Sideswipe, and many other mechs on base, held a certain, almost belated, unambiguous distaste for one particular Autobot, residing amongst their ranks and stirring up the patience and dislike of everyone.
He was a frontliner, like himself, and Sideswipe found himself scoffing at thought of fighting side by side with him, a mech who would probably choose his own paint colour over the life of his comrades.
Yellow, vicious, arrogant, and downright rude, he was not favoured highly among many mechs. No, he was egotistical, narcissistic to no fault, and spent most of his time getting into fights, sitting in the brig, scowling and buffing out non-existent scratches.
Not many mechs could stand his violent and surly disposition, and as Sideswipe watched him settle alone in a secluded corner of the rec room, he supposed that there was no one who actually would.
He was borderline sociopathic, and Sideswipe didn't bother holding any pity for the mech that had insults thrown at him by brave Autobots, and was on the receiving end of the cold eye by many. But Sunstreaker was all the more happy to return the looks with his own scowl, seemingly only finding anger in the dislike of his fellow Autobots.
Sideswipe had learned by now that he was in no way against throwing punches against his comrades.
For someone so vain and finicky about how he looked, he sure didn't mind getting scratched in exchange for a good fight.
He wondered if he was like that before the war, or if the shrapnel from bombs had done a good job at picking away his sanity as he slowly lost his paintjob to grotty trenches, melee fights and machine gun fire.
Sideswipe vaguely remembered him from the frontlines, when the war had just broken out and they had thrust guns and weapons into civilians' hands and asked them to fight. Not many could, and he remembered the hordes of bodies that had littered the battlefield.
Guilt plagued his recharge every time the memory perked up and became fresh in his processor from a particularly cruel reminder, and remembering the bodies he used as cover, ducking behind them as their armour served as a decent bullet repeller, splatters of energon flying up when some of them nicked the protoform, still made him sick to the stomach.
As if they were anything more than the sandbags he ducked behind when the machine gun fire was particularly heavy.
Sunstreaker had quickly proved himself vicious, but useful on the frontlines, and Sideswipe was forced, like many, to learn to fight. Forced to pick up a gun and pull the trigger, so different from trading and dealing, but it was either that or get ripped apart on the battlefield.
He remembered bunkering down with yellow armour in shallow trenches, where they would stay for vorns, the fighting carrying out longer and longer, until rations were so limited most deactivated from starvation. And as the war drew on, Sideswipe wondered if there was still going to be people dying from natural causes in a vicious civil conflict like this one, but as he watched heavy artillery take out a reckless squadron, he squashed the thought.
Sideswipe was surprised he had even survived this long. Front liners were expendable, easily disposed and easily killed on the battlefield. Running at the enemy never did get you far in a war. It was a hard truth, and those chosen for the frontlines held anxiety in their sparks no matter how skilled the fighter, and the wild, terrified expression in young mechs faces held tight to their faceplates long after they were dead.
But here he was, millions of years later, still with the same bot who snarled at him after a tense battle, held a grim look on face like many others, but held a certain vicious and aggressive air around him that made him more suitable as a Decepticon rather than an Autobot. It had been said before, and many wondered just why Sunstreaker had chosen the Autobots side.
It was only till the crash on Earth that he learned his name, a fat reminder that he was relying on people he barely knew, and hardly trusted.
The war had hardened everyone, and the bot seemed even more aggressive than he was back on Cybertron, and even more willing to bite back at superior officers and pick fights with any one, almost happily ripping them apart, not even a flicker of hesitation in those icy optics.
But Sideswipe supposed that this is what made him Sunstreaker, all too willing to pick on anyone, bigger or small, because his ego demanded that he be seen as the best, better than everyone, and more than willing to brag, or do what it takes to prove himself right.
So, as Sideswipe watched him rip into yet another Autotbot, he concluded that it was all just one big competition for Sunstreaker. Similar to how everyone accused him of considering everything as a game, something to joke about. War wasn't funny, he may have grown to love the battles, almost craved the fighting. But war. He hated the notion of war.
Sunstreaker seemed indifferent about the subject, war seemingly not bothering him, as if he were forged for it, and watching him deftly kill Deceptions, and skilfully dodging artillery, had him wondering if he really was made for battle.
Even outside the battlefield he was vicious, and after seeing him maim more than a couple of bots, most Autobots held at least the tiniest bit of trepidation when dealing with the yellow menace. He, as Ratchet had put it, was like a ticking bomb, ready to go off and rip someone's head off at any moment. And Sideswipe didn't think he was against killing an Autobot.
The greatest act of insubordination, Sideswipe had thought, watching his fellow front-liner growl at Prowl. Something about their patrol route.
It was, as he put it, 'too dusty for my paintjob. Do you know what this will do to my shine? It'll take orns to get that grot out of my joints.'
Prowl shook his head and said something sharply, jabbing a black finger to where Sideswipe was waiting impatiently near the entrance.
Sunstreaker huffed, and as they set out for patrol, Sideswipe found himself at the end of glares, brooding silences and sour complaints throughout their entire route. He came back with his denta grit, optics slitted so tightly he found it hard to see, and an aching processor.
His patrol 'buddy' had made a beeline to the washracks, and Sideswipe instead made his way to Prowls office, dusting off the grit that had built up from his drive while trying to keep his tested patience in check.
"No."
Sideswipe huffed, "What do you mean 'no'?"
Prowl continued to swipe through his datapad, "I mean no, you cannot and will not change quarters."
"But-"
Prowl glanced up sharply, "No."
Sideswipe slumped back in his chair, faceplates drawn into a rare frown as he sent a pleading look to Prowl, "Please?"
"For the last time, Sideswipe, no," Prowl said simply, eyes narrowed as they observed the now sulking front liner. He placed the datapad down, patience exceeding itself as he faced the solider, "You're acting like a youngling."
Sideswipe scowled, "Easy for you to say. You have your own quarters, you don't have to share."
Prowl withheld the desire to roll his optics, "Then work hard and become an officer."
Sideswipe snorted, "Would you really want me in the command unit?"
"Not really, but that's beside the point. And you've exceeded your visit, so please leave and go back to your assigned quarters."
There was a slight strain to Prowls voice.
The front liner didn't move.
Prowl let out a short sigh, "Please."
Sideswipe grudgingly stood up, stretching as he did, "Well, if I get maimed, I'm blaming you."
Prowl allowed a tiny smirk, "I assumed you were a competent enough fighter to defend yourself?"
Sideswipe stuck out his glossa, a handy gesture he'd picked up from Spike, before turning to leave, shoulders sagging as he vacated the office to make the slow decent back to his newly assigned quarters, dreading to have to share it with his new 'roommate', as the humans would put it.
Empty tanks growling at him, he decided halfway to instead detour from his quarters to stop by the rec-room, grabbing a cube from the dispenser before flopping down next to Smokescreen, who was dealing out cards to Jazz, Bluestreak and surprisingly Ratchet.
"Finally left your cave, Batman?"
"Yes," Ratchet replied, sending a glare to Sideswipe, "Wheeljack threatened to 'improve' my own dispenser if I didn't get out."
Jazz snickered, "Didn't want yours expelling black gunk like Prowls did?"
The rest of them shuddered, it had only happened in Prowls office, but the smell had been so fowl it had floated through the rest of the base, stinking up quarters and the rec room until an evacuation had been ordered.
Sideswipe supposed the rancid smell was worth seeing the look of fury on Prowls face, his hands and bumper coated in the stuff.
Wheeljack (unsurprisingly) had disappeared for a few days, hiding in his lab until the worst of Prowls anger had blown over.
"You in, Sideswipe?" Smokescreen asked as waved the deck around, optic ridge raised.
Sideswipe shrugged, "Yeah, deal me in. Better than going back to my own quarters I suppose."
Bluestreaks doorwings fluttered, "Oh, I heard about that. Haven't you been roomed with Sunstreaker?"
Sideswipe tossed a chip into the middle of the table, "Yup."
Jazz winced in sympathy as he looked down at his own cards, "Tough luck, huh?"
Smokescreen snorted, "You said it, that mech is going to tear your vocaliser out and shove it up your aft."
Sideswipe grimaced even as he laughed, "You think?"
Bluestreak nodded seriously, "Oh yeah, you hear what he did to Gears? Backhanded him so hard he went flying straight into Ironhide. He was in the medbay for ages, right Ratchet?"
Ratchet growled, "Yes, little glitch just doesn't know when to shut his mouth. And that sociopathic sunflower should learn to control his fraggin' temper, sending injured mechs into my bay like I have unlimited supply."
Sideswipe grinned, "Like your temper is any better, Ratch."
The medic grumbled, tossing his cards down, "I fold, and I don't maim the mechs that get on my nerves."
Jazz spluttered in laughter as Sideswipe scoffed, "Yes you do! And I've got the dents to show it."
Ratchet rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, "Well, you're just annoying."
"Wha-, I am not."
Smokescreen nodded, "Yeah, you are."
Bluestreak snickered as the front liner spluttered indignantly, all thoughts of his much-hated roommate gone from his mind.
Sideswipe left the rec-room with fewer credits than when he came in, and Smokescreen with more than he originally had, much to the rest of the player's chagrin.
There were weary goodnights from all of them, and Sideswipe reluctantly made his way to his quarters for the nights, recharge appealing to his low energy levels.
Bluestreak had followed behind him, chattering about nothing until they reached his door. He offered his own hurried goodbye, a sympathetic look thrown back at him as the gunner left for his own quarters.
Sideswipe shrugged, Sunstreaker wasn't so tough. He was a front liner too, one who didn't cry over the tiniest scratch.
He coded in his password with weary indifference and stepped inside with his usual confidence when the door slid open.
Sunstreaker had his back turned to him, fiddling with something near his berth as Sideswipe trudged over to the adjacent one, flopping down onto the slate with an exhaustion he didn't know he had.
There was a harried silence for a while, the only sound been harsh invents and the whirring of internal gears. Eventually the sound of a cloth buffing armour joined the white noise, and Sideswipe flicked his optics off.
If he were always going to be this quiet, than Sideswipe guessed it couldn't be all that bad.
His words proceeded him, and his thoughts were squashed when Sunstreaker sniffed, snide voice breaking the silence.
"You stink."
Oh.
He had forgotten to go to the washracks to clean off all the dirt from his armour. It had slipped his mind, his own processor too concerned about the notion of bunking with Sunstreaker. And this, was a prime example as to why.
Sunstreaker gave him a snooty look from the corner of his optics, and he almost felt like laughing, "Nice to meet you too."
There was another silence, and Sideswipe could practically see the icy optics roving over him unapprovingly.
"You should go the washracks, you look horrible."
His voice was deep, rumbling throughout the small room as Sideswipe tried desperately to ignore it.
"Or at least buff those scratches out, it would help the symmetric disaster you call a face."
Sideswipe decided in that moment that he really, really hated Sunstreaker.
Neither held each other highly in their thoughts after that, and both exchanged icy glares and telling scowls often, and Sideswipe would smugly listen to Sunstreakers fist clench every time his own possessions delved off and out from his side of the room to visit the obsessively clean side of their quarters Sunstreaker called his.
Sideswipe found the impeccable organization unnerving, and gave it the side eye every time he walked in, much like the glare Sunstreaker gave his side of the room when he caught sight of the jumbled mess that Sideswipe claimed was his way of 'expressing himself.'
Sunstreaker had snidely told Sideswipe that he wouldn't know expressing himself if it hit him in the face.
Sideswipe wondered what Sunstreaker knew about expressing himself, other than maiming minibots and throwing fits about his waxjob.
Muttering the thought out loud only earned him a sharp punch to the face, and the next time one of his possessions wondered over to the wrong side of the room (a datapad), Sunstreaker had deftly stepped on it. Which, as Sideswipe let out a roar of outrage at the action, had led to an all-out brawl that broke noses and spilt lips, and made Ratchet scream bloody murder when they both came in for repairs.
Sideswipe was fixed first, and he had smugly walked by the still brooding, bleeding and furious front liner who was missing an audio fin, as he was escorted to the brig, where the yellow menace had joined him a couple of orns later, looking ready to murder in the cell across from his.
It had been downhill from there, and Sideswipe gave Sunstreaker a condescending grin from where he sat with his friends as the other frontliner sat in his own corner, far away from the other Autobots, glare in his optics as he sneered back at Sideswipe.
"I think its hate at first sight," Smokescreen had commented, watching as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were once again torn away from each other, an attempt to end the brawl before it could get any worse, Ironhide holding the livid yellow front liner back while Sideswipe cackled, sneer on his face.
Ratchet grunted his agreement, and Bluestreak peered behind them, "Do you think he's okay."
"Sideswipes fine, Blue."
Bluestreak shook his head, "No, I mean Ironhide."
The two turned, and watched in surprise as Sunstreaker delivered a sharp elbow to Ironhide's nasal ridge, the weapons expert howling in outrage as he released the yellow front liner, who launched himself at Sideswipe once more.
Ratchet grumbled under his breath, rubbing his forehead as he slid from his seat, "I'll be waiting in the medbay. Again."
The two flicked their doorwings in goodbye, and continued to stare at the vicious fight rolling at their feet.
"Why doesn't Prowl just assign them to different quarters?" Bluestreak asked, the two Praxians watching the front liners roll around on the ground, Sideswipe with a rather vicious hand on Sunstreaker back armour, servo pulling until the metal let out a screech as it ripped away from Sunstreaker's protoform. Sunstreaker let out a howl, kneeing Sideswipe hard in the groan as he attempted to grab hold of the red front liners helm, spewing seething profanity as he did.
Smokescreen shrugged, "Probably for his own sick entertainment."
The brig had become so familiar to Sideswipe that he knew how many cracks were in the ceiling, which beds had missing screws and the amount of stains that littered the grey walls.
There wasn't much to do in the brig, and sitting still in stuffy cell with nothing to do had never been Sideswipes forte.
So when the boredom set in, and Sideswipe found himself desperate for any entertainment, his spark twirled mischievously in its casing, and the red front liner grinned, processor whirring in excitement as he turned to instead look at his cellmate.
Sunstreaker had sat himself stiffly on the bench inside the cell, arms crossed tightly over his armour as he glared at Sideswipe, who, after flashing his headlights rudely, happily returned the look.
"So," Sideswipe began, charming grin of his face as he propped his chin on his elbow, "Come here often?"
If there was anything Sideswipe was good at, it was needling everyone around him until he got the reaction he wanted, a talent that he prided, and other mechs hated.
"What kind of question is that?" Sunstreaker eventually snapped, and Sideswipe couldn't help but stare, optics wide as the scowl somehow became deeper. Was it just permanently dinted into his face?
"What?" Sunstreaker barked, noticing Sideswipes aghast staring and growing sick of it almost instantly.
Sideswipe leaned back into his seat, "Nothing, just wouldn't expect someone who loves people to admire them to be shy of a little staring."
Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, but chose not to answer, instead stretching his lithe body across the bench, optics flickering as he did.
"Hit a nerve?"
Sunstreaker shifted in his berth, turning over and giving Sideswipe a divine view of a scuffed back that Ratchet had refused to buff out.
Serves him right.
Sideswipe stuck his glossa out, made a rude face, before settling into his own berth, pedes stretched out comfortably as they settled into a strained silence.
Ironhide eventually ambled in, broken nasal ridge newly fixed and no longer leaking energon. He held their rations in both hands, and gave Sunstreakers a particularly violent shove into the cell as he divvied them out, animosity obviously still fresh due to the violent elbow he had received to the face.
Sideswipe picked up the cube, frown on his face as he watched some of the energon slosh out of the sides of the Sunstreakers ration, landing on the concrete below, trickling into tiny cracks and pooling against the sides of the cube.
"Your ration is there," He said after Ironhide had left and Sunstreaker hadn't turned to collect the cube.
Sideswipe held the energon to his lips, watching as Sunstreakers prone form didn't so much as twitch, energon cube sitting abandoned on the floor.
"You're not going to drink it?"
Sideswipe would viciously deny the small smidge of concern that made its way into his vocaliser.
He was ignored once more, and Sideswipe scoffed, downing the rest of his ration as he settled further into the cells berth.
The rest of his brig time was full of tense silence and a sense of broodiness even he could detect in the simmering quiet. The air was stale in the brig, and Sideswipe was beginning to get sick of the sound of his own venting. His pedes twitched for movement, and his possessor itched with the same desire.
"Would you stop doing that?" A voice hissed, and Sideswipe was surprised to find Sunstreaker standing over his still full ration, the first words he had spoken since their first night in the brig.
Sideswipe rose an optic ridge, and belatedly realized he had been tapping his knee up and down, a shaky, impulsive movement he hadn't realized he'd been doing.
He reluctantly slowed his knee, placing a black servo on his thigh, "Sorry."
Sunstreaker huffed, and moved to sit back down, finally reaching for the energon cube.
"Why didn't you drink that before?"
Sunstreaker paused, servos clenching so hard around the cube that he thought it would shatter, "I wasn't hungry."
Sideswipe scoffed, "Seriously?"
Sunstreaker lowered his hand, scowling at Sideswipe.
"Alright, alright. Sorry, jeez," He muttered, averting his optics to instead stare up at the ceiling, hoping something magnificent would pop up in between the cracks and stains to entertain his bored processor.
Sunstreaker watched until Sideswipe turned away, then threw back the cube, gulping down the remnants of the ration until his tanks pinged at him happily.
He tossed the cube to the ground and watched with slight (hidden) amusement as it fizzled when it made contact with the bars.
"Nice."
Sunstreaker glanced up to see that the infernal frontliner was once again staring at him. He ignored him, but out of the corner of his optics watched as Sideswipe picked up his own empty cube to toss it at the energy bars, the more forceful throw making it bounce back with a crackling pop.
The game continued for a while, Sideswipe grinning as the cube made a continuous back and forth motion between the energon bars and himself, the crackling pop growing louder in Sunstreakers audials until he finally growled out a vehement warning to Sideswipe, who stuck his glossa out, but ceased his game.
"So," Sideswipe drawled, once more growing bored in the drawn out silence.
"I really don't want to talk to you." Sunstreaker snapped, allowing himself a small smirk at the taken aback look that had spread across Sideswipes faceplates.
Sideswipe wriggled in his berth, "Sorry, afthole."
Another silence grew long and tense, and Sideswipe narrowed his optics as Sunstreaker settled back into his berth with some small level of content, "What's your problem?"
"My problem is that you can't shut your mouth," Sunstreaker growled, and Sideswipe rolled his optics.
"No, I'm serious, what is it? The war affected everyone, but you don't see me or any other Autobot going around attacking every mech around the corner."
Sunstreaker paused, and Sideswipe thought he saw something like sorrow flicker in those icy optics, but it was gone as quick as it came, and Sideswipe was once again on the receiving end of a heavy scowl.
"I don't-"Sunstreaker began, but cut himself off at Sideswipe scoff.
"What?"
"Don't give me that bullshit."
Sunstreaker paused, processing the human swear before icy optics narrowed once more, "I'm not obligated to answer."
Sideswipe shrugged, "I know, but I was hoping I'd get to know why you're such a fragger."
Sunstreaker ignored him, averting his gaze to the grotty ceiling as Sideswipe stared expectantly.
"No? Didn't think so."
Sunstreaker felt a dangerous thrum of anger burst from his spark, and he clenched his fists. He didn't like people shoving their noses into his business, venturing where they didn't belong, or asking personal questions that he wasn't obligated to answer but they expected one anyway. It wasn't their business, and Sunstreaker wanted to know just why so many people loved to know about things that didn't involve them.
He was growing weary of the conversation, and an irritable sensation washed over his spark, bristling his armour as his processor strained to stay patient when he desperately craved to just be alone and left to his thoughts.
Sideswipe continued to babble, and Sunstreaker tuned him out, fingers twitching at his side.
He could hear someone bustling around outside of the brig, and muffled voices floated in, mingling with whatever Sideswipe was rambling about, overflowing in his audials as his spark started to thump harder, all of the noises becoming overwhelming in his processor.
"Sunstreaker!"
The yellow front liner jerked in his seat, unware that his fingers had started trembling and that his ventilations had become jerky and shallow, armour almost rattling against his protoform.
He looked up to see Sideswipe staring worriedly at him, Ironhide standing near the doors with a similar expression.
Humiliation washed over him and he stood up, "Fine, not that it concerns any of you," He took a breath, and huffed out hot air, "Now, are you going to open up or not, I've had enough of annoying company for now."
Ironhide scowled, but let the energy bars fall, and Sunstreaker stomped passed him, not bothering to look at Sideswipe as he kept his optics low, armour almost itching as he fled to the halls and back to the seclusion of his quarters.
Sideswipe didn't know what to think.
He'd never seen anyone tense up like that, seemingly ignorant to the world around them as they were suddenly lost in their own processor. Astray in whatever labyrinth their mind had trapped them in.
Sunstreaker had obviously been panicking, and Sideswipe didn't have a clue why.
He followed loosely in the direction that Sunstreaker had hurriedly took, pace much slower as he pondered over what had happened in the brig.
He felt slightly bad, and didn't want to admit to his own spark that he had been worried as the usually confident, arrogantly superior mech lost all composure, a wild panic in his optics that Sideswipe had never seen.
Did he overwhelm him? Sideswipe didn't understand how a couple of questions could do that to a mech.
He made it back to his quarters feeling slightly guilty, and Sunstreaker was already back, sitting on his berth as more controlled, softer ventilations flowed in and out of his vents, face vacant as he stared at nothing.
Sideswipe watched Sunstreaker warily, heading over to sit on top of his desk, expecting a violent hiss to tell him to stop staring, or to frag off.
Nothing came, and Sideswipe gingerly sat down on the desk, aft plates bumping with the dented metal until he leant comfortably against it.
"Hey," He began awkwardly, "Uh, are you alright?"
Sunstreakers optics flickered briefly to meet Sideswipes own, icy ones meeting baby blue, and they stared until Sunstreaker averted his optics, uncomfortable.
"Fine," He said shortly, bite to his tongue, though it came out weary and Sideswipe raised an optic ridge.
"Look, uh, sorry if I did-"
Sunstreaker suddenly rose from his seat, and Sideswipe jerked back as Sunstreaker strode over to him, denta clenched and optics angry, "Look, its nothing, so get out of my business, and stop hovering where you're not wanted."
He shoved a finger into Sideswipes chest plating, leaning forward as he seethed, their helms so close he could feel the warm ventilations brush over his face, Sideswipes optics devoid of anything as he stared back at Sunstreaker.
The space quickly grew tense, and Sunstreaker stood back, uncomfortable with being so close to someone.
"I think," Sideswipe began as he pushed away from the desk, "If you'd let someone help you, you'd feel a whole lot better."
Sunstreaker could almost laugh, "I'd feel better if you left me alone."
Sideswipe paused, optics considering as he stared at Sunstreaker, "Okay, but doesn't it bother you that you don't have anyone, a friend, to talk to this stuff about? Cause I sure as hell wouldn't enjoy being as lonely as you are."
Sideswipe tilted his head and sighed, "But I'll leave you alone."
"I'm not lonely," Sunstreaker called, but his words fell flat to silent air as Sideswipe slid out the door and down the hall.
"I'm not," He said softly, even as the emptiness of the room enveloped him.
Sunstreaker wasn't as particularly brutal as he usually was for the rest of the week. He was still quiet, avoiding everyone's optics and still offering scowls to whoever it was he came across, but he seemed almost mellowed, and Sideswipe wondered how long it would last.
He expected aggressiveness, even more hate from the yellow front liner at his abrasive, almost hurtful words, and when nothing came, Sideswipe started to feel slightly guilty about being so blunt.
Sideswipe wished that Sunstreaker would have given him the chance to apologise, or at least told him whether he accepted it or not, instead of telling him to frag off and leave him alone.
Sideswipe did just that at first, left him to his own devices and didn't bother to even attempt conversation when they were in their quarters together.
He tried to find the usual hate and contempt he found for his fellow front liner, but it seemed to have been sucked away, and the snide looks and the angry scowls became less annoying, almost funny to him as the time drew out, and a new found curiosity assaulted his sensors.
They still tip toed around each other, aggression hot in the air, but Sideswipe found himself less inclined to want to punch Sunstreaker in the mouth when he opened his vocaliser.
Their patrols were still filled with sour complaints that rotted his aduials, but he didn't bother to snap back, or to tell him to shut up. He stayed quiet, sometimes even offering his own chatter.
Sideswipe eventually stopped sneering at Sunstreaker when he and his friends saw the yellow front liner, and instead offered him snarky smirks that were almost always returned with a scowl. He still might be a fragger, but Sideswipe just couldn't find the animosity.
It irritated him at times, that an arrogant, rude mech he once couldn't stand, had built himself up in his processor, so much that he just couldn't hold on to that lingering hate.
There was still a fair amount of dislike, for sure, and Sideswipe didn't stop his own snarky comments from making an appearance when Sunstreaker was being particularly cranky.
It just made it all the more fun.
Because to him, it was all just one big game. Everything was if you thought about it, and just like Sunstreaker had become a part of Sideswipes game, Sideswipe had become a part of Sunstreakers hostile, slightly competitive, competition.
They both held out of the ordinary, almost eccentric drives to make everything around them, the mechs around them, into their own little isolated gates of their mind.
Maybe it was a way of coping. With what, Sideswipe didn't know, nor did he care. He just knew it was fun to wheedle Sunstreaker, to snark back at him, to brawl.
Since day one it had been fun, apart of his game, and when the game suddenly paused in his processor, when suddenly there was no hate, no true violence or hatred in their brawls, the game became serious. Dangerous even.
So as he stood in the rec-room, optics flicking between Sunstreaker and his own friends, his spark thumping darkly, and his processor whirred with a silent answer to his invisible question.
Sunstreaker was sitting in his own secluded corner, nursing his own ration while icy optics glared at his surroundings.
Apart of it.
His friends were clumped around a small table, laughing and crowing at each other, optics cheerful and friendly.
Dispatched from it.
With one glance back at Sunstreaker, who was still glaring at his surroundings, cube tight in his hand as he sat tense in his seat, Sideswipe made his decision.
"Hello."
Sunstreaker glanced up in surprise as Sideswipe settled down in the seat opposite him, smile on his face as he sipped at his cube.
"What the frag are you doing?" Sunstreaker asked suspiciously.
Sideswipe shrugged, swallowing down another gulp of energon, "Drinking my ration, what are you doing?"
Sunstreaker glanced down to his own half empty cube and shrugged.
"You can sit over there, if you want, with me I mean." Sideswipe offered after a while.
Sunstreaker glanced over to the large group of Autobots that Sideswipe was gesturing to, the loud mechs being the current source of all the noise in the rec room.
"I'd rather not."
Sideswipe frowned but nodded, looking back down to the swirling pink contents of his cube.
Sunstreaker sighed through his nose, reluctantly opening his mouth, "But thanks, I guess."
Sideswipe perked up instantly, grin wide across his face as he beamed at him.
Sunstreaker almost felt like smiling back.
Almost.
After that Sunstreaker became slightly friendlier, in his own way.
They weren't exactly friends, because Sideswipe still knew jack shit about the mech, only that he was obviously introverted to the max.
They still held a tense relationship, and the occasional snarl from Sunstreaker was still there, but there was still… something.
Sideswipe didn't exactly know what it was, or how to put a name on their frankly weird relationship.
They were both pawns in each other's minds, but they both seemed to love it, and it seemed to appease to their own desires.
But as Sunstreaker offered him a reluctant smile, Sideswipe decided that it must be something more than a game or competition, more than something fun or something to compete with.
Or maybe it wasn't. At this point, Sideswipe didn't care.
"Here."
Sideswipe glanced up, Sunstreaker was standing in front of him, frame tense as he stepped from pede to pede, two energon cubes in his hand, one of them extended to Sideswipe.
"Thanks," He mumbled, taking the cube gratefully and nursing the warm drink in one hand.
"Some fight, huh?" Sunstreaker said as he sat next to Sideswipe, optics hovering on the empty rec-room.
"Yeah," Sideswipe huffed softly, downing the cube in one go, Sunstreaker following suit, empty tanks grumbling and their joints crackling as they shifted in their seats.
"You fought alright." Sunstreaker said after a while, and Sideswipe snickered.
"Thanks," He grinned, "You too."
Sunstreaker puffed out his armour, "Of course I did, and I look good when I do it."
Sideswipe rolled his optics, relaxing back into his seat, "Sure thing."
"You should teach me how to do that thing, with the seekers, I mean."
Sideswipe glanced over at Sunstreaker, "You mean Jet Judo?"
Sunstreaker smirked, "Is that what you call it?"
"Well, yeah. Cool, isn't it?"
Sunstreaker shrugged, "I suppose."
Sideswipe shot him a smug look, "You know it is, or else you wouldn't want to know how to do it."
Sunstreaker huffed, "I know how to do it, you just jump on a seeker and ride it."
Sideswipe shook his head, "There's more to it than just riding them!"
He thought for a second, "There's schematics."
Sunstreaker gave him a disbelieving look, "Really?"
"Yes, really."
Sideswipe leaned back in his seat, lifting his cube in a smug cheer.
The cube went tumbling from his hand, startling both of them, and he jerked in his seat as his battle programing rose to the front of his processor when the blaring alarm that warned of imminent attack became loud in their audials, washing out all other sounds as flashing red lights rippled over them, the alarm continuing to pound throughout the base.
Sunstreaker stood from his seat, knocking his cube over as he received a ping from Prowl, "Decepticons."
Sideswipe followed after Sunstreaker as he ran from the room, already unsubpacing his weapon as they maneuvered through the halls, "Decepticons? But we just fought them."
"Tell that to them," Sunstreaker muttered, optics scouring over the small number of mechs that had gathered outside of the Arc, the rest too injured or unconscious to fight.
"This isn't going to be good," Sideswipe muttered, optics following Sunstreakers gaze.
Less soldiers meant a harder battle, which almost always resulted in loss. Ratchets medical supplies were already low enough without more Autobots landing themselves in the medbay.
Squadrons were sought out, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker with Trailbreaker as they made haste to the coordinates given out, wheels skidding across dry land as they transformed.
"What the frag?" Sunstreaker voiced as they stepped forward, gazing over the empty field.
"Yeah, uh, Prowl?"
Prowl followed their line of sight, battle computer obviously whirring in deft thought as sharp optics looked out for anything out of the norm.
"Alright," He said after a while, "Spread out, and be careful. You three, stay here. Sideswipe, take your group north, but don't stray too far and keep your comm. Units open at all times."
Sideswipe nodded, "Yes, sir."
"If only Optimus were here," Trailbreaker muttered, and Sideswipe nodded in agreement.
Everyone always felt safer when the big mech was around, an obvious defender from Megatron, but someone who you knew would always try his best to have everybody's back, and would scour the entire battlefield before leaving a soldier behind.
Their leader had been heavy out of action after a particularly nasty blow from Megatron's cannon, missing his spark casing by only an iota of space. Ratchet had worked himself into a frenzy in the medbay, barking orders in his own ball of stress as he tried to stabilize the Prime.
"I don't see anything," Sunstreaker called, strafing over to a small hill and peering down it, gun raised and cocked in case anything attempted to jump out.
"Be careful." Sideswipe called as Sunstreaker started to make his way down the hill, steps steady as he descended.
"Something seems off, "Trailbreaker muttered as Sideswipe moved to follow Sunstreaker, teetering over the edge of the hill as he peered down.
"You think?"
"No, something else seems… Oh forget it, it's probably just me, "Trailbreaker shook his head, and wandered further over to Bumblebee's group.
"See anything?"
"Nothing but dirt," Sunstreaker called back, foot nosing at a mound at the bottom of the hill. The piles stretched far across the hills floor, abnormal amongst the green grass.
Sideswipe tilted his head, gun held tight in his hands as Sunstreaker moved to take a step on one of the piles.
Optics widened and Sideswipe screamed out to late, stumbling down the hill just as Sunstreakers foot stood down, leaving a tense moment of white noise, buzzing static in their audials, and the small seconds between impending death and the present seemed like an eternity.
The mound exploded into fire, sending dirt and to his own horror, yellow armour flying.
Sideswipe tried to steady himself, pedes shaky and fire licking at his face as the hill crumbled beneath him. Shrapnel had torn through his armour, and his limbs were weak and shredded.
He continued to fall, straight into where Sunstreaker had stepped as heat washed over him, hot pain crippling his sensors as his joints rippled, armour sizzling as he landed heavily.
His chest felt tight, and he struggled to ventilate air through his body, chest heaving as his spark dropped in its casing.
Sideswipe wondered if it had been breached, and if the orb was slowly leaking out of its casing, trickling past cracked plating and torn seams to leave him in deactivation.
Cold spread through the usually warm orb, and it jerked around, as if something was pulling at it, making it become heavier and heavier in its casing.
His optics could only see rising smoke, and his armour could feel the rough pain of flames tickling at his armour.
A sharp breath left his mouth, and he coughed and heaved as he intaked a mouthful of smoke, trying to feebly access his comm units.
Static assaulted his audials and panic gripped his too heavy spark as the pain set in, until eventually his relay buffers set into gear, and all feeling was lost in his limbs.
Sideswipe continued to stare up, unable to move his head, and he watched as billowing smoke was wisped up into the sky, making a shaky white trail in the blue of the sky.
Spark whirring in its casing, he choked out a sob, and his own spark roared in confusion as he glanced down at a shredded red forearm, sitting half buried in dirt.
What?
His optics began to short out, systems failing as his processor fell into a woozy, almost unconscious state, and the intruding feeling was lost as black gripped at the edge of his vison, dotting the sky until he fell into the abyss.
When he woke, it was to swallowing darkness and the smell of sterilized medical equipment. His spark thumped in its casing, the beeping of life support and the tell-tale feeling of an IV in his arm calming his quaking nerves.
His memory was foggy at best, and attempting to rifle through his data banks to find what happened only succeeded in giving him a helm ache.
His fingers twitched, and he groaned at the twinge of pain that shot through his body at the small movement.
"Sideswipe?"
The voice was muffled, like someone was calling his designation through thick glass, and his audials strained to identify the voice.
"Sideswipe?"
The words became clearer, and Sideswipes optics rebooted, bursting into an abundance of bright light that had him flinching.
His vision eventually cleared, foggy edges retreating from his sight as Ratchet came into view, peering down into his optics as he tapped at his datapad.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Ratchet grumbled, gruff as ever, but a gentle hand came to land on his shoulder, squeezing the metal as Sideswipe heaved and let out a dry cough.
Sideswipe offered a flimsy smile, and Ratchet gave his shoulder one last squeeze before letting go, optics flicking back to the datapad in his hand.
"You might feel like slag for the next couple of orns, and you're confined to the medbay until I say so, got it?"
Sideswipe tried to open his mouth to complain, but all that came out was bunch of garbled static.
The datapad was tossed onto the berth, and Ratchet leant down to fiddle with something near his throat, "Here, that better?"
Sideswipe coughed, clearing his vocaliser as he grinned up at the medic, "Thanks, Ratch."
Ratchet rolled his optics, "Just don't go getting yourself slagged that bad again, alright?"
"I defiantly will, and I'm surprised at your restraint, Ratchet. No slap to the helm, no flying wrenches? You feeling alright?"
Ratchet scowled, "Trust me, if you were in better shape you'd have about a dozen new dents by now. Heck, I'd be wackin' you with your own dismembered leg."
Sideswipe grinned, "Ah, that's more like it." He paused, suddenly hesitant, there was an anxiety in his spark that he couldn't explain, and he did his best to push the feeling away, "So, uh, what exactly happened?"
Ratchet paused, "You don't remember?"
Sideswipe shook his head and raised an optic ridge.
"It was a setup, Decepticons planted mines everywhere, some hidden better than others, and Sunstreaker was the unlucky bugger that stepped on one. The explosion took the both of you out, wasn't much left of you to put back together when I found you, but I managed."
Sideswipe winced, and was once again thankful for the neutral buffers numbing all of what had to be excruciating pain thrumming through his lines, "Was my jetpack alright?"
An orange hand shoved his face back into the berth, "Get some rest."
Sideswipe snickered, but propped himself up on his elbow as the medic began to walk away, "Hey, is Sunstreaker alright?"
Ratchet paused, one hand twitching by his side as he sighed, "Uh, we tried- I tried my best, but he was just too close to the explosion. Sorry, kid."
The medic offered him a half sympathetic glance, as if it were his best friend or an old academy buddy he'd lost, before retreating into his office.
Sideswipe dropped his elbow and leant back into the berth, shocked.
Deactivated?
His spark gave a jolt of panic, seemingly from nowhere, and he rubbed his chest.
Some of his friends were still in the medbay, recharging, various injuries littering their frame, and he shrunk back into his berth, finding himself without a care as a newfound sorrow leaked into his spark.
He and Sunsreaker hadn't been close, nor were they exactly friends, but there was still connection, and he couldn't help but grieve over it.
His spark was twisting in its casing, bumping and spinning around so hard it began to form a dull ache in his chest.
His casing still felt heavy, like it had shrunk and his spark had grown.
Something he'd have to mention to Ratchet the next time he saw him, but whatever Ratchet had inserted into the line was doing its duty, and soon he was drifting off into a restless recharge, spark twitching restlessly in its casing.
