Note: I am teh lazy. I actually posted this on April Fool's Day but am just that lazy. XP
Warnings: Crack. Pure, unadulterated CRACK.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.
Thanks: to yankeesailor for being an awesome beta and for giggling along with me when I come up with these insane ideas!
Sunstreaker came online with an awful taste in his mouth and pain radiating through what felt like every servo in his head
Sunstreaker came online with an awful taste in his mouth and pain radiating through what felt like every servo in his head. The Lamborghini groaned and dimmed his optics as the all-too-familiar light of the med-bay assaulted his sensitive vision. "Primus," he ground out through clenched dental plates. "What the frag happened last night?" His memories were hazy at best. The Autobots, always in the mood for a reason to party, had thrown one in celebration of Spike and Carly's newborn son.
Tiny Daniel hadn't been overly interested in the towering robots all crowding around to get a look at the baby human. It was only after Carly and the baby had retired that the proud new father was plied with drinks and the high grade was broken out. That was about the time Sunstreaker's memories started to get a little hazy.
"Oh! You're online. I'm glad to see that because you've been out for a while and I was starting to think something was wrong even though Ratchet told me everything was okay. But you know how Ratchet can be so I thought I would stay here until you came back online but when you didn't, I finally had to go to my shift otherwise Prowl was going to kill me and I didn't want that to happen."
Sunstreaker fought back a whimper as Bluestreak started rambling on without even seeming to stop to cycle air. Was it just him, or did the Datsun seem louder and even more rambling than always?
"—so I tried to tell Prowl that I was sorry and that I was just staying here with you in the med-bay but he still made me stay after and help Wheeljack do inventory on his lab. And normally I wouldn't mind since I like Wheeljack and all but I was worried and—"
"Blue!" the yellow mech finally snapped. "Please, just… stop," Sunstreaker finished weakly. If he hadn't felt like he was going to expel the contents of his tanks, the Lamborghini would have been horrified at how weak and pathetic he sounded. As it was, his pride took a back-seat to the nauseated feeling he was experiencing.
The gunner stopped mid-sentence as a chagrined look crossed his face. "Sorry, I was just so worried and you know how I am when I get nervous. I just start talking and talking and can't seem to quit…" And with that, he was off again. Sunstreaker just didn't have the spark to tell him to shut up and just settled back onto the medical berth and offlined his audio receptors. Blissful silence swept through his processors. Without thinking, Sunstreaker's optics dimmed as well.
He was jolted out of his half-trance Bluestreak's hand touched his arm and his onlined his systems to hear Ratchet snapped at Bluestreak to be quiet when he entered the med-bay. The medic looked to be in even more of a foul mood then normal and Sunstreaker wondered if he was suffering from the party last night as well.
"Sorry, Ratchet, I didn't mean to be annoying, I'll—" Bluestreak stopped talking when Ratchet pinned him with a Look.
"How are you feeling, Sunstreaker?"
"Like day-old slag," he admitted reluctantly.
"Yes, well, that's not surprising all things considered. I'm not completely sure where we're going to go from here but we'll just have to deal with things as they come along."
Sunstreaker felt the energon run cold in his lines. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it is a unique situation and one that bears some studying. Of course, until we learn the full extent of your condition you'll have to be pulled off the front lines. We wouldn't want to risk anything happening to you." Then Ratchet did something that scared the living spark out of Sunstreaker. He smiled a warm, benevolent little smile and the expression was so out of place on Ratchet's faceplates that Sunstreaker just wanted to crawl away in fear.
"W-What the slag are you going on about, Ratchet!?"
"Wait… you mean Bluestreak didn't tell you?" the medic shot the chagrined-looking gunner a look.
"No! He didn't tell me anything!" Sunstreaker glared at the grey mech only to fall back against the berth with a groan. "Ugh, how rotten was that energon I drank last night?"
"It's not the energon, Sunstreaker."
"Then what the slag is wrong with me?!" Sunstreaker's infamous temper was steadily unraveling, his fondness for Bluestreak and even the gristly old medic aside.
"Calm down, Sunstreaker. A mech in your condition needs to maintain an even emotional keel at all times."
"Ratchet…"
The ambulance just beamed again. "You're pregnant, Sunstreaker."
"I'M WHAT!?"
"Pregnant, with child, gravid…"
"Impossible! " the yellow mech snarled. "I'm a slagging MACHINE. I can't be pregnant!"
"I know, it should be impossible but what can I say? Science never lies. Now, Perceptor and Wheeljack want to examine you."
"Come on, Ratchet. Can't you see Sunny's having a hard time processing all this? Just give him a moment," he heard Bluestreak say.
"Are you telling me what to do in my medbay?" Ratchet growled dangerously.
"Umn… no?" A hopeful smile.
"Look, I don't care if you are the father, I will kick you out on your shiny aft, you got me?"
"Wait… what!?"
Bluestreak smiled tremulously. "That's right, Sunny. It's pretty crazy, isn't it?"
"No, no, no, no, no!" Sunstreaker shook his head and felt a bubble of hysteria choke up his vocalizer. A silent scream of denial was resounding in his head and the world was beginning to fill with static as his optics blinked on and off rapidly in an erratic pattern. For a moment, he wondered if this was like one of those bizarre episodes of The Twilight Zone Sideswipe was addicted to. Or maybe this was what going crazy felt like.
Sunstreaker came online with an awful taste in his mouth and pain radiating through what felt like every servo in his head.
He felt a warm weight resting across his lap and dared to online his optics enough to see it was a door-wing slung across his lap and that Bluestreak was curled up beside him on the couch with his face snuggled against the underside of Sunstreaker's hood. The melee warrior paused a moment to try and slowly process what had just happened.
When he looked around, he could see the over-charged remains of the party slung over various couches in the commissary and even a mini-bot or two curled up under a table.
When he warily ran a scan of his systems, half fearing he'd find something that didn't belong there, he discovered something else. Sunstreaker's self-repair protocols were warning him that he had elevated chemical levels in his systems. Chemicals he was very familiar with.
Psychotropic chemicals he'd helped his soon-to-be very dead twin mix for a series of pranks Sideswipe had pulled on Red Alert last month. Snarling dangerously, Sunstreaker shoved Bluestreak off of him and looked around for his twin.
"Huh? Whaa?" Understandably confused, Bluestreak sat up when he felt his comfortable Lambo-pillow forcibly removed.
Sunstreaker spotted Sideswipe sitting across the room playing cards with what looked to be the only still-coherent mechs (and human in Spike's case) in the whole room. "SIDESWIPE! I'm going to KILL you!"
The red Twin looked up as Sunstreaker roared his name and he was on his feet and running for the door before his brother had even finished his threats.
Sunstreaker growled and chased after him, much to the hilarity of Jazz, Ratchet and Smokescreen. "Get back here you slagheap so I can kill you!"
"Oh man!" Jazz wheezed between fits of giggles. "That was the greatest April's Fool joke I've ever seen."
Ratchet snickered and clapped Smokescreen on the shoulder. "Nice one, Smokey."
"Oh no, don't thank me, I just provided the psychological simulation, Sideswipe was the one who came up with the idea and provided the energon. You should thank our soon-to-be-departed red hellion."
"Yeah, I should probably go separate 'em before Sunstreaker rips his twin into too many pieces." Ratchet cycled air through his intakes, finished his cube of high-grade and went after the Twins with a decidedly cocky swing in his gait.
"So… who's next?" Jazz asked with a devilish grin.
