Disclaimer: Sunstreaker, Sam and anything Transformer related belongs to Hasbro.
The hands running along his prone form was an alien touch, but not revolting as one would first assume. They were gentle, careful and almost caressing. If ever there was a thought he'd been hurt, the hands would jerk and stop before continuing on gentler than before. Currently those hands rubbed a soft cloth over his form, drying off the last of the water that had been sprayed upon him. A week ago he had been disgusted and horrified when first he'd been touched, but now it was a sort of comfort. The young human, still was not aware that he had finally onlined, but there was no way of alerting him to that fact. He still could not transform and he would not speak first in this form, not when he could not see nor gauge the creature's reaction. His optics were still damaged, therefore leaving him completely blind in one eye and partially in the other. He opted merely to shut it off as well. Suddenly he was patted affectionately on the hood and the human spoke something unknown before departing into his dwelling.
The boy was who he owed his life to. If not for his suspicious knowledge of repairs, he would have offlined ages ago. While he was usually the first to detest anything organic and squishy, this human had managed to become tolerable. He found himself enjoying the times when the human would come and work on him whilst talking, trying to converse or something of the sort no doubt. He may not know if the human knew what he was, but the way he handled the repairs was far too careful or gentle for him to assume he was just some earthen machine.
Though he wanted desperately to be repaired, Sunstreaker couldn't bring himself to mind the time it would take to do so.
