A/N: This one fought me tooth and nail, so I enlisted aid: this chapter is co-written by my twin sister, so show her some love, too. XD
(And 27 reviews for one chapter! Heck yeah! Ya'll are awesome!) Much love also to VAWitch for beta-ing. XD
EDIT: GAH! I almost forgot! Cas, I loved one of your remarks so much that it makes an appearance in this chapter; you'll know which one it is. ;p
Wheeljack was only mildly surprised to see Bluestreak peek into his lab the next morning. His head swiveled, searching for the engineer amidst the organized clutter of his workshop, and he brightened visibly when he spotted him. He let himself fully into the room as soon as he realized that Wheeljack had seen him, and stood just inside the doorway for a minute, fidgeting nervously.
Finally, he spoke. "I, uh, wanted to say thank you—you know, for letting me stay with you last night. I, um, well… I really appreciate it. I don't think I could have made myself recharge if I'd been by myself, and, um, well, you didn't have to do that and I—just, you know, thank you." He ducked his head, seeming embarrassed. He looked about to say more, but Wheeljack, having had prior experience in carrying on a conversation with Bluestreak, interrupted him.
"It's nothin', Blue, don't you worry about it. Like I said, you're welcome anytime," the engineer said, doing his best, with the facemask on, to give the gunner an encouraging expression.
"You really mean it, Wheeljack?" Bluestreak asked happily. "Because that would be—"
"Would I have said it—twice—if I didn't?" Wheeljack replied, walking over to clap the younger mech on the shoulder. "Any time you need help, you just come and see ol' 'Jack, and I promise I won't turn you away." It was only natural to the inventor to want to extend his aid to anyone in need of it, and there was something indefinable about the young Datsun that made Wheeljack think that he definitely needed it.
Bluestreak nodded vigorously. "Will do!" he said cheerfully, altogether grateful for the engineer's kindness.
"How's the side?" Wheeljack asked, hoping to head off another round of rambling 'thank-yous'.
"My side?" Bluestreak echoed, blinking a little. "Oh, yeah, it's a lot better, thank you, just a little sore where the fresh welds are but I guess that's normal, huh?" He paused for a moment as though thinking about something. "Oh, hey, look at that, my fuel levels are getting kinda low—guess I forgot to refuel yesterday after, you know, the battle. I should probably go to the common room and get a cube of energon. Wanna come?" He looked so sweetly hopeful that Wheeljack hadn't the spark to turn him down, so he nodded and began putting his work away.
Bluestreak positively beamed, and Wheeljack realized that, though most everyone liked Blue, they didn't necessarily want to carry on a conversation with him. Cliffjumper had once called him the 'Living Run-On Sentence', and the inventor had to admit that talking to the Datsun could sometimes be a chore. Unfortunately, most of the mechs who would carry on any kind of lengthy discussion with the gunner—namely the twins, Hound, Prowl, Jazz, and Bumblebee—were either laid up or on duty.
Poor thing must be terribly lonely, Wheeljack thought sympathetically. Aloud, he said, "Alright, Blue, let's go," as he put away the last of his blueprints.
He only listened with one audio receptor to Bluestreak's happy chatter as they made their way down the hall to the common room, nodding and making the appropriate noises where required. They were both surprised to see that Sideswipe was the only other 'Bot in the room; everyone else must've already gotten their rations—then Wheeljack checked the time and realized that, yes, of course everyone else would have been through by this hour.
Sideswipe nodded to them and indicated that they should come and sit with him once they had retrieved their cubes, and he and Bluestreak greeted each other, if not cheerfully, at least with smiles.
"Hey, Sides, how's Sunny?" the gunner asked, genuinely concerned, and Sideswipe's smile became a grimace.
"Whining like a little brat about his ruined paint, but he's alive thanks to you," the Lamborghini replied, and he clapped Blue on the shoulder gratefully.
Bluestreak stammered embarrassed protestations, but Sideswipe wouldn't hear of it. "Blue here shot Ramjet clear out of the sky just as he was about to strafe me and Sunny. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if Sunny weren't already down…but in any case, he saved our hides," he told Wheeljack.
"It was just a lucky shot," the Datsun mumbled, flustered by the praise and ducking his head. Sideswipe started to say more, but they were all distracted by the entrance of another mech—Cliffjumper.
The little red Porsche marched right up to their table to stare at Sideswipe as though sizing him up. Sideswipe, for his part, stared right back, looking confused and a little wary.
"I've been told," the confrontational red minibot said slowly, "that it's thanks to you that I'm walking around right now." He regarded Sideswipe for a long moment, apparently deliberating whether to do something—and finally, carefully, he offered his hand to the larger red mech. "Thanks," he said quietly, shaking Sideswipe's hand firmly when the surprised Lamborghini accepted the proffered gesture. Then he about faced, strode over to the energon dispenser to get himself a cube, and marched on out. The three left in the room stared at each other in blank shock.
"Did Cliffjumper just..." Sideswipe said incredulously.
"I think so…" Wheeljack replied, equally stunned.
"Man, he said thanks!" Bluestreak said wonderingly. "I wish I'd thought to record that—no one is ever gonna believe it. Cliffjumper almost never says thanks to anyone even if they deserve it—"
"I just saw it, and I don't believe it," Sideswipe muttered. "Though I guess saving someone's life is enough to earn thanks even from Cliffjumper." He suddenly cocked his head to the side in a 'listening' pose, and then grimaced as his attention turned back to them. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled, moving to stand. "Well, as much fun as it's been, I'm being paged. His Royal Highness the Dandelion of Despair wants his energon, and he can't walk far enough yet to get it. Not to mention Ratchet's taking his side." He shook his head. "The things I do for him…" and he got up, filled two cubes, and took himself off to his quarters.
Bluestreak watched him with a strange, almost wistful expression as he left, and Wheeljack eyed him curiously.
"What's the matter, Blue?" the engineer asked gently.
The Datsun started, looking at Wheeljack with wide optics. "Oh, uh… well, it's nothing really…" He fidgeted uncomfortably.
"Now don't give me that, Blue, I can tell that something's bothering you," Wheeljack admonished his companion.
For a minute, he thought that the gunner wouldn't answer him, and then, in a small voice, he murmured, "Don't you ever envy how happy they are together? I don't think I'm ever really happy anymore." He laughed a little, though it sounded forced. "It's pretty stupid, isn't it? To be envious of someone because they're happy?"
"No, I don't think it's stupid," Wheeljack replied quietly, and couldn't help but brighten when Bluestreak smiled at him in return.
"You know, I think that this is the longest I've ever spent time with you," the Datsun commented from out of the blue, still smiling. "And you never once told me to shut up," he added. The inventor winced a bit at the matter-of-factness with which Bluestreak said that—no one had the right to tell him to shut up so rudely. He was, after all, such a sweet youngling, even if he did have problems with keeping his vocalizer mute.
"Bluestreak, do me a favor," he said seriously.
"What's that?"
"If I ever tell you to shut up, give me a good kick, alright?"
Bluestreak regarded him a little warily. "Ooo-kay," he replied, doubtfully.
"I mean it, Blue—anyone willing to be that rude needs a good kick," he said firmly, and Bluestreak nodded hesitantly.
"A-alright," the gray Datsun murmured softly, doorwings twitching. "I can do that, I think…"
"Good," the inventor said, satisfied. "Now, did you have any plans for today?" he asked, a determination to see the gunner happy for at least a little while forming in his CPU; and it was not like he had anything super-important to work on at the moment, anyway.
"Not really, no… I mean, I thought I'd borrow some games from Sides and go to my room and play them for a while, but I didn't really have anything in particular in mind to do today, 'cause I'm not on duty so I have some free time on my hands, and I—"
Wheeljack cut him off gently. "It just so happens," he said, "that I have already borrowed some of Sideswipe's games, and I need someone to play them with me. They're just not as much fun unless you've got a partner." He eyed Bluestreak, waiting to see if the boy understood the invitation for what it was, before adding, just to make it a little clearer, "Since you don't have anything in particular to do, would you like to come play them with me?"
"You really want me to?" Bluestreak asked eagerly, optics wide.
"Sure! I didn't really have any plans for today, either, so, you know…" He shrugged. "Why not?"
The gunner frowned. "But I thought you were working on that, uh, that whatchamacallit that you had out in your lab this morning—um, not that I'm complaining or anything, but I didn't want to keep you from anything important…"
"It's not that important," he assured him. "Just a lil something I've been tinkering with. It'll keep 'til tomorrow." He stood, gathered up their empty energon cubes, and put them away over Bluestreak's protests that he could get his own. "Now, come on!" he added, and pulled the Datsun to his feet and out of the room.
Wheeljack had to admit he had not had so much fun in ages.
They had spent the majority of the day playing video games, laughing and jeering at each other by turns. Ratchet, still concerned for his friend, had dropped in at some point, and they had dragged him into their game as well—and he, in turn, had dragged Sideswipe into it. Sunstreaker didn't join in because, according to his brother and Ratchet, he was out cold and wouldn't even know they were gone, anyway.
Eventually, however, they all ended up sprawled out on whatever piece of furniture was handy at the time, just talking aimlessly and enjoying each other's company.
"It's getting late," Ratchet remarked, glancing at Sideswipe, who blinked back sleepily.
"Mm-hmm," Wheeljack murmured in agreement.
"Hey, look—Blue's completely out," Sideswipe said, sounding amused as he regarded the gunner recharging on Wheeljack's spare berth. "Should we wake him?"
The engineer gazed at the Datsun thoughtfully for a moment. "Nah," he replied at length. "Just let him be. He'll be alright, right where he's at."
"Poor kid," Sideswipe murmured. "He needs more people to watch out for him." The Lamborghini got a sly look in his optics. "You know, people like you, 'Jack." The Lancia stared at him, bemused.
Ratchet chuckled and cuffed the red warrior on the side of the head affectionately. ::Looks like Sideswipe the Matchmaker is at it again,:: he sent across the bond.
::What? He's lonely. Blue's lonely. I'm just giving them a little nudge,:: Sideswipe sent, giving his lover his best innocent look.
Ratchet just arched a brow ridge at the red hellion and shook his head. "C'mon, Sides, we'd better get out of here before the Sunflower wakes up without us," he said aloud.
"Yeah, we'd hate for him to miss us," Sideswipe said with snide amusement. "It's been fun, Wheeljack."
"Come over anytime," the engineer said, vocal indicators flashing happily as he walked with them to the door.
With his friends gone, Wheeljack turned to the recharging Datsun, resting peacefully on the spare berth. His wistful smile was hidden by his faceplate. "Rest well, kid," he murmured gruffly, before lying down and initiating his own recharge cycle.
Wheeljack was jolted out of recharge by the sound of a loud, fearful cry. Disoriented, he sat bolt upright and searched frantically for the source. Looking to the spare berth, he saw Bluestreak curled up on his side, shivering violently and keening, obviously the origin of the noise.
It took Wheeljack a moment to realize that the Datsun was still offline; the young gunner seemed to be in the grip of a terrifying nightmare. Concerned, the Lancia slipped out of his berth and padded over to Bluestreak's, intent on waking or at least soothing him.
"Blue?" he asked hesitantly, laying a hand on the gunner's shoulder, just above the doorwing, and shaking him gently. "Hey, Bluestreak, you okay?"
The strength of the younger mech's response startled the engineer; Bluestreak abruptly sat up and launched himself into Wheeljack's arms, making little choked noises that sounded suspiciously like sobs, though Cybertronians could not actually cry.
At a bit of a loss as to what to do, Wheeljack settled for awkwardly patting the gunner's back and murmuring soothing nonsense into his audios. He tried not to wince at the strength with which Bluestreak clutched at him; the Datsun's arms were like a vise around his middle.
Gradually Bluestreak's terror diminished, until, with a little hiccupping cough through his vents, he pulled away from Wheeljack in embarrassment. "Sorry I don't usually act like that you must think I'm some kind of spoiled sparkling—," he rattled off so quickly that the Lancia had a hard time understanding him.
"I don't think anything of the sort," Wheeljack interrupted him gently. "What I do think is that something is bothering you pretty bad. Want to talk about it?"
"No," the Datsun said abruptly, and turned away from the other mech's searching gaze.
Wheeljack's earfins flickered in astonishment. There's something the garrulous Bluestreak won't talk about? Must be pretty bad, he thought. "Listen," he said hesitantly. "If you ever change your mind, I'll still be here. Okay?" The gunner nodded uncertainly, glancing up to meet Wheeljack's optics once more.
"I should probably get back to my own room, I don't want to interrupt your recharge any more than I already have, I'll be fine by myself—," Bluestreak began babbling once more.
"You're staying right here," Wheeljack said firmly. No way was he going to let the poor boy stay by himself after what had happened tonight. The Lancia was no psychologist, but he was pretty sure that leaving Bluestreak alone would only traumatize the Datsun even further.
"Well if you really don't mind," Bluestreak said, giving in with palpable relief.
"I don't mind," Wheeljack said warmly. "In fact, I insist. Try to get some more rest, okay?"
"Okay," the Datsun said, his optics already starting to flicker with weariness. He lay back down on the berth, and Wheeljack sat by him until he was sure the younger mech was fully offline before seeking out his own berth with a soft sigh.
He lay online for a long time afterward, unable to help trying to puzzle out the conflicted mess that was Bluestreak. Outwardly, the gunner was friendly, open, and cheerfully talkative. Inwardly—Wheeljack was beginning to think that he was a raw and open wound, and unless he could get the Datsun to talk about what was bothering him, he wasn't sure what he could do to help him.
Well, if there was anything Wheeljack loved, it was a good challenge, and it would certainly be challenging to get Bluestreak to open up to him.
Mulling it over in his mind, he eventually fell into an uneasy recharge.