A/N: So this first chapter is the ficlet celebration for 75 reviews for "You had me at 'holoform'"! Thanks, you guys! This won't necessarily make that much sense unless you've read 'Holoform' first, so scootch on over there and read that, why don'tcha :)

And we can blame this little item on DogtagXD, whose comment about Isobel spending time with Sunstreaker-the-artist spawned the plot bunny that led to this little adventure.

Setting: some time in Isobel's future.

As always, I'm only borrowing them for a bit.

The gentle touch across my lower lip tickles, but it feels very nice.

"Hold still," he commands. "You'll ruin the finish."

Laughing or giggling is out of the question. It will smudge the paint, plus it will offend him. And Sunstreaker will be really annoyed if he has to start over.

It's hard, suppressing giggles.

"Hold still, I said." Apparently I didn't quite manage to keep my face under control. The brush leaves my lip to move down along my cheekbone. "If I have to start this over again, you'll regret it."

I take a deep breath through my nose, schooling my body to stillness.

"That's better," he approves. "Good to know that you can behave if you have to."

"Thank you, Sunstreaker," I say, without moving my lips.

He snorts. "Lucky for you that you can say my name without using your mouth plates. You can open your eyes now, by the way, the paint on your eyelids is dry."

I open them with relief. It's dizzying to stand straight without visual input – I kept feeling like I would fall over.

Sunstreaker is frowning, completely focused on the slow strokes of the brush. Bright blue eyes under dark eyebrows are eyeing my chin and jawline. "You're going to look striking, Isobel. It's a slagging shame that this is temporary."

"Hey, don't worry, Sunny," Sideswipe says, grinning at me from his relaxed lounging in the sofa. "If it works, maybe Aid wants you to do it again. You can make another full design, have it ready." He pops an Energon candy in between silver mouthplates. "Though I have to admit, I don't understand. Why are you doing this again, Isobel?"

"If you talk now, I'll offline you," Sunstreaker threatens, brush sliding slowly across my chin and down my throat. "And you do get it, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe picks up the thick brush of dark blue paint that Sunstreaker had used as a primer. It's tiny in his big metal fingers. "Oh, yeah." A cheeky grin, and then the tip of the brush vanishes into his mouth. "Edible paint."

"For us, not for you," Sunstreaker cautions. "Don't lick your lips if you can avoid it."

"Got it," I reply, without moving my lips.

"Aid's a lucky slagger," Sideswipe comments idly. "Wish I had someone who'd do that as a surprise to me."

"Well, unfortunately for you, you're bonded to the artist," Sunstreaker replies absently, focusing those sharp eyes on the brush moving across my collarbone. "I do agree, though. First Aid had better appreciate what he's getting here, or I'll have words with him."

"You make an excellent piece of art, Isobel," Sideswipe smirks.

"She's a good canvas," Sunstreaker agrees, smirking at me. "And those colours suit you."

"Thanks," I say, afraid to say too much in case it means I move.

Sunstreaker switches to a different brush, and draws it in broad sweeps across my chest. The blue colour he used on all of my exposed skin an hour ago is vanishing underneath a pale, cloudy grey, swirling in cloudy shapes across my sternum.

"I'm glad you gave me free reign with the design," Sunstreaker says quietly, ducking his head to examine the effect. "Not that many would trust me with this. Thank you."

"Sure," I say. "You're the artist."

He smirks at me. "Yes, I am. Now hold still."

The brush moves down across my breasts, cresting first one, then the other. Not for the first time, I'm questioning the logic that had me decide to be almost completely naked for this.

"Easy, Isobel," Sunstreaker murmurs. "When you get nervous your breathing speeds up and turns shallow, and then my entire canvas moves."

"Okay," I whisper and try to get my errant body under control. It's not easy. There's nothing erotic about Sunstreaker's focus – and who'd have ever thought we could get to a point where his touch on my half-naked body would be clinical! – but it's still a very intimate situation.

"You're going to look awesome, Isobel," Sideswipe calls. He's smirking at me – his touch on my body would definitely not be clinical. I'm glad it's Sunstreaker doing this. And that's surprising, too; the realization that I'm more comfortable with him than his more social, more outgoing twin.

"Of course she will," Sunstreaker smirks as well. "She's my work, after all." The brush circles each nipple, and then moves down to paint the underside of my breasts and the upper part of my stomach.

"Now, this is the second layer details," Sunstreaker explains. "So the brush strokes are still fairly thick. When I'm done with this, we're on to the finicky details and the small brushes. At that point, you will let me know if it tickles, because I don't want you to move."

"Okay," I agree. I sneak a look at the color palette he's laid out – pale blues and turquoises, violets and iridescent pinks, soft greens and muted greys, glossy black and metallic silver and gold. It's a sunrise and a nebula rolled into one. Again, I'm impatient to see the finished result and a bit regretful that I didn't ask to see the design.

Sunstreaker's brush moves down towards the thin, ribbon-like elastic on my hip. "May I?"

"Go ahead," I breathe, steeling myself slightly. I'm not sure whether or not he's going to pull it all the way off.

But Sunstreaker just tug the thong string down slightly, allowing him to work over my hip on that side. Then he does the same on the other hip, leaving my underwear lower than it was but still covering me. As much as the flimsy silver garment ever did. That's the last time I let an Autobot pick out my underwear – and if Sunstreaker hadn't chosen it to fit with the rest of the design, I never would have worn it.

As he circles around to paint the small of my back, Sideswipe eyes me appreciatively.

"You know, you're dead sexy, Isobel."

"Shut up," Sunstreaker says forcefully. "If you make her uncomfortable I'll pummel you."

"Thanks," I say, to both of them. "It's okay, Sunstreaker. Sides learned his lesson." Only the fact that I managed to say all that without moving my lips saves me from Sunstreaker's ire – as it is, he's only frowning at me.

The brush moves down the back of one leg.

"I meant it objectively." Sideswipe quirks his lips at me, one corner of his mouth going up. "You've got the symmetry."

I snort at that, and Sunstreaker harrumphs from behind me at the noise. That's the strangest compliment I've ever gotten.

The brush circles my ankle to cover the front of my foot, and then moves up towards my knee again, sometimes swirling in small circles and sometimes moving in long straight lines.

"How long?" I ask.

"Another twenty minutes at least for this coat, and then I can start the surface detail half an hour after that," Sunstreaker replies quietly. "The paint has to dry."

"You okay?" Sideswipe asks.

"Thirsty," I reply.

Sunstreaker stands up and disappears into the adjoining room. He comes back with a soda can with a straw in it. "Here." He holds it up and lets me drink. He's very careful, and something tells me he's as careful of me as he is of the paint still drying.

"Thank you."

I'm rewarded with a rare smile. "No problem."

He puts the can down on a side table and picks his brush back up, moving on to the other leg.

"Hey, you want the TV?" Sideswipe asks. "In case it gets boring, standing like that for another few hours? We never did get to watch that movie you wanted to see."

Sunstreaker snorts. "Sappy human romance movie."

"Shut it," I reply, aiming it at the yellow twin. "Yeah, thanks, Sides."

Sunstreaker looks up at me and points at me with the brush. "No crying. Tears will streak the paint."

I snort again. "It's not a crying flick."

He just gives me a sceptical look. "Don't use your lips when you talk."

I'm wrong. This new version has definite sappy moments, and Sideswipe in the end has to transform and bring out his holoform to stand next to me with a tissue ready. And it's needed too, especially after the prince dies and everyone turns back into lightly used houseware. Sunstreaker just shakes his head at me.

"Well, at least she's standing still," Sideswipe says conversationally.

"Barely," Sunstreaker comments sardonically.

He's right. I had to suppress fangirl bouncing more than once during the film. But for the most part, I've been standing still and letting Sunstreaker work on the detailing.

My arms are done. So's my back, and most of my left leg. Sunstreaker carefully tugs the thong string back in place and moves on to my right leg.

Sideswipe takes a step back and looks me over. "Wow. We need to take pictures of this."

"It's not done yet," Sunstreaker replies. He's all focused on the thin brush moving in tiny strokes over my thigh, pausing only to switch colors.

"How long until you're done, then?" Sideswipe's circling me. "Primus, her back looks amazing."

"Another hour at least." Sunstreaker's delicate lips curve into a faint smile at his brother's praise.

"So I'll have Rewind come here in two," Sideswipe says, shrugging as if that's the problem solved.

I eye him sharply. I did not agree to having myself on film mostly naked.

Sunstreaker notices me tensing, and looks up from the tiny brush moving on my leg. "Not happy about that?"

"No. I have no clothes on."

Sideswipe looks me over. "True. But to be honest, with what Sunny's producing, I don't think anyone will notice. You're not a naked body anymore, pet, you're a piece of art."

Sunstreaker smirks at that. I frown, the paint on my forehead making the movement feel stiffer than usual.

"We'll let you see yourself first, okay?" Sideswipe says. "After Sunny's done. And if you're still uncomfortable, we won't do it, but if it's okay, we'll call Rewind then. This really ought to be preserved for eternity. Besides, it's not like I'm suggesting to put you on the big screen in "Stories for Isobel." I'm just saying make a record of this."

I sigh, glad that Sunstreaker isn't working on my back or my chest right now. "Okay then. I agree to that."

I resign myself to standing still for another hour. The movie starts again on its own, which helps.

Sunstreaker's tiny brush moves up my leg and over my hip. There's apparently a lot of finicky detail on my stomach, because the amount of tiny brush strokes is staggering.

The brush moves down underneath my belly button, small tiny movements going down towards the top edge of my silver so-called underwear. As he moves just on the edge of it, my breath hitches.

Sunstreaker pauses, looking at me. "Ticklish?"

"Unh. Not exactly." If I hadn't been painted, my cheeks would have been bright pink.

Sideswipe moves in to look at where his brother was painting. "What's up?"

"She reacts funny when I do this," Sunstreaker replies, demonstrating with a few more tiny strokes.

I draw my breath in sharply, feeling my lower abdominal muscles contract, the clenching of my pelvic floor muscles.

Sideswipe grins. "Sunny, I think you found a sensitive wiring node. Or whatever humans have that passes for it."

Sunstreaker stares at him, then smirks. "Who'd've thought. Isobel, can you stand still while I finish here?"

"Yeah," I reply, a little breathless. "I'll try."

I'm focusing on the movie. Very intensely. Learning the dialogue. Nothing's touching my tummy, no, definitely not, nothing is happening to make me wish I was with First Aid right now and not these two miscreants. I am not reacting to this, no, I am not.

Nevertheless, I draw a shaky breath as Sunstreaker finally moves on from that area.

Unfortunately, he moves on to my nipples.

"Sorry," he says as I gasp. "They just got so nice and pointy, it's much easier to paint them now."

Sideswipe is cracking up, almost falling over on the floor.

I make a mental vow never to repeat this. If Sunstreaker wants to use me as a canvas again, I'm wearing a bathing suit.

At long last the torture session ends, and he moves on to my face. The tiny brush strokes are focused on the right side, covering my cheek and making dainty small lines around the corner of my eye. At least I'm not ticklish on my face.

But then he moves on to my butt cheeks, lifting the thong strings back to their original position.

"Tickles!" I giggle as Sunstreaker makes tiny dots with the tiny brush all over my left butt cheek.

"Sorry," he grins. "Almost done with that." The brush stop bopping about and instead moves in small, gentle strokes.

Finally, after what seems like an age and a half, Sunstreaker stands up and puts his brushes away. He frowns at me, circling me once, twice, picks up a brush to fix tiny imperfections here and there. Then he takes a step back.

Sideswipe looks at him expectantly. "Done?"

The golden twin nods. "Done."

"Whooo!" Sideswipe leaps across the distance separating us, grinning widely. He circles me eagerly, making appreciative sounds all the while, before stopping in front of me. "Primus, Sunny," he breathes. "That is fantastic." Then he pivots, and races back the way he came. "I'm setting up the mirrors!"

I smile carefully at Sunstreaker. "You satisfied?"

He surveys his work again, and nods, smiling slightly back at me. "I am, actually. It's almost perfect. You are a very good canvas."

Sideswipe comes bouncing back into the room, grin still plastered across his face. He moves in behind me and begins herding me into their big wash racks. This apartment belonging to Sunstreaker, there are of course mirrors. Full-length for a Cybertronian, so twice at tall as me. And Sideswipe's moved all the mirrors around to make a cube.

I stop, looking. "You know, there are witches who think that you can lose shards of your soul if you stand between mirrors like that."

Sideswipe just stares at me. "Huh?"

I shake my head, grin at him. "Never mind." I move in to stand in the open space he's left for me. And then I gasp as I see myself.

"Oh, my… Sunstreaker, you're amazing."

He smirks, looking at my reflection in the mirrors. "Yes, I am."

"Call Rewind," I breathe. "I can't let this vanish without a record."

Sideswipe grins and disappears out of the room, and I turn to examine myself.

There really are no words to describe this.

Sunstreaker has painted Cybertron and Earth on my body. I can barely see myself under the design.

I have the faint beginnings of a sunrise over Diego Garcia on my chest and stomach. The horizon is just brightening, giving the clouds soft pink edges, and the ocean is brightening from dark blue to turquoise and rose. The sky is still dark enough to show the stars, and the beach is shining silver on the lower half of my stomach. All the little wavelets and starlight shimmering on the sand must have been what set me off.

My legs are Iacon, gleaming, crystalline towers of an almost iridescent finish. The designs blend together, left leg effortlessly fading into right leg when I keep them together, the shading creating the illusion that it's all one solid canvas. On the back, it's the same image but with different lighting – night-time, I'd say, all the windows and openings of the buildings gleaming with light, and unknown constellations showing on my upper thighs and butt cheeks.

My back is Praxus. Crystal gardens of rose and lilac, edges of silver and gold. Small figures are visible among the crystals and buildings, Cybertronians going about their daily lives in a city that has since been razed to the ground.

"Sunny, I need that tissue again," I whisper. He walks up to me, holding the tissue paper up to catch the errant tears that are escaping.

My face is a nebula. Dark and star-ridden on the left side, but the right side is gleaming pink, orange, silver, purple, pale grey and white.

Sunstreaker lifts the tissue to my eyes again.

"It's beautiful, Sunstreaker." I smile, a bit tremulously, taking it all in. "I've never been more beautiful in my entire life."

He smirks at that, but then he shakes his head, and leans in to kiss my hair the only part of my body that's paint free. "Don't talk yourself down, Isobel. You're always lovely. This is just different."

I look at my arms. The right one has an unknown mech, silver in the moonlight, standing with his back towards the viewer in the desert. The shape of him is vague enough that he can't be recognized, a blend of shadow and reflective metal. The left one…

The left one has that picture of Elita that I really like. She looks so life-like, as if she could just step off my arm and into real life. It's perfection.

And everywhere, all over me, there are tiny golden glyphs. They edge the motifs, float among the stars, border the sharper curves of my body.

"What do they mean?" I ask, hesitantly almost-touching a larger one on my hip.

"Brilliance," Sunstreaker murmurs, fingers moving to hover over the larger glyphs that I now see are painted all around my hips. "Courage. Wisdom. Strength. Safety. Friendship. Loyalty. Imagination. Openness, or acceptance. Faith. Trust." He touches the last one gently. "Beauty." His eyes meet mine in the mirror. "I used the glyphs that I feel describe you, Isobel."

I'm dumbstruck at that. I know Sunstreaker has no romantic interest in me, or even a physical one anymore (not too sure about Sideswipe in that regard), but I didn't know he cared quite that much.

"Sunstreaker, I would hug you right now if it wouldn't ruin the finish," I whisper.

He smiles at me then, a small, tentative smile that makes him look young. "Hug me another time?"

That's the first time he's asked me for any kind of physical reassurance, and I can't stop looking at him in the mirror. He frowns slightly, looking away, and suddenly I realize he's waiting for an answer and is uncomfortable that I haven't given him one yet.

"Sunstreaker, I'll hug you as much as you could possibly want," I say assertively. "I care about you like a brother. Don't ever doubt that. And this…" I turn again, looking at myself from all angles. "This is the most beautiful thing you've ever given me. Not just the painting, but that you did it for me. That I got your time, and your talent, even when you knew the result would only be temporary."

The holoform behind me blushes, still frowning slightly. But then he takes a step closer, and presses another kiss to the back of my head, hiding slightly so I can't see his face. I've noticed this behaviour before – he usually hides his emotions behind that beautiful, arrogantly frowning mask of his, but if he has the rare urge to open up, he'll damn well not do it if you can see him.

"I love you, too, Isobel. Little sister."

Then he flees the room. I'm not offended, or even very surprised. He's used up his emotional quota for the day, most likely.

Little sister. I kind of like that.

After a few minutes, Sideswipe comes in, with Rewind and Sunstreaker (with his distant mask back on) in tow.

Rewind stops and gapes at me. "Primus. That's… Wow."

"Can you capture it?" Sunstreaker asks. "If I pose her, can you take the pictures?"

Rewind nods energetically, a gesture that he must have picked up from the humans. "Oh, most definitely. We need better lighting, though."

Rewind is efficient. He orders the two bigger bots around, and in short order the mirrors are moved to the main living room and set up to reflect the light the way Rewind wants it, and I'm placed in front of a large black sheet that's hung on one wall.

"Perfect," Rewind nods. "Let's get to it."

So, as Sunstreaker places me in different poses to show off his work as much as possible, and Sideswipe watches with a big grin on his face, Rewind takes about a billion pictures of me. Close-ups and wide angles, from above and below, sometimes walking slowly around me to catch me from every angle, sometimes zooming in to catch one of the incredible details. When he finally declares himself done, I'm completely beat.

"That about does it," Rewind says as Sideswipe packs the lights away and Sunstreaker fetches my soda. It's gone stale and warm and is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. "I'll store this for you until you want it. Is Isobel getting a copy?"

"Yeah," Sunstreaker grunts. "Her idea. She gets a copy of everything, standard clauses."

"You got it." Rewind grins as he turns to leave. "Have a nice evening, you three. Isobel, say hi to Aid from me."

Sideswipe snorts at us as Rewind closes the door behind him. "He enjoyed that way too much."

"It's been a while since Rewind's had the chance to function as a proper photographer," Sunstreaker replies. "Let him have his fun. You ready, Isobel?"

I nod, butterflies suddenly very evident in my stomach. "Yeah. Let's go."

"Don't worry," Sideswipe says, pressing a kiss to my hair, the only place on me that's safe for him to touch right now. "Aid'll love it. That 'Bot doesn't know how lucky he is."

"Thanks, Sides." I shoot him a half-smile. "Sunny, will you walk me?"

"You know it." Suddenly, a cloud of blue sparks settle around my shoulders, manifesting as a dark cloak. "Come on."

"She gets to call you Sunny now?" Sideswipe prods his brother teasingly, running a hand down his back and around his waist.

"Shut up," Sunstreaker growls, pulling him close and pressing his lips to his twin's forehead. "Be back soon. Wait for me."

Sideswipe smirks. "You know it."

Sunstreaker walks me back to my flat in total silence, one hand on my back. I look up at him as I unlock the door – he's looking back the way we came, a half-smirk on his face. Noticing my questioning look, he snorts and shakes his head. "Sides is being… imaginative."

I grin at that. I have no problems believing that Sideswipe knows how to thoroughly distract his brother/lover. "Go back to him. I can take it from here." He nods and turns to go.

"Hey." I catch his sleeve, make him look back at me. "Thanks for this."

"No problem," he smirks. "I had fun. Tell me if you want to do something like this again."

I grin. "Maybe you should try this on Sidewipe."

"Nah. He'll never stay still long enough." A shudder runs through him, and he turns away again. "I really should go."

I giggle quietly. "Go. Go ravage your brother. I'll see you around."

The grin I get for that is the most brilliant one yet.

As he vanishes, taking my cloak with him, I walk inside and close the door behind me. The apartment is dark. I walk around the living room, turning lights on and off, trying to figure out what kind of lighting to use. I push the furniture aside and spread my bed coverlet and duvet on the floor.

And then I settle in to wait for my Protectobot to come home.