I figured I could use some work on my fluff. So I wrote some.
The song Sideswipe is singing/talking in is Hello! - The Book of Mormon. It's an incredibly funny song and you should listen to it to get the full impact of his words.
I was writing bromance but shippers are welcome to squint.
I don't own nothin' but the words.
:blank: is bondspeak
It was so quiet the ringing had started. It was the type of ringing that came from nowhere and only appeared when it was really, really quiet.
Sunstreaker decided it was his third favorite sound. And he decided this as his optics swept over the nearly done painting of Kaon. Yes, he had the darker neutrals painted, the grime maybe eighty pecent finished, and he would start in on the neon signs any moment now. (The smell of paint was Sunstreaker's second favorite smell.)
The painting was of Kaon, the illegal-entertainment capital of Cybertron prior to being made the Decepticon stronghold. It depicted the city before that era, when it was sleazy and dangerous. A game of life and death for the wealthy and a living hell for the poor. Sunstreaker knew the pitiless city and its unsavory secrets very, very well.
Just as Sunstreaker raised his brush again, the silence urging him on, the two were cruely, sadistically, and intentionally interrupted. With a swish of the door (more of a bang), Sideswipe pranced in like the lugnut he was. To add insult to injury, he was playing showtunes.
And Sunstreaker absolutely despised showtunes.
"Hello!" He posed for dramatic effect.
"Sideswipe!"
"I would like to share with you the most amazing - "
"Turn that slag off."
"Hello!" Sideswipe made a motion as if saying let-me-sing-the-rest. His answer was a dead stare and a finger point. The finger, of course, was pointing toward the open doorway, implying the only way Sideswipe could peruse would be to do it outside.
So he did just that: Sideswipe jigged two steps back into the corridor, singing merrily along. He did not close the door.
"Sides!" It was more of a bark than a bite.
"No thanks? Have fun in hell!" Sideswipe turned to his twin expectantly. His optics were wide and innocent. He even projected a sense of who-me? across the bond. In rebuttal, Sunstreaker sent a feeling of you-know-what-you're-doing-you-little-shit.
When Sideswipe continued singing - loudly, off-key, in the middle of the hall - Sunstreaker began to lose it.
"Close the damn door!" He yelled to be heard over the music. His twin paid him no heed and began moonwalking in and out of sight.
Fine, if that was the game. Sunstreaker had had enough.
:You can't even sing.: He huffed. Sideswipe stopped mid-moonwalk and looked at Sunstreaker. With pride, Sunstreaker noticed Sideswipe had paused the song. Too caught up in his moment of sour glee, he failed to notice Sideswipe's optics narrow as a slag-eating grin tore through his face.
A feral shriek echoed as Sideswipe lept clear across their room onto his twin's lap sending them flying to the floor and knocking everything over. The easel flipped, several paintcans spilled, and the paintbrush Sunstreaker had been holding on to sailed in a clear arc across the room only to sully a pile of datapads.
"You glitched aft, malfunctioning, fragging - " Sunstreaker was interrupted as Sideswipe leaned in close, right next to his audio, and with a seductive whisper said,
"Would you like to change religions I have a free book written by - " He paused and licked a line up Sunstreaker's olfactory sensor getting a good roar before adding in a most luscious voice, "Jesus."
It was silent a good two seconds before the pandemonium.
Sunstreaker brought his fist up for a right hook, easily connecting with Sideswipe's chin. He grunted and fought back, struggling to keep Sunstreaker under him. This was not to be though, as Sunstreaker managed to roll them over into the paint. He scored a few more punches, denting Sideswipe's side with a nice clang.
Yes, that was a good sound too. Good because of its familiarity and its simplicity and its unwavering ability to do what it needed. He knew violence.
Mirage stood in the middle in the corridor, looking down his nose. He had most likely been on his way to his quarters when he happened upon the open door. "Calm down, heathens." His voice was nasally and annoying to the duo, who ignored him the bot but his vocal intrusion severed hostilities. And once Mirage noticed the cooling of tensions he walked easily off, glad of not being seen.
The two laid there for a moment, panting. Gradually Sunstreaker's snarl faded and Sideswipe's grin grew until the two balanced. Sunstreaker's optics dimmed, softened. Sideswipe mirrored his twin but kept the smarmy smirk. He rose the few inches to clink foreheads with the other. Their bond, their peculiar, steadying, one-of-a-kind bond, flooded and swirled and exploded with love. For who knew and loved one better than the other?
Time passed, and they were only interrupted by Sunstreaker's characteristic loud whining about the drying paint. The two gracefully stood and surveyed the mess. The floor was a mottled mess of color, accented by art utensils, a Sideswipe outline, and the occasional scratch. The painting lay on the ground, ruined by rainbow splatters and completely unrecognizable.
"You know," Sunstreaker said, "it looks better like that."
Sideswipe laughed a loud, hearty cackle.
Sunstreaker loved that sound.