Motormaster were growling at each other over his head. If he could work up the energy to do something about it... well, he'd do something about it. For now, he just watched them both and continued to pet Dead End's helm. The Porsche lay with his head on Breakdown's abdomen, shoulders spreading the Lamborghini's thighs.
Wildrider giggled softly and curled up tighter to Dead End, his head on Breakdown's knee. "I can barely move, and I know Deady and Breakdown can't. What're you two going to do if you win?"
Drag Strip paused. "... 'll Have won," he mutters, his strained vocoder reducing his voice to a rasp.
Wildrider giggled again. Motormaster tugged Breakdown closer to him, which wound up tugging the whole pile over as the Lamborghini's legs were locked around Dead End's shoulders, and neither Wildrider nor Drag Strip were willing to let go of their brothers.
Breakdown smiled at Motormaster and hoped nothing required him to move for the next twelve hours.
End