Slice of Cheese- All couples end up having a bad fight once in a while. Supposedly it's all part of loving each other. ^^; Thanks for the well wishes on the success of this story! Now if only others would be as kind and start reviewing as well… *stares at everyone else*
Deathcomes4u- Thanks so much for the review! :) lol~ FunkyFish is a good friend of mine. Her art always blows me away when she posts something- it's like she's the official artist for Surface of the Sun. XD All the work she's done is brilliant!
Goldenqueemofthecove- Awww, thanks~ I'm happy that the chapter was able to elicit such an emotional response. :)
FunkyFish1991- Oh, my dear, dear Fishy friend, how I adore you and your reviews. *fawns over you* I can't believe you're stilling reading this story even when you don't give a damn about the fandom! XD Reading that made my day! *ultimate love* And I totally laughed when you mentioned looking up what neodymium was on the net. You wanna know a secret about that? I didn't even know it was a translation of 'twin'! XD I selected it because the name sounded cool! But now that I looked it up, I'm blown away by the coincidence! *mind is totally blown* Thanks so much for your approval of where I ended the chapter. It was a sudden burst of inspiration to do so. You know me, loving to let my readers squirm. :) Of course, with this chapter ends the squirming, so I'll just have to come up with another squirm-tastic ploy, now won't I? *evil grin*
Player3- Oh wow, thanks for siding with Blindside. He really does have the twins' best interests at spark, and he's only going by what he knows. Thank you so much for the review. ^^
Bluebird Soaring- Last chapter certainly was a rollercoaster ride, wasn't it? It even started to worry me as I was writing it. Evening will happen as it's supposed to, though, for better or for worse…
DitzyMusicLover- Um, well, thanks anyways.^^
Shizuka Taiyou- *nods* Wildride may not seem like a wise one, but he generally is.
Balrog Roike- You raise some fine points there, my dear. You're so very insightful and quite opinionated over the fictional reality of the Cybertronians, most notably their young. I suppose my dislike for kids influences my writing in respect to the raising of sparklings and youngling; they're dealt with in such aloof manners because I, myself, have a difficult time reconciling myself with young ones. But, the methods proposed in the chapter are not as heavy-handed as they seem (I'm not a complete monster ;_; )- the young ones in question are active participants in the decision making process. Just like the children of Earth, kids have a mind to make up for themselves, even if parents tend to override them. Kids only have as much freedom as their parents allow. ^^;
C-Wolfeh- No, no, my dear. This certainly isn't the end by a long shot. There's so many thrills and spills in store for the story. :)
Witch08- Oh dear, thanks so much, though sorry I made you cry, I'm afraid the only comfort I can give you at the moment is that things will turn out as they are supposed to, for better or for worse. ^^;
Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I'm humbled an honoured by the kindness and love you've shown. A word to the wise to all the ghost-readers out there, a little bit of appreciation for all the hard work a writer puts into their chapters would be much loved. Most of you say 'thank you' when someone does something nice for you, or gives you something, or works their ass off to get something done in real life, so, you know, throwing a bone my way wouldn't go amiss.
Surface of the Sun
Chapter 9
Sunstreaker stared down at his pincers without truly seeing them. Sideswipe stared in a similar daze, though his optics were fixated in the direction Wildride had zoomed off in. They didn't know how long they sat there, nor did it really matter to them. At some point, they gravitated to their other half and simply wrapped their arms around the other. Sideswipe quivered minutely while Sunstreaker felt leaden, too heavy and dull to dare moving.
Easing his back against the shaded doorway they crouched in, Sunstreaker dragged Sideswipe close. Compared the squeaky sobbing Sideswipe was making, his twin was silent. He didn't feel anything but dull, even though he knew he should have felt something. Wasn't it his processor that his Creators were fighting over? The medics wanted to reprogram him, not Sideswipe. He should feel something more than just heavy and empty at the same time- shouldn't he be scared, or furious, or horrified, or something? But it was Sideswipe who was absorbing it all, trembling, releasing gasping sobs every once in a while when he couldn't contain the noises any longer. Sunstreaker could feel how confused his brother was, and it made his spark ache even more.
Through their Creators' door, they could hear Blindside's muffled sobbing. It hurt the twins to know their Creator was crying, to think that Blindside was hurt and there was nothing that either of them could do for him. Even if the shooting star-painted mech was the one who had been arguing to have Sunstreaker reprogrammed, they felt no spite for him. It was impossible to feel anything but blind love for him. The troop was their family, it was everything the twins knew, and their Creators', both Blindside and Wildride, were their whole worlds.
"Wildride's coming back, isn't he?" Sideswipe asked shakily, peeling his faceplate away from the notch between his brother's neck and shoulder to peer up with too-bright optics.
Sunstreaker shrugged. "I don't know… they sounded pretty mad at each other…"
"I want Wildride to come back right now and say he's sorry," Sideswipe mumbled.
"Blindside would have to say sorry, too," Sunstreaker intoned lowly.
Sideswipe's little red head nodded. "Yeah, they have to say sorry to each other." He sniffled. "But that's only if Wildride comes back."
"Yeah, if." Sunstreaker sighed. He couldn't see the future, so there was no way to tell if their wayward Creator was going to come back or not. Wildride had sounded so angry. Almost as angry as he looked on the old recordings they'd seen of the orn they had fallen down the lift shaft and Wildride had thought they were dead. By the looks of things, and by the way they could still hear Blindside crying, the chances that they would see Wildride again didn't look too great.
A soft sigh at the end of the hallway had them looking up, only to discover that Flip had found them.
"Flip?" Sunstreaker murmured.
The old director nodded, staring. The staring wasn't new, but the way he stared… it made them feel small. He wasn't mad. He wasn't upset. He didn't even look disappointed. No, the director only stared with optics too old and too wise for the twins to understand. What made them feel small was the fact that he had told them not to follow and they didn't listen, and now here he was standing in the aftermath. He had tried to spare them the pain, and they had ignored him.
Sideswipe sniffed, pushing away from his brother. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" he murmured, watching the mossy-green mech. There wasn't really a tone of accusation in his voice; he was just stating a fact.
Flip tipped his head ever so slightly to the left, neither confirming nor denying.
"You knew and you could have stopped this, but you didn't," the red sparkling continued.
Still, the old mech said nothing. He merely stared with old, old optics, watching them in a way that made their plating prickle when they thought about what he could really see. They wished the director would blink, but he didn't.
"Why didn't you stop this, Flip? Wildride's gone and he looked like he was never coming back!" Sideswipe said, voice wavering.
Finally, Flip did something. Still saying nothing, the old director's faceplate curved into an expression that couldn't quite be called a smile, but couldn't be called a frown either. With a tilt of his head, he turned and walked away. Looking to each other, the twins knew instinctually that this was a bid to follow the old mech. They scrambled to their feet and trotted off down the hall, letting Blindside's sobbing be muffled by distance. They were guided into the narrow annexed hallway that lead to Flip's private quarters, the old mech already waiting for them at the end with the door open. Needing no more invitation than that, the twins slinked into the dark apartments warily.
Behind them, they heard the hiss of the doors closing, and then the creaking footsteps of the director. He stepped over them easily, choosing his favourite chair to ease into. As it had always been, Flip's apartments were strange, darker than what it should have been when the lights were on, quieter than what was natural even when the walls weren't that thin, and there was always a sense of being watched even when you knew Flip was supposed to be the only bot there. Staying close together, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker inched their way over to the low table they usually sat on when invited into the director's quarters, taking the ladder up the side. When they finally settled in front of the old mech, neither quite able to look their director in the optic, Flip took a deep drag of air and said,
"You should have listened to me."
He didn't admonish them. He wasn't even sharp. He said it in the same fashion that one would comment on the weather. Nonetheless, the twins flinched.
"We know," they sighed in unison. "We're sorry."
"You've done nothing wrong, so don't apologize. I simply would have preferred you stayed ignorant of the matter." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees and resting his chin against his laced fingers. "But what's done is done, isn't it? Short of deleting the experience, there is little anyone can do now."
The twins flinched at the mentioning of deletion.
"You knew this was going to happened, didn't you?" Sideswipe asked. "That's why you didn't want us to follow."
"Of course I never wanted you two to hear this. I would have to be sparkless to want otherwise," Flip said, frowning minutely. His evasion of the first question was not lost on the red sparkling.
Sideswipe pursed his mouthplates, sniffing determinedly. "But you knew, didn't you? You knew they were going to fight."
Sunstreaker elbowed his brother. "Stop it, Sides," he grumbled. This was no time for Sideswipe to be trying to get Flip to admit he could "see the future" or some slag like that. Ever since Flip had collected them from that strange place under the city so many vorns ago, Sideswipe had had it in his mind that the mech could do the impossible. Well, more impossible than what was normal for Flip.
Flip leaned closer, a draft of warm air sighing across their trembling plating. "This fight was a long time coming. We all knew it was coming."
"The whole troop knew?" Sideswipe wondered, trying to hide his disappointment. One of these orns, he'd get Flip to admit that he could see more than ghosts. The old director wasn't perfect- he was bound to slip up some time.
"Of course, dearspark," Flip said. "We've done our best to keep this off your shoulders for as long as we could, but we've all known that things have been tense between your Creators."
"Why wouldn't you tell us?" Sunstreaker asked.
"Adult matters are adult matters. There was no need to upset you with them." Such a nonchalant answer. Such a Flip kind of answer.
"And now Wildride is gone," the brown sparkling said, bowing his head. His pinchers clenched and unclenched in his lap. "This is my fault, isn't it?"
"What makes you say that?" Flip asked, tilting his head.
"The message that Blindside got from Ratchet today… it was about me fighting at the Youth Sectors," Sunstreaker said quietly, staring determinedly into his lap.
"You do seem to make a habit of it whenever you're there," the old mech intoned lightly.
Sunstreaker cringed. "I know, I know…"
"It's not his fault, though!" Sideswipe cried. "There's a bunch of younglings that like to pick on him! Sunstreaker's just defending himself!"
Flip quirked an optic ridge at the red twin. "And when you jump into the fights, are you just defending yourself as well?"
Sideswipe twittered stubbornly. "No, I'm defending my brother."
"And what of dragging your friends into these fights? What of your little friend Blue? I'm sure he doesn't appreciate it when you fight with others."
Sunstreaker's optics flashed. "I didn't mean to drag him in. Sometimes… sometimes he just gets caught up in it all." Again, his pincers clenched.
"Life does have a way of getting out of hand on us, doesn't it?" Flip said airily.
"You're not helping, Flip," Sideswipe grumped.
By Flip's expression, he wasn't particularly interested in helping the situation. Of course, he wasn't interested in making it worse either. He was just being Flip, which was frustrating enough as it was.
Sunstreaker sighed. "Ratchet wants to make me stop fighting by reprogramming me, and Blindside thinks it's a good idea."
"But Wildride doesn't," Sideswipe stated, pursing his mouthplates.
Flip leaned away, settling back against his chair. "Do you think it's a good idea?"
Tiny optics darted up to the old director, then down again. Sunstreaker shrugged unsurely. "I don't know… I mean, it's such a simple thing. Everyone in the troop has had it done, but the way Wildride was going on about it- I don't know what to think." He glanced to his brother, leaning against Sideswipe's comforting red shoulder. "Wildride got so upset when Blindside mentioned reprogramming me."
"It wouldn't be reprogramming all of you, dearspark," Flip said lowly. "The only part that Ratchet would touch is your aggression response. He'd either reroute it or dampen it."
Sideswipe wrapped his arm around Sunstreaker's shoulders as he felt him shiver. "I don't want anyone to do anything to Sunstreaker's head. He's fine just the way he is."
"No I'm not," the brown sparkling sighed. "If I was fine just the way I am, Blindside and Wildride wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Wildride wouldn't have left, Blindside wouldn't be so sad, and we wouldn't be here."
Sideswiped blinked. "Oh yeah…"
Flip canted his head. "You make it sound as if Wildride will never be back."
The twins shuddered once more.
"He was mad, Flip. Madder than the maddest I've ever seen him," Sunstreaker said. "When he left, it really looked like he wasn't coming back." His head bowed, but Sideswipe leaned close and murmured, "It's not all your fault, though. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault at all!" Sunstreaker was comforted very little by the words.
To their ultimate shock, Flip actually quirked one of his strange, knowing half-smiles. Sideswipe took offense, bristling instantly.
"It isn't funny!" he yelled.
"I never said it was," the old director said.
"Then don't smile!"
Flip's smile did not disappear, but he did shake his head. "How about we solve this little puzzle one problem at a time? Does that sound all right to you two?"
Puzzled, the twins wrinkled their faceplates.
Flip chuckled, curling a long, creaky finger beneath Sunstreaker's chin. "You are old enough to have a say in what happens to you. If you don't want to be reprogrammed, they can't force it on you. Not entirely."
Sunstreaker frowned. "But what about me getting into fights? Blindside said that fighting is probably already part of my core programming…"
"Your core programming is still only programming, dear one. No matter what's up here," Flip touched the top of Sunstreaker's head, "it will never be able to touch what's in here." That gentle finger moved to Sunstreaker's chest, over his spark. "You will always have a choice. There are so many other paths for you to choose." For a moment, the old director seemed as if he was pleading with Sunstreaker. "You don't have to get into fights if you don't want to," he murmured lowly. As soon as that strange, pleading tone came, it was gone, like it had never been there. Flip's faceplate betrayed nothing now, as enigmatic as ever.
The simple truth of the matter dawned on Sunstreaker with the brightness of dawn cresting the horizon. "I can choose not to fight, can't I?"
Flip bowed his mossy-green head. "We all have choices, dearspark."
Sideswipe appeared to catch on, his hand shooting out to grasp his brother's pincer. "Hey, hey, if you choose not to fight, they can't reprogram you! They'll have no reason to! You don't have to fight at all!"
"But what about the other younglings- the ones that pick fights with me?" Sunstreaker worried, looking from his brother to the director.
"You have more friends than enemies in the Youth Sector. Use that to your advantage," Flip said. "If the others keep giving you problems, you just let us know, and us older bots will take care of things." He even gave them a little wink that made them feel much better.
"So… it's as easy as that? Even if my head says fight, I can listen to my spark and I won't fight?" Sunstreaker asked hopefully.
"Some would say it's a little more complicated than that, but yes, so long as you listen to your spark, you'll be good," Flip assured quietly.
"Then I promise to always listen to my spark and never fight again," Sunstreaker said solemnly.
"I promise, too," Sideswipe said quickly.
"Good. That's good, young ones." Flip nodded slowly, stroking them both over their heads.
With one problem solved, Sideswipe looked eager to solve their other problem. He turned his expectant faceplate up to the mossy-green mech. "Are you going to make Wildride come back now?"
Flip apparently found that funny. At least, he chuckled over it, but chuckling didn't always mean what bots thought it meant with Flip. "I wouldn't need to."
"But he's gone!" Sideswipe exclaimed.
"For how long, though?" Flip chuckled. "It's only a matter of time before he comes back." He settled even more comfortably into his seat, motioning for the twins to get comfortable as well. Most of the tension had already leaked from their frames, so upon the director's bid, they got comfy for the inevitable story they sensed coming. "Did you know that Wildride used to run away from here all time when he was young?"
The twins wrinkled their faceplates. It was hard enough picturing their Creator as "young", but even harder picturing him running away. Wildride was as much a part of the coliseum as the paint was. Everyone in the troop was like that. Like permanent fixtures in the place.
"Why did he run away?" Sunstreaker wondered quietly.
Flip waved a nonchalant hand in the air. "Because he didn't want to be trapped."
"Trapped?" the little brown sparkling queried.
"Yes. You see, the coliseum was all Wildride knew and he didn't want to end up living the rest of his life trapped inside these walls as a puppet for other bots' delights. He left the moment he reformatted into his first adult frame. Didn't even spare us a second glance or a night to celebrate his reformatting- just up and bolted." Flip paused to shake his head amusedly. "Ended up travelling all over the planet, sent us holopics from all sorts of places. He came back, though."
"He did?" Sideswipe chirped hopefully.
"Of course, when he ran out of credits," Flip informed. "And as soon as he got through his apprenticeship here to be a full-fledged stuntment, he ran away again. He made it all the way to Monoluna before he came back." A creaking hand waved in the air once more. "One time he even ran away to a circuit in Kaon and stayed there for a few vorns. He's run away so many times that it's not even worth counting anymore."
"Why does he run?" Sideswipe asked. "I know you said he doesn't want to be trapped, but why run? Why not walk out, or wander around, or something…"
"Because his spark moves faster than his head does," Flip replied fondly. "It tells him to run, fling himself headfirst into the wind, and rarely does he ever think before he does something. That's just who he is. But no matter where he went or how far he ran, he'd always come back eventually. If not for the circuit, then for Blindside."
Sunstreaker wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging them close to his chassis. "That doesn't mean he's going to come back this time."
"I had that same fear the first few times he disappeared, yet he always followed his spark back. The orn he sparkbonded with Blindside was the last orn I ever carried that fear."
"Why?" Sunstreaker asked, even a tad suspicious about it.
"What's so important about Wildride being bonded to Blindside?" Sideswipe asked, mouthplates pursed.
Flip blinked, shaking his head. "Honestly, dearsparks, they say you two are so much like a pair of sparkmates. I would think you could imagine why Wildride would never leave."
Sideswipe looked to Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker looked to Sideswipe, and they both canted their heads. It had never really occurred to them before what it must feel like for their Creators to be bonded. What the twins had was something they had been created with, not something they chose. Even if they never meant to, what they shared through their bond had been taken for granted. They had never known what it was like not to be connected to someone else; they had no idea where to start when it came to bots who shared their sparks of their own freewill. Was the connection the same? Different? If bots could choose to bond with another instead of being made that way, could they choose to unbond as well?
"So many questions in those little optics," Flip murmured, amused and yet neutral.
"I don't get it, Flip," Sunstreaker grumbled, frowning. "Wildride and Blindside… can they really be like us? The connection can't be as strong- I mean-," he looked to Sideswipe, held out his pincer, and automatically Sideswipe's hand was there to meet him in midair. "-we're from the same spark. Me and Sides aren't just two bots who make our sparks one-."
"We were one spark made into two," Sideswipe finished, an identical expression of intense concentration on his faceplate. "Ratchet and Jetfire and all those other medics and researchers all said it; there's nothing like us on the planet."
Flip focused on their connected hands, a contemplative frown pulling at his mouthplates. "You're right, your origins are certainly unique," he admitted. "However, you shouldn't put yourself above the rest because of it."
The director's tone was enough to make the twins smartly drop their connected limbs.
Flip continued regardless. "I have never been bonded to another in my life, but I have lived far longer than either of you can ever comprehend. I have lived long enough to understand a great many things in this universe. I have seen some of the greatest acts of love-," and the greatest acts of hatred, his shadowed optics said, "- and there are few greater than that of sparkbonding."
He spoke with such reverence that an involuntary shiver ran down the twins' backs.
The director placed his hand to the center of his chest, above a spark that was older than anything else the twins knew. "Our sparks are the concentrated essence of our accumulated experiences, our memories, our personalities, hopes, and desires… Everything that we are is contained in the energy of our sparks. We may outlive our frames a thousand times, but so long as our sparks pulse, we live. To share that integral part of ourselves with another is the greatest decision any Cybertronian can make."
"A sparkbond can't be broken, can it?" Sunstreaker wondered quietly. He knew the answer even as he asked the question. Instinctually he knew that if Sideswipe was no longer a part of him, and he was no longer a part of Sideswipe, neither would exist.
Flip's optics turned solemn, laden with eons of knowledge. "No force on Cybertron can break it, not even death."
There was nothing else for the twins to do but nod, knowing intrinsically that their old director spoke the truth.
"There is never one without the other," Flip continued softly. "Wildride and Blindside, even Thrillride and Blaze, any bonded pair; they are as much a part of each other as you two are. No matter where Wildride goes, how far he runs, he will always come back. It is deep, unconditional, abiding, immortal love that ensures that sparkmates will always be together. Once they bond, the choice is made. For as long as they live, there will never be another."
"They're like us, then," Sunstreaker concluded. "Wildride and Blindside won't leave each other because they love each other more than anything. Like me and Sideswipe."
"You're catching on," Flip murmured, curving a half-smile.
"So it's just a matter of time before he comes back, huh?" Sideswipe sighed, suddenly very relieved.
"I would say so. In the mean time…" He turned his gaze to the doors, which slid open accordingly. Thrillride and a few of her fellow lightcycles stood there, peering in nervously.
"You called?" Thrillride asked.
Flip eased to his feet with an expansive groan, scooping up the twins. "Yes, I want you to take these two and thoroughly distract them for the orn. Do what you do best, my dear." They were deposited on their feet in front of Thrillride, who watched Flip pass them by without even glancing back.
With Flip gone, Thrillride blinked and glanced down at her favourite pair of twins on the whole planet. "Are you two alright?" she asked cautiously.
"Yeah, we're okay," Sideswipe said, patting Thrillride's hand like she was the one who needed comforting. "Flip… helped us understand a few things."
It had been a long, hard orn of practice for poor Flicker. The silence the front ramp of the coliseum was serving as his quiet spot for the evening as he downed a strong cube of high-grade. The coolness of the coming evening was a balm against his sore plating.
Having served all orn long as a launching pad for the majority of the stunts his brethren were practicing, he was understandably feeling a little sore and run over. He was also sporting a particularly bad headache this evening thanks to the twins. He loved the little imps, no doubt about that, it was only… well, every time they were around, Flicker usually ended up having his head run over repeatedly. For some reason, the twins seemed to think it was funny when everyone drove over his head. Sure, Flicker's head was reinforced to withstand the abuse, but there were only so many times Flashdance could dance on his cranium before he started to get a headache.
Next to him, Blaze sat with his optics squinted against the glare of light reflecting off of Flicker's fluorescent yellow paint. The pyrotechnics director looked deceptively contemplative as he stared out at the cityscape. In truth, he simply looked that way to cover up the discomfort he was under from a botched fire-breathing stunt a joor prior. His mouthplates were blackened around the seams where the flames from the flash fire had caught him. It wasn't the worse accident that could have happened, but healing was going to be a glitch.
"Some orn we're having, huh?" Flicker intoned absently.
Blaze nodded, taking a sip from his energon cube, and then grimacing as it went down. "Not one of our best," he grated out, voice rough from fire damage.
"Twins held up well, all things considered," Flicker said, downing a large gulp of his high-grade, appreciating the buzz it spread through his systems.
"It was only a matter of time before things came to a head," Blaze sighed roughly. A bit of ash fell from his mouthplates. "Wildride was due for a run out, anyways. Hasn't pulled one since Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were created."
"Yeah, but I would have thought… well, you know- would'a thought the twins would have taken the fight a little harder." A blinding-yellow shoulder shrugged awkwardly, flashing in the dying light.
The flame-painted mech was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Thrillride mentioned that they had been with Flip earlier." He coughed quietly to clear his vents, a plume of smoke puffing from between his mouthplates, and then out from between the slates in his neck, and then out from the vents in his sides.
"Ah, that explains it, then," Flicker said, nodding.
They sat for a while longer, until their distant star fell below the towering city skyline, and then fell completely below the far off horizon. Twilight fell to darkness, but the city was far from recharging. Centaurie Tetrax was still a lifeline of noise and light, the sound of commuters making their way through gleaming transport ways carrying on the gentle evening breeze. Everywhere they looked- the sights, the smells, the feelings it all stirred- it was their home. Centaurie Tetrax was the city they had been raised in, and it was the city their sparks would probably extinguish in.
A few tourists, travellers from Polyhex by the looks of their frames, wandered by gates at the bottom of the ramp. They leaned in to check the listed show times on the bulletin, and then spotted the stuntmechs sitting at the front entrance. Predictably, they all squealed in excitement. When they waved excitedly, Flicker and Blaze forced smiles on their faceplates and waved back. As soon as they were gone, the stuntmechs sighed and sagged tiredly.
Flickered finished off the last half of his high-grade in one go, gulping it back like his life depended on it. As the last drops of it went down, its numbing balm finally dulled his headache. Beside him, Blaze still warily sipped his diluted energon, grimacing as it stung all the way down. They were grateful to sink into a companionable silence. Above the usual night-song of the city came the familiar click of their gate being unlocked, and then the long creak of it being opened. Two sets of optics flashed, peering up curiously.
"Look who's back," Blaze rasped, smirking.
Wildride's distinct paintjob made it impossible for him not to be recognized, even in the low light. The decorative metal frills that jutted from either side of his head were lowered sheepishly as he made his way up the ramp towards them.
"How far did you make it this time?" Flicker asked, optic ridge quirked.
Wildride shrugged, not quite able to meet either of his brothers' gazes. "Spent the orn in the Rio District."
Flicker and Blaze exchanged knowing looks, and then Flicker enquired, "At the pleasure house on mid-level?"
The fireworks painted mech sighed, nodding. "Yes, talking to the escorts there."
The Rio District pleasure house was a favourite gathering place for the stuntmechs. It was a fun place to relax outside the coliseum, or party hard if they so chose. They could mingle with fans if they wanted, or indulge in a little good-natured pampering by the escorts there. The stuntmechs were such frequent visitors there that all the escorts knew them by designation, and in turn, all the stuntmechs knew the escorts as well. The media-drones liked to dub the place the unofficial hangout for the Centaurie Tetrax performers.
"I hope they talked some sense into you," Blaze intoned wryly.
Wildride pursed his mouthplates, shifting from one foot to the other. "Something like that. They let me stay for the orn to calm down, then they made me leave." He glanced up, over the high domes of their colourful home. "So… was Blindside…?"
"In practice? Yeah," Flicker informed curtly.
"How was he?" Wildride enquired quietly.
"As well as can be expected," the towering mech replied.
Wildride nodded solemnly. "And the twins?"
"Were fine, but are probably anxious to see you home."
The stuntmech nodded, still shifting from foot to foot. He looked to be at a loss for words. Taking a deep drag of air, he looked his stunt-brethren in the optics and announced, "I'm an aft."
Flicker and Blaze glanced at each other, and then back to Wildride.
"We know," Blaze grunted. He eased up with a groan, stepping aside to allow his brother access to the entrance door. "You might want to go try that half-aft attempt of an apology on Blindside, though."
"Right, okay…" He slid past them, squeezing into the door.
Blindside shot up from his crouch, scattering the two lightcycles poised on his back for a fancy flip. They landed gracefully without incident despite their sudden ejection, watching as the shooting star-painted stuntmech transformed and took off like a shot.
"Blindside, we weren't done our set!" Flashdance yelled after him, only to be smacked about his knees. "Hey! Hey, watch it, femme!" He danced out of reach.
"Wildride's back," Thrillride hissed, one hand still raised in case Flashdance needed another smack.
Drawn like a magnet through the corridors, Blindside let his spark drag him in the right direction. He wasn't taken far, just into the main arena where he came skidding to a desperate halt as a familiar alt mode skidded to a mirrored halt in front of him. They transformed simultaneously, only to find that they were frozen to the spot.
Wildride opened his mouthplates a few times, searching for words. Only a low whine of frustration came out. He had too many things to say to his mate, and no idea where to begin.
Blindside laid his hand to his chassis, over his spark. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. "I never should have said what I said," he stated firmly. Solemnly apologetic even as his frame trembled minutely.
Wildride started, optics wide. "Wait, no-."
Blindside flapped his hand, demanding to finish. "Wildride, what I said about sparkbonding to you being a mistake- it was a horrible thing to say. I didn't mean it. I wish I could take it back." He closed his optics, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."
"No, no, no, you got it wrong." Spurred to movement, Wildride dashed across the arena to wrap his arms around his mate, tight and possessive. "Don't apologize, love. I was an aft- a big aft."
"Yes, you were," Blindside pouted stubbornly.
Wildride sighed. "I had no right to get so mad at you and say some of the things I said." He rubbed his faceplate against his mate's, taking in every detail that he had missed throughout the orn. "You were right. I was blowing everything out of proportion. I'm the one who should be sorry. I let my temper get the best of me."
A small, rueful laugh drifted from Blindside as he revelled in the closeness of his mate. He pressed into the warmth of Wildride's frame, listening to the deep, fluid candescence of his voice. "You do that from time to time." He didn't bother to disguise the intended barb in the statement. Wildride accordingly flinched, nodding.
"I know, I know…" He took a wavering drag of air in through his intakes, savouring the scent of his sparkmate in the air- warm metal, the distinct sweetness of the energy of his spark. Primus, there was nothing better on the planet than Blindside's sweet little spark. "I'm so, so, so damn sorry."
"We'll both be sorry, then," Blindside sighed quietly, nuzzling his head beneath his mate's chin. "We both said things that shouldn't have been said."
"Primus, we're a sorry pair," Wildride groaned, rocking gently, his arms tightening around his mate with no intention of letting go.
"Maybe, but that's okay."
Wildride tiltedhis head back to quirk an optic ridge. "It's okay?"
"Yeah, because I love you anyways." Blindside shuttered his optics, wanting nothing more than to burrow into Wildride's frame and never some out. It had been pit all orn trying to concentrate without him. Training had seemed to wrong without the usual flash of fireworks paint zipping around the room. The coliseum had felt so much less alive without Wildride's vivid spark brightening the halls. Even a few joors absence had been horrible, especially with the fight resting heavy on their sparks.
Wildride grinned a handsome smile, using his hands to frame Blindside's faceplate. "I love you too. You know I love you, more than anything. The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you." His faceplate dipped down, pressing forehead to forehead with Blindside. His hands trembled with the strength of the emotion taking him. His spark actually hurt as it pulsed hotly in its case. "Primus, I love you so much it hurts."
Gentle hands hooked determinedly into Wildride's front, keeping him securely against Blindside. He hummed gently, nodding as he listened to his mate speak. Even if he wanted to be stubborn, even if he didn't want to believe a word coming from the mech's vocalizer, he didn't have that option; he knew everything he needed to know from the mech's spark, knew it inside and out, and there was no denying the depth and breadth and power of Wildride's love.
"I still don't like the idea of Sunstreaker being reprogrammed, though," Wildride murmured.
Blindside nodded slowly. "We'll figure something out, I swear. I was too hasty in suggesting it, especially knowing your feelings. He doesn't have to be reprogrammed. We can figure something else out."
"Thank you," the mech sighed, the last of the tension in his frame easing out.
The shooting start-painted mech hummed again, blowing a gentle jet of warm air up and over Wildride's faceplate. A fuzzy warmth of contentment flooded them. They weren't angry anymore. They weren't even tense with each other. There was just a sense of deep, abiding love.
"I missed you all orn," Blindside admitted softly.
"You knew I'd come back," Wildride chuckled, now weaving his arms around his mate, stroking long fingers beneath the metal, over tingling circuits.
"Didn't stop me from missing you," Blindside breath, his voice dropping even lower. "The coliseum wasn't homw without you." The heat between them grew, laced with a playfulness that they knew well. He couldn't help but smile when he heard and felt the unmistakable shifting and reforming of Wildride's back, the familiar growl of his jetpack powering up.
"How about we get reacquainted, then?" he suggested lowly, optics glowing impishly. The eager jolt he felt pulse through Blindside was answer enough. The hands that delved into the seams where his back transformed into the jetpack, playing with sensitive wires there, was definitely a bonus.
Arms locked tight around each other, they took to the air, heading for a secluded launching pad in order to get reacquainted with each other.
"So, do you think they said sorry to each other yet?" Sideswipe queried as he paced the floor of their room.
Sunstreaker lolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe."
Sideswipe stomped a foot in frustration. "What kind of answer is that?"
With a sigh, Sunstreaker tipped his head back until he could stare at his brother upside down from the berth. "The kind of answer you get when I don't know the answer."
Frustrated, the red sparkling made a rude noise and started pacing again.
"Come up here and recharge with me," Sunstreaker invited, patting the berth.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I want to know what's happening!" Sideswipe whined. "Don't you want to know?"
"Not really. I'm not going to fight anymore, so they can't reprogram me, so there's nothing to fight about. They're probably just doing what sparkmates do after a fight, whatever that is."
Sideswipe waved his arms. "But they don't know that you're not going to fight anymore! And both of them can be so dumb sometimes! They could be going at each other really bad by now."
Sunstreaker suddenly sat up. "Oh, you're right."
"Don't you wanna make sure they're not getting into another fight over nothing?" Sideswipe pleaded.
"Um…" The brown sparkling started inching to the edge of the berth, hopping to the floor. "I guess it couldn't hurt if we checked…"
Sideswipe rushed for his brother's pincer, gripping it tight. "All right, just a peek, and then we'll be right back. Promise."
It wasn't that late for the rest of the occupants of the coliseum, so the lights were all still on, bots still mingling in the corridors. The twins had to be extra-sneaky to get past everyone without being caught. It wasn't that they would get in trouble, but there was the chance that someone would pick them up and try to put them back in recharge. Besides, it was a lot more fun running through the halls pretending that they were on a super-awesome mission from the Prime and couldn't get caught by the 'enemy'.
"Wait!" Sunstreaker hissed as they scooted along the wall. "Wait, wait, wait, wait-." His head swiveled about, searching blindly down the empty hall.
"What is it?" Sideswipe asked warily, scouring his spark resonance scanner in case someone was coming near.
"I thought I caught Blindside and Wildride's signatures on my scanner for a second," Sunstreaker informed. He stepped one way, and then the other, trying to pick it up again. "Something was weird about them."
"Weird how-?" Sideswipe bolted straight as he picked up the same signature. "Never mind."
"It's like they're the same now, isn't it?" Sunstreaker pressed, squirreling in the right direction now that they were sure they had their Creators' spark signatures. "Same but different."
Sideswipe nodded, faceplate scrunched in concentration as he tried to read the data he was getting. "Like us, I think," he said warily. "Like how we only have one signature between us when we're too close."
"Yeah, like that!"
They stopped just beyond the main hall that led into the arena, looking to each other for confirmation. The unusual spark signatures were definitely coming from down that hall. As quiet as they could, they crept through the shadows with their hands shielding their optics so that the glow didn't attract attention. Coming into the fully lit arena, they were disappointed to find it empty.
"Are we in the right place?" Sideswipe wondered confusedly.
"We should be." Sunstreaker peered around, across the floor, up the isles, down the seats, seeing no one. A flash of blue caught his optic, making him squint upward into the rafters. Another flash of blue broke the gloom, followed by a breathy groan. It sounded like Blindside. "Up there," he murmured, pointing to the right platform.
"What are they doing?" Sideswipe hissed, staring incredulously as their Creators rolled to the edge of a platform. Wildride was on top, pinning Blindside down. They looked like they were fighting, or wrestling. They twisted against each other, writhing. The noises they were making sounded like they were in pain. "Sh-should we do something?" the red sparkling asked worriedly.
Sunstreaker grabbed his brother's hand before the other could run off. "Wait. I don't think they're hurting each other…"
Wildride suddenly reared back, his guttural growl rolling through the rafters like thunder. To the twins' absolute shock, his chassis split open. Blindside's hissed open as well. The lightning that arced between their frames was bright, blinding even. A strange sense rose inside the twins as they bore witness to this bizarre wrestling match. It was a prickling, awed awareness tickling their senses. Whatever was happening was important. Intimate. Neither sparkling had ever seen a spark before; it was some kind of unwritten, unspoken thing they had picked up that a bot didn't show their spark to just anybody. Their own sparkcases hadn't even been opened since their sparks had first been put in them, except for when Ratchet thought it smart to inspect them. Both were completely unprepared for what happened next...
Blindside laughed, arching his frame, and then grabbed Wildride's frame and dragged them both down to the platform. Their chests sealed. Both mechs groaned, loud enough to echo off the rafters. Ribbons of light danced around every surface. It looked like magic.
"I think we should go now," Sunstreaker said lowly, knowing that he and his brother were witnessing something very intimate between their Creators.
Sideswipe appeared transfixed to the sight, mouthplates gaping slightly.
"Sides? Sides, hey, we should go." When Sideswipe didn't respond to Sunstreaker's voice, or even the nudge to his arm, Sunstreaker jolted him with an astral-poke to the spark.
"Huh? Wha-? What?"
Sunstreaker tugged his brother in the right direction. "Let's go, half-bit."
"Oh, right…" Creeping close to each other, Sideswipe squeezed his brother's pincer. "You think they made up?" he asked curiously.
Sunstreaker hummed pensively, glancing back only to be blinded by the brightest flash of blue-lightning yet. For some reason, it made him smile. "Yeah, I think they made up."