A/N: Thanks go out to pl2363, Sotwt, Jessie07, cmdrtekk, thinking at two am, Okami-chan, DitzyMusicLover, flamigmarsh, Elita One, Shroxx, The Toe of Sauron, shimmershadow30 and Bluebird Soaring. You guys are awesome! You have no idea how much I appreciate the reviews! I see all the +favs and alerts too, thanks so much for those!

So, I have decided to skip all the hazards of moving accounts entirely and just tidy up some of my older stuff, and have found a way around the problem that originally spawned the idea! A username change will be forthcoming.

Lastly, there is one major inconsistency throughout the prompts that hasn't been spotted by any readers yet. grin Major cookies, and a possible fic-request go to anyone who can find it. It's not plot related, if that helps.

Prompt: 035. Sixth Sense

Bluestreak set down his energon cube, looking up from his cards to see Sideswipe leaning against the door frame, optics dim as he offered the gunner a small half-smile.

"Sides! Ratchet finally let you out!" Leaping up from his seat, and unaware that he'd left his cards wide open on the table, Bluestreak trotted up to the warrior's side with his doorwings held high and a face-splitting grin on his face.

"Hey Bluestreak." Sideswipe straightened up a bit, wincing when the movement jarred the fresh repairs on his leg. The gunner started to talk about the end of the battle that the warrior had missed, and Sideswipe slowly sunk back against the door frame.

"Devastator went down pretty quick after that, boy, was your brother ever peeved at him. Prime carried you back in his trailer, I don't think anyone else was hurt as bad as you were. Air Raid had a wing ripped off, but according to First Aid, it really wasn't too bad because, even though Raider was pretty wrung out about it, all First Aid had to do was stick it back on and reconnect the inside bits."

"Blue-"

"-wow, I thought Ratchet would have to rebuild your whole leg! You should have seen his face when Sunny carried you in, if you hadn't been so badly hurt he probably would have thrown a wrench at you or something, and-"

"Blue? I'd love to hear about it, but I'm pretty damn tired right now."

Startled, the gunner seemed to see the weld marks criss-crossed over Sideswipe's frame for the first time.

"Oh! I'm sorry! Do you want me to help you to your quarters, because I can-"

Sideswipe sighed and shifted restlessly against the door frame. "Nah. Don't think I'll be able to walk all the way back to the residence deck. I'm just gonna crash on the couch, but I sure wouldn't mind a hand."

Optics brightening, Bluestreak pulled Sideswipe's arm over his own shoulders and wrapped an arm tightly around his waist. The red warrior leaned against him gratefully, and the pair made their way awkwardly over to the chesterfield. Bumblebee jumped out of the way, dragging a reluctant Powerglide with him, and Sideswipe lowered himself gingerly into the cushions.

"Thanks, Blue."

"Hey, no problem. Do you want me to get you anything? I could get some energon, or some high grade if that's what you're in the mood for. Well, maybe not high grade, I don't think Ratchet would be happy about you drinking that so soon after repairs."

Letting a weary sigh blow past his lips, Sideswipe shifted awkwardly against the seat back, letting his optic shutters slide down.

"No thanks. I'm to nauseous to hold anything down, I think."

"Damn, well, I guess not then. I could get you a blanket or something."

"I'm fine." Sideswipe shifted again, arm pressed against the long weld seam that crossed the soft plating of his midsection. Head spinning, he creased his forehead and let out a sharp gasp of pain.

"-swipe, Sideswipe! Are you okay?"

"Fine, Blue. Just fine."

"Alright, well…" Sideswipe opened his optics to see Bluestreak wavering. "If you're sure, I guess I'll let you rest."

In lieu of an answer, Sideswipe shut his optics and listened as Bluestreak went back to his card game. For a awhile he lay there, just listening to the sound of Jazz laughing and Smokescreen taking bets before the familiar hubbub lulled him into recharge.

---

Most of the crew generally left the twins to recharge in peace when they crashed in the rec room. Of course, right now, Slingshot was not most of the crew. Though the twins, particularly Sideswipe, had taken a sort of liking to the aerialbots, it didn't grant the jets immunity from pranks. A few days prior, Sideswipe had rigged a bucket of purple paint above their door, and Slingshot had been the unlucky mech to walk through. Dripping with paint and glaring at a laughing Air Raid, he had vowed to take his revenge.

The other aerialbots had laughed at him, and, offended, Slingshot had bided his time. Now, his target sprawled across the couch and dead to the world, Slingshot was ready. Quietly rising from his seat between Fireflight and Air Raid, he crept over to the couch, a thick black marker pinched between his fingers. Those who caught sight of him quieted, and watched in anticipation as Slingshot crouched next to Sideswipe and yanked the cap off the marker with his teeth, letting it drop soundlessly against the rug. Poised and silent, he brought the marker up to Sideswipe's red chest plate, hand steady as he decided where exactly to begin.

Before the black tip was four inches from his chassis, Sideswipe's arm snapped out and caught Slingshot's wrist, his optics flashing as he twisted the jet's arm painfully around his back before flinging himself from the couch. He and Slingshot barrel rolled across the ground, and when they finally came to a stop, Slingshot was lying on his front with a knee pressed into his back, both his arms pinned and a gun against his temple.

Everyone in the room froze. The only sound came from Sideswipe, who, despite his fierce expression and unyielding grip on Slingshot, was breathing hard. His intakes whirred and rattled unhealthily, but the warrior didn't seem to notice. Optics hard and unseeing, he kept Slingshot pinned to the ground, and it was only a hard glare from Ironhide that kept the other aerialbots from jumping to their brother's side.

Jazz, who had been happily winning a game of poker, slowly rose out of his seat, staying in a low crouch with his arms out wide. The hydraulics in his legs let out a miniscule whirr as he shifted his weight, and Sideswipe reacted. Pressing his knee further into Slingshot's back, he turned his gun towards Jazz, who stopped and stared into the warrior's unseeing optics. They glowed a shade of arctic blue that bordered white, and held Jazz's gaze without recognizing him.

It was an utterly terrifying thing, to have one's comrade in arms staring at them all without really seeing. Sideswipe looked like a wild animal, unmoving and yet terribly frightening all the same.

And then Sunstreaker walked in from his shift.

The golden warrior froze mid-swagger, and caught his brother's hard gaze in his own. The marker, which had gone flying when Sideswipe had tackled Slingshot, had come to rest not far from the couch. Sunstreaker quickly deduced what had happened, and, slowly, he sunk into a defensive crouch.

"Woah, Sides."

Sideswipe, in return, bared his teeth at his brother.

What Sunstreaker said afterwards was an unintelligible string of gibberish, sounding vaguely Cybertronian but with an odd inflection that made it somehow alien. Sideswipe responded with an equally incomprehensible sentence, and Sunstreaker took an inoffensive step forward.

"Woah, Sides. It's Sunstreaker."

Slingshot, still caught in Sideswipe's grasp, felt the pressure in his back slowly weakening. Motionless, he watched Sunstreaker out of the corner of his optic slowly take another step.

"Shhh, it's okay Sideswipe, it's me."

Wavering, Sideswipe lowered his gun, and his grip on Slingshot's wrists lessened. His optics were slowly returning to their regular shade of caribbean blue. He blinked once, and slid slowly from Slingshot's back.

Jumping out of his crouch, Sunstreaker caught his brother before he fell, tugging him away from Slingshot and laying him out on the ground. The aerialbots crossed the room a moment later, congregating around Slingshot, pulling him up to his feet and jostling him between themselves. Jazz trotted up to join the twins, kneeling next to Sunstreaker and the slowly blinking Sideswipe.

"Wha, Sunny?" Sideswipe shook his head and brought a hand up to rub at his helm. "Ow. My head hurts." He frowned. "My everything hurts."

Sunstreaker snorted and gently fingered the torn weld seam on Sideswipe's stomach that was slowly oozing energon.

A crowd was starting to form around the twins and the aerialbots, creating a cacophony as everyone tried to make himself heard. Ratchet, who someone had thought to ping, shoved his way through, elbowing anyone too stupid to move.

"Alright, lemme through, out of the way."

The medic dropped onto his knees, running a scan on Sideswipe, who squirmed under his hard stare.

"What did I tell you about being stupid?" He swatted Sideswipe on the head. "I told you that you needed rest, in your quarters."

The red warrior offered him a shrug, wincing as Sunstreaker slid his arms under him to lift him up.

"Ow, OUCH! That spot's tender, ow!" Sideswipe struggled in his brother's grip. "Lemme down, I can walk, you know!"

Ratchet, walking in front of Sunstreaker and shoving curious mechs out of the way, turned back to glare at him. "I'd like to see you try."

---

Sitting in a chair at Sideswipe's bedside, Ratchet was letting himself be transfixed by the rhythmic beeping of the warrior's pump monitor. Every so often the warrior would shift, and the rhythm would speed up, leaving Ratchet to watch him carefully until it settled again.

"You shouldn't need to babysit him."

Startled, the medic jumped, twisting awkwardly to see Prowl standing in the doorway, arms crossed under his bumper as he approached with silent steps.

"If I don't he'll run off and do something stupid."

Frowning, Prowl settled on the berth neighboring Sideswipe's, on the opposite side from Ratchet. Between them, the warrior twitched in his recharge, letting out a small, pained moan and creasing his brow.

Prowl shifted and reached out an arm, easily snatching the chart from the foot of Sideswipe's bed to read it.

"Why do you have him on so much pain medication?"

"He's in pain. He needs recharge. The meds knock him out."

Prowl returned the chart to its slot, silent as he watched the slow rise and fall of Sideswipe's chest as he breathed. His optics drifted down the warrior's frame, pausing on the fresh weld marks and the bands of flexi seal stretched over his chassis. He brought his gaze back up to the warrior's face, still creased in recharge.

"He's not as old as his records say, is he?"

Ratchet said nothing, only uncrossed his legs to re-cross them in the other direction.

"Is he?"

Again, Ratchet remained silent.

"He and his brother are two of the warrior-class mechs the Decepticons commissioned a couple vorns before we left Cybertron. Aren't they?"

"They were all destroyed. Purposely. The Autobot council deemed them unstable."

"There were two unaccounted for. That's why he attacked Slingshot. He has the illegal war-oriented core programming designed by that Deception corporation."

Ratchet shrugged. "How should I know, I'm just a lowly medic."

"Right." The tactician looked back at Ratchet, an incredulous expression on his face. With a longsuffering sigh, he let his doorwings sag.

"I hate doctor-patient confidentiality."

"I know."

With a groan, Sideswipe shifted in his recharge again. His optic shutters fluttered before opening, and Sideswipe let out another, louder groan.

Ratchet stood, pushing Sideswipe down as the warrior tried to sit up on his elbows. "Shhh, go back to recharge Sideswipe. It's okay."

"Owww…wha? Prowl?"

Blinking owlishly, the warrior shrugged off Ratchet's hand and pushed himself up. "Where's Sunny?"

"He had to go back to patrol."

"I feel like I've been pounded by Devastator, Primus." He shook his head, bringing one hand up to rub at an audio horn. "Ratchet, I'm seeing double." He shook his head again and blinked, still seeing a second Prowl sitting on the berth next to his. "Ow."

"Lay back down, Sides."

Sideswipe obeyed grudgingly, lowering himself back down gingerly and twisting to look at Prowl. "What are you doing here?"

"I was talking to Ratchet. And waiting for you to wake up."

The red warrior shivered, and Ratchet pulled blankets up and over him from the foot of his bed. Sideswipe settled under them, offering the medic a small grin. "Why? I don't even remember how the slag I ended up back in here."

Both Prowl and Ratchet tilted their heads.

"You don't"

Sideswipe blinked slowly. "I remember crashing on the couch, and I woke up when Sunny pulled me off of Slingshot. There's nothing in between."

Prowl looked uncertainly at Ratchet, who nodded and fiddled with some of the controls on Sideswipe's monitor.

"I will talk about the situation with Optimus Prime," said Prowl after a short pause. "Rest, Sideswipe." The tactician left, and Sideswipe watched him go.

Turning towards Ratchet, Sideswipe lowered his optics to the floor. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Yeah."

Sideswipe's brow creased, and he struggled to find a more comfortable position on the berth.

"You held a gun to Slingshot's head, and turned it on Jazz when he tried to help."

Sideswipe remained speechless, suddenly motionless on his berth.

"I…I don't remember."

Ratchet sighed. "I wouldn't worry about it to much, son. Slingshot should know better than that by now. What he did was stupid. Prowl knows that."

"I, well," Sideswipe turned wide, uncertain optics towards Ratchet. "You think?"

"I do."

"Okay."

"Go back to recharge, Sideswipe."

And, without question, Sideswipe did.