Torqued Off
Sideswipe curled his fingers around the twisted red chevron with an unbecoming tenderness. He glared at his brother, waiting for an answer.
Sunstreaker paused, his head tilting ever-so-slightly toward the camera. Sideswipe ground his dental plates, but followed the golden Lamborghini out. As soon as the door to their quarters closed, the red Lamborghini crossed his arms expectantly.
Sunstreaker didn't hesitate. His vocalizer crackled with barely suppressed rage, and he gestured in short, jabbing motions. "That lying fragger is 'facing with Jazz behind your back, bro! He's been doing it for nine slagging years!"
Sideswipe's optics narrowed skeptically.
"I'm serious! Jazz said as much himself; I've seen him come out of Jazz's quarters still reeling from overload."
Sideswipe shook his head, tensing, fist clenched around the half-a-chevron in his fingers. "You hurt Prowl?" Sunstreaker nodded. "On Jazz's word?" Again a nod, this time with less certainty and a little more apprehension.
Sideswipe roared and lunged for his twin. They fell to the ground, returning blow for blow. Evenly matched, they dead-locked with their arms tangled, pressing against each other, mouths set in snarls. Sunstreaker yelled at Sideswipe for being a stupid, blind drone to have missed the signs.
"What signs?" A black fist aimed for a punch. It was all Sunstreaker needed to leverage a powerful kick, knocking the red mech off. Sideswipe threw himself at his brother, grappling him back under his pounding fists. "You wouldn't be talking about signs like when you thought he and Magnus were spending too much time together, would you? Or him and Ironhide? Or fragging Prime?"
Sunstreaker caught Sideswipe's wrists and they locked in a near motionless wrestling match, straining to break the other's hold.
"It's no slagging wonder Springer took every mission thrown at him. You're so slotting jealous and possessive!"
That was the final hinge for the golden warrior. Sunstreaker suddenly switched from defensive to offensive, shoving Sideswipe off again. They threw each other against furniture and into the door, until it collapsed under their assault. Their fight carried into the hallway and amidst a circle of feet.
They were pulled apart and thrown against the wall, hands wrenched behind their backs and manacled.
They broke their glare from each other to direct it at the small attachment of armed Autobots, Ironhide at the lead.
"We were just comin' fer Sunstreaker," he drawled, palpable ire on his face and in his voice. "Looks like you can join him, too, Sides."
Sideswipe's optics narrowed and he snarled at the security officer. "Don't call me that."
"Then don't brawl in the hall."
They dragged the twins to their nearly personalized cells.
"Why'd ya do it, Sunstreaker?" Ironhide suddenly asked, pausing in front of the golden warrior's glowing bars.
Sideswipe couldn't see his brother, but recognized the hesitance in the silence.
"The slagsucker deserved it," he finally hissed.
Ironhide scowled fiercely and stormed out.
Sideswipe slumped in the corner, his bound arms scrapping a well-worn path down the wall. He rested his forehead against his knees. He could hear Sunstreaker settle on the other side of the wall.
"He'd tell me. He wouldn't lie. He doesn't lie."
A derisive snort answered the red twin. "Actually he does lie."
Sideswipe lifted his head to direct a glare at the wall behind him.
"He does! For you."
The red shoulders sagged in defeat. Sideswipe had no defense for that.
Sideswipe lay on the gurney, waiting for Ratchet. Apparently his fight with Sunstreaker had wrenched a few cables. He hadn't even felt it until he'd stood to leave.
Right then Ratchet was behind the curtain where Prowl lay.
"Welcome back to the land of moving parts."
Sideswipe automatically homed in on the soft voice that answered. He flinched internally at how weary and in pain Prowl sounded.
"If you're hurting, then say something, slaggit!"
Black fingers curled into fists as the red twin fought the urge to look in on his lover. He didn't think it'd be appreciated. Especially with Prime entering the medbay.
The Autobot Commander glanced at Sideswipe wordlessly, a tilt of his head the only acknowledgement he gave his soldier. Optimus disappeared behind the curtain.
"We were worried about you, Prowl."
Prowl's self-derisive chuckle filtered through the cloth.
"We were wondering if you know why Sunstreaker attacked you?"
Because he's a slagged, suspicious idiot, Sideswipe grumbled to himself.
Sideswipe barely made out Prowl's answer, anxious as he was to know what it was.
"Dragstrip?" Prime sounded as surprised as Sideswipe felt. "Are you certain? Sunstreaker doesn't deny attacking you."
"I know a Decepticon when I see one, Prime," Prowl replied, his voice gaining strength.
"I see…" There came an embarrassed shuffling, then the buzz of a communication frequency being used. Presumably Ironhide had just been instructed to release Sunstreaker. "Jazz was worried when you didn't meet him and we told him you'd been damaged."
… what?
"I've told you that if you need time away from your duties, you just have to ask."
"It's better for me to just leave for a few megacycles."
Authority hardened Prime's voice. "Still, it'd be better for you to keep your meetings to the base for now. Especially if Decepticons are targeting you when you're by yourself out there." Though phrased as a request, Sideswipe recognized an order when he heard one.
"Yes, sir."
Sideswipe stared up at the ceiling, processor buzzing in shock and denial. A cover, it had to be. But Jazz knew. Why would Prowl tell Jazz? What did Prowl hold over the saboteur?
He was barely aware of Prime's farewell or Ratchet standing over him, opening a panel on his leg.
A cover, he told himself over and over again, it had to be.
"Is Prowl… okay?" he heard himself whisper to the medic.
The hands paused. "For all that he looked like slag when he came in. Yeah." Fingers rapped against Sideswipe's chest, drawing the warrior's gaze to Ratchet's scowl. "And don't even think about disturbing him. I took him offline to allow his internal repairs a chance to work."
"Wouldn't process the thought," Sideswipe replied hazily. His optics turned to the curtain and then he offlined them.
A cover, it had to be.
They stood on opposite sides of the room, but knew that the other watched. Prowl stood with Mirage, datapad in hand. His soft voice melded into the general murmur of the room. Sideswipe laughed with Hound and Smokescreen, his second mug of energon in his hand. Sideswipe's attention wasn't completely on Hound's amusing tale. A good portion of his functions leaned toward the Datsun, intaking the soft voice, trying to detect the slightest acknowledgement.
The tactician had discharged himself from the medbay a few megacycles ago. He promised an apoplectic Ratchet not to do anything more strenuous than sit at his desk and go to the lounge. Prowl had needed to get out. Sideswipe knew Prowl hated being bored as much as he did, and not doing anything was driving him over the side of a cliff. Since Ratchet lacked some of the materials necessary to reconstruct Prowl's doorwings (again), there was no reason for him to remain in the med bay. Prowl teetered uncertainly as he moved, his balance skewed without his panels.
Sideswipe still hadn't had a chance to talk to his lover. He desperately needed the reassurance that Sunstreaker was wrong, and it was all just a cover. Prime's restriction had yet to lift, so Prowl couldn't meet him where it would be safe to talk.
A shadow slipped up behind the tactician. Black hands slid up Prowl's side into the gaps left by Prowl's missing wings. Mirage retreated at the not-so-subtle hint dropped by Jazz's smile. Sideswipe tensed, unnoticed, as all optics turned to the pair. Jazz kissed Prowl's helmet and whispered into the white receiver, his visor hiding his optics, but Sideswipe knew that the Porsche looked his way.
"Gah! Sideswipe!"
Wide optics turned to Hound.
"I don't mind getting dirty, but come on! I had a shower already today."
The red warrior looked down to find a broken cup in his hands. Energon dripped from his fingers.
"Sorry," he muttered, running on automatic as he retrieved a towel and helped clean the energon off the tracker's legs.
When he glanced back at the black and white mechs he found them gone.
"Them?" Smokescreen said, having noticed Sideswipe's glance. "Probably went off for a quick 'face. Between Prowl being injured and Jazz being gone, they're probably uh… like boars in a rut, I think the humans say." Smokescreen laughed, echoed by those close enough to hear the diversionary tactician.
Sideswipe's numb shock faded away, only to be replaced by static-filled anger.
Prowl had lied to him.
Mirage shut his mouth suddenly.
A pair of arms slipped around Prowl's torso and someone nuzzled against his helmet.
Sideswipe? was the first thought that crossed his CPU. Until the fingers pressed painfully into Prowl's side.
Mirage moved away, acting as though he'd decided to without any prompting.
Prowl automatically sought out Sideswipe. The red twin's wide optics focused with singular attention on the tactician. The cup in his hand shattered dropping its contents on Hound's legs.
"Jazz," he hissed at the sabouteur as a kiss was placed on his receiver.
Sideswipe turned at Hound's exclamation. Prowl recognized the hurt in his optics, the betrayal.
"Prowlie," Jazz murmured so low Prowl had to strain to hear, "is it one, or both?"
Prowl's surprised start was interrupted by pain shooting through his sides. He cut his vocalizer off against a pained whine.
"Quarters," he finally said.
"I thought as much."
He cast one last glance toward the Lamborghini before he strode toward his quarters with Jazz in tow. His hand caught the wall to aid his uncertain equilibrium. Jazz stepped up and supported the tactician with a hand under his elbow and an arm around his waist.
Prowl permitted this only because of the cameras he knew tracked their progress. His cortex whirled with a single question. How did Jazz find out? Despite their arrangement, involuntary as it was, Prowl never divulged the truth to Jazz. Maybe just maybe Jazz didn't know or he assumed wrong. That thought was quickly dismissed. There were no other mechs on the base that would have drawn such an assumption. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe found some odd joy in sharing their trysts, but Sideswipe mentioned that Prowl was not his brother's type. Prowl knew that it was more than that: Sunstreaker loathed him, and only tolerated him for Sideswipe's sake. Although it didn't stop them from joking about it, to the tactician's discomfort.
The dim lights in Prowl's quarters brightened to their normal luminescence as soon as they entered. The door shut and Prowl turned to find Jazz frowning at him, his arms crossed over his chest. He waited in expectant silence for a breem, giving Prowl the chance to settle on his couch, to relieve his aching servos and sides.
"Well?"
"I am not sure I comprehend what you're referring to, Jazz," Prowl said evenly.
"It's a real simple question, Prowl. One I'll admit to bein' curious about m'self. D' ya only get one or both?"
Prowl struggled to retain his neutral expression. Jazz represented what the tactician hated most in the cosmos: Chaos. Sideswipe did some … unexpected things, but ultimately both twins were predictable. Jazz, on the hand, never failed to glitch Prowl's processor. Whenever Prowl thought he had the saboteur's patterns laid out properly in his CPU, Jazz would go and do something seemingly opposite.
Prowl could not predict Jazz's response, should he choose to answer the question and confirm the saboteur's suspicion or deny everything. Prowl ran every possibility through his battle computer, but could not separate the correct answer for the desired reaction. He settled on simple truth. "Just one." He did not count that one time long ago on Cybertron. The golden warrior had been overcharged and confused by the tactician's similar shape to a certain gunner. Sunstreaker had also made his feelings on the matter quite clear.
Jazz tucked hi chin down, apparently focused on the orange floor. "How long?"
"Enough."
The usually bright face darkened considerably. "I traced it back t' Cybertron, Prowl. Before th' blackouts." Jazz looked up, taking in the tactician's blank expression. "Longer than that, eh?" The Porsche pressed his lips into a thin line. "Man, Prowlie. If I told Prime that… I don' think ugly would describe it."
Prowl stiffened and panic blossomed in his normally calm cortex. "You… wouldn't." The look on the saboteur's face motivated the tactician forward. He gripped one of the arms crossed over the white bumper. "Please, Jazz."
Jazz uncrossed his arms and pulled the tactician closer. "An' why not? Prime'll think I've been coverin' for ya this whole time. He'll scrap me as bad as you an' Siders." Prowl could hear the grinding of Jazz's dental plates. "Slaggit." Jazz moved away, never really turning his back on the tactician. Prowl watched warily, ignoring the throb of his hinges.
"How does Sideswipe feel about this?"
Prowl blinked in confusion. "About what?"
Jazz paused and looked at the tactician. "He don't know, does he? It was Sunny, wasn't it? Not Dragstrip."
Prowl stared at Jazz as little bits of information connected. That would reasonably explain Sunstreaker's violent… outburst toward the tactician. Oh, Primus, if Sunstreaker already knew, then so did Sideswipe.
"How did Sunstreaker find out?" How did Jazz know Sunstreaker had found out. "You told him," Prowl whispered, following the information to its logical conclusion. Jazz grimaced, confirming his suspicions. "Primus. Oh, Primus, why did you do that Jazz?" Prowl's cortex whirled in a confused jumble as he tried to sort out Jazz's reasons. He had wanted to tell Sideswipe himself, but not without a workable plan of action. He was dimly aware of being led back to his couch.
Whereas Jazz had been an unknown quantity, Prowl knew what Sideswipe's reaction would be. The red warrior had as bad of a temper as his sociopathic brother. Normally it came out in the form of a harmful prank. When it came to being betrayed, though, Prowl realized that he'd get far worse than a simple prank.
"I'm sorry, Prowl. I never meant fer ya t' get hurt," Jazz murmured into the tactician's audio receiver.
Prowl shifted away form the saboteur to bury his face in his hands. "You didn't? But you had no problem blackmailing me, right?"
"That's different, sparkles."
Prowl abruptly stood, stumbling a few steps away from the other mech. "Get out!" the tactician growled.
"I don't know, Prowlie. Y' don't look well."
"Out!"
Jazz stood. "What about-"
"I don't care right now!" Jazz could tell Prime, it didn't matter. Prowl had betrayed Sideswipe. What worse could Optimus do?
"Prowlie…"
"GO!"
The door hissed closed behind the saboteur.
Prowl crawled onto his berth, and curled into a ball of abject misery, haunted by the hurt on Sideswipe's face.
Author's Notes: Do I get cookies for the double update, despite the fact that I still haven't resolved this slagging problem? -Okami is mad with herself- I fought my muse about this chapter, but my muse won. I'm sorry.This one is also not counting toward the three chapters (in other words it's still three chapters till the end. Should I even bother trying?)
Edit: Forgot to thank VAwitch for the chapter title. Thank you VAwitch. :)