A/N Ok, this is the last part of this. The next chapter will skip forward a week where genders of the sparkling are found out! You know all my disclaimers. Please review, even flames are welcomed, you know why? Cos it makes my ego boost and gives me stuff to work on, that's why.
*Muses helm looks like Movie ROTF Chromias. You know, kinda pointed twice at the top, and narrowing to a chin. An elfish look. But without the ugly faceplates. They're smooth (G1 style) on Muse and Lyrica.
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Of femmes and sparklings – Chapter 13 – What's the situation part 3
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Capricornia knocked at the door of Sagittari's room, holding a large stack of datapads. She waited a few moments before the smiling face of her older sister appeared. Grabbing half the stack, Sagittari greeted, "Hey sis! How's everything?"
A sardonic smile graced the weapons specialist's mouth. "Would be a lot better without the virus. And the extra datapads you've given me."
The white and lavender femme seemed not to notice the sarcastic tone, and was still smiling as she placed the datapads on her desk and sank into her chair. Capricornia followed and immediately got down to business. She pointed at various datapads as she talked. "This one here has all the information that we have clearance for on each Autobot, past and present of the Autobot army. Anything that is blocked to our access is marked so. And Prowl said you can see him if we have an issue with one of those." Nodding, Sagittari listened idly.
"These four are on the virus we have, spark-bonding, sparkling orb and sparkling care. Those are from Ratchet, he's been busy. This other one Aquaris has made up on maturation of the sparkling and normal stages of development. This smaller one," Capricornia indicated to a small orange pad, "is about the kinds of defects that can happen. The rest are all a further introduction to the procedures here on Earth and in getting along with the native organics. They are plentiful."
Sagittari looked at the mass of datapads before her with a bewildered expression on her face. Darting violet optics up to Capricornia's, she asked, "And when do I have to read all these by?"
"A fortnight. But no later apparently. And before you ask, no, I can't help you this afternoon," explained Capricornia.
Sagittari pouted, "Why not? You've always helped me before."
"Don't whine, that's exactly why you need to do this by yourself. You are the leader of the Zodiac femmes, remember," chided the purple femme. Sagittari sighed, but then brightened when she realised Capricornia had not answered her question and pestered her, saying, "So what's going on this afternoon? Met someone? Coming out of the cave you call a room?"
"Yes," came the stiff answer. Sagittari's grin came back to her face.
"So? Come on, I want some more information," she pleaded, trying her best petro-puppy look.
Capricornia shook her head. "I think you have enough information right in front of you," she reminded, tapping the datapads. Before her sister could pester her again, she left. Saggitari grinned, knowing her standoffish sister must have had a really good connection with this bot she was meeting to not want to give her even a little hint.
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Roulette
Roulette could only marvel at the ingenuity of the virus that had come from her sister's faction. Of course, it wouldn't stop her from completely going about her everyday life. And besides, she had some mechs she wanted to say hi to. The silver, gold and purple femme entered the rec-room and immediately spotted the mechs she wanted to see. Trailbreaker, Smokescreen and Sideswipe, and all at the same table.
Waving and walking over to them she greeted them warmly. "Hey mechs, it's good to see you all again." She gave Trailbreaker a hearty slap on the shoulder before glancing at Smokescreen.
"You still owe me 50 credits from that last game I won," she mentioned. She ignored Sideswipe's rolled eyes as Smokescreen began his verbal attack.
"Not this again. I told you, you cheated."
"No I didn't, I just had the unfair advantage. After all, you had the shoddy grip on the holo-cards."
"Because you were telling jokes!"
Roulette raised an optic ridge incredulously. "You asked me to!"
"You didn't have to."
"But you wanted me to."
"You're such a typical femme Roulette, always going back to things after they've been settled," mocked Smokescreen, cheeky glint in his optics.
"Fine. We'll just have ourselves a little re-match. Double or nothing with an extra surprise. If you win, I do whatever you want for a whole day – Earth day mind – and the same if I win. Then we'll see if we settle it," challenged the femme. Smokescreen held out his hand and Roulette grasped it and gave it a firm shake. Identical smirks were shared before Roulette retrieved an energon cube and sat. It was always good to clear business before pleasure.
"So, how have things been?"
At another table
Blurr was sitting impatiently with Hound, Mirage, Perceptor and Maelstrom waiting for Drift to come off shift and join them for an evening cube. The other four were chatting amiably about their new home and the base, but Blurr found his attention wandering, not to his late friend, but to Scorpia.
The femme had impressed him with her speed, and intrigued him with her seemingly anti-social attitude. At the introduction on the first day, she had introduced herself as an assassin. Maybe, he mused, she didn't have great communication skills with others because of her occupation. But there was no denying her strength or speed. Or her looks. While plain in comparison to other femmes, Scorpia, like most Autobot femmes, had been built for strength and skill in war in some form, and in optic-appeasing looks.
And the colour scheme had greatly appealed to Blurr. Now, he wondered, what would she look like when she smiled?
"Blurr? Hello! Cybertron to Blurr," called Hound, waving his hand in front of his faceplates.
"Yeah?"
"If you hadn't been daydreaming, you would have seen Drift come in," responded Hound. Blurr snapped his head side to side and hurriedly scanned the room for the white and red swordsmech. Blurr finally found him at a booth off to the side, but he wasn't alone.
"Perceptor, tell me if I'm wrong, but it that a femme with Drift right now?" questioned the racer. Looking over Perceptor nodded.
"Yes. It appears that Drift is sharing energon and conversing with the female Autobot known as Capricornia, second of the zodiac sisters and femme weapons specialist. Remarkable about the sisters though," rambled Perceptor.
Blurr looked at his once-Decepticon friend and smirked. 'Oh you lucky slagger.'
With Drift and Capricornia
Capricornia had arrived at the booth earlier and waited patiently for Drift to arrive. She did not want to be conspicuous, and so had arrived earlier. She was nursing a cube of energon when she felt a presence near her. Darting her optics to the side, she saw the white plating of Drift.
"Standing there won't be productive," remarked the femme. Drift laughed quietly and slid into the opposite seat, placing his own cube on the table before him.
"Combative with swords, combative with words. I like it," mentioned Drift.
"Well, I like to speak with my words as sharp as my swords and to articulate as good as I fight," bantered back Capricornia. They both laughed at her witty remark and each took a drink.
Glancing at his drink before looking up again, Drift asked, "How deep and personal do want to talk? Just so my cavalier attitude doesn't get me into trouble again."
"Well," started Capricornia, "You said you wouldn't mind taking this deeper. Just ask away. Questions I won't answer, I won't. Simple."
"Fair enough. Ask away," agreed the swordsmech, getting more comfortable and leaning back into the booth.
A small smile graced her lips as she asked her first question. "Ok. What made you join the Autobot's?"
"Ah. It's the tiniest bit complex," said Drift, and took another sip of energon, continuing, "You see, I used to be the Decepticon Deadlock." He paused to watch her reaction.
Looking at him with a non-plussed expression, the weapons mistress said, "Is that the complexity?"
A full blown smile crossed Drift's face and said, "I'm glad to see you're not bothered by this fact. Primus knows others have been more than bothered by it. But, as you can see, I've changed. It was quite radical actually. I had been a Decepticon all my life. I lost both my carrier and creator when I was young and I lived off the street. I stole to keep myself alive. Once, I went to a youngling centre, but escaped when the caretakers wanted to beat me for defending a younger bot against their verbal lashing – however justified. After that escaping a similar incident happened. A friend of mine who had helped to shelter me was killed by Autobot law enforcement. Something…snapped within me, and I had my first kill at a young age," recalled Drift, now beginning to tell his whole story. He had told Blurr, who trusted him. Drift had never met anyone from the get-go who was willing to listen past 'Hi, I used to be a Decepticon.' And there was something else about her he just couldn't pin-point, so he continued speaking quietly.
"I was trained as a killer by other low-life's. I found fault with the council at the time and was motivated by Megatron's talks of equality, of a better Cybertron. To make the my story shorter, let's say I rose up through the ranks quickly, mercilessly. And one day, a mission had gone wrong. They called me a traitor and my commander, Turmoil, wanted to execute me."
Capricornia snorted, "Doesn't surprise me they'd try and so that."
Nodding, Drift replied, "It's the way it was. I escaped execution and fell in with this group of Neutrals. They were called the Circle of Light, and believed in pacifism – but this also including not helping anyone and solely protecting themselves. There was one. Wing, his designation was. He pushed me, asking me what the Decepticons stood for. He said he would let me go if I learned to defeat him with swords, and not guns, which I had favoured at the time. During my time there, I found myself thinking that this was what I had wanted Cybertron to end up as."
"As what?"
Gravity laced his tone and optics dimmed slightly as he replied, "They had preserved our original culture so perfectly. A place of scholarly pursuits, a place of peace, of equality and fairness in front of their council. But balanced with elegant pursuits of the art of fighting styles. Fighting to display strength, as exercise, not as a tool to be used in brute force. It was, in a sense, a utopia, but with one main problem. They kept to themselves, and didn't broadcast their message for the good of others. Nevertheless, while I was there I…." he paused to collect himself, "I finally turned around. I realised that the Decepticon cause had changed, we went about everything the wrong way. I regretted what I had done."
A tentative hand closed over his. "What happened? Did you eventually escape and run to the Autobots?"
"No. Not immediately. A coded message came in to the city. Slavers had a Decepticon give them a message to pass on to me. They wanted me back. I would be welcomed with open arms if I gave them the location of Crystal City, which was hidden. That was the start of being 'good,' I guess you could say. I re-designed myself to honour the faction that had, in a way, saved my life. I rebelled against the slavers and won. I did so with the use of my Great Sword, the one I used against you in our tryst this morning. They let me go, and asked me to stay. I declined. It was time to bring the Decepticons to realisation, and to justice. And to wipe the black years off my spark." Drift concluded his tale to the rapt optics of Capricornia.
"Why?" she asked warily, "Why have you told me all this so soon of knowing each other?"
"I believe it is my turn to ask you a question," deadpanned the mech. Seeing the look she gave him, Drift answered truthfully, "There's something about you. It's like I knew you'd understand. Completely, and not just because we are designated compatible." Their optics locked, an intense gaze much like the one they had shared before their spar in the morning – only with a more emotional undercurrent running through it.
"The great sword…draws off your spark energy?"
"Yes."
The emotional gaze was broken by Capricornia's sharp slap to the side of his head. "What was that for!" Drift asked petulantly. Raising an optic ridge, Capricornia said sternly, "A sword such as that is only to be used in dire situations. What were you thinking?"
"Same as your sword I bet."
"…Touché."
"Besides, I hadn't used it in a while. It did not affect me as much as it did when I used it regularly on Cybertron," said Drift. He noticed that she had let go of his hand. He felt….a bit disappointed if he had to be honest with himself.
"My turn anyway. And you? What was your reason? For joining the Autobots that is," asked Drift, wondering if she was less complex than he was.
Capricornia's body language abruptly changed. Instead of receiving and open, it had subtly morphed to defensive. She had sunk back into the seat, and had curled her hand around her energon cube, as fearing it would be taken away. Drift frowned. He had basically poured out his spark to her in hopes of getting her to trust him. Surely anything she had wouldn't be anywhere as bad as what he had been through.
Drift was relieved when she finally answered him after a few minutes of silence, which had felt like an eternity.
"My past is no-where as detailed or as complex as yours, but it is this: not told to any except for those in command. My past is even a secret from all my sisters. They know who I am now, not who I was before the war. I'm only going to tell you because you have so generously shared with me….something that I can tell is uncharacteristic for you as it is for me," Capricornia said softly.
"You see, I'm not proud of the fact that my carrier was the only Decepticon femme that our collective creator ever sparked. For the rest of my siblings, it's not a big deal because their carriers were either Autobots or Neutrals. But me…I'm full sparked Decepticon. And not just any old plain Con femme. No. Acid Blast, Thunderblast's sister, whom she killed shortly before I reached maturity. I was so close to being a Con. She even brought me up like that, however the times had changed. I saw the flaws in the design of the Decepticon cause. If it even was one when I was sparked," Capricornia continued to speak softly, now relaxing a little, tense cables loosening as she told her of her past.
"You see, Acid Blast didn't raise me on the base. She was too ashamed to after Enigmus had taken most of our credits and we had to live in an alley in the smallest apartment for the cheapest rent. She continued to work as a Con informant, no longer the Con femme weapons specialist."
Drift's optics widened, "I heard about that actually, when I was just reaching maturity, about the femme who had left for some reason, who was a weapons specialist."
"Yes. In addition to being an informant she…basically became a pleasure drone to make extra credits. But you know what's funny? She loved me. While she taught me all about weaponry and about the Decepticons, she never blamed me for being in her life or spark. She sent me to a small Academy and left me just enough credits to get by when she was murdered. Until I heard about your past, I thought it would be an invitation for others to mistrust me if they found out the truth about my past. It makes me feel less alone to know someone who has brushed – in your case, been immersed in – that dark side of the moon sort of life," explained Capricornia. Their optics had met each other's yet again and they had no intention of looking away this time.
"And finding your sisters?"
"They found me actually. I was working in a gunnery, and had been for some vorns, learning more about weapons with a mech named Gunnar – who had been very generous to me in giving me shelter and a job. Sagittari was the one to want to bring us all together." Here the purple femme smiled. "As soon as we were all together, we made a unanimous decision to join the Autobots. My dislike for the Decepticons goes beyond the faults in what they do. It's what they have done to our home. It's how some of their mechs do something like what Enigmus did to each of mine and my sisters carriers. It's in the way that they refuse to see what has been done…unlike you Drift. You've seen and understood."
The silence that followed the end of the strong statement was neither awkward or comfortable. It was just….there.
"For only asking one question each, I think we went deep today," remarked Drift, finishing his energon. Capricornia laughed softly, the rich sound of it flowing over Drift's audio's.
"If you want, we can only do those two questions for today. How about-"
"Drift! Mech, I thought you were going to have energon with us!" The blue mech that had called out and interrupted their conversation was striding towards them, a grin displaying shiny denta. The lean racer's body stopped next to their table.
"I forgot. Pardon me Blurr," apologising, Drift winced inwardedly. Blurr sometimes had the worst possible timing, the speed-freak, even though he was his best friend.
Gesturing animatedly, Blurr encouraged, "C'mon over then. Capricornia can come over too you know, so she can be introduced to more of the Ark crew excepting you. See you there." With a wink, the racer sped back to his table, where the other mechs were watching expectantly.
"Is he always like this?" came Capricornia's dry question.
Still smirking, Drift said, "Only when he wants to find out something. He's usually not as animated. Might be something to do with Scorpia."
Capricornia looked sharply at the swordmech. "Meaning?"
"Before the battle where you contracted the virus-"
"Got shot with. There is a difference."
"Of course. Anyway, before that he met her racing out on the plain before the base. He raced with her or something like that and was impressed by her speed, even though she was not as fast as he is. He came into my quarters as I was settling in and started talking about her. She fascinates him evidently, this younger sister of yours. I think he wants to find out some intel. about her from you," mentioned Drift. They simultaneously rose and moved towards Blurr's table.
"If you thought I'm a bit of a hard nut to crack, I can't wait to see how Blurr will go with this. Scorpia is the most closed off of all of us," mused Capricornia.
"You weren't too hard."
"Because you gave me a reason to trust you."
"I'm flattered."
"Don't overgrow your processor there Drift," bantered back the purple femme. Reaching the table, introductions were made and conversation struck up. Before long, Blurr had started talking to her. Drift had been right. He was fascinated by Scorpia. Answering the racer's inquiries without giving too much away, Capricornia wondered if her anti-social younger sister would yield to the racer if he chose to pursue. For it seemed that this racer Blurr, when he was fascinated with something, pursued with all his speed.
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Picyries lab
Aquaris and Picyries had earlier received the coded data packets from Ratchet and Wheeljack, and were now settled in the small dark blue femmes lab to try to figure out a way to use the virus as warfare on Starscream. They had been working since mid-morning to analyse the components of the virus in the spacious, organised grey lab. There was a faint beeping of a code fabricator, and there was the shuffle of datapads as Aquaris sat back from her computer.
"It's possible."
Picyries looked up from her analyser was trying to figure out the exact code of the virus and grinned at her aqua-coloured older sister. "How much of a challenge is it going to be?"
Smirking, Aquaris replied, "Just enough so we will be very self-satisfied when we achieve it. We need Virgo. She's brilliant at coding."
As if she had heard her name being summoned, the hot pink femme strode into the room.
"It is possible to turn Starscream into a femme?" inquired the youngest femme in the room.
"Yep!" exclaimed Picyries excitedly. "I can't wait to see what it'll do! I think it's about time Starscream was taught to take some of his own bad energon."
"It's really quite a shame we won't be around to see the conversion on his frame to femme. It would be very amusing. Assuming of course, that we successfully fabricate the coding needed and successfully transmit and integrate it with Starscreams systems," remarked Aquris, now smiling slyly.
Virgo knew that look. Femme medic Aquaris might be, but beneath the somewhat prim exterior, Aquaris could be rebellious and revolutionary when the time called for it. This was one of the times. "Enlighten me, dear sisters, on what will happen?"
Aquaris explained, "First off, if done right, the interface components will be changed first."
"No way."
"Way. The metal used to make up the male component will disintegrate and absorb into the body, and parts will rearrange and some will be fabricated to make up his…her…femme component. She will become slimmer around the waist, chestplates and pelvis region becoming slightly wider, much like the femme shape. The program for carrying and sparkling protection programs will integrate with the processor. The metal that was made for the bulkier frame of the mech will break down and rearrange itself also in the body, wherever needed. However, the first part will be slightly painful, regrettably. The rest shouldn't harm him too much – it was designed that way," said Aquaris. She still had the smile on her faceplates, showing her satisfaction in finding the means for making the procedure.
"So where do I come in?" asked Virgo, leaning against a nearby bench.
"You are going to help with coding the virus and coding it to apply while also interacting with the virus that will force him to have sparkling," piped in Picyries.
The triple-changer nodded. Then, looking around the room, her upper lip curled in dissatisfaction. "Only in here less than a day and the place looks a mess." Ignoring her sisters exasperated looks, she tidied up the datapads on both their desks, making straight, even piles sorted alphabetically. Green optics latched on the three dormant code analysers and placed them neatly in the case behind them, then wiping down the bench with a rag nearby. Satisfied that the rest of the room was acceptable for now, she left with a wave.
"Comm. me when you get to the stage of needing me," the hot pink neat-freak femme called over her shoulder, not noticing the disbelieving looks on the femmes faces.
"She's only going to get worse," mentioned the smaller, darker blue femme.
"Of course. She haven't discovered mud just yet," replied the larger aqua femme.
Picyries giggled. Aquaris was always easy to talk to, even if she wasn't so forthcoming about herself during conversation. Twirling her seat around, Picyries, still smiling asked, "Speaking of this virus. I heard about a certain past between you and a gunner here in the ranks. True or False? This femme scientist must know!"
Scowling, Aquaris also whirled her seat around to stare probingly at the other femme. "Oh? State your source."
"Wheeljack. We were chatting this morning and he told me, and he heard from a young gunner named Bluestreak. Wheeljack's nice. But anyway, is it true you danced to pay to be a medic? And you and this gunner….er…"
Snorting softly at Picyries slight awkwardness, Aquaris thought she might as well get the story straight. "Yes. Only once though. With Bluestreak, because it was a gift from one of those twins in our ranks for his sparkday. They had brought a lot of credits, because they wanted a 'clean' femme to introduce their friend to the world of interfacing. I was the only one in that whole club and only accepted because the payment was large and would get me out of that place forever," said the femme medic evenly, having switched her hands to medical tools and checking they were clean.
"So that's how you learned to dance so well. Hey, you know what just occurred to me?" the scientist thought aloud.
Shaking her head, knowing unwise to delay the inevitable – as Picyries would often look for new possibilities and wonder about situations – and waited for her to speak.
"What if Bluestreak's spark is compatible to you?"
Aquaris choked, before bursting out into laughter, confusing the smaller femme.
"Picyries….it would….he he….be unbelievably ironic to the nth degree. Only…" more giggles, "Primus himself would think of doing that."
"Why not? It's possible!" insisted Picyries. Canting her helm to the side, watching her sister as she collected herself to turn back to her terminal. Right now, with things as they were on Earth, surely Aquaris would be a little more open to possibilities?
"Might be. But I can't afford to focus on that right now. Starscream has thrown down the gauntlet. I intend to get it and slap him with it," muttered Aquaris. Picyries shook her head, dark blue helm reflecting the bright lights of the lab. The femme medics rebellions side was showing it's mean streak. Getting back to her work, Picyries wondered if there would be a day where she could tell her sister 'I told you so.'
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Evening, Sunstreaker's quarters.
Much to the melee warriors surprise, when Prowl had told him to come to his office this morning, he was expecting a lecture at the least for hurting Slingshot (even though he was in the wrong) during their altercation. But he had been treated to a weary thanks from Prowl for both obeying Elita-One's orders and for obeying what they had stipulated the night before and helping protect a femme who needed it. But before he had believed an imposter was sitting in Prowls place, he was warned, of course, not to be rough.
And now, walking to his new singular quarters, he hoped that Muse would be there. It was good for once to have separate quarters from Sideswipe, but they had a shared space between their rooms, and doors leading between them for the instances they needed the other close by.
Sunstreaker hadn't been lying that morning. He had been dry of inspiration for most of the war artistically, the arrival of the femmes on their first day had him looking for a muse. He had noticed Muse and her twin Lyrica, but they had not quite…fit. And he placed it out of his processor. That morning seeing Muse without her hip holsters where he had recalled bearing two small guns, had brought the creative part of his processor to life. He hadn't meant to stare so intently in such obvious interest. After all, he was Sunstreaker, the best looking mech in all the galaxy, if not the universe, and far better than many mechs. Femmes were meant to stare at him.
But she had been perfect physically. A chrome silver frame and contoured armour panels decorated with vivid vermillion swirls had caught his attention in no time at all. She was proportionate, every part of her was, from her pedes, to the servos and hands, to her helm and faceplates. Every artists dream. Her helm was especially proportionate. Pointed and curved in all the right places (* see above authors note). It was going to be a joy to paint or draw it.
Turning into a corridor in the Housing sector 2, he saw a defiant femme standing in front of his door. He smirked. She had came! The thought made him feel disturbingly pleased.
Hearing footsteps, Muse turned to see who was approaching. Catching sight of the golden mech, she said, "This better not be a come on. There better be something artistic going on, or I swear I'll drop kick you back to Cybertron."
Still smirking, Sunstreaker said, "Nope. Just business."
Ah. That was the other thing that had amused Sunstreaker. Her refusal to take anything at face value, such as his undoubtedly handsome looks. She was not like a turbo-puppy following him around like other femmes he knew had. He had gotten bored of those femmes after a while. Narrowing his optics on the frame before him, the golden mech knew Muse was going to be something better. She was going to be a challenge.
Palming open the door, he followed her in, turning on the lights and locking the door. It would be unfortunate if any other mech (namely Sideswipe) just waltzed in to witness him drawing the femme. Turning back to the room, he saw Muse offering him a cube of energon.
"Trying to drug me to avoid being painted?"
"No. Just thought that I'd get you some. The least I could do if you are going to paint me. Something your brother said you don't do very often," said Muse, a little defensively. Shrugging, Sunstreaker took the cube and downed it in one go.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, "True. But I restate what I said this morning. You have the perfect frame for an artist to draw. You have no idea. Now, because the lighting here is different than in the rec-room, I was wondering if you would lie on my berth on your side, facing this chair," gesturing to an empty, cushioned chair before continuing. "It would be easier than if you were sitting like you were this morning."
"Fine. I thought you insinuated that you shared quarters with your twin," remarked the musician, wondering.
"We do. Sorta. Through that door on the right is a shared 'living room' I guess, and his room his through another door on the right in that room. I like the space we never had. Now get comfortable." Making his way to a storage closet and pulling out his art materials, such as his metal easel, charcoals, graphite styluses and paints, Sunstreaker noticed Muse cautiously watching him as she slipped gracefully onto his berth, lying on her side.
Smiling to himself, he set up. He was in his true element at last. The adrenaline of a battle, or the glee of a prank were nothing to the peace he felt then he painted. Lifting his head, he sighed, almost inaudibly. Perfection.
The slight curves….the long, lean lines of her legs stretched out on the black covers, contrasting with her silver frame. One hand was resting on the berth just below her chestplates, lightly twining her fingers in the sheets. She had her helm propped up on the other elegantly arched hand, and was looking at him, sapphire optics seeming to search him for intent. Waiting for him to begin.
"I was right," he mentioned, starting to sketch an outline on his canvas.
"About what?"
"You are a great model. Perfect pose. Now I just have to dim the lights a little….there!" The room lights had dimmed a little to cast a soft golden glow over the room, creating emphasis on parts of light and shadow.
He did not look up from his work much, only to make sure the picture he had in his processor was correct for the sketch. Going back to the real thing was need more for the actual painting of it.
Finishing the sketch, Sunstreaker reached down for the paints, and the silence was broken by Muse's naturally slightly husky voice. "Do you mind if I hum? There are some great melodies in my processor and I need to unleash them….artist to musical artist."
"Whatever, as long as you don't move too much. I want this to be perfect," replied Sunstreaker, surprised at how amiable he was. But it was the mood induced by painting. Starting the background of silver walls and black sheets trailing off the edge of the berth, the golden mech found himself listening intently to the low, full sounds the femme was producing.
Looking over the canvas, his optics met hers, which had softened in the time passed. The intensity in both gazes seemed to pass beyond surface level, and into their sparks. Breaking the gaze, Sunstreaker felt his chassis warm. He could not understand why he was affected this way. Well, he could, the femme was unquestionably sexy, but so suddenly?
The slight whirring of cooling fans from Muse told him he wasn't the only one.
However, he ignored it, and didn't allow his hands to still, finishing off the details of the background: the slight crevice in the metal wall above her helm, the rippling of the covers of the berth. Complete, now was the time to paint in Muse's perfection.
Muse was embarrassed. When he had locked gazes with her, she felt like she was just reaching maturity all over again. The silent passion – for what, she wasn't sure – in his optics had made her insides melt. Shuttering her optics briefly, a little fantasy played across her CPU. That strong, golden body holding her close, staring intently into her as he dipped her down and kissed her….
'NO!' she screamed at herself internally. Yes, the mech was devastatingly handsome, and was painting her for the only reason other than he felt like it, but she wouldn't fall for him – at least, not within a day of knowing him. Unshuttering her optics again, Muse saw him comfortably painting in something. She sighed heavily. Too…bloody….late.
Looking up at her sigh, Sunstreaker said, "I'm almost done."
"Oh, the sigh wasn't in impatience," Muse supplied, but Sunstreaker had already returned to the painting. He was moving quicker now, filling in the shadows and dappling golden light over her hips where the lights hit them. Sunstreaker was very satisfied with his work so far. The helm was perfect, the swirl design in bright red done to match the real-life Muses frame, and the curves and straight lines melded properly. Adding in one last detail – the soft sapphire of her optics, Sunstreaker leaned back. It was more than a masterpiece. It was proof that he was still one of the greatest artists in Cybertron.
"Done," he said, standing up and grasping the easel carefully to heft it over to the berth, where Muse was now sitting up. Placing it down, he sat next to her and turned it with a flourish, waiting to see the songstress's reaction.
Upon seeing the painting, Muse gasped. "That…..that can't be me!" she blurted. Looking at the warrior, she protested, "This isn't really me, it's a more beautiful me….I-I.." Muse couldn't help dragging her gaze back to the painting. There she was on her side. But she looked….dare she even think it?...desirable. She had a sort of 'come hither' air about her, which she had not intended to do. Her frame in the painting seemed to reflect the light like she had done in real life. She was so shapely and ethereal, she couldn't believe it. Though Sunstreaker had been right. The obsidian covers of the berth had made her stand out.
A light touch on her cheek was Muse's only warning before Sunstreaker snapped her gaze to his. "I only paint what I see in front of me Muse. That is you. That is what I saw. If you don't like it, deal with it," the golden bot said lowly.
"No, I like the painting, it's more than any praise I could tell you! I just can't believe how well you've done me," Muse insisted.
"I haven't done you yet," a sultry whisper echoed around the room from the golden mechs pouty lipplates. She couldn't look away now. His optics were like two bright blue bolts of lightning that had zapped her. Their close proximity made her curious. Taking the chance, Muse brought her left hand to his broad chestplate.
Sideswipe had been right. They reacted. The bright blue lance of energy bounced between them, and then broke.
Sunstreakers optics turned predatory. The temptation was too much, coupled with the steadily rising heat within him at seeing how hot this femme was, how she didn't know her own perfection, and the look of lust she sent him, so he gathered her in his arms and, before she could react, melded his lips to hers. Muse was initially surprised, but melted into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and reciprocating. Sunstreaker ran his glossa along her bottom lip, demanding entrance – he needed to taste. She did so, and glossa's clashed in a passionate battle for dominance. It was too good…too hot… and Sunstreaker knew that if he didn't pull away, he'd be in trouble.
Ripping himself away, he whispered huskily, "Slag. How in Primus did we get so into each other so quick? Never mind."
Muse was panting slightly. The way the mech had kissed her had lit her fire like no other mech had done before. It was good to see their attraction was mutual.
"Get out."
The harsh growl threw her for a loop. "Wha-?"
Blazing optics on hers once again. "If you don't get out soon, you will find yourself pinned to the berth and me doing something I'd rather not do with you just yet," Sunstreaker said slowly, trying to control himself.
Optics widening, Muse nodded. She stood, but before leaving, she dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for painting me."
"It was my pleasure." The husky purr from the golden mech almost made Muse stay. But collecting her wits, she left. Sunstreaker stared heatedly after her. He had been so close to losing control of his lust. Now looking at the picture, he knew he'd have to take a cold wash before he even thought of recharging.
.
Prowl
Prowl stumbled tiredly into the officers quarters, thanking Primus the day was over. The issue with Slingshot had especially grated on his nerves. It was illogical to do something that one was told explicitly the night before not to do. And then, his battle computer was not completely online because of him only being returned to health two days previous.
Palming open the door, Prowl was greeted with the sight of his sparkmate sitting down at his table with two cubes in front of her.
"Good evening," Prowl greeted, sitting adjacent to her. Tauri smiled at him. "Hello to you too. I noticed you felt tired and warmed up some low-grade."
Looking quizzically at her for her to explain, Tauri supplied, "You were broadcasting how tired you were through the bond. Logically, I figured you'd need something. How are you feeling?"
"Well….if tired. I was actually hoping for a slight reprieve after the meetings last night, but that just goes to show the sheer idiocy of some mechs." Rubbing his chevron distractedly and sipping away at his energon before asking, "And you?"
"I played therapist today to Esperanza. She's just a little worried about hers and Bee's relationship with the virus and all. Then I just put everything up in my quarters in the femme quadrant. Nothing like yours," Tauri smiled.
Smiling back at her, letting his mask ebb a bit, Prowl asked, "Can you tell me, perhaps, what was life like for you on Cybertron?"
"I loved being a therapist. Although it was sparkbreaking sometimes for some of the bots who came through – what they had been through – it always made me feel….good, whenever I or my colleagues managed to help somebot with the improvement in the quality of their life. But being empathetic, whenever we couldn't save someone from their own personal demons, I would feel it. I'd cry for them, for their sparks. But I would rather still be doing that than being a sharpshooter," said Tauri. Cycling her vents in an equivalent of a human sigh, she went on.
"The outbreak of war meant I had to be careful. My carrier was a Neutral who had been a therapist before me, and encouraged me to stay like that. But I wasn't so sure. Whenever I walked home to our apartment, I could feel the strings of tension in the air, pulled tight and ready to snap. So I en-rolled myself in a beginners shooting course at a gunnery. We had been living in Tyger Pax at the time. I got good, and eventually got best at the gunnery, which earned me my favourite gun that I use now." Noticing they had both finished their energon, Tauri collected their cubes and tipped them into a storage cupboard.
"How did you meet your sisters?" inquired Prowl, leaning against the back of his chair, head tipped to observe the moon silver femmes movements as she padded back to the table and into her chair.
"They found me at my office. The war had already begun –when I was a youngling. But it had been after my carrier had died. She died the human equivalent of 4 months before hand – when they found me. I was the 5th to be found. By that time, it was Saggitari, Aquaris, Capricornia and Gemini. After that, we went around to find the other sisters. Saggitari wanted to make a difference, which is how we found ourselves as Autobots," Tauri explained.
Sensing there was more to it, Prowl asked, "Are you happy as an Autobot?"
"Definitely. I just wish there could be a way to stop the war to slow down the suffering," responded the femme.
"It has gotten tiresome over the years," agreed Prowl.
"What about you? Was there a bot before the 2IC? Because I heard some rumours that you were sparked an adult," smiled Tauri, a teasing note in her voice.
Shaking his head slightly in amusement, Prowl said, "Unbelievably, yes. I was sparked in Praxus, the only sparkling of a normal couple who had an average income and were quite happy with each other. They cared for me, but like myself, they were bonded to their jobs as well as each other. My creator was a holo-programmer, while my carrier was a nurse. I became an enforcer straight out of the Academy, because, I guess like you, I wanted to improve the quality of life for those in Cybertron by making Praxus safer. I later became an Autobot when the death of one of the head council members caused mutterings. Just before Sentinel Prime was assassinated and Optimus came as head of the Autobots."
"Praxus…where…."
"The war began. Well, in the attacking sense. Political warfare and subterfuge attacks had been increasing, but this was the first full-scale attack Megatron had led. I was head of Tactics at the time," here Prowl paused, flickers of memories coming to the forefront of his processor. The death and destruction had been immense, and had almost overwhelmed him. The mood had turned sombre.
Tauri looked a little less joyous like she had earlier, but still pressed, "I remember when I was a youngling, the news reported only 27 survivors. Out of a city of thousands. More than that."
"One survivor was Bluestreak. I found him and became his mentor and….unnn…." Prowl suddenly winced, his doorwings, still mending from the damage sustained to them and over-sensitised, had locked into place, and one was pinching a twisted wire.
"Prowl?" came Tauri's concerned voice.
"Doorwings…locked and pinching a….ow…..wire. Could you please?"
"Of course."
Tauri swiftly stepped behind him, careful not to touch the wings – she had felt how over-sensitised they were over the bond, Prowl was 'broadcasting' again – and softly pressed her fingers into the hinge of the left doorwing. Finding the pinched wire, she manipulated it out from its spot trapped in the hinge and pressed it back into its place. Shuddering out a relieved sigh, Prowl tested the manoeuvrability of his wings and, seemingly satisfied, thanked Tauri and was about to say goodnight when Tauri's hands on his shoulder stopped him.
"Which is your berthroom?" she asked sweetly. Pointing to the left, she grasped his hand and led him to it.
"What are you doing?" Prowl asked, alarmed.
"I wasn't a therapist just so I could talk. I found that a good massage aided the bots and in their revealing information about them. You're tired and aching from working today when you shouldn't have. Let me ease your frame a little. Please?" she asked, somewhat begging her sparkmate to let her do this, to take care of him and pacify her need to help those who are hurt.
Sighing and admitting he'd like something to relax, he let her walk into his room. While his living space had been sparsely (and tastefully) decorated with Cybertronian artefacts and shades of warm red and brown, his berthroom had been set up magnificently by Jazz. The covers of his berth were navy blue, and the ceiling had been painted to look like the stars from a view on one of Praxus's highest towers. On the walls were various pictures of Cybertron. On the desk next to the data terminal was a gift from Jazz. A transformer sized Rubix Cube, and a few other tactical games. A holo on the bedside table next to a lamp showed different scenery with each change, from places on Cybertron to worlds travelled to on the way to Earth.
Laying down, Prowl let himself go. He was too exhausted to worry about trusting her or not while she did him this favour.
Climbing up on the berth and kneeling next to the prone form, she directed the heat nodes on her hands to activate. While they were warming up, she un-subspaced some of the masseuses wax she had kept with her and rubbed a little on her hands. Too much would make it too slippery.
Now that her hands were at the right temperature, she gently laid her hands on the hinges on the doorwings and gently dug her fingers in to rub at the sore joint. After a while, the doorwings relaxed and she allowed herself to move on. She glided her hands over his shoulders and down his back in a continuous rhythm, going from gentle to firm. A soft moan of contentment from Prowl made Tauri grin. There he was, the mech behind the emotionless facade.
Switching her method to rubbing small circular patterns on his sides and lower back, within a few minutes, Prowl had dropped into a peaceful recharge. Smiling at the handsome mech beneath her, Tauri slipped off the berth. Before exiting to the other berth room, she dropped a small kiss on his helm.
'Oh Prowl, how I can feel what you really are, my striking mech,' Tauri thought fondly, before finally slipping into recharge.
.
A/N: WHOA! Biggest chapter I have ever ever done! I love Prowl…..SQUEE! Anyhow, how did you guys like that action between Sunny and Muse? Yummy eh? And Capricornia and Drift seem to be getting to know each other a bit more too…
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