Here's a little chapter to tide all of us through finals. I just have to survive until Saturday, I just have to survive until Saturday, I just have to survive until Saturday…

I'll keep telling myself that. Responses later when I'm not dying of termpaperitis.

Meanwhile, I still love my Transformers and don't own my reviewers… or was that 'I still love my reviewers and don't own Transformers...?'

When Misfortune Sleeps

When Sideswipe came to, it was to a sound he'd honestly never thought he would hear ever again since the Autobots divided themselves throughout space. It was rhythmic and, to his audios at least, comforting. He always seemed to be looking forward to it, with its impressive frequency range and intellectually stimulating creativity. He found himself attached to no one and nothing besides his brother and this sound, declaring only to himself that wherever both could be found, he would be home. It reminded him of what it meant to be alive. Finding himself once again subjected to the familiar crescendo, his face split into a manic grin even before his optics came online.

This has got to be the best sound in the universe.

"-and mind you the only reason I didn't leave you that way until the Pit overflows is because you slag-sucking glitch-heads have gotten yourselves into some nonsense Prime thinks he needs to know about! Frag me for wasting my precious time repairing your trouble-chromed bearings over and over! I really must be glitching something awful- yes, that would explain it; best get my sanity algorithms checked out. But if you ever do anything as completely fragged as engaging a battle cruiser alone- no, if you ever do anything ever again, yes, I like that- if you even so much as twitch in the direction of a Decepticon- no, anything dangerous, Wheeljack and small sparklings included- SO HELP ME PRIMUS I WILL WELD YOU BOTH TO THE AFT OF THE DESTROYER HIMSELF! BY YOUR FACES!"

Ah, the sweet lullaby of home.

The continuous barrage of Hatcheting might have been enough to lull him back into recharge if it weren't for the yellow elbow planted firmly in his aching midsection.

"Wake up, slag-face. Ratchet's got his sockets in a lock."

"You mean we really are alive? Awesome! Let's ditch this place and partay!" A wrench clanged off his cranial armor, "Hey Ratch, you must be down on your game. Too rusty to just throw 'em anymore?" he grinned cheekily at the scowling medic.

"No, but my supplies are limited and this will have to do to beat some sense into your lousy processors for now. And there will be no partying for you or your brother. You're too badly damaged. And besides," the medic's scowl twisted into something disturbingly like a satisfied sneer, "the other senior staff and I confiscated your stash. Into our fuel tanks!" And at the looks he received he burst into evil laughter.

"Noooooooooo! You monster! How could you???" Sideswipe screamed in horror, barely aware of his brother growling and cursing angrily, disappointed to find his motor functions still limited. And then it occurred to him.

And he froze. "By senior staff you mean…"

Ratchet frowned at the red twin, worried at the uncharacteristic worry and seriousness that pinched the warrior's faceplates as he struggled to sit up. "Jazz, Ironhide, Prowl, and myself, why? And you shouldn't move yet. Primus knows your armor will fall off if you put too much stress on it right now."

Sunstreaker stopped and stared a his twin and muttered, "Frag. All of it?" His optics started roaming the room, searching for Ratchet knew not what.

"Every last cube. What are you two up to?" The lack of screaming and flailing had drained all of the amusement out of the medic and the tall mech who had at some point appeared behind him, making himself known with a- …what was that sound anyway?- in the doorway. Sounded like a handful of hard mineral aggregate in a turbine.

Just as Sideswipe flopped back down on his back with a groan of irritation, his brother exclaimed, "Sides, that's it! The fragging thing is right over there!"

Following the twitch of Sunstreaker's head, he made an inglorious roll to flop onto the floor and worm his way over to the sealed medical cube sitting innocently in the corner with several of its fellows. This one was slightly more battered and bore no insignia, where the others all boasted the Decepticon mark. Otherwise they were identical.

Despite the medic's protests and those of his healing upper body- he could feel the welded seams cracking as he floundered around the other table- he refused to stop. Triumphantly propping himself against the wall, he grabbed the cube and, ignoring an angry squawk from Ratchet, he applied all the strength of his massive hands to tear the top clean off. A tiny alarm sounded and petered off in despair, shooting a few farewell sparks as the red mech rummaged through its contents.

Soon cubes of weakly glowing medical energon littered the floor, and Sideswipe crowed in triumph, "AHA! Got you, you crazy little fragger. I knew something as awesome as you wouldn't end up in the hands of rusty old wrecks like them. You're gonna go to a good home and have lots of fun and maybe he'll share a little-"

Optimus bent down to speak quietly in Ratchet's audio. "Is he… talking to the energon?"

All the medic could do was nod and stand numbly to watch as his commander skirted around his immobile form to loom over the babbling mech.

"Sides!" the yellow twin barked.

"Huh?" He looked up and found Optimus Prime bending over him looking concerned, "Oh." Stroking whatever he was holding a few times before sighing and offering it to the mech above him, he sadly scooted away. The sound of his armor scraping the floor and the large metal table as he flopped back onto it were the only sounds in the room.

Optimus held the cube in his hand and rotate it slowly as he intently examined it. It was of standard size and clearly contained energon, but its bright radiance cast little rainbows all about the room. It obviously wasn't the even blue glow of medical-grade energon.

The silent mech broke out of his stunned state, "This is…" he turned inquiring but hesitant optics on the two pairs looking up at him. Sideswipe was thoroughly transfixed by the brilliant colors of the little cube, but Sunstreaker's bold gaze met his. Yellow shoulders twitched in a nonchalant shrug.

"He just said to tell you not to drink it alone."

8888888888888888888888

Oooooookay, I just wanted to get some twins fun in, but I guess my plot jumped in there a little anyway. There will be fun when I get some seriousness out of the way.

The saying goes "When misfortune sleeps, let no one wake her." And also let no one wake Locomotor, that Christmas train that goes round and round in the middle of the mall carrying small children through cotton snow. He's really disgruntled about the nature of his work.

See you when I find my way out of my pile of books and papers…