Just finished this one off today. Those NOT following it via AO3, I appologise, but hey, now you get two for the price of one, more than 20,000 words all at once, what a bargain!
"Hey, Sunstreaker! Heard you're getting out today. Feeling good buddy?"
The golden mech looked up as Rodimus strode into the medbay. He was sitting on the edge of a berth while Ratchet took some final scans, the medic's neutrally grumpy expression taking a slightly grumpier edge at the captain's entrance.
Sunstreaker however, was more surprised than anything else. He and Rodimus were on good terms, but it wasn't often they actually spoke, never mind medbay visits.
"Not writhing in pain, so yeah, doing pretty great." He responded quietly with a wry half smile.
The red and gold bot patted him congenially on the shoulder and grinned. "Excellent! I was wondering if you wanted to take a bit of a walk with me."
The golden mech shared a curious look with Ratchet in way of getting his ok to leave, the medic nodding. It wasn't as if Sunstreaker thought he had a choice really, since he couldn't exactly outrun Rodimus right now, but he wasn't bothered by the request.
"Keep it to a leisurely pace, no transforming, no running, not even a brisk stroll. His systems are still self-repairing, but essentially he's cleared for the lightest of duties. Obviously I'd recommend he be off-duty for another few days, but knowing him he's less likely to cause himself further damage if he's got some kind of work to occupy him."
Rodimus chuckled, servo still on Sunstreaker's shoulder, making the front-liner a little uncomfortable. He generally didn't tolerate bots touching him for long periods without his explicit consent, but for the flame painted mech, he would make an exception.
"Hand on my spark Ratchet, nothing too vigorous, I swear. Just a wander and a chat. I'll get him back to… wherever he wants to go, in one piece, on captain's honour."
Ratchet gave him a scrutinizing look and nodded. "Fine. Sunstreaker, I want you back here tomorrow, this time, to monitor the progress of your repairs. Also, take another box of these, they should get you through several solar cycles, but try not to overuse them or they'll become less effective."
A box of suppressant chips was shoved into the front-liner's servo, and he quickly subspaced them. "Yeah, thanks, Aid explained the first time he gave me some."
Ratchet gave a nod of approval at that and shoo'd him away. The golden mech got to his pedes a little gingerly, stretching, and made a whistling noise. "C'mon Bob. Walkies."
The insecticon, who had been hiding under the bed and snuffling at Rodimus' pedes, leapt out with bright, excited optics at the mention of the 'W' word.
Rodimus chuckled at the bug bot's exuberance and they wandered out of the medbay with Bob running circles around them. Sunstreaker didn't speak again until they were a little ways down the corridor.
"So what exactly did you want to talk to me about? Is it about the room I took? Cause no one was gonna use it, it had a dead body in it and an energon stain splattered right across the-"
"Nooonono, not about that… although, really? No one told me there were bodies in there… does anyone else know about that?" Rodimus gave him a slightly unsettled look.
"Yeah, I told Drift. It was a spark-eater victim. There were bits of turbofox too, kept those for Bob to use as chew toys."
"Oh. Did he offer to clean the aura of the room for you?"
"Yep."
"What did you say?"
"Might as well do me first 'cause I have a worse aura".
Rodimus laughed at that and pat his shoulder again. "Ooooh you're good value Sunny. Anyway, I don't care about you taking that room, there's observation decks all over this ship." He dropped his servo and used it to scratch Bob, who was rubbing against his leg as he walked giving him that attention seeking look.
They were quiet for a little bit as they wandered past a few bots who pretended they weren't staring, Rodimus making something of a show of fawning over Bob.
Sunstreaker waited until they seemed a little more alone to press the other bot to continue. "Soooo, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Rodimus straightened and Bob bounded off ahead to snuffle at things. "Just wanted to see how you're doing, y'know? I know you've had a pretty rough time with this crew. I had hoped most bots were above petty grudges and knew better, but unfortunately it looks like I've not been the best judge of character there."
"Well, I'd say letting Whirl on board was enough proof of that, but considering he's been more civil than some of the bots I figured to be fairly vanilla, I can't exactly fault you." The golden bot murmured.
Rodimus looked like he wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult, but he quickly dismissed whatever slight he may have suffered to settle into friendly congeniality again.
"Yeah… he told me he was the one who found you. Anyway, I just wanted to say… I mean, you and me, we have history. If anyone on this ship starts getting on your back, you know you can always come to me, right? Or Drift, if I happen to be out on some kind of daring adventure, you know what I'm like."
Sunstreaker gave a half-sparked laugh when Rodimus chuckled at his own self-aggrandisement.
"Thanks Rodimus-"
"You can call my Roddy if you want."
"Uh… thanks, Roddy. It… I mean, it's good to have someone's support. I think I'll be alright for the moment though. Keep my head down. Try to keep out of Swerve's a bit more. It's not like I don't get it, y'know. Bots still being angry." He murmured.
Rodimus' expression got much more serious. "Hey, no, listen, you don't have to take their agro. You've done your time, y'know? I know that. This is not a ship where creative communal punishment flies. That is not happening on my watch. Don't go and… and HIDE just because they've attacked you. Don't let bots force you out of being an involved crew member just because they have a grudge."
The two of them had stopped in a corridor, Sunstreaker's brow ridges knitting slightly.
"Rodimus-"
"Call me Roddy-"
"RODIMUS. Let's be real here. I caused several of their friends to die. You don't just get over that. Look, I don't WANT to cause trouble, I know you guys get what happened… but you were there, you saw… stuff. More stuff than you told ME you saw. You know exactly where I was… the factors effecting me, what made me ask you to…"
He took a deep ventilation and gathered himself. He hadn't realised he'd balled his fists up, or that he was shaking slightly, until Bob came up and pressed himself against his leg.
Rodimus just looked on, slightly wary, and waited for the golden mech to gather himself. When Sunstreaker continued, his voice was low, and quiet.
"I don't expect everyone else to get it, y'know? I'm not about to go around trying to justify what I did. I don't want to be a slag stirrer, I came on this quest because I figured it was going to be easy for me to keep out of the way. Just quietly tag along, not bothering anyone. So that's what I'm going to keep trying to do."
A look passed over Rodimus' face for a moment as if he had no idea how Sunstreaker could stand the idea of keeping a low profile, but it passed quickly to be replaced with something more like respect.
"Alright. But like I said, y'know… anyone gives you slag, get onto me or Drift. And uh… exactly… how… much, do you know I know? What were you talking about before with the… y'know…"
"Corrupted memories resurfaced. When that acid got in my spark casing-"
"ACID got into your SPARK CASING?... And Ratchet's already let you out of medbay?"
Sunstreaker was temporarily stunned by how aghast Rodimus sounded. He blinked and tried to pick his train of thought back up.
"Um… yes?... That's why I'm only allowed to wander around at a freight hauler's pace. Anyway… when that happened, it jogged up some corrupted memory files. I remember you finding me."
Rodimus' shocked look, which had been dulling back down, came back full force.
"Ah… um… yeah… listen… I didn't tell you 'cause I thought-"
"I don't care why you didn't tell me. I wanted to… apologise. I mean, I know I was out of my mind at the time, but it still can't have been… I mean, it would have been confronting. What I asked you to do." He murmured quietly.
Rodimus refreshed his optics, taking a moment to actually get his thoughts in order to respond to that.
"Sunstreaker… you know, you don't have to apologize for that. At ALL. I mean… I got why you asked. I probably uh… actually I have no idea if I would have done the same thing in your position, but it doesn't matter. Don't apologise for that. I know at the time your head was in a weird place- OOOOKAY bad choice of words, sorry, sorry!"
Sunstreaker had shot him a glare, thinking he was trying to be funny, making head jokes. Just as well it had been a slip of the glossa, or he may have had a slip of the fist to the captain's face.
Rodimus had thrown his hands up, both placatingly and as a pre-defence. Sunstreaker HAD looked about ready to clock him one. Considering how long ago the events had happened, he figured this raw of a reaction was probably not a good sign.
"So uuuh… how's the sessions with Rung going?" he asked as conversationally as possible as they began walking again. He was letting Sunstreaker steer them, since he still didn't know where the golden mech was actually headed.
Sunstreaker shrugged. "Okay, I guess. He seems to think it's making a difference. I'm not really seeing it, but I'm not the psychotherapist. Not sure his latest advice is of any use. Basically it amounted to 'hey, there's a thing that you do, keep doing that thing and see if it helps'. Obviously can't help that much, or it would have already."
"Dare I ask what the thing is?" the flame painted mech asked tentatively. Primus, he felt like he was talking to a bomb, he was starting to remember why he usually tolerated Sunstreaker more than actually liked him. He was fine when he was in a good mood, but in the wrong mood, he was hard work.
The golden mech just sighed. "Painting. He thinks painting will help me. Like some kind of release."
"Oh, you mean the stuff in your room?"
Uh-oh… they'd stopped again and the golden mech's piercing gaze was pinning him once more. He didn't even need to ask, the silent command to explain 'how do you know about that and how have you seen that' hung palpably in the air.
Rodimus' placating servos came up again, ready to block attack if need be. "Whoa, Sunny, hey, not judging! I'm cool with you painting on the walls, probably improves the ship's value… Whirl told me about it. I haven't seen it."
The wrath of the golden terror twin was once again successfully diverted, and Sunstreaker carried on down the corridor with a scowl and a rumble of his engine, which drew an inquisitive look from Bob.
"That slagger better not be running around talking about it, or I'll have to go and have a TALK with him about the concept of privacy, and how respecting it means he gets to keep his knees facing the right way."
"I honestly don't think he's talked to anyone about it but me and Drift. I mean, I'm the captain, he tends to come to me a lot with stuff like that. I think maybe he thinks he's my official… informant, or something. He does seem to think he holds a rank." He shrugged. "Anyway, so, Rung thinks painting will help… but you already paint and it hasn't. Did he have any other ideas?"
"Not really. I guess we'll figure something out." Sunstreaker sighed, running a servo over her face, looking weary.
They were quiet for a little bit as they passed through a busier part of the ship, bots staring or pointedly not looking at them, depending on who was or wasn't indifferent to the golden bot. As soon as they were alone again, Rodimus picked up the conversation.
"So, you recharging OK these days or still, y'know… waking up and stuff?" he murmured, unsure if the question was going to hit a nerve. He was only asking out of concern, since he knew first-hand how much trouble the bot had had with his memory purges in the past. Enough trouble that he'd been clocked in the jaw trying to wake him up at one time.
"Better, actually. Thanks to suppressor chips Rung prescribed. Can't use them too much, but even one or two solid recharges an orn makes a difference. Proper rations don't hurt either." He murmured the last bit as more of an aside, but the captain caught it anyway and rubbed the back of his helm sheepishly.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Didn't even realise Magnus was being so… UNFAIR to you, it's so unlike him. I mean, not the whole dealing out his own brand of overdone justice thing… more the vindictive… thing." He wasn't sure how to word that without making himself wince.
He didn't like to think of the dark side of Magnus. He depended on him being the reasonable one, and that expectation was thrown into doubt by Magnus showing bias the way he had.
He supposed he could chalk it up to exceptional circumstances, since Sunstreaker's misdemeanour was fairly serious in the larger scale of the war, but still… the seed of doubt as to Magnus' ability to be impartial had been sewn.
"So… where are we on the whole quest thing? I've kinda fallen out of the loop being stuck in an ISO room." Sunstreaker asked as he tried to coax Bob away from thoroughly investigating Siren's aft as he walked by in the other direction, oblivious.
He loved Bob, but sometimes the bug could be impossibly embarrassing.
"Oh, the quest, the quest is great! Going just swimmingly. Yeah, I mean, we're uh, we're really making some progress-"
"We're drifting through space waiting for a clue then?" Sunstreaker gave him a small smirk and watched as his spoiler winglets drooped and the famous Rodimus pout surfaced.
"No… well… sort of, maybe… look, we have a definitive direction, it's just that we aren't entirely sure what we're going to find when we get there, and we haven't been able to glean anything from local communications or planetary systems. But we have a good idea of where New Crystal City is supposed to be, and that's where we're going, to find Drift's buddies and get them to help us find the knights."
Sunstreaker nodded, looking somewhat unconvinced. "Do we have any guarantee that they'll help us, or just Drift's word? Not to say I don't trust him. Hell, I'm sure his approval ratings have skyrocketed compared to mine, but he's not in contact with these guys, and he's the only bot who knows them, how can we be sure they'll help?"
"Well, look at it this way- hi Bob, yeeees yes, I know the drill. That hit the spot buddy? Huh? Yeeeeah you love that huh? Big adorable dork… anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, look at it this way. They took Drift on when he was a Decepticon and managed to reform him and gave him a new frame and a sword and everything. Why WOULDN'T they help us? We're not Decepticons, and we're doing a good thing for all of Cybertron. They'd have to be massive aftholes NOT to help us."
Sunstreaker conceded at that. "Some very solid points. So, the biggest problem then is finding them, or more to the point, hoping they're where Drift left them?"
"More or less, yeah. When he left, apparently they'd exposed themselves to the local galaxy, so he thinks they probably had to go into defensive mode to ward off the slave traders and poachers trying to get at their tech and population. But according to him, they had more than enough power to look after themselves."
They stopped by a set of double doors, Sunstreaker whistling Bob over from sniffing at a passing Highbrow's servos. "Well, this is my stop."
Rodimus looked at the doors and gave him a quizzical look. "The firing range? Why here?"
Sunstreaker pulled a leash out of subspace and went about attaching it to Bob's collar anchor. "Why not? I have no idea how effective painting is going to be in the long run, but shooting things on a range always made me feel better. Old school self-therapy. Just gotta make sure Bob's tied up properly so he doesn't wander onto the range."
Rodimus gave him a look of understanding and pat him on the shoulder again. "Good point. Very good point. And hey, if you manage to score higher than my last session in there? I'll shout you some new paints at the next planetary stop-over."
Sunstreaker gave him one of his old, and now very rare, cocky grins. "Hope you got the shanix, cause good paint is expensive you know."
New paints were a wonderful thing. He'd made sure to pick out the most expensive he could get, and all very specific colours.
He was honestly surprised Rodimus had held up his end of the challenge, but to be fair, he had decimated the captain's score. As he'd told the incredulous looking flame painted mech as he pat him on the shoulder, he did have a lot more experience and training, so he shouldn't feel too bad.
After all, he'd been trained by Ironhide from the start when he and Sideswipe had been roped into enforcement by the senate. He'd then been honed later by Kup when the war first began.
Pretty much nothing beat servos-on training with those two. He glanced up from his work to look over at his portrait of Ironhide. He missed him terribly sometimes. But Ironhide had supported him in going on this trip. He said it would be good for him to get back out into the universe at large, get back some perspective, work through all his… stuff.
Well, old red had never been very poetic, but he was always sincere. That was his best quality, the fact that he cared. He'd cared enough to look for him against Prime's orders, so he'd been told. Cared enough to get himself slagged, but that was in his attempt to aid the humans who were looking for Hunter.
His optics flickered to another figure painted over in a corner. He didn't know why he'd done it the way he had. It was Hunter. It had physically pained him to paint it, but he'd been half drunk on nightmare fuel at the time, which he was loath to ever do again.
The human was in his headmaster form… and he was suspended, like his own head had been, by cables and chains. His face was stretched in a silent scream, only visible eye wide and terrified.
He looked away, a shiver passing through him from the spark outwards. He hated that human as much as he hated himself. Maybe BECAUSE he hated himself. Maybe he should ask Rung…
Either way, he had no idea if the image was a real memory, or a dream concocted in his bitterness that roped the boy into feeling what he had felt.
After all, Hunter HAD felt what had happened to him… he'd felt EVERYTHING. And he'd felt the human's paltry, pitiful, parallel sufferance. It galled him that Hunter had ever been pitied by the other Autobots on earth. He was only going to live for like a vorn anyway, what did his brief discomfort matter in the face of the aeons he'd have to spend remembering being torn to pieces and forced to bond to the filthy meatbag.
It made him angry to remember how everyone had been so much more concerned with Hunter's well-being than his after the separation.
But that's not true, is it… not entirely, and you know it.
He hung his helm and rumbled his engine, staring at his paint palette.
Some of them tried to help you. Ratchet tried to help you. You told them you were fine, you pushed them away.
Another voice from another train of thought he'd had at least a thousand times or more surfaced in his internal monologue.
They shouldn't have just taken my word though, not when they knew what had happened, not when Mirage and Jazz had retrieved the footage. Wasn't it obvious to any of them I wasn't well? That I pushed them away because I didn't know how to deal with any of it? They should have sent me to Rung THEN. Before me and my stupid issues went and…
He shut his entire line of thinking down and forced himself to look back at his work.
His whole demeanour shifted and he felt himself calming already. He'd picked up some metal panels while Rodimus had gotten the paint. He was lucky the little space station even had a supply shop with art appropriate materials. Technically they were for patching and painting ships, but he could work with industrial materials just fine.
He needed panels rather than wall space, because he wasn't about to paint First-Aid mid overload on the wall. Not when bots like Whirl had occasional reason to burst into his room.
So far he had a vague outline of the scene in his mind on the panel. Large strokes of red and white formed the basic shapes that he still had to define. At this stage it was very impressionistic, and he never liked to add TOO much detail, because it spoiled the raw figurative qualities.
Looking at it made him feel GOOD. So had the target practice, which was what had gotten him in the mood to try and do this picture justice.
Remembering what he was good at and enjoying it seemed to be a very useful form of therapy, and he made a mental note to remind himself of this next time he felt himself slipping into dark corners of his mind.
The lapse in his concentration was soon forgotten as he re-applied himself to his work with vigour.
Digits slid slickly across the metal plate, coated in the oily enamel, reminiscent enough of interface lubricant to get his equipment a little warmer.
He didn't really focus on that, not interested in even touching himself when he was so engrossed in projecting the images in his mind onto the metal.
Colours swirled and blended in the blue-white-cream of the brightened visor, while shades of white and red contrasted sharply against blocks of black, purple, gold and burgundy.
His own gold was only a hint down the bottom of the frame, a vague shape reflected in the medic's armour, indicating his role in the scene that could be missed by anyone who didn't realise that it was a portrait from his point of view.
But that didn't matter, because this wasn't for an audience. This was just for the two of them.
He lost track of time, but eventually he stood back, feeling satisfied, not wanting to touch what he'd done in case he did too much. There was a point were more meant less. Less impact, less feeling, less freedom… yes, yes he was done.
And then came the twinge of fear. It wasn't something he ever remembered feeling before in quite the same context.
What if he doesn't like it? What if he tells me to destroy it and breaks things off? Maybe I should wait longer to show him… Yeah… yeah it can't hurt to leave it a while. It's gotta dry anyway, that'll take at least an orn or so.
He cleaned his servos in a bucket of solvent laced water and dried them off before moving the panel over to the wall and hiding it behind a couple of the empty crates the room had held when he found it.
/Sunstreaker?/
He had been staring at the painting a little more, feeling a little aroused again, when his comm had pinged and he'd answered. First Aid's voice had come through his helm and he'd jumped.
/Oh, hey Aid, what's up? /
/Nothing much. Just wanted to see if you were up for coming to movie night with me tonight? /
He was brought up short by that question. On the one servo, he wanted to just be around Aid, sure. On the other, he wasn't sure he wanted to be around all those other bots as well.
At the lack of an answer, Aid continued in what sounded like a slightly embarrassed tone.
/You don't have to say yes, we can think of something else to do if you don't want-/
/No no, no I'll go with you. Was just thinking… do you reckon they'd let me bring Bob? I don't really want to lock him alone in my room at the moment because I've got some stuff I've been working on I think he might accidentally destroy if left alone with it. What time? /
/Oh! Great! I don't think they'll mind Bob there, he's so well behaved. Um, it starts at around 22:00, but most of us usually turn up about half a cycle early to chat and decide what we're watching. Rewind has a MASSIVE database, he comes with a theme and a couple options and we all just kinda vote on what we want/.
/Sounds good. I'll come meet you after the end of your shift and we'll go together, yeah? /
On his end of the line, Aid was beaming beneath his mask as he sluiced out the comatose patient's waste outlets. Ambulon was a little worried by the peppy light to Aid's visor as he wandered by. No bot found that job enjoyable, he sincerely hoped that Aid was just thinking of something very funny to do with waste pipes.
/Sure thing, see you then/.
"Hi Aid! And… uh… Sunstreaker?... Can I help you?" Swerve's beaming grin had turned into a confused sort of half smile.
"He's here with me for movie night. Bob too, you guys don't mind yeah?" First Aid said rather sweetly. Boy he knew how to get what he wanted, no one could argue with that voice.
Not that it mattered, because it was Chromedome and Rewind's room, and Rewind jumped up and down calling Bob's name, the insecticon lolloping over to snuffle and paw at the tiny bot with his secondary arms, abdomen wiggling all over the place in excitement.
Swerve stood aside looking rather bemused as Aid and Sunstreaker wandered in. Swerve wasn't the only one to side-eye the golden bot, who immediately felt weird just because so many of the bots in there were so… short.
He wasn't sure what to make of that really, but it was probably just a case of Rewind keeping company with those who he saw, quite literally, optic-to-optic with. And he couldn't blame him for that, it was a natural thing for cybertronians to seek company of their own general size-class.
They weren't a bad crowd either, despite Swerve's mouth. There were snacks too, he didn't know there would be snacks. It'd been ages since he'd had energon goodies.
Aid led him over to his usual spot on one of the mesh cushions in front of the berth. He sat on the side away from everyone else, Pipes coming over to sit on Aid's other side.
He had a glass of mild grade and he poked his visor up to talk to them. "Hey guys! Didn't expect to see you here 'Streaker, didn't peg you for a movie buff."
"Mmm, Aid invited me. It's something to do, y'know? I didn't used to have much time to watch movies-OOP."
Sunstreaker was interrupted by Bob bouncing over and squirming his way into his lap. He pet him on the helm and noted Pipes' wide optic'd look at the bug bot.
"He's uhh… not dangerous, is he?"
"Only if you feed him too many treats, then he'll violently puke on you, but otherwise he's pretty harmless unless you attack me."
"Oh, uh… I'll make a note not to do that. He's an insecticon right? I never saw any of those, I mean I heard about the swarm but I didn't know they made such good pets." Pipes tentatively reached over and pat Bob's head by tapping it with the flat of his palm.
Bob sniffed it and scrambled forwards into Aid's lap to continue sniffing the strange new potential giver of treats and scritches.
Aid laughed and got his fingers under the booster flanges on Bob's back, scratching and making him turn into a limp, chirring pile of goo.
"As a rule, they don't. Most of them would shoot paralyser darts into you as soon as you were in range and try to eat you. Bob was… different. He's smarter, and less cannibalistic. He only ever tried to chew stuff that wasn't alive."
"Oh, wow, how'd you find him?" Pipes shifted a little out of the way of Bob's head as the bot drooled, back leg twitching slightly.
"He… kinda found me, really. Ironhide helped me catch and train him. He's probably the last insecticon alive after the purge. He's pretty lucky to have survived, but like I said, as dumb as he looks, he's a clever little thing."
"Not so- ooof! Little!" Pipes laughed as Bob wriggled off Aid and onto the new bot's lap. It was a ruse, because he just wanted to steal some treats from the bowl of snacks Swerve had just put on the floor beside the cobalt mech.
Sunstreaker snorted, putting on his authoritarian voice. "Bob! Heel!"
The bug immediately scuttled off the mech and shuffled to Sunstreaker's side, sitting and looking up at him for further instruction.
The golden mech just grinned at Pipe's clapping and reached over to the small table, grabbing some treats and giving one to Bob with a 'good boy'.
He ate one himself and rumbled. "Primus that tastes good, I've been missing out."
"You've never had them before? I've been making them since we got on the ship, EVERYONE loves these, how have you not tried them yet? Even BOB'S had them!" Swerve waved his arms emphatically.
Sunstreaker just shrugged. "Don't usually have access to them, forgot that I could actually get some now if I wanted to."
"You seem to forget about a lot of stuff that can make you feel good." Pipes commented innocently.
Sunstreaker ended up glancing at Aid, optics and visor meeting. "Yeah… been getting help remembering them."
Rewind cleared his vocaliser to get their attention, standing on his berth. "OK you lot, today we've got a really neat little selection from a theme called 'animation'"
"Ooooo I love zombie horror films!" swerve piped up, but Tailgate, who Sunstreaker had completely missed somehow, made a small whining noise.
"I don't! They're gross and freaky, and they remind me too much of this planet where-"
"No not RE-animation, ANIMATION. It's a form of film making where images, drawn or computer generated, are moved frame by frame and then run at speed to create the illusion of actual real life movement. It's an art form, Cybertron never made much of it, but several organics do, some really prolifically. Your choices are experimental, two dimensional, CG three-dimensional and stop-motion."
There was a little back and forth, mostly between Swerve, Tailgate and Rewind, and eventually they settled on a musical 3D film.
Sunstreaker didn't really care what it was, so long as it wasn't intrusively irritating. He was just there to be with First Aid. The goodies and energon were a bonus. As was being treated civilly.
The servo not petting Bob, who had settled on his back for belly scritches, was flat on the floor. When the lights were turned off and the movie was started, Sunstreaker felt something shift across the back of his unoccupied servo, and glancing down, realised Aid had shifted his own servo against it.
He shared a glance with the medic and their servos slid against one another until they were lightly entwined.
Watching the movie with the small gaggle of bots turned out to be very much like when he and Sideswipe used to watch films together. There was much discussion over elements of the story as it happened. Well, less discussion and more mockery and smart-aft commentary.
Rewind had warned them that the movie they picked had an intended audience of younglings, but Tailgate had been intrigued by the idea of music being so heavily involved in the whole thing.
In fact Tailgate seemed to be enjoying it immensely, because he kept shushing Swerve, who snickered and chowed down on snacks. Something it seemed everyone encouraged because it was the only thing that kept him mostly quiet.
Pipes was mostly confused by the whole thing, and not too keen on the large amount of snow involved. The creatures amused him though.
"What I want to know" Aid piped up quietly, "is how much of this is based on reality, and how much is creative application."
"What do you mean?" Sunstreaker wasn't at all confused by the film. It was of earth origin. He'd be bothered by that, except it was so stylised that it wasn't really making him think of anything beyond its focal characters and the neat graphics. He quite liked the music in parts too.
"Well… do these things, Penguins, is this what they're actually like? They sing to attract mates and find dancing weird?" Aid watched bemusedly as the main character was rejected by his love interest.
Sunstreaker shook his helm and snickered slightly. "Nah. Penguins are just animals. Not particularly sentient, they waddle around and swim and eat fish, yeah. But the noise that the main guy makes when he tries to sing? That's the noise they usually make. They don't sing like this, or dance, that's all creative license."
"Oh. What about the whole thing with the males guarding eggs?"
"Yeah that's true. Survival technique. The males huddle up, keep the egg on their feet and wait out the storms. Pretty hard core for a teeny organism. The females are out catching fish the whole time and come back when the season changes to take over youngling duties while the males go out to refuel."
"Wow… they're kind of fascinating! We had a few creatures like that on Delphi, but they were much more hostile, and they don't live in numbers like these ones. Primus, remind me to tell you later about the time one of them got into the ward and Ambulon flipped his s-"
"SHHHH tell us ALL later Aid, this bit is great!"
Aid shared an amused look with Sunstreaker when Tailgate hushed them, the tiny bot riveted to the action as the penguins danced and sung all over the screen. He was even bopping along and tapping his pedes.
The golden mech let the music wash over him and ended up bobbing his head as well. He really did like the music.
"Ugh, here comes the Ultra Magnus penguin again." Tailgate huffed when the music was over, making Swerve choke out a laugh and spill the energon he'd been drinking down his front a little.
"Oh frag, nono, wait… if HE'S Magnus… who's Rodimus?"
"Ramone all the way." Sunstreaker murmured. The rest of the room heard him and laughed, surprising him.
"Hahaha slag, yes!" Swerve wiped at the energon and beamed. "Hmmm OH, so who's Mumble?"
Sunstreaker shrugged. "Uuuuh… no idea."
"Oh, OH, I know! Siren! Cause he really needs to NOT try singing again, EVER." Pipes chimed in. That received an understanding chuckle from the rest of the room.
They spent the next several minutes vaguely following the story and debating over what members of the crew were most like other characters in the film.
Eventually there was a lively discussion going on about whether the singing could be symbolic of proficiency at doing science, in which case Gloria was Perceptor and Mumble was Brainstorm.
Sunstreaker chowed down on a few more goodies, feeding some to Bob and petting him.
When he looked back at the screen, everyone getting distracted by the loud penguin noises the main character was making, he froze up.
He wasn't sure what it was. It may have been a combination of things. And as stupid and fluffy as the whole movie was to him, the scene playing struck a chord in his mind that opened up a well of fear response and a need to get OUT.
Later he would go over it in his head, and decide that it was because it was too reminiscent of that room they'd kept his head suspended in, with the observation window, but at the moment the memories triggered, he was staggering to his feet, and before he knew it he was out the door and halfway down the hall, leaning against a wall and heaving air through his vents.
Without the images, or the noise, he managed to snap back to reality and stop himself from transforming and just driving as fast and far as he could.
But flashes of memory still kept running across the surface of his mind. He felt sick. He fought the urge to empty his tanks, and realised after a few seconds that someone was saying his name.
He didn't turn to face them, he was still trying to get a grip. He jumped slightly and flattened himself against the corridor wall when he felt something touch him.
He came face to face with First Aid, who was looking at him with intense concern. Something was rattling loudly, and he jerked away from the wall when he realised it was his armour shaking against the bulkhead.
"Sunstreaker, It's OK, deep ventilations-"
"I'm fine… I'm fine, it's just a stupid cartoon… I just…"
Bob came bounding down the corridor and skidded to a halt at his pedes, pawing at him with secondary servos and making an anxious clicking noise. Rewind had followed him out at a jog, the other bots poking their heads out the door, not really game to follow.
"Primus, Sunstreaker, I am SO sorry, I didn't even think… I should have let you know there were humans in it-"
Sunstreaker jerked at the very mention of the aliens. "I'm FINE. It's just a stupid cartoon… I just…"
He twitched when Aid put a servo on his arm gently. "Sunny, DEEP ventilations… it's OK, it's normal, it happens. You don't have to say you're fine, you've just been triggered, it's common with PTSD."
The golden mech just looked between them, optics pale and slightly bewildered. "What? No… it's just a stupid-"
"You should find somewhere quiet to get your mind off it." Rewind spoke quietly and sincerely. "It's not stupid, it's too close. Don't start feeling bad for something like that setting you off. This happens to Domey sometimes… go with Aid, sit somewhere quiet for a while, find something to distract you."
Sunstreaker said nothing, vents stuttering slightly as he tried to reconcile the baseless feeling of panic with a solid reason, but he couldn't find one. In the end, he just let First Aid take a hold of his servo and lead him off.
"You should go back and keep watching. I don't want you missing out just because I can't deal with my issues." He murmured hoarsely as he followed, trying to stop the shaking and failing frustratingly.
Bob was still making worried little clicking noises as he trotted along beside his master.
"I care much less about the movie or socialising than I do about making sure you're alright."
"I told you I'm fine, I'll just… go and make my stupid head shut-up." He murmured, feeling guilty for ruining the outing.
They ended up at Sunstreaker's quarters, and he dragged the front-liner in, pressing him to sit on the berth in the dim lighting the engines threw across the ceiling.
When the door shut behind them, he retracted his mask, and Sunstreaker finally saw the truly worried expression on the young medic's face.
Aid stood in front of him and cupped his face in his servos. "Your head is NOT stupid. The film triggered traumatising memories, PLEASE don't think it's your fault, you can't help what happened to you."
Preoccupied with the static he was trying to throw up to block the memories, the still baseless fear pulling at his spark, and the creeping feeling of shame from freaking out in front of other bots for what he perceived as no good reason, it didn't immediately hit him that he was in his own quarters.
When he looked around to automatically assess the threat level of his surroundings, the realisation hit him hard enough to ratchet up his anxiety.
"Why are we HERE?"
Aid gave him an even more concerned look. "It's good practice to get someone having a panic attack to a familiar and comfortable place. I figured your quarters were best. It is pretty soothing with the big view of space and the afterburners lighting it."
Sunstreaker made a strangled sound of anxiety and shook his head. "I don't want to be here… not right now, I don't want you here, I don't…" he had locked up again. His fear was back, but now it wasn't baseless. It was that spark-constricting anxiety that First Aid would turn and see what was on the wall in the shadows, and would not want to come anywhere near him because of it.
Why, WHY did he have to express his mental injuries all over the damn WALL where anyone could see…
Aid was scanning him now, and he couldn't help but notice the way the front-liner's optics flickered, near white, to the wall on his left.
Sunstreaker stiffened and offlined his optics when Aid's head turned. He didn't want to see his face when he realised what he was looking at.
There was a long moment of silence, the medic's servos resting numbly on Sunstreaker's shoulders, visor retracting to expose large, over-bright optics as he scanned the images on the wall in minute detail.
His mouth hung open, vents ceasing as he took in the vastness of information and emotion.
No detail slipped his notice, not even the fact the point of light at the centre was two sparks pressed together rather than one.
Geminus positive and negative, one on top, one below… forged… if one died, the other could likely survive…
Aid wasn't sure why the painting made him think of the twin's medical files, until he remembered the rift between Sunstreaker and his brother, and he realised the gravity of that in relation to the painting.
Sunstreaker didn't even try to quell the shaking now. This was it, he knew it. He'd ruined any chance he had. He tried to reason internally that he'd be OK, they hadn't even gotten serious, they were just friends anyway… none of it seemed to work, because the sensation that a black hole was opening up beneath him to suck him back into the darkness was what kept fuelling the fear pouring from his spark.
He waited for the servos to leave his shoulders, to hear the door shut and the emptiness to move in.
Instead he suddenly found himself embraced.
There were moments of silence that could have stretched into infinity, the only disturbance the stuttering of vents.
The golden mech didn't know how long he took to online his optics. Didn't pay his chronometer any attention as he slowly stopped shaking and tentatively reached his own arms up to loop around the other bot's middle.
Eventually First Aid was the one to break the silence.
"It's going to be OK Sun. I promise you it's going to be OK."
"Uuuuuh… so what was all THAT about?" Swerve asked Rewind as he wandered back into his quarters with a sigh.
"Panic attack. My fault… forgot to mention there were humans in this movie."
Tailgate raised his servo. "Question, are humans the aliens the penguins were talking about? Oh, and are they actually aliens?"
Rewind grabbed some cloths from a drawer and went about mopping up the energon Sunstreaker had spilled as he staggered out of the room. He didn't think the bot had even realised he'd knocked anything over.
"Humans are actual aliens to us, but not to penguins, they're both from the same planet, which is Earth." He explained, tossing the wet cloths in the cleaning unit.
"Soooo, why is Sunstreaker scared of them?" Pipes asked curiously as he gathered up the goodies he'd knocked over in surprise.
Rewind's body language became a little cagey. "He's not had good experiences with them."
Swerve barked a laugh. "HA! That's an understatement! I heard they took control of his body and made him do their dirty work. They probably made him drive through the mud, that's why he's so traumatised. I mean, TOTALLY justifies him turning on his fellow Autobots-"
"Shut up Swerve." Rewind snapped rather harshly.
"He what? Turned on other Autobots?... Did he really? But he seemed so nice." Tailgate sounded shocked.
Rewind huffed out his vents, sitting on his berth. "That's not exactly how it happened. Tailgate, that abbreviated history of the war I showed you? At 10.24601 seconds in, I briefly covered the point where the Autobot forces fell, universally, against Decepticon attacks. Everyone thinks that was ALL Sunstreaker's fault."
Tailgate took a moment to try and review the compressed data he'd been given to find that particular point, meanwhile, Swerve was scoffing.
"It WAS his fault! He's the guy that sold out to Starscream! He got Prime half killed! Lost us the Matrix! I saw a lot of friends die on Kimia because of him-"
"No you didn't. You lost them because of the Decepticons, but not because of Sunstreaker." Rewind countered with a scowling edge to his visor.
Pipes pushed up the visor that had fallen down again and frowned slightly. "Why are you defending him Rewind? I mean he's not nearly as angry as I thought, and I was nice to him because, frankly, I'm a little scared of him anyway… but I know what he did too. We all do, he confessed. Do you know something we don't?"
"I know a lot of things you don't. But more importantly, I have every piece of information surrounding the incidents on earth. I know exactly why he went to Starscream. I know he was played into being the scapegoat. And I know what the humans did to make him vulnerable to Starscream's influence in the first place. And, MOST importantly, I know that he never gave out any of the codes the Cons used to bypass our security measures in the big assault. Those were taken from him… well, part of him… by force."
The other bots in the room just stared at Rewind for a few moments before Swerve sat down and grabbed up his bowl of goodies again. "Well GO ON then! Story time! The FACTS, as presented by Rewind, the archivist! Hey don't gimmie that look, you said you knew all this stuff, and I feel a really good story coming on, you HAVE to spill now."
The others looked at Swerve, then Rewind, then also sat down facing him.
Rewind growled in frustration and rubbed at the centre of his helm. "I can only tell you so much, there's a lot of classified data. Look… I don't know if I feel comfortable explaining everything the humans did to Sunstreaker, not without his permission, and I'm NOT asking him that NOW Swerve." He emphasized his point when the red and white bot opened his mouth.
"So… is there NOTHING you can show us? Not even just a picture or two of the humans or what they did? Or just tell us what kind of evidence you have of what they did? I mean, I never thought he'd go to a Con like Starscream without a decently hefty reason. He and his brother, from what I knew, absolutely LOATH seekers." Pipes wheedled.
Rewind made a considering hum. "I have copies of the video feed from the place where the humans held Sunstreaker. They all have audio. I have the readouts from their equipment, all the details of their experiments, information on the bot behind that whole operation. And most bots don't either know, or conveniently forget, that it was a Decepticon called Scorponok operating rogue that was driving the whole thing."
Swerve grinned. "See! This is the juicy dirt, the seldom known backstory, this is what I wanna hear-"
"Oh! I found it, here it is… oh… OH wow… ooooh so many bots died." Tailgate's visor widened and paled. "This… this all happened because of Sunstreaker?"
"No, I already established that. He was a pawn in the big Decepticon play, but he was something they really needed. Him and Hunter, the human that bonded to him." The archivist explained wearily, propping his head up on a servo, elbow resting on his knee.
"Oooh… so, getting back to the movie, I still don't really get the whole thing about why they scared him? They don't look very scary." Tailgate gave him one of his doe-eyed looks of confusion.
Rewind had an internal debate, his urge to help the golden mech restore his reputation winning out over the risks he took revealing classified records to mechs without clearance… especially Swerve.
"Look… normally, I'd agree with you, but our history with them dictates otherwise. They aren't all bad, not that I personally met any, but the ones that took Sunstreaker?... I really, REALLY shouldn't do this, but I'm going to show you a little of the footage from the place they held him. I suggest you not be eating or drinking, and if you have a weak tank, the trash bin is right there, please don't miss."
The other three shared wide optic'd looks and turned to face the projection wall. Rewind did a quick edit in his streaming queue, projecting stills first. "When they took him, it was a switch operation. THIS was a decoy car, to make the rest of the Autobots think he'd been killed. So they wouldn't go looking for him." He explained as he showed images of the burning shell of a car that looked very much like Sunstreaker's alt mode.
He then flashed up an image from security cameras inside the headmaster facility of a live, unconscious Sunstreaker being wheeled into a large room.
The next image was of an alive, immobilised Sunstreaker, and he looked mad. Humans were everywhere, prepping equipment.
"This next bit is going to set you on edge. I've turned the audio down low, but it's still confronting. This is footage from the cameras recording the dissection procedure."
"Dissection procedure?" Pipes blurted out, visor falling in front of his optics again when the video started to play.
Even muted, the screams were enough to set armour on edge.
After a few seconds, in which humans loudly complained about the screaming, Rewind paused the film. "As you just heard, they didn't consider him alive. They didn't bother to shut off his neural circuitry. Actually, they continuously stimulated it as they jacked and hacked, to get more scientific data."
Pipes staggered over to the waste receptacle and purged his tanks with a whine.
Rewind, feeling somewhat reckless, and deciding if the cobalt mech was the one with the weak tank, he might as well continue while he was already hovering over the bin.
"Here's what they ended up reducing him to. This… this is probably why he freaked out." He murmured quietly, flashing a few images of Sunstreaker's head suspended in a room with a glass wall, scientists peering at him through it. He shut off his projector after that while Pipes dry-heaved.
"That's only half of it, really. But basically, Starscream knew about all this. He used it, knew Sunny would hate the humans. I mean, Prowl, monumentally stupid afthole that he is, decided Sunstreaker should remain on earth after he went through all that."
And though he didn't say it, Rewind was much more inclined to blame Prowl for most of the horrible things that had happened during the war.
"What? You mean he made him stay on the Human's planet after THAT?" Tailgate was aghast. He'd heard people mention Prowl, and they were always talking about him in a negative way… but now he was actually getting a full scale understanding of why.
Rewind nodded, visor a hard blue. "Like I said, I wasn't there. But I have Ark footage that says a lot about the state of mind he was in at the time. And really, his taking up Starscream's offer was an act of desperation by a bot who just wanted out. From what Ironhide recounted after Sunstreaker confessed to him, Sunstreaker thought he was entering into a plan to ambush Megatron. He was supposed to get the Autobots in position to jump big M, and once they were done, they would leave, and Starscream would take over the Decepticons like he always wanted. And, quite conveniently, earth was supposed to be left to the Cons. This was the deal maker to Sunstreaker. The Autobots would win, and the Decepticons would stay on earth and wipe out all the humans."
The other three were quiet, Pipes shakily moving to flop down on the floor beside Swerve.
True to his nature though, Swerve was quickly filling the silence again.
"So how did the Cons get the access codes, if Sunny only fell for a trap to get the Earth team ambushed?"
"Well, that's where the human that got bonded to him comes in. Ratchet separated them, they both lived and went their separate ways, but no one thought the kid would be a target. I don't think anyone realised he was a conduit into our databases. The decepticons went after him, they got him, and they used him until he was beyond saving. Wasn't until after the Autobots reclaimed ground on Earth with Omega Supreme that anyone found that out. By then… well, by then Sunstreaker had already tried to kill himself to stop the insecticon hoard from eating everyone alive. Everyone assumed him dead."
"Oh… he… he talked about… I mean, I asked him how he got that pet of his, Bob. I didn't realise he'd actually nearly died fighting them. So, how come Bob doesn't trigger bad memories when humans do?" Pipes asked, sounding very confused.
"Don't know. Not going to ask him, that's a bit more personal than I think I'm entitled to, and speaking of which, not a WORD that I showed you any of that footage or those images, got it? Or I'll get a lecture and a half from Mags about the Autobot secrecy act." Rewind pointed his finger in a vaguely threatening way at each of them.
"And uh, Pipes, it wasn't so much fighting the insecticons as Kamikazeeing on a bridge to make it harder for the swarm to get to the base." He added.
"Well let's face it, that was guilt suicide more than anything." Swerve said blandly as he poured himself a fresh glass of energon. "To be honest, the way he acts now, I'm surprised no one took pity on him and put him out of his misery way, way earlier."
"Don't say things like that! That's cruel, Swerve." Tailgate frowned at the red and white bot.
"Maybe… probably true though, I'd be suicidal if I'd been fragged up like he was. Who wants to live with that? I mean, it does explain the grumpiness and the drinking. Probably doesn't recharge too well." Swerve shrugged, knocking back some of his mid-grade.
"I let you guys know this stuff so you'd ease up on him and hopefully get others to do the same. But I don't want ANY of you mentioning to Sunstreaker that I've given you this much, OK? Don't even talk to him about it, that's Rung's job. You're all swearing to me, right now, not a word." The archivist's tone was serious, making the other three look up at him.
"On my honour as an Autobot in training-"
"On the chance that he'd probably sic Bob on me if I did-"
"If it means you'll carry on with playing the movie-"
"Swerve. I am SERIOUS."
"Yeah, yeah, I swear, cone of silence, all that Jazz. Lips are zipped. Now play the movie, I wanna see what happens to Sunstr- I mean Mumble."
"Are you afraid that I'll stop wanting to see you if you let me know how badly you're hurting?"
He couldn't say he hadn't expected the question. Maybe not phrased like that though, that was blunt. But he could respect that. At least he felt calm enough to form a proper response now.
If you could call nodding after a few moments silence a response.
They were sat side by side on his berth, Bob underneath and chirring in a less than content fashion.
Aid was pressed close, holding one of Sunstreaker's servos between his own and stroking it gently.
"Please don't. I want to help you heal."
Sunstreaker rumbled gently and looked at the floor, still unable to face the medic's optics from shame. "You deserve someone whole. Someone less high maintenance, someone who's not going to keep… breaking." He flinched even as he said it.
"You're afraid of me abandoning the prospect of a proper relationship with you… but you're trying to convince me that we shouldn't because you think you're wrong for me?" he spoke gently, helm tilting, hoping to catch the golden mech's optics and draw them up to his, but his gaze remained downturned.
"Who wants to be with someone they keep having to… to put back together all the time? I'll just exhaust you, your job is hard enough."
First Aid huffed. "You sound so sure that I'm whole myself. What if we're both a mess of broken pieces and we need to use bits of each other to make the other function again?"
That struck something in Sunstreaker, and he looked up, locking optics with the medic and momentarily losing all trains of thought to the fact he was looking him directly in the optics, rather than the visor.
He regrouped his thoughts and looked away again, shame licking through his tank. "I should… I should ask why you think you're broken. If I thought that in the first place, I'd say I'd try to help, but I don't know how to help you when I can't even help myself. And I feel selfish as slag for not considering that I'm not the only one of us with problems."
Aid leant his helm forward to press against Sunstreaker's. "I'm a doctor, most bots wouldn't think of it. 'physician, heal thyself' or something like that. And to be fair, I don't talk about it with anyone but Rung, and you're not psychic. I think… I think being with you is what I need. You don't HAVE to do or be anything you aren't, you just… you just have to care."
The golden bot lifted his optics to his again. "I do care. I wasn't sure, before, but…"
"But you're scared of the prospect of me going. Of losing the chance at… whatever it is we're doing." He nodded. "I was surprised by that. I… for a bit, I wondered if maybe you only liked me because I was giving you positive attention and fragging you."
Sunstreaker shifted slightly to lean more comfortably into the medic. "I wondered that myself. Rung asked me some very important questions, and… well, he basically proved to me that it IS more than that. I do feel more than that, about you."
"Then that's all I ask. You break as many times as you need to, I'll put you back together." He tilted his helm and pecked Sunstreaker's cheek guard.
"You sure it's not just going to end up wearing you down? I don't think relationships really last on principles like that… kind of unhealthy." He gave him a worried look.
First Aid gathered his face in his servos again and turned his head to look into his optics. "I'm betting that you're not going to be breaking forever. I don't do half-aft repairs, after all."
He leaned in and kissed him lightly, Sunstreaker not responding for a moment before he let himself lean in and reciprocate.
This was the turning point, and he knew it. If he let himself get in deep from here, he was taking the gamble. He'd either make it work with First Aid, or they'd see it through and end up falling apart, at which point he would probably slip back into the darkness.
And if he was taking the plunge into full involvement, then he supposed he should get everything out there, just to be sure First Aid was also ready for the plunge. He had to give Aid some sort of warning, let him know exactly what he was getting himself into.
He pulled back from the kiss reluctantly, looking Aid straight in the optics now. "I guess… you already know most of what's wrong with me-"
"You really need to stop seeing your ordeals as character flaws." He murmured, stroking his thumbs over Sunstreaker's cheek guards. The golden bot raised a servo to lay it over one of the medic's, taking it and holding it.
"I'm trying to lead into the fact I was never very good at this sort of thing. I can't use my experiences as an excuse. I do… things that feel normal to me, that other bots find odd, or… or bad. A lot of the time I can't tell when something that feels normal to me isn't normal to everyone else. You need to know that."
Aid tilted his helm curiously, expression non-judgemental. "That's OK… I'll learn. I'm the same, y'know? Like… writing fan fiction, I never really saw that as odd, but most bots have never heard of it, they don't know what it is. It's weird to them."
Sunstreaker nodded. "That's not a bad thing though. With me it's… it's actions, and words, and putting my pede in my mouth. And for a long time I've just… stopped trying to censor myself, I just do what I do, I didn't really care about who got offended, or weirded out. It's a bad habit, please don't… take me the wrong way."
Aid had no other response to that than to nod. He watched curiously as the golden bot bit at his bottom lip-plate nervously. He had something else to tell him, but Aid had no ideas as to what it would be. He patiently waited for Sunstreaker to continue.
"I… I did something, for you… for us… today, actually, and I wasn't going to show you for ages until I knew, or thought I'd know how you'd react. But before you commit any more energy or emotion into me, I guess I should show you. No surprises, all cards on the table."
He drew a deep ventilation, standing and leading Aid over to the other side of the expansive room. He shifted a couple of boxes and angled the painting into the diffuse light from the window.
"It's nowhere near dry, oil enamel takes forever to dry. But, it's done, I'm pretty sure it's done."
He stepped back and heard Aid gasp. He was torn as to whether he wanted to actually face the medic's expression or not. Despite his nervousness, he turned his head enough to see First Aid's reaction out of the corner of his optic. Blank shock was all he got before the medic moved so he couldn't see his reactions any more.
First Aid took a few steps forward and knelt to look at it better. He had so many questions about it… but the most pressing one was "Why… why the middle of an overload?"
Sunstreaker couldn't see Aid's face where he was now, so he assumed the shocked sounding question was him not taking it well.
"It's not because I just wanna frag you all the time, I swear, it's not about that… I mean I still um… want to, a lot, but the reason is 'cause overload is when a bot lets go, y'know?... it's um… it's when you're really you… not to say you're a fake most of the time, I don't think that, it's just… yeah, it's uh, it's different… when we're 'facing… you stop worrying about other stuff… and… yeah…"
He trailed off pathetically when Aid just remained crouched, standing there feeling like his pedes and servos were made of lumps of iron.
First Aid was enthralled. This was how Sunstreaker saw the world? The forms, the shapes, they were recognisable for what they were but they weren't so much solid angles as a series of lines flowing perfectly into and against one another.
And the light… the light and the shade, and the detail. How much attention had Sunstreaker PAID to his frame? He felt embarrassed to realise he'd been so closely studied, even his scuffs and semi-hidden protoform scars were showing. But the part he could see Sunstreaker had paid the most attention to… his visor. That spoke volumes to him.
He wanted to touch it, but he daren't… not even if it was dry, for fear of ruining it somehow. It was clear Sunstreaker really liked their interfacing, but going to this much effort to show how much he liked HIM...
He felt embarrassed that he had nothing nearly as beautiful to show for his affections.
Sunstreaker fidgeted with his servos. "You can… I mean you don't have to stay. If you're too weirded out. I understand". His voice was quiet and defeated. He was sure the silence was rejection.
Which was why he actually reeled back a little bit when Aid got up and closed the gap between them, grasping him by the shoulders and dragging him into a hard kiss.
When he got over the shock, he sagged in relief and wrapped his arms around the medic, kissing back eagerly. The release of his anxious tension left him giddy and shaking.
Aid pressed him back towards the berth, making him sit and straddling his lap, all without breaking contact with his mouth.
When he did, he was panting and his optics were brighter than Sunstreaker had ever seen them. The urge to paint again surfaced enough for him to capture every last detail of them as he could in his memory.
"I can't believe you did that… for ME." The medic said breathlessly, settling in his lap. Aid bit at his own lip-plate a little. "If it was meant to make me want to frag you into the berth for days, it worked".
The golden mech's optics widened in surprise. "I thought… primus, I thought for a bit there that you really hated it."
Aid made a strangled sound he couldn't quite distinguish and shook his helm. "Noooo nono! Primus, I love it! I mean… you painted ME. You went to all that effort for me, and you… you pay so much attention, and you… the fact you think I'm even WORTH painting like that, I feel like I can't match that expression, how do I give back what you just gave me, it's so amazing."
Sunstreaker felt heat rise in his face plate and he ducked his helm slightly. "You don't have to do anything, I did it because I wanted to. Because I NEEDED to. It's… it's like that, it's an urge you can't get rid of, you have to do it, you have to get it out of your head and make it real, I don't know why. But you made me feel that, you made me need to paint you."
Aid leant forward to bring their helms to rest against one another again, servo coming up to brush a thumb over a silver cheek-arch. Sunstreaker's optics dimmed and he leant into the touch a little.
"You're way, way more amazing than you or anyone else gives you credit for, you know that? ...I don't want to ruin the moment but… the wall? Is the wall your… efforts, I guess, to get rid of the bad memories?"
Sunstreaker's brow knitted slightly and he shook his helm a little. Not enough to dislodge Aid's where it leant against it, because he didn't want to break that contact.
"That… that's different. That's… a reminder. Because I don't…" he took a deep vent to try and steady his wavering voice. "I don't deserve to forget what I've done. It's there to remind me what I did. And it's… it's stuff that sticks in my head, loops of thought that don't stop until I paint them… it's a mess, like my head. It's just a mess. I hate it."
Aid whirred and shifted, moving to break Sunstreaker's optic contact with the wall. "You deserve to be whole again. You do. Please don't hate yourself."
Sunstreaker leant in when Aid did this time, their lips brushing against each other's gently, less a kiss and more an intimate comforting gesture.
The front-liner shuttered his optics and concentrated on regulating his frazzled EM field, meshing it with First Aid's and trying to relax. His emotions had been all over the place, and he was exhausted.
A gentle servo caressed his cheek again, before moving to rub the bottom edge of his helm fin. The moment those skilled digits began to slide across the sensitive projections, he became putty in the medic's servos.
He realised there was heat near his abdomen, and that it was coming from First Aid. His own servos found red thighs and he slid his palms across them, up the hip-plates and sides, tracing the seams and edges of plating.
Aid pressed closer, but he didn't advance his touches as Sunstreaker expected.
"Do you… I mean, I understand if you're not in the mood… and I feel like I'm taking advantage of you at a bad time-" Aid's voice was the same, anxious but aroused tone it had been the first time they'd 'faced.
The corners of the golden mech's lip plates pulled up and he grasped the hips, pulling Aid's hot panel down against his own. He onlined his optics to look into the medic's.
"I can't think of anything I'd rather have you do to me right now. Forget bad time, this is the best time. When you're fragging me, whatever is in my head, good or bad, goes out the window, which is just what I want right now. You, in my head, and in me."
Aid tittered at that and buried his face in Sunstreaker's shoulder. "Primus, make a bot feel special why don't you."
"You ARE special." Sunstreaker murmured, turning his helm to get at the medic's nicely exposed neck, kissing and sucking an energon line and making the red and white mech gasp.
Aid moaned and ground against him, servos reaching around to fiddle into gaps under Sunstreaker's back kibble, making him arch and groan against the neck cables.
The two became lost in touches, pressing closer, plating squealing slightly where they scraped a little hard against each other in their attempt to get as much physical contact as possible.
Despite the fact he was in a good position to get spiked by the golden mech, Aid took Sunstreaker's request for him to fill his body as well as his mind to spark. He rose up on his knees and slid one between golden thighs, artfully using his body to coax Sunstreaker into a new position.
He met no resistance, unless he could call a black panel grinding against his knee resistance, and eventually got Sunstreaker leaning back against the wall, which made it easy for him to get between both his legs, slip his servos beneath those glossy thighs and raise them up to hook Sunstreaker's knees over his elbows.
When the front-liner realised the position he'd been coaxed into, he revved hard with arousal, panel snicking open and spike releasing.
Aid gave him a huge smile and let his own panel open as he leant forward, kissing a mewling Sunstreaker as he lined up with the dripping valve and let his spike extend directly into the waiting port.
Sunstreaker's optics flashed brightly and he moaned, bucking weakly and relishing how the smaller but deceptively strong mech had him pinned.
His valve squeezed at the wonderful intrusion, feeling every inch of the spike sliding into him, deeper and deeper. His legs shook slightly from the intensity of his arousal, his own spike rock hard and pressed between them.
As soon as he was fully extended, Aid pulled back. He started with a slow rhythm, letting Sunstreaker's valve nodes take in every bit of data they possibly could, not to mention his own.
All the while, they kissed and nipped at each other's lip-plates, Sunstreaker's servos making for a wonderful distraction where they clawed lightly at his sides, teasing at tyres and slipping into seams to stroke wires and nodes.
Pretty soon, Aid was picking up pace, Sunstreaker getting louder with his moans. It seemed he really, REALLY liked being pinned in this position, because he writhed and bucked like mad, valve and spike leaking copious amounts of fluid.
Aid couldn't help himself, pressing Sunstreaker's legs up to the edge of their tolerance to get his helm down beside the golden mech's, so he could nip and lick at his helm fins.
Sunstreaker made a strangled sound of pleasure and reached up to slide servos under the kibble on Aid's back.
Ooooh primus that felt wonderful… his hips began to piston against Sunstreaker's, and within a minute, the two were crashing into overload, loudly.
Wet heat spread between them as Sunstreaker's spike released, valve clenching hard enough around Aid's spike to force out a fair amount of the transfluid he filled it with.
It was messy, and to Aid, it was glorious, because the feel and the smell all filled his senses, making the charge release feel sweeter, last longer. Sunstreaker's gratifying sounds really helped.
The golden mech squirmed a little and Aid released his thighs, which settled around his hips.
Panting, they let themselves cool down a little. From somewhere underneath the berth came a mrooing sound.
Sunstreaker chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down Aid's spine.
"Sorry Bob… kinda um… maybe forgot you were in here too…"
This statement was met with a few sulky, indignant clicks. Sunstreaker reached into his subspace and pulled out some treats, flicking them onto the floor one by one until he heard the snuffling and chirring of appeasement from his pet.
First Aid giggled. "Oops. Hope he doesn't hate me for this. Or think I'm trying to push him out of the relationship."
"Neh, he won't hate you, so long as you pet him and feed him. He's way too easy to please." He squirmed slightly, Aid pulling out and giving him room to make himself more comfortable. Much as he loved that position, his back-plates didn't for too long.
Aid bit at his lip, engine purring at the feel of pulling out and the amount of lubricant and transfluid covering the berth. A question had risen to his mind and he wasn't sure if he dared ask or not.
Well, as Sunstreaker had said… cards on the table.
"Hey Sun… um, about Bob… you've had him a really long time now huh?"
Sunstreaker was sat up and stretching his legs and back out a little. "Hmm? Yeah, I guess so… why?"
"I was… well. I mean, it was suggested… I mean I heard… it's just a stupid thing Ambulon said, I don't know if it's a wide spread rumour or just something he thought about…" Aid fidgeted, sitting back and watching the front-liner's face for signs that he was worried about where this conversation was headed.
He was interrupted from his attempt to delicately word the question by Bob popping his head up over the berth and chirring. The two of them looked down at him, the bug's antennae perking up when he realised something fun was going on up here.
Bob scrambled up onto the berth while Sunstreaker grumbled at him and tried to push him off.
The bug bot sniffed at the fluids on the berth and then began to try and roll Sunstreaker onto his back.
"BOB! Not NOW damnit, DOWN! OFF ya big- no, NO! Ngh-"
Aid's faceplate flushed with heat as he saw Bob nuzzling at Sunstreaker's exposed interface equipment, making a surprised noise when something transformed out of the underside of Bob's abdomen. He realised after a moment that it was a spike.
"PRIMUS that thing is HUGE."
"BOB. NO. DOWN."
The harsher tone to Sunstreaker's voice got the insecticon's attention, and with a disappointed chirr he hopped down, staring up at them with big 'what did I do?' optics.
Aid glanced back at Sunstreaker, noting that his spike had started to pressurise again. "I… um… guess that answers my question… sort of…"
Sunstreaker gave him a highly embarrassed look. "You… wanted to know if he and I had… um…" He rubbed the back of his helm and mumbled "It's complicated".
Aid slipped off the berth and scritched under Bob's jaw. The bug whirred and flopped onto his back for belly rubs. The spike was still transformed out, and that's what Aid was most curious about.
"So how did you find out that he COULD interface?" he asked curiously.
The golden mech, still looking ashamed, fidgeted with his servos. "I was um… self-servicing a bit when there was nothing going on and I was alone. This was after the chaos stuff and before we went on this quest. Bob got all curious about what I was doing, and I tried to shoo him off, and then he started doing… SOMETHING with his mouth thingy on my spike, and it kinda snowballed and in the end he had me on my hands and knees and… yeah, he's packing some damn impressive equipment, I got curious and let him have at it. I was… very, very lonely."
Aid, all the while Sunstreaker explained his experience, was leaning down and investigating the curiously shaped spike. Rubbing at the black belly-plates seemed enough stimulation that Bob didn't want to retract it.
Sunstreaker watched in surprise as Aid touched the spike, feeling it and stroking it lightly, Bob wriggling and chirring happily.
He'd done that himself once or twice, when Bob had seemed eager and he'd not been in the mood himself. "So uuuuh… you're not… disgusted?"
"Hmm? Oh, no, heh, I uuuuh… I'm kind of… I can't believe I'm saying it but I wouldn't mind giving it a go, this thing looks like it would feel really um…" Aid floundered, highly embarrassed as he kept stroking the knobbly spike. "So long as Bob is consenting, and it seems he is."
Sunstreaker gave a knowing grin as his shame turned into relief. "It knots, you know."
Aid glanced up at him with a bemused look. "It what?"
Sunstreaker slipped off the berth and crouched on Bob's other side, scratching the bot's belly while Aid kept working the spike. "It knots. When he overloads. He gets stuck in you until it goes down enough for him to pull out. This bit, just here, it expands, locks him in."
He placed his servo over Aid's and squeezed it lightly over the bulge near the base. Aid's whole frame went up a degree.
"Oh! Primus, that could break a valve of the wrong size!"
"Nah, he's gentle. He doesn't just have at it y'know, he must be able to feel pretty well what he's doing, he doesn't thrust unless the angle is right. And by the time it knots, you're worked up enough to stretch, but I wouldn't recommend anyone of say, Rewind's class of bot, to take a spike like that. Then again, Rewind is with Chromedome, so he probably COULD-"
Aid burst out into giggles, servo fiddling with the tip of Bob's spike, feeling the odd shape and pulling it into angles where he could see all the details of the ridges. He then went back to stroking it, amused by the noises Bob made.
"You're terrible… I mean… accurate in your assumption, but I don't say that from a medical standpoint, because I can't divulge such information. What I know of their records aside, it could very easily be assumed that you're right just from the way they interact."
"You don't even know the number of times I've seen Chromedome heating up while Rewind plays with his hip-pistons under the edge of a table at the bar." He snickered. "I like those two, they go well together- oop, there he goes."
Sunstreaker leant back a little, scratching under a chittering Bob's jaw as he overloaded.
First Aid's optics were almost perfect circles they were so wide. The force with which the insecticon's transfluid streamed was enough to streak it at least twice the length of the bots body across the floor.
He gasped when Sunstreaker's servo returned to his on the spike and got him to squeeze and milk the base of the knot. Their optics met and Aid felt his whole frame go up yet another degree with the smouldering smirk look the golden mech was giving him.
"Gotta hold it like this to imitate the entrance of a valve clenching in overload. Otherwise he doesn't get off properly and then he keeps humping everything for hours." He snickered.
Bob twitched and chirred loudly as he bucked against their servos, eventually flopping and whirring in contentment.
"How um… how long do you hold it like this?" the medic asked a little breathlessly, suddenly very aware of his own spike having gone rock hard again.
"Mmmm usually until he stops twitching and the knot goes down a bit. Only takes about a breem. He'll recharge like a log for cycles after this. Wouldn't even wake up for the apocalypse if it came about." He leant over and peered at Aid's spike. His own was very much ready to go again too.
"So you're saying it doesn't matter how much noise we make, basically?" Aid snickered.
Sunstreaker leant in closer. "Mmmmhmmmm, basically."
He angled his helm, as if to kiss the red and white mech, but then diverted to nip and nibble his way down his jaw. "Hnnn maybe another time-" he spoke between nips, "when Bob is in the mood… I'll let you see just what it feels like… when THIS-" He gave Aid's servo around the knot a tiny squeeze, Bob clicking happily at the feeling. "... Fills you up and locks all that transfluid he makes in you… you like feeling really full, right?"
Aid made a garbled, static laced noise and nodded as the golden mech worked his way down his neck.
A servo snuck its way over to Aid's spike and the medic whimpered as he tried not to squeeze at Bob's spike more while Sunstreaker stroked at his.
When he heard the bug bot buzzing in his version of a snore, he let go of the spike and all but pounced Sunstreaker. "Nnnnh you going to do your best to get me full then?"
Sunstreaker's engine revved, powerful and throaty and primus did it get Aid going.
"Damn straight I am. Much as I love Bob, I'm not about to let him upstage me."
Aid giggled and squeaked as he was swept up in powerful arms and set on the berth, Sunstreaker looming over him and getting back to nuzzling and nipping along his neck.
Aid lay back and gave him all the access he needed, servos moving down the front-liner's chest to play along the edges of his hips. Those hips dipped down and rubbed their spikes together, making both of them rev.
With his helm thrown back, Aid could see out the long observation deck window. It was more like a glass wall broken only by the criss-cross of structural beams that re-enforced the panes.
The whole universe stretched out, star clusters and local nebulae glittering through the glow of the rear thrusters positioned either side of and below the room.
The sight alone was vent-stalling, but the feel of Sunstreaker moving against him, pressing into him, worshipping his frame with his mouth and servos… primus, he felt like his spark was surging brighter than any of the stars out there.
He came back into the moment and raised his legs to wrap them around Sunstreaker's hips as he was rocked into.
The golden mech left his neck to at last kiss his lip-plates again, making them tingle. Aid clawed his digits lightly up his back-plates and over his shoulders to play with the elegant crests on his helm.
Sunstreaker gasped and moaned against his mouth, hips picking up pace. He lost himself in First Aid. It was so easy to do, such an addictive feeling. He was his window to a happiness he barely remembered and swore he'd never feel again.
He had no idea that Aid felt the same way about him.
When he onlined his optics and pulled back from the kiss to gasp for air, he certainly felt a hint of what the bot thought of him in the look he was giving him.
He was taken by surprise at the intensity of affection in that look. He wanted to do it justice, wanted to be good enough for him, and the only way he really knew how to do that right now was to channel his desire into facing the absolute slag out of him.
He took one of Aid's servos and raised it over the medic's helm, pinning it by the wrist and rubbing circles on the palm with his fingers, his other servo sliding beneath Aid's hips to arch his back, slamming up against him to hit his ceiling node and every anterior node on the way.
The cry that First Aid let out was such a raw sound of passion it made him shiver and moan, burying his mouth against his neck again and sucking on a line, groaning around it with every delicious sound the medic made right into his audial.
When he overloaded, it felt and sounded spectacular. Valve clenched, hot and tight, hips jerking into his as he ground into him. His transfluid felt like molten pleasure as it filled the valve and spilled out. First Aid's spike actually pulsed against his abdomen as it emptied its own load hot and slick against their plating.
He pressed it a little harder between them and Aid keened, gasping his name and breathing hot against his helm crest.
Sunstreaker groaned the medic's name and shivered, holding still and absorbing every detail of the moment with every sensor but sight.
His vents heaved air through his frame to cool it, Aid's doing the same as they held onto the ebbing waves of pleasure of their combined overloads.
Slowly, Sunstreaker relaxed, lowering Aid's hips back onto the berth and arranging himself on him so he wasn't uncomfortable. He pulled the wrist he'd trapped back to his mouth and kissed it before resting his helm against Aid's.
The medic whirred and pecked his lips gently. He was too overwhelmed with how GOOD he felt to put it into words, but he was pretty sure Sunstreaker had gathered from the noises he'd made just how much he'd enjoyed it.
Plus the silence and closeness and afterglow was so nice, there was no point trying to put words to it.
They lay there with armour ticking and fans whirring… and Bob still snoring on the floor, which made Aid grin. He could totally get used to this.
Sunstreaker, for his part, was having his own internal awe moment. He had no idea how to express his amazement that this mech could take him from his lowest point to his highest within half a cycle.
As far as he was concerned, lying with him in silence with the universe stretched out over their heads was the best thing that existed right now. He wasn't about to wreck it with clumsy words.
He wanted this to last. Wanted THEM to last. And he wanted it enough, he decided, to do whatever he had to in order to fix himself.
