FINDING HOME
CHAPTER 7
BY VOODOO QUEEN
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, Dear Readers! Have I told you today how amazing you are? No? Well, let's fix that right now. You're amazing and I hope you're having a fabulous day! This chapter, I thought it would be nice to take a peek inside Sunny's head. So, this is mostly what you'll find here. He's pretty dead set against the whole situation, so maybe we'll get to see his reasoning and maybe figure him out a little bit. Sorry if it isn't too exciting but I think our shiny, yellow mech is a bit deeper than people give him credit for. Don't you agree? Thank you to all the wonderful people who've added this story to their alerts and faves. You rock and I'm happy you're enjoying the story! Extra special love to those who've taken time to review: Autobot-Bre-Lightblast, Alice Gone Madd, Edges05, Mywinx14, Adelphe24, CheshirePierrot, ShadowTomes. Your awesomeness knows no bounds and your words keep me inspired and writing!
WARNING: Contains vague references to twin interfacing. Not slash! Eww! They're brother, you sickos! LOL!
This chapter was updated on 10/23/2021 to correct spelling, grammar, flow, and other things my editing software missed.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TRANSFORMERS, JUST MY OWN ORIGINAL CHARACTERS AND PLOT.
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Sunstreaker was bored and more than a little irritated. It was a dangerous state of being for a mech of his volatile disposition to be in on even the best of days. Further compounding his predicament was the fact that he and his brother had been forcibly separated by the powers that be as an additional form of penance for nearly smashing the new recruits in the hangar a couple days prior. He hadn't seen the big deal as no one had been hurt, but apparently two cycles in the brig hadn't been enough to satisfy the brass. So, while Sideswipe was out patrolling under the watchful optics of the Autobots' SIC, Sunstreaker had found himself at the mercy of the resident Weapon Specialist. It was, in his opinion, a rather cruel and unusual form of punishment.
Ironhide, of course, had been delighted to finally get his hands on the front liner. Ironhide had called it "combat drills", but Sunstreaker knew it was just an excuse for the mech to try to beat the slag out of him without the worry of consequences or repercussions. Try was the operative word, however. Sunny's mouth curled up in a self-satisfied smirk. Hide may have had a size and strength advantage, but it sometimes seemed as though the other Autobots forgot that he and Sides had paid their dues in the Gladiator Pits.
Sunstreaker had been one of the best, he certainly wasn't above fighting dirty, and had brought down mechs three and four times his size before the roaring masses in the stands. Each victory, however, had been bittersweet. His and Sides' time spent in the fighting rings wasn't something he dwelled on too often. It had been an arrangement of necessity more than choice, the last resort of the desperate.
Sunstreaker was in no mood to contemplate his violent past. He had other, more pressing matters on his processor at the moment and Ironhide's impromptu "training session" had come to an abrupt end once Sunstreaker had been able to move in close enough to the other mech in order disable his shoulder making his right arm completely useless. Ironhide had been enraged to say the very least and Sunstreaker was certain there would be some additional punishment coming his way for causing the injury, most likely in the form of an irate CMO. After some pointless flailing and swearing up a storm, Ironhide had eventually retreated to the med bay for repairs leaving Sunstreaker to his own devices once again.
It wasn't to say Sunstreaker had escaped the episode dent-free. Ironhide had certainly got in his share of the punches. Sunstreaker's normally pristine yellow armor was dirty, scratched and scuffed, much to his disgust and displeasure. He'd only just buffed out his armor this morning after spending two cycles locked in a cell devoid of any wax or polish which was a form of torture in his optics. Some of the others, scratch that, most of the others viewed him as self-centered and vain due to his preoccupation with his appearance. They couldn't even possibly begin to comprehend the reasoning behind his seeming obsession. He certainly wasn't going to pour his spark out to them. Let them think whatever they wanted. He didn't care. He didn't owe any of them a damn thing and their opinion meant nothing to him, anyway. The only person who really mattered was Sideswipe and he understood perfectly, having his own coping mechanisms and idiosyncrasies, and allowed him his indulgence with no questions asked and a minimal amount of teasing.
Sideswipe.
The thought of his twin caused a growl to rumble out of his vocal processor. The sound sent the few humans in his vicinity scrambling to put distance between themselves and the mech. That made him grin. At least the oily, little meat bags were finally learning to stay out of his way. His pleased look faded as soon as he turned the corner into the hallway that led to the berth room he and his brother shared. He didn't know what in the Pit to do about the situation Sideswipe has gotten them into.
Sides had always been the optimistic one of the two and no amount of violent threats or logical reasoning would sway the mech or open his optics to the imminent disaster he had them hurtling towards. The fact that the entire situation was completely ridiculous to start with didn't even seem to faze him. It didn't even seem to concern Sides in the slightest that the third party in the scenario was, more likely than not, completely clueless to the mess she'd inadvertently stumbled into. No, Sideswipe believed they could make her see reason if they could just sit down and have a simple conversation with her. As if that would ever happen.
Venting in exasperation, Sunstreaker pushed his way into the berth room and made a beeline for the shelf that held his personal cleaning supplies. He gathered what he needed to buff and polish away the evidence of his tussle with Ironhide, settled himself down on his berth, and began the cathartic process of shining his armor. As he worked, he found himself thinking of how much easier life would have been if he and Sides weren't split-sparked twins. He didn't feel guilty for the thought. He knew his brother had shared the same thoughts on more than one occasion throughout their lives, typically when they didn't see eye-to-eye on something of major importance. The idea that they could each lead their own lives, untethered from the actions of the other, without the burden of being treated like some sort of novelty by those around them was greatly appealing at times. It certainly would have been a blessing in their current predicament.
He couldn't imagine a life without Sideswipe, though. If they didn't have each other, well, that was something he didn't even want to fathom. His brother was his life and his main reason for dragging himself out of his berth in the morning. The two of them had walked through the Pit and back together and had lived, thus far, to tell about it. Growing up on the mean, dirty streets of Kaon from a young age, alone and creatorless, they'd managed with only each other to rely on. Sunstreaker liked to believe they were all the stronger for it. They had forged an unbreakable, unshakable bond that went far beyond the spark they shared. He did understand his twin's desire for something more, however, something beyond only the two of them. At one point he was sure he'd also shared those same sentiments, but time and numerous disappointments had long since extinguished any thoughts along those lines he may have once harbored.
Sunstreaker was a realist.
On Cybertron, true twins were a rarity with curiosity being the prevailing emotion where they were concerned. This held true in most aspects of their existence. It was no secret to anyone that twins were a package deal in every sense of the word. Where one went, the other had little choice other than to follow. It was this bit of knowledge that piqued others' interest, particularly femmes who were fascinated by the prospect of what was commonly referred to as 'The Twin Experience'. Most were simply seeking a quick thrill or hoping for a steamy story to share with their friends after the fact. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, not surprisingly, had often found themselves entertaining a femme for a night or two, but seldom any longer than that. While it appeared the two of them were good enough to interface with, they apparently weren't good enough for anything beyond that. After an exciting evening and an incredible overload, most femmes were crawling out of their berth and back to wherever they came from before the morning broke, never to be seen or heard from again.
Sideswipe never failed to be disappointed when nothing came of their exploits but, honestly, Sunstreaker couldn't blame them. Unlike his brother who was still hung up on some delusional sparklinghood fantasy that they'd one day have a happy, little family of their own, Sunstreaker could readily admit that if he found himself in the same situation he'd cut and run, too. It took a lot of hard work and sacrifice to maintain a healthy relationship with just one other person. It shouldn't have been surprising that the prospect of tying one's self to two completely different individuals with such vastly different personalities, interests, and demeanors was enough to give any reasonable femme pause. Their stark differences meant one of them always ended up being favored over the other and it could never work that way with them. The femmes either fell for Sides' warm, romantic disposition and viewed Sunstreaker as being much too cold and aloof, or they got a thrill out of Sunny's more dominate nature and found Sideswipe to be too soft and gentle for their tastes.
Sunstreaker had long since given up on the notion of them ever finding someone they both cared about who could care about them both, equally, in return. It wasn't as if they even had anything substantial to offer a femme outside of themselves. They had barely had two credits to rub together between the two of them. They had lived in an old, crumbling residential block with few prospects for anything better. As they'd been told on more than one occasion, they simply weren't sparkmate material. They weren't really able to disagree and if experience hadn't been enough to turn him off the idea, the war certainly had done the trick. Their continued survival trumped any thoughts of finding companionship in every way. Dismantling Decepticons had proved to be an excellent distraction and provided a fantastic outlet for pent up feelings and frustrations. Sunstreaker had believed they'd had a good routine going. Then, they'd come to Earth and Sideswipe had gone off and lost his mind.
The mech snorted in distaste as he finished polishing himself and returned his supplies to the shelf. He wasn't sure what to do with himself now, but he had no desire to stick around his room waiting for Ironhide or, even worse, Ratchet to come looking for him to exact some sort of retribution. Sparring hadn't been his idea, but it wouldn't matter. He'd be the one that was punished. Giving himself one final inspection to ensure his armor was back to its normal glossy sheen, he exited his and Sideswipe's quarters and made his way outside into the hot afternoon sun. He strolled leisurely between the buildings, simply wasting time until his brother returned from patrol with Prowl, sending humans running for cover, and let his thoughts wander.
He thought of Earth and how, though the artist in him found it aesthetically pleasing at times, it was a filthy place. Literally, the planet was constructed out of dirt and rock. Even the name 'Earth' meant dirt. He absolutely despised the grainy particulate matter that covered the ground and inevitably kicked up in small clouds beneath his feet, marring his yellow armor with a grimy film every time he ventured off the paved areas. Its main inhabitants, the humans, weren't much better in his opinion. They were greasy, their skin constantly oozing lubricant and salty coolant from millions of tiny pores all over their bodies, leaving oily smudges on everything they touched. He couldn't comprehend how some of the other Autobots delighted in interacting with them, touching them, letting themselves be touched and, Primus forbid, letting them ride inside their alt modes. The very idea made Sunstreaker shudder in revulsion.
That thought, naturally, brought him back around to contemplating his own unfortunate set of circumstances. Sides had said he and the human femme had "zapped" one another when they'd touched, whatever that meant. He didn't want to contemplate the reason why his brother had been in a position in the first place to have physical contact with said femme. All he knew for certain was that whatever his idiot brother had done to himself was bleeding through their bond and causing him an acute feeling of not-quite-discomfort. At the first curiously warm tingle, he'd been intrigued, wondering what Sides could have possibly been doing to elicit such an odd, if not pleasant, sensation. When his brother had finally burst through their door, rambling on excitedly about Epps and some human femme who'd groped his fender he'd nearly lost it. He'd been pissed, disgusted even, but also the smallest bit curious.
He wasn't sure what possessed him to want to see the squishie for himself. He'd told his brother he simply wanted to prove how absurd he was being, believing there was some mystical connection with an organic. There was no way, he'd insisted, that a tiny human female could cause this kind of reaction in a mech, let alone a pair of them. Something else had to be at work in the situation. Logically, they were incompatible in every way and, despite the warm fuzzy feeling bleeding through the bond he shared with his brother and causing his spark to quicken its pulse, Sunstreaker insisted on the impossibility of such a thing being able to occur. So, he'd found himself in his vehicle form, parked across the lot from the humans' barracks, Sideswipe chatting excitedly in his audio, waiting for a glimpse of the mysterious femme his brother was so fascinated by, and hellbent on proving him wrong so they could both move on with their lives.
He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but he certainly hadn't been prepared for the petite blond woman that had eventually emerged from the barracks or the effect she'd have on him. He found that he couldn't take his optics off her. The warm sensation lodged behind his chest plates had expanded pleasantly and, though his wheels remained immobile, he felt compelled to move closer to the source of this unusual feeling. His brother's giddy excitement was bleeding through their connection and causing his own spark to pulse faster in response. He realized with dawning horror that neither he nor Sides had ever felt this drawn to a femme before. Attracted, yes, but never so...wanting. This was not good. Anger welled up inside of him, tempering any good feelings he might have had. He had the sudden urge to transform right then and there and throttle his twin for putting him in this kind of position. That thought was put on pause, however, when he noticed the second human.
Sunstreaker clenched his fists in anger as he stomped his way across the base complex. His relaxing stroll was proving to be anything but and his thoughts kept coming unbidden. He again cursed his brother for putting him in this situation he never wanted to be in. That day he'd been too focused on the femme at first to pay the man with her much attention. Once he'd gotten over his initial shock, he'd became hyperaware of just how close he stood to the woman, subtly touching her during their conversation as they walked together. They laughed. She smiled. Jealousy was not an emotion Sunstreaker had felt often, but at that moment his vision was clouded with it. Sideswipe must have misinterpreted his confused sense of anger as being directed toward the situation itself as he tried desperately to talk him back down before he did something they'd both regret. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to throw his alt form into reverse and peel out of the lot.
The hangar incident hadn't been much better. He had been hyper aware of her the second she'd stepped inside. Normally of the opinion that all humans looked alike, it alarmed him how easily he was able to pick her out of a crowd. He'd never say she was attractive, not out loud and certainly not within earshot of his twin, but there was a certain aura about her that he found strangely appealing that the other humans seemed to lack. He knew Sideswipe had noticed it as well and was busy watching her with rapt attention. It hadn't escaped Sunstreaker's notice, however, the very same human male from earlier had been busy whispering in her ear. He hadn't been able to contain the growl that rumbled from his vocalizer as that same jealous feeling throbbed within him. He'd spent most of the entire briefing, right up to the point he and Sideswipe had gotten into it, studiously ignoring the woman and her male companion for fear of acting out on his violent impulses. It hadn't seemed to make any difference in the end, though.
Sunstreaker suddenly snapped out of his dark thoughts and was a bit surprised to see that his aimless wandering had brought him to the very edge of the military base and that he could go no farther. A high, razor wire fence separated the base proper from the rest of the island. From where he stood, he had an excellent view of the surrounding ocean and he paused for a moment to take it all in. It would have made a beautiful painting, he absently thought, had he the time and inspiration to engage in such an activity. His fingers twitched, imagining the slight weight of a paintbrush gripped between them. He realized that he missed it, the feeling of creativity. He was much more familiar with the feel of a pulse rifle in his hands these days. It was a somber realization. When was the last time he'd done anything even remotely artistic? When he'd created something instead of destroyed it? He couldn't even remember but was certain it had to have been prior to the war breaking out and Primus knows that had been going on for much, much too long.
Venting in weariness, he took one last long look at the churning waves before pivoting on his heel and heading back in the direction he'd came. On a whim, he decided to make his way to the designated rec building and grab some energon, figuring he didn't have anything better to do until Sideswipe returned. Altering his course, he cut between two of the smaller buildings that housed radar equipment. As he rounded the corner of one of the buildings, he happened to overhear a conversation between a group of men, one being the man who seemed so interested in his and Sides unwitting femme. Normally, he wouldn't have given them much thought and kept right on moving, but he'd already decided that he disliked this human more than the others. So, he stopped in his tracks, unmoving and listening, feeling his mood darken dangerously with every word uttered.
"So, ya'll like it here, right?" Monroe asked. "I mean, I've only been here a few days. I'm still trying to figure out what I've got myself into."
"Yeah," another man agreed. "It's alright. I've been stationed worse places, trust me. Support staff here has it made, dude."
"It's definitely better than sitting in a tent out in the middle of the desert," a third man chimed in. "You know what would make it even better, though?"
"What's that?" the second man asked curiously.
"Some fine ass bitches to spend a little quality time with, if ya know what I mean..." The man made a lewd gesture and the two other men burst out laughing.
"I know that's right," the second man agreed before turning his attention to Monroe. "Ay, speaking of which, what about that chick you're always wandering around here with, bro? I see you chatting her up in the chow hall every night. What's the story there? She's fine as hell."
"Fuck, yeah," the third man agreed. "I'd be smashing the hell out of that, son."
"OS2 Doe?" Monroe asked with a grin. "She's cool, you know?" After a moment, the man chuckled. "Not gonna lie, though. If the opportunity presented itself, you'd best believe I'd be all up in there in a heartbeat." At the sailor's declaration the other two men erupted into laughter and whoops of encouragement.
Sunstreaker's denta ground together and he felt a wave of possessiveness wash over him. Without any rational thought as to what he was doing, he stormed around the corner of the building. Monroe's two companions seemed to recognize the danger right away and fled the scene amid exclamations of 'fuck, dude' and 'shit, bro'. Monroe, however, wasn't as wise to the yellow warrior's reputation on base and remained frozen where he stood wearing a look that appeared to be a cross between confusion and terror on his face. A low growl rumbled up from deep within the mech's chassis, the sound causing the man to take a couple cowering steps backward.
"H-hey, man," Monroe stuttered. "Uh, c-can I help you with something...Sir?"
"What did you say?" Sunstreaker's voice was deep and dark, promising very bad things if he didn't get an answer that he liked.
Monroe's eyes widened in fear, "I-I didn't say anything. I don't know what you're talking about..."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, fleshie," Sunstreaker hissed as he leaned in close to the man, his optics narrowed into slits, his chest plates heaving, each ventilation sending a wave of stifling hot air into the human's pale, sweaty face. He glared down upon the trembling man and demanded once again, "What the frag did you just say about her?"
END OF CHAPTER 7
TO BE CONTINUED...
