Prompt: How old were they when they got their first glyph and who got one first?
Though it had initially been Sideswipe's idea, like always Sunstreaker ended up doing most of the work because, though he would never admit it, Sideswipe scared himself with his ideas and could never find the courage to do them until his brother backed him.
Under normal circumstances, fully-upgraded mechs would never have to ask permission for something like this. But they were not under normal circumstances. Not for six more orns, anyway. No, Sideswipe couldn't just wait six orns. It had to be now. Always now.
Sunstreaker hated that out of all the things they shared, restraint and responsibility were not among them.
But he had to admit that he wanted it, too. So he had asked Esker, because Sideswipe had been too afraid to, and she had allowed them to do this. They could have skipped asking her altogether and snuck out of the facility to find an off-site medic, but that would have landed them in deeper trouble than even Sideswipe wanted to deal with. Not that Sunstreaker liked wandering less familiar parts of the city to begin with. Bad things happened when he did that.
Sunstreaker was pondering these things as he lay with his back against the cool medbay table. Pondering his life, his brother, what this thing was going to do to his own undeniably good looks, when suddenly the burning, slicing pain of a laser scalpel stabbed into his right cheek-piece, just behind and below his optic.
Pain was nothing new to him. But this, this willing subjugation to suffering, to altering his very appearance, all at once struck him in its full magnitude, and he sent an involuntary shudder through through their bond.
Sideswipe immediately returned with a gentle questioning, then an assurance that things would be all right.
The gold mech's reply was a barrage of anger and pain, which Sideswipe took with surprising grace.
Forever, the pain, the cutting into his armor just enough to damage the sensitive circuits in the layers beneath. Then, nothing but residual aching and burning.
Sunstreaker was sitting up before the medic had a chance to step away. He drew one knee to his chest as he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. No energon or lubricant was leaking from the wound, but that didn't mean it was without pain.
A scratch on my armor, his mind said. He continued rubbing at it. Need to find hi-con. Must fix this.
A hand clasped his upper arm. Sunstreaker looked up in surprise, his optics locking with his brother's. Sideswipe's face plates were set in an oddly solemn expression that was a rare thing indeed with the red mech. It still came as a shock to Sunstreaker, to see his brother's pale face like that, smooth angular features framed by the stark black armor of his horned helm, so unlike the childish face that had greeted him every day since their creation. It was the face of a mech, who now bore a single sharp-edged glyph just behind and below his right optic.
It was beginning to sink in. They had made it. They had survived. Against all hope, they had lived and they would make their way in the world like any other mechs, as if their past had never happened.
Sideswipe gave him a little shake, noticing how deep his brother was in his thoughts. "Stop messing with it or you'll dull the edges." He flashed his brother a mischievous grin, and Sunstreaker knew that it was still Sideswipe in there, still the same youngling, just wearing the guise of a 4-Beta mech.
Sunstreaker brushed his brother's claws from his arm. Carefully, though, so as not to end up scratching his own armor. But he still rubbed at the glyph again. It burned, fraggit.
Sideswipe tugged his hand away. "Seriously, Sunny. Stop it."
"Don't tell me what to do," Sunstreaker said.
"I'll tell you what to do if it'll keep you from messing up the damn thing and complaining about it for the rest of eternity." The red mech scowled.
"You two done yet?" The light-hearted question came from somewhere behind Sideswipe. Both mechs looked for the source of the inquiry, finding Esker walking towards them, face set in her usual expression that bordered between amusement and mock disapproval.
Instinctively, Sunstreaker raised his hand to worry at the fresh glyph on his face, therefore obscuring it from Esker's view.
"You put up surprisingly little fuss for this," she said, laying a hand on Sideswipe's shoulder, between the spines that curved up from his armor.
"It was my idea," the red mech stated. "Why would I make a fuss about it?"
"Wasn't talking to you." Esker gave his helm a friendly flick before stepping closer to Sunstreaker. "Let me see."
She always did that. Whenever he had embarrassing scratches or dents in his armor, she always wanted to see them. Yet somehow, he couldn't offer resistance when she asked. Cautiously, Sunstreaker lowered his hand. Esker hooked a finger under his chin, lifting and turning his head so she could see the glyph. After a moment of consideration, she smiled. "It suits you."
She always did that. Whenever he had embarassing scratches or dents, she always made it seem so trivial.
Esker released Sunstreaker so she could regard both brothers. She was silent for a while. It wasn't like her. It made Sunstreaker nervous. "You barely came to my knees when you first arrived here," Esker said. She chuckled softly. "I barely come to your shoulders now. Don't know how I've put up with you two hellions for that long."
Sideswipe smiled that innocent smile of his. "It's because I'm irresistibly charming and handsome, and Sunny's, well...I dunno. Guess he can't be all that bad-looking."
This earned Sideswipe a hard smack to his head from a hand armed with fiercely sharp golden claws. "He earned it," Sunstreaker muttered in his defense as his brother gave him a glare.
"All right, you two," Esker interjected before Sideswipe could retaliate; she knew perfectly well how quickly friendly jibes between the twins could turn into a destructive wrestling match. She motioned for them to get off the medbay table, herding them out of the room, completely unafraid of her proximity to the two much larger and much more unpredictable mechs. "We're heading into Kolkular in about twenty breems. Get yourselves some energon between now and then. Sunstreaker, your brother's right, stop messing with the glyph!"