A/N: Wow. I suck. It's almost been a whole freaking year since I updated. You can thank Okamichan for kicking my butt and getting me writing more. And, hey, if you hadn't read her stories, do it now!

Also, thank-you so much to won't be the Victim, reaper mendez, LiYaNa1995, shimmershadow30, Rebell, Sotwt Icehail, cmrdtekk, Tiamat1972, flamingmarsh, FunkyFish1991, Bluebird Soaring and Elita One for the aweome-sauce reviews!

And, finally, to all of you who asked for a sequel to the last one. I have written various versions for a follow-up, none of which I'm entirely happy with. It sort of ties in to another project I'm working on, and I need to figure out a few things before I post anything more on it.

Enough chit-chat, on with the ficcage! Warning you now: there's slash!

Prompt: 023. Lovers

In the far corner of the rec room, tucked away from the crush of mechs crowded in the main area, was a small cluster of couches. Generally occupied only by a solitary mech or two, or perhaps by a pair of lovebirds, it wasn't exactly the place where Sideswipe expected to find Smokescreen. His lover was always at the very epicenter of the room, laughing, talking, and joking good-naturedly with half a dozen mechs at the very least. Always. Smokescreen was a people-person, a social-butterfly, a charming, charismatic and all-around sociable mech, who, when on his off-hours could be found, without fail, in the largest group of mechs occupying the rec room

Unless he was with Sideswipe, of course, in which case he would often pull away from the crowd to take his lover to his quarters, or to the very couch he was on now for a cuddle and some quiet conversation. It was where Smokescreen had first approached Sideswipe, where they had first kissed, and where the diversionary tactician had first slid a hand down a seam on Sideswipe's waist put a hand on his audio horn, and found himself with an eager and aroused lamborghini on his hands, gasping desperately in his audio that they needed to go to his quarters now.

And it was where Smokescreen was now, one hand wrapped around Tracks' waist and the other on the back of the corvette's neck, lips locked in what was definitely a fully consensual and enthusiastic kiss.

Standing in the doorway, suddenly unable to move, Sideswipe felt his fingers loosen around the datapad he was holding. Loaded with the book file Smokescreen had so desperately been searching for, and that Sideswipe had managed to find after weeks of hunting, the datapad slipped from the warrior's fingers and clattered against the floor, skittering across the decking for a moment before coming to a rest face down. Sideswipe ignored it and, completely incapable of turning away, watched as Smokescreen gently pulled Tracks a little closer and nipped at the corvette's lower lip.

The warrior was suddenly assaulted with memories of Smokescreen doing the same to him, biting down just like that and doing that wonderful, wonderful thing with his glossa that Sideswipe couldn't seem to identify but somehow made him melt no matter how many times the datsun did it.

Smokescreen kissing him that first time.

Smokescreen playfully bumping into the warrior's hip before grabbing him for a quick kiss between shifts.

Smokescreen below him, optics dark and partially lidded as Sideswipe dug fingers into transformation seams and kissed him hard.

Smokescreen approaching him in the back corner of the rec room, and ignoring the emptied cubes of high-grade littering the ground. Gently helping him up and back to his quarters while he murmured comforting words in his audio. Never telling a soul about how Sideswipe had broken down into spark-wrenching sobs.

Smokescreen there when he woke up the morning after, rubbing his back while he purged his over-filled tanks.

Smokescreen arriving at his quarters, freshly waxed and buffed, holding a box of energon goodies on valentine's day.

Smokescreen telling him that he loved him.

And now, Smokescreen, making out with Tracks in the rec room.

Abruptly, Sideswipe's optics faded to an arctic blue and his fists clenched at his sides. The rest of the room seemed to melt away as he stepped forwards, paying no attention to the datapad that cracked and shattered under his foot, and focused his attention solely and entirely on the mechs cuddled up in the corner of the room. His engine growled, a low and rumbling sound deep underneath his chest plate, and, as his ventilations picked up to compensate, Sideswipe narrowed his optics.

"Sideswipe."

There was a hand on his arm. Sideswipe whipped around, one fist reeling back and poised to strike, and found that he was looking straight into Wheeljack's optics, which were, instead of their usual cheery blue, darkened with solemnity. The engineer reached up to grab hold of Sideswipe's fist and pull it back down to his side, and, without letting go, used his other hand to latch onto the warrior's other wrist.

"I know you're angry but—"

"Angry?" Sideswipe growled, resisting the urge to yank his hands away from the inventor. "He's there. With him." He jerked his head towards the pair without breaking optic contact.

Wheeljack held the lamborghini's gaze unflinchingly, and dropped one of Sideswipe's wrists to put a hand on his shoulder and steer him towards the doorway. When Sideswipe resisted, Wheeljack simply dropped his hands to his sides and settled for pinning the warrior with a level stare.

"You don't want to hurt him."

"I do want to hurt him. I want to kill him, I—" Sideswipe stopped, mouth open, and, shoulders sagging down, let his gaze drop down to the decking.

"No you don't," said Wheeljack after a short pause, voice soft and vocal indicators flashing a soft blue, "you still love him."

Sideswipe stiffened again, and his finger joints creaked with the pressure he was putting on them. "That slagger. He said he loved me, that he loved me, Wheeljack." He looked back up at the engineer. "The fragging aft lied to me!"

Wheeljack took a step forward and put both hands on the warrior's shoulders, ignoring the way he flinched and tensed at his touch. The warrior was revving his engine, his optics nearly white as he twisted to look back at Smokescreen and Tracks, and Wheeljack abruptly shook his shoulders to turn him away.

"Don't. Don't let yourself get worked up over this. He's not worth it."

Wheeljack tried to yank the warrior towards the hallway again, away from Smokescreen, away from Tracks, and away from the optics that were surreptitiously starting to watch them. He cursed under his breath when Sideswipe resisted, and tightened his grip on the lamborghini's shoulders. They were nearly vibrating under his touch, humming in time with the warrior's growling engine.

"He lied. He lied." Sideswipe glanced back at Smokescreen who was squeezing Tracks' shoulder tire and drawing the corvette closer. "He's right there, he's cheating on me right there."

Wheeljack jerked the warrior back towards him and locked his optics onto his. "Then he's not worth it. If he's doing that, he doesn't deserve you, Sideswipe."

Sidswipe's optics burned nearly white, and the whine of tensing hydraulics underneath his plating was getting louder. "He said that he loved me."

Sideswipe's voice was beginning to crack and fitz with emotion, and Wheeljack was finding it hard to not launch himself across the room and rip Smokescreen a new one himself. The warrior, normally so composed, was coming undone at the seams. His body language radiated a furious anger, but his words, and the almost desperate look in his optics, spoke of real hurt. Wheeljack, quite suddenly, wished furiously that Sunstreaker were here to calm his brother down. He couldn't tell right now whether Sideswipe was going to burst into tears or mangle Smokescreen until he was unrecognizable even by his own creator, but neither option was a good one. Sunstreaker would have been able to pull his brother aside and talk him down, but Wheeljack, despite being a fairly good friend of the warrior's, didn't have much experience with this sort of thing.

"Why don't we go for a walk, Sides?" Wheeljack gently tried to pull the warrior away, and Sideswipe growled, actually growled in response.

"That fragger needs his aft to be handed to him."

Definitely leaning towards anger then. Wheeljack had only seen Sideswipe well and truly furious and a handful of occasions, he would much rather not have it happen it again. He was scary when he was mad, scarier even than Sunstreaker, if only because it was so unusual to see Sideswipe so openly hostile towards his own comrades.

"You need to calm down." Wheeljack emphasized the point with more pressure on Sideswipe's shoulders. "You go over there, and you're going to lose it. Don't tell me you won't, because you will, and there won't be anything anyone here will be able to do to stop you."

Sideswipe's optics flitted briefly around the room before settling on Wheeljack's face again. What the engineer had said was true. Half of the occupants of the room were minibots, the rest were scientists, scouts, and lightly built mechs without much power in their frames. Tracks himself was no lightweight, and Smokescreen and Wheeljack were fairly heavily armoured themselves, but, even the three of them combined might have a hard time holding the warrior down if he chose to attack.

"Who knows what kind of damage you'll do before someone gets here to help? You don't want that, Sideswipe. You don't want to hurt him."

Engine cycling down a notch, Sideswipe let himself be led into the corridor, and shook off the engineer's hands before slumping against the wall. Optics shuttered, he pulled in a few slow breaths before meeting Wheeljack's optics again.

"Thanks"

"No problem."