Playing the Game
Sideswipe kicked his heels like a misbehaving schoolboy as he waited outside Prime's office, his twin seated beside him.
"Why do you think Prime called us here?" Sunstreaker asked, his tone mildly accusatory.
"Don't look at me, I haven't done anything for a week." Sideswipe protested. "You sure you haven't stood on a Minibot or something?"
Sunstreaker scowled. "I think I would have noticed." He replied somewhat irritably.
A rather liberally mud splattered Jazz strode around the corner before Sideswipe could concoct a suitably cheeky reply. "Hey guys, y' got called here too?" he asked curiously.
"Yup. Dunno why though." Sunstreaker answered. "Do you?"
"Not a clue." Jazz said, collapsing into the last chair with an exhausted groan. "Man, this has been one looooong day. I never knew th' trails could be like that 'round this time o' year. Th' mud got so bad that Blue' an' me had t' transform an' hoof it. "
"What route didja get?" Sideswipe queried.
"Hound's favorite, route six." Jazz grimaced, trying to shake some clay out of the wheel wells in his feet.
"My sympathies." The red twin smirked. "But as they say, better you than me."
"Har har, very funny." Jazz grumped.
The door to the office slid open and Prowl appeared. "Good, you're here." He said by way of greeting. "Come in."
Once inside and seated, Prowl handed a data pad to each of the trio while Optimus stood and picked up an identical pad from the stacks on his desk. "Yesterday we received a coded transmission from Ultra Magnus on Cybertron." Prime began. "One of his agents discovered a secret Decepticon weapons research facility in the remains of Kalis-Con. They have requested additional help in bringing it down."
"I'm guessin' this is where we come in?" Jazz queried.
"The three of you will be leaving for Alithex tomorrow, where the command hub is currently stationed." Prowl confirmed. "Further details are contained on your data pads. Secrecy is to be maintained at all times, so please memorise your orders before leaving this room. Until 1700 hours tomorrow you are all on leave, upon which time you are to report to the repair bay for a full pre-mission physical followed by a final briefing."
Jazz, familiar with the routine, scanned through the data within a couple of minutes while the twins took a bit longer. They were duly dismissed and left.
"So…now what?" Sideswipe asked.
"We take a bit o' time t' unwind." Jazz shrugged. "Just don't do anythin' stupid, 'k? I doubt the Ratch-man wants t' have t' reassemble ya b'fore th' mission."
0o0o0
Sideswipe was feeling distinctly uneasy as they lifted off the next day, and he knew Sunstreaker was as well. This was not at all what they were used to. They were warriors, not Special Ops. Their kind of game was more along the lines of a simple 'go here and shoot that', not the intricate rules that Jazz was expected to play by. Sideswipe fidgeted slightly, chewing his bottom lip anxiously as he stared out the porthole.
Characterised by short attention spans and high energy output, the twins were mechs of action, but also of routine. As improbable as it sounded, they liked routine and order, to know that there were certain constants in life. Routine meant familiar, familiar meant security and security gave them the confidence to pull off the crazy battlefield stunts they were famed for. This grey cloak and dagger world that Jazz, Bumblebee and Mirage inhabited was definitely outside of their comfort zone.
The yellow twin silently reached out and touched Sideswipe's back, gently brushing his fingers across the red shoulders in a soothing manner. Jazz had dozed off almost immediately after Omega Supreme took off, so there was no worry about Sunstreaker's 'tough mech' image being damaged by the unusually tender gesture. Sideswipe returned the action, being as equally careful to not scuff his brother's gloss as Sunstreaker had been.
"Be careful, okay?" Sunstreaker asked quietly.
"Only if you are." Sideswipe replied, his trademark grin lacking its usual vibrancy. "Deal?"
"Deal."