The Sunny Sides of Blue
Request from Morrigayn DeWyvern, Special thanks to SunnySidesofBlue for allowing me to incorporate user name with a story. It fit perfectly! Thank you!
{{-}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}}{{-}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}}{{-}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}}
Sunstreaker stared at the wide, round optics of the sparkling. It was small, much smaller than what he believed them to be. The optics were a bright, but dark blue, making the little one's optics seem as an ocean. Sunstreaker had visited a few organic worlds in his travels. This youngling's optics was the same color as the ocean. Deep, enchanting, and always in motion. Its face was oval and symmetrical, earning Sunstreaker's approval of its frame design. The creators knew how to build. Course if they didn't the little one would have ended up as scrap before being found by rescue crews. The little thing was the sole survivor of a major metropolis. And it was barely sparked.
He. Ratchet confirmed. Mechling.
Sunstreaker looked over the tiny frame again, noting how the little one watched him just as intently. The two adversaries stared, watching the other as if waiting for the next transgression. Since the main city was destroyed, sparkling records were lost. A few 'pacifists', and Sunstreaker felt his engine thrum in anger at the title, were scouring files in search of youngling's designation. Even though their city had been destroyed, the neutral Praxians still refused to help excavate the bodies of their fallen and assist the rescue teams with searching for survivors. They wanted no part of the war. The extent of their involvement would be in identifying bodies, or in this rare case, the sole surviving sparkling from the main city hub. When designations were complete, the neutral Praxians would seek asylum in one of the colonies, refusing to assist the Autobots in fighting against the Decepticons.
Since everyone was at work trying to save what files they could and laying the dead to rest, Sunstreaker, a front line warrior who slagged off the entire command crew with his callous disregard to the destruction and verbal attack on the commanding officers, was tasked with caring for the youngling until a suitable caregiver could be found. Sunstreaker had vented and fumed, believing his talents could be put to better use searching for survivors in the neighboring suburban terrain, but Optimus Prime made it an official command.
And everyone noticed the hard edge to Prime's voice when he issued the command to a simmering Sunstreaker.
Ratchet nearly stalled out upon Prime's declaration of Sunstreaker's newly appointed station. Ratchet gave the youngling a clean bill of health and Sunstreaker, still snarling at the command element, tucked the soot colored sparkling under his arm and started carrying him toward the washracks. If Sunstreaker was going to be caught seen with the sparkling, the least he could do was polish him up to look almost as perfect as Sunstreaker. Unfortunately no one told Sunstreaker that younglings didn't like to be carried as datapads or message supply containers tucked up under arms. The little one started whimpering and kicking, its small pedes striking Sunstreaker's lower back, aft, and thigh as it chirped and struggled in his grip.
A once beautiful copper building had been put into use as a barracks for the soldiers, giving them a place to wash and refuel, the upper levels used as charging quarters. Sunstreaker stormed to the makeshift base on the outskirts of town for the rescue crews to wash away the ash and energon after their shift of searching for survivors. He grabbed the wiggling sparkling and before he could position the small body to a more comfortable carrying position, the little sooty frame scrambled up Sunstreaker's chassis and tucked his small helm under Sunstreaker's chin. The youngling chirred so hard his frame vibrated.
Sunstreaker found the washracks, thankful it was empty as everyone was out with the rescue effort and resigned himself to scrubbing the filthy youngling clean. It took a moment of groping, but once the little one settled down, Sunstreaker was able to extract him from his neck, holding the youngling away from his body by one hand. The ashy mechling chirped, trying to dislodge the powerful hand holding it by the torso. Sunstreaker hit the tap, making it erupt with cleaning solvent. He held the youngling at arm's length and allowed the water to flow..
As soon as the sparkling got under the spray, he emitted panicked beeps and shrill cries of distress, his little digits digging into the seams around Sunstreaker's restraining servo. Though he was small, his panic driven digits found sensitive wires. Sunstreaker winced, determined to outlast the youngling's distress. When a few scratches appeared along his forearm, Sunstreaker growled in anger, causing the little one to bolt rigid, his frame trembling in fear.
Using the sound to his advantage, Sunstreaker turned the dirty sparkling at different angles, frowning when the ash refused to wash off. He narrowed his optics, noting that the solvent had yet to loosen the cinder. Thinking some assistance would be needed, Sunstreaker grabbed a soft bristled brush and began to whisk it across the mechling. It took several swipes to realize the youngling's plating was supposed to be grey.
Sunstreaker frowned at the very boring coloring, his gaze drifting to the miniature doorwings that sprouted from the mechling's back. The black, protective plating on the doorwings were hardened, the outer shell remaining durable and resistant to injury while the neural mesh in the doorwings matured. When the youngling was old enough, the panels would be removed, allowing him to sense the world around him on a whole new level. Right now, he was muted, his processor and body too young to translate the more complicated physical sensations that filled the outside world.
The sparkling looked to Sunstreaker, still held at arm's length, and let out a soft chirp, his little servos extending toward the large mech who hovered just beyond reach.
Not sure what possessed him, Sunstreaker brought the youngling close to his body and felt it snuggle immediately to his chest plates, centering itself over his spark beat. The grey frame trembled, little servos moving against the smooth golden armor in little feeble twitches.
And Sunstreaker wasn't sure how it happened, but his arm crooked, supporting the small body, nestling the young one close to his spark, his opposite servo ghosting along its grey helm. Tapered fingers that had rendered the most awe inspiring artistic expressionism and terminated countless mechs without hesitation, assumed the roll of soothing a youngling. Sunstreaker stood under the shower, simply staring at the small gray mechling as he sought comfort and warmth. Wide blue optics regarded the golden mech with endearing trust.
Sunstreaker turned off the shower, grabbed a thick drying cloth from a rack and wiped down the little one's plating. When he was dry, Sunstreaker grabbed the other cloth and tucked it around the youngling's frame, mindful of his cooling vents. The little one gave a few clicks, his optics beseeching the powerful frame holding him so gently.
Making sure he was alone, Sunstreaker allowed a smile, his digits tracing over the finely crafted miniature frame. He clicked back, earning a buzz of static and a frown from the youngling. The clicks turned into chirps, that escalated into frame shaking thrums, the little one becoming more and more agitated though Sunstreaker didn't understand his transgression. Thinking the little one didn't want to be held any longer, Sunstreaker sat him down on a table, the drying towel falling around the grey body and eliciting a shiver from the much smaller frame. The sparkling started to whimper, his vocalizer emitting chirring clicks as he stared with accusing optics to the one who abandoned him on a tabletop.
So now two wary combatants sized each other up. Sunstreaker not knowing what was causing the youngling such distress and the abrupt loss of companionship confused the youngling's processor. With wide, watery optics that moved as an ocean, he stared up into the golden visage so high above him. A soft beep came from the small grey body, his cries silencing in favor of a trembling frame. Neither understood what was expected of the other.
Sunstreaker was about to comm. someone to come help him when Jazz entered, carrying a small cube-like container with blue energon.
"Here," he said, handing Sunstreaker the cube. "He'll need this."
With a look to the youngling watching their exchange, Jazz departed, a smirk on his face as he had the foresight not to mention the numerous scratches on Sunstreaker's paint. The mech was not going to be happy when he realized his imperfections.
"Right, fuel," Sunstreaker said more to himself than to the youngling. The feeding cube was more 'rectangular', the pale blue shimmering like precious stones. He sat the feeding cube down in front of the youngling and nodded. "There you go. Enjoy."
The youngling looked at the glowing fuel, its optics as ever in constant motion of turbulent seas that shifted to Sunstreaker. Instead of reaching for the fuel, it opened its arms and extended to the golden mech in expectation.
"Oh no, you eat alone," Sunstreaker said, wondering what made the energon so blue. The glow made the younglings optics seem more organic than ever.
A soft click was heard, the youngling looking to the offered meal, its small servos grasping the edge, looking for purchase. It was obvious the young ones grip was no match for the size of the container.
It took several moments of fumbling before Sunstreaker realized the youngling's insufficient motor controls, and lacking strength to feed himself. Sighing with a disgusted surrender, Sunstreaker grabbed the tall rectangular container and held it up, allowing a few drops to fall from the tapered end. The youngling chirped, grasping the cool crystal container, drinking the shining blue tears as they escaped in a steady flow to his analyzers.
Sunstreaker adjusted his hold on the feeder, his optics staring distantly at the feeding youngling while his processor drifted to his twin. He wondered how Sideswipe was fairing with the removal and disposal of the deal. It would be nice, getting out of a confining room and engage in physical action that would garner results. Anything was better than sitting with a companion who couldn't talk back in the silent, suffocating walls of isolation. Anything was better than being so useless, with a sparking to look after and wasting his consider skills in cleaning up a battle zone.
Just when Sunstreaker started thinking about comming others for sparkling stating duty, and wondering if the youngling could survive in his subspace pocket for awhile if no one relieved him, the tiny servos reached up and touched his finger. Startled Sunstreaker stared at the youngling as if never seeing such a thing before. And without fear or hesitation, the small fingers grasped Sunstreaker's own, using his weak grip as an anchor to the one steadying his fuel.
He didn't know what came over him or how he even knew what he was doing, but Sunstreaker pulled the youngling against his chassis, pressing it against his spark beat and held the modified apparatus up for the youngling to feed . A soft coo was his reward as the small body nestled perfectly against his armor.
Sunstreaker ventured into another room and found a half berth. From the composition of the furniture it was made to support those with wide doorwings. Sunstreaker found the cushioning very soft and accommodating, though a little narrow for his likely. He settled onto the reclining chair, his legs stretching out along the plush surface. A couple of cushions served the purpose of further supporting those with a doorwing design. Sunstreaker thought it felt great against his back as he settled in, his young charge looking absently for his feeding bottle.
Sunstreaker adjusted the small being in his arms, laying the mechling on his back, his stunted doorwings fanned out across Sunstreaker's chest. He held the feeding bottle level for the little one and for a few moments such an arrangement worked. Then the mechling started to squirm, twisting to the side and nearly dislodging himself from his living berth. Sunstreaker's servo tried to steady the wriggling body to keep him from falling, but he was adamant with his movements.
Being flat on his back may not have been the best option on those tender doorwing hinges, so Sunstreaker allowed the little gray youngling a chance to find out what was comfortable for him. And apparently he liked to be held flush against a chassis, tucked against a body, his helm pressed over the soothing rhythm of a spark. He stared up at Sunstreaker with those unfathomable blue optics, swirling as an ocean with elemental power, and gave a chirp, confirming his desired position to be held.
Quirking an optic ridge Sunstreaker exchanged a glare with the youngling, as if contemplating the new position and finding it to be suitable, Sunstreaker relinquished. He held the feeding bottle up, the little one's optics zeroing in on the container with hunger. He began to eat, his analyzers distributing the dribbling fuel into his immature systems. Sunstreaker watched, fascinated as the little one continued to stare at him from his arms, those ever present blue optics shining over the shimmer of sparkling grade energon. The small grey servos were resting on the feeding bottle, as if to help the adult in the complicated process, but after a few minutes, the youngling's optics started to shutter and dim. His tiny servo slipped from the bottle and much to Sunstreaker's surprise, it went to his golden chest, the minute fingers clenching as if to grip the pulsing spark inside. Sunstreaker stared at the youngling's servo as it groped against his armor, the fingers brushing along the plating in tired submission. Sunstreaker cradled the mechling closer, feeling the systems shut down into charge. A soft, grateful coo escaped before slumber claimed him, his servo pressed directly over Sunstreaker's spark as if guarding his life.
Sunstreaker wasn't sure how long he sat there just staring at the sparkling held in his arms until an urgent message from Ratchet pulled him from his thoughts.
'What?' Sunstreaker snapped, more irritated that he was interrupted from his drifting thoughts.
'Bring the little one!' Ratchet barked. 'Now!'
Sunstreaker rose and darted out the door, the sparkling held close to his body. Luckily he was fast asleep and didn't wake on the trip to the emergency medical tent where Ratchet had directed Sunstreaker's step. When Sunstreaker burst through the door, the voices of the patients and rescue teams were a loud buzz. Sunstreaker looked to his charge and found him still fast asleep. Ratchet noticed the blur of gold and motioned at Sunstreaker, the expression on the medic's face telling him it was beyond imperative he join him by a berth that was occupied by a burnt Praxian.
Sunstreaker barely made it the berthside when Ratchet pointed to the small lump of gray nestled in Sunstreaker's arms and asked, "Is that him? Is that you're sparkling?"
Sunstreaker couldn't stop the startled noise that escaped when he took in the Praxian's form. One door wing was gone, the other crumpled. The left side was burned to black, wires melted against the armor. The right side sported numerous dents, punctures and scratches, the edges of the armor already graying. Much to Sunstreaker's dismay, it was a soft feminine voice that answered.
"Yezzzzz," she sputtered, her one optic trying to focus on the small bundle.
Sunstreaker was about to ask how she was able to tell, given that her senses were so far compromised, it was a wonder she could sense anything at all. But then he felt the small youngling jerk, as if in answer to her voice, and a soft, chirping warble answered her voice from the slumbering youngling.
"Bllllluuuuzzzzztreeeeeeekkkkk," she said, her voice cutting into static. She turned her broken gaze to the mech holding her sparkling safely in his arms, her melted face speaking louder than any words, but she still forced them through her frozen lip components. "Ppppproootectttttt himmmmmm…. Pleeeezzzeeee?"
Sunstreaker could only offer a muted nod, his own voice robbed from emotion overcoming his senses. Primus! Shouldn't Ratchet be doing something?
The femme offered a smile to her sleeping youngling, her systems sputtering, causing her body to jerk as power was lost. With a gasping sigh, she fell silent against the berth, her gaze still locked onto that of her child. Her final fleeting vision was her son held protectively by a mech who would honor his promise to care for her youngling as her spark gave one last flicker before extinguishing.
"Why didn't you do something?" Sunstreaker's voice was barely over a whisper.
"There was nothing I could do other than give her peace of spark knowing her youngling was still functioning," Ratchet said, turning from his patient and surveying the assorted casualties. There were a few bots rescued from the outer regions of the city. Most suffered burns and a few severed limbs, but nothing that was life threatening. Most others were terminated and with the devastation surrounding him, Ratchet felt overwhelmed and unsure of himself and his place in this chaotic world. He was out of his element in the field. He couldn't save them all, no matter how hard he tried. And that was something that he took to his berth every night, the faces of the dead staring with blank optics and accusing him of being a poor medic.
Sunstreaker looked to Ratchet and the expression the medic wore was enough to dissolve any animosity that may have been building against him for allowing the femme to pass. Ratchet was taking her death hard, and it just occurred to Sunstreaker how much the war weighed on the healer. Primus, he could give Prime a run for his credits on guilt!
"They're readying the transport now," Sunstreaker said, listening to the comm. chatter. "I should get Bluestreak back to Iacon where we can find a true caregiver for him."
Sunstreaker brushed his fingertips along Bluestreak's slumbering helm, feeling the little one's spark beat match his own. Since Sideswipe had joined the rescue efforts, Sunstreaker had been alone. Not that he would admit to such a weakness, but Sideswipe's constant presence in the bond was soothing. Irritating too. But Sideswipe had become lost in the shuffle of rescue workers and refugees and the craziness of trying to find survivors from a devastated city. When his 'tour' was finished, he had evacuated to Iacon to affect repairs and recharge his batteries. His signature had been muted for the past couple of hours.
"Don't let Wheeljack anywhere near him.' Ratchet warned and there was no humor in his optics. The past few hours were still oppressing him like a blanket. "Last time he made building blocks for younglings, when the red and yellow cubes were placed together, they caused a subfrequency harmonic that made their construction unstable. Nearly killed the younglings."
Sunstreaker gave a worried frown, suddenly imagining Bluestreak in such peril. He tightened his hold on the youngling and asked, "Who were they?"
Ratchet paused, his face twisting from disappointed pain to dark glee. "You and your twin." He snorted at the deadly combination of Wheeljack's little invention and added, "Figures. Slagging insane, the whole lot of you."
"Watch… your… language," Sunstreaker admonished with a stern voice and promptly turned and marched away, shielding the sleeping youngling from the caustic words of a deranged medic.
Sunstreaker kept to himself on the ride back to the capitol city, Bluestreak charging the entire trip. When the duo entered the quarters Sunstreaker shared with his twin, he found the room in its usual mess. Bluestreak chose that moment to wake up, and like all newly awakened younglings, he chirped a whimper, rubbing his optics.
"Welcome home, Bluestreak," Sunstreaker said, placing the grey mechling on a table and leaning over him. Bluestreak chirped at the sound of his name, his protected doorwings offering a happy flutter. "Did you charge well?"
Bluestreak warbled an electronic noise, his optics powering up and resembling the motion of the ocean.
"This place is a disaster and not safe for sparklings," Sunstreaker said, looking at the assorted junk that filled the room. Most of it was Sideswipe's. He liked to pilfer shiny things. Sunstreaker thought it was a sickness. "I'll make you a deal. I'll clean up and make it safe for you and you stay right there and be good while I work?"
Bluestreak frowned, trying to understand the adult words. He looked to his servos, the little digits opening and closing into minute fists. A quick glance to the table top and he knew there wasn't any of his usual toys here in this new place.
"So, do we have a deal?" Sunstreaker asked, holding out a datapad and eyeing the youngling.
Unable to actually speak, Bluestreak chirped, his gaze curious as it locked onto the datapad. He was interested in what the big golden mech was holding. The screen had pretty colors.
"This is a designer's pad," Sunstreaker said, placing the datapad in front of the enraptured youngling. He touched buttons as he explained, "This one changes fonts. This one changes colors. And this button brings up different design shapes as a template."
Bluestreak's optics were transfixed by the dancing screen. A soft cooing sound came from his frame as he touched the screen. The colors changed the design and with a happy chirp, Bluestreak was lost in the novelty of his new toy.
"You play and don't move," Sunstreaker ordered, though he knew the mechling wasn't paying him any attention now. He was determined to change the colors on the screen. Sunstreaker could respect that.
Bluestreak stayed mesmerized by the screen. Sunstreaker put away paint and brushes. Stored weapons and ammunition on a high shelf in a locking cabinet. Sideswipe's strange collection, half of it undetermined in origin, Sunstreaker placed in a large trunk, locking the storage device to prevent youngling inspection. Sunstreaker was almost done when the door opened, Sideswipe falling through over the threshold, a purple femme held in his arms. Both were tittering at each other, their optics unfocused by high grade.
"So, you have a big gun?" she asked, her voice soft and simpering. The way Sunstreaker hated them.
"To rival the Prime's." Sideswipe jeered, pulling the femme flush and revving his engine.
"There will be quite enough of that talk and if I see servos drift to the interface panels, they will be ripped off and thrown into the hall, regardless of owner," Sunstreaker growled in warning, his frame vibrating with anger.
Bluestreak's optics left the datapad and followed the brilliant red and purple bots that had entered the room.
"Oh, is this the brother you were telling me about?" she asked, her drunken optics barely focusing on the golden mech glaring at her from the middle of the room.
Her tone and words were enough to cause Sunstreaker to rankle further. He took a step toward the pair, noting they still fondled each other's panels with obvious intent.
Well, Sunstreaker would just have to quell their desire.
"Sunny! We have a guest!" Sideswipe slurred, his vocalizer filling with static.
"I am aware," Sunstreaker growled, now standing within arms reach of his twin. "I suggest you take your liaison to another location."
"I thought you said he was fun?" she asked, pouting in a way that made Sunstreaker want to punch her.
"He is," Sideswipe said, his hand drifting between the femmes thighs and caressing her panel.
"There… is… a …. Sparkling… present!" Sunstreaker snarled, grabbing his brother's wrist and squeezing hard enough to dent the metal.
"Sparkling?" the purple femme asked in surprise. She shook her head. "I don't want a sparkling. Just a frag. Don't want anything beyond that!"
"Watch your language!" Sunstreaker snapped like an ion storm, causing the femme to flinch as if struck.
Sideswipe opened his mouth to ask what had gotten into his brother when there came a soft chirp from behind Sunstreaker. He looked over his brother's shoulder and saw a small gray lump of a sparkling sitting on a table, his bright blue optics focused on the adults.
"Where did you get that?" Sideswipe asked.
"Only survivor from inside the Praxus inner city zone," Sunstreaker said, jerking his head toward the curious youngling. "His name is Bluestreak." He hardened his gaze to the two amorous bots, his voice dropping to low, dangerous levels. "And if you wish to enjoy each other's company, I suggest you find somewhere else to indulge. There will be no romantic intentions in this room while Bluestreak is here."
"Where am I supposed to go?" Sideswipe asked, suddenly feeling wary of the sparkling. It was small and didn't really say much. But for some reason, and he couldn't explain it, it made him… angry.
"I have several suggestions," Sunstreaker sneered. "But there's a sparkling present."
"And a femme," the purple femme corrected.
Sunstreaker gave her outlandish color scheme a disgusted look before sneering, "Wouldn't have made a difference to me."
Before Sideswipe could argue, Sunstreaker grabbed him and tossed him out of the room. The femme soon followed, Sunstreaker making sure her aft plates skidded and left a clashing streak on the orange floor. The door shut and locked, Sideswipe unable to break his brother's code.
"Sorry about that," Sunstreaker said, turning to Bluestreak and finding the youngling to be interested in the adult interaction. "I think there's plenty of room now, if you want to move around."
He went to the edge of the table and much to his joy, Bluestreak raised his little arms, indicating he wanted to be picked up. Sunstreaker obliged, picking him up with a little cuddle before depositing him on the floor.
Bluestreak looked at the wide open terrain to explore but he wanted only one toy. He looked to the table, his arms rising, digits grasping at air as if to call the datapad to him. Sunstreaker took the hint and placed the datapad in the young one's lap. Bluestreak chirped a thanks and set to work on his masterpiece, not seeing the smile on his caregiver's face.
Sunstreaker went to a shelf above his berth and extracted a datapad and a large metalmesh blanket. He threw the blanket on the floor, picking up a grumbling Bluestreak and placed him near the center, before joining him, stretching out with his own datapad. He remained engrossed in the pad for all of two minutes, before he noticed happy chirping and much to his astonishment, Bluestreak had worked his way over to the golden mech and settled against his side. Doorwings arched and lay over Sunstreaker's hip, while Bluestreak leaned back, safely lounging against his caregiver.
The two remained positioned on the soft blanket until Bluestreak's optics started to droop. His helm tilted to the side, landing on Sunstreaker's thigh as charge overcame the little mechling. Sunstreaker smiled and picked him up, not minding the small frame nuzzling against his plating as he went to his berth, placing Bluestreak between himself and the wall. He slipped into charge with his servo resting on top of Bluestreak, the little doorwings bobbing as the youngling dreamt.
The next morning Sunstreaker awoke to wide blue optics and a soft chirp.
"How long have you been awake?" he asked, his fingertips grazing the youngling's helm.
Bluestreak warbled in an electronic noise, telling his caregiver exactly what had transpired during his charge. Sunstreaker listened intently, his comms signaling a slew of missed messages. He opened them, listening to the many messages from Sideswipe proclaiming his anger and vehemence at being removed from his own quarters. There was also a note from First Aid, the secondary medic on base. He reminded Sunstreaker that the little one needed special grade and that some had been refined and was waiting in the medical wing.
"You hungry?" Sunstreaker asked, feeling his own tank give a rumble. He had fueled before heading out to search for survivors, then given the duty to entertain a short little Cybertronian.
Bluestreak gave a chirp in understanding.
"Let's go find something good to ingest, then we hit the racks," Sunstreaker said, feeling grimy though he had very little exposure to the wrecked city.
Bluestreak seemed to agree. He held up his arms, telling the adult he wished to be carried. Without begrudging the mechling, Sunstreaker picked him up and carried him out of his quarters. Sideswipe was laying unconscious in the hall, his fist still formed and resting on the edge of the door. He remained motionless as Sunstreaker passed, his servo going up to hide his drunken brother from the youngling's view. Young processors should not witness such stupidity.
First Aid greeted the duo and instantly doted on the little sparkling. Sunstreaker frowned, subspacing most of the feeding cubes. He cradled Bluestreak to him and tipped a fresh cube to the youngling, who shifted attention from the medical officer to his feeding apparatus. He drank hungrily, his servos covering Sunstreaker's, earning a smile from the golden warrior as he headed back to his quarters.
"After you eat, I'll have a little, then we'll scrub ourselves and I'll show you how to polish to make you shine enough to be illegal," Sunstreaker promised.
Bluestreak buzzed in answer, his vocalizer unable to operate while ingesting fuel. Bluestreak drained his cube by the time they reached Sunstreaker's quarters. He sat, hiccupping chirps coming as Sunstreaker poured himself a full cube and downed it in a few gulps. Since the twins were frontliners, and Sunstreaker carried the title of an antisocial maniac, the twins had their own washracks and fuel dispensary.
It never occurred to him the audacity of the Prime with his new responsibility.
Sunstreaker smiled, hoisting the youngling into his arms and went into the washracks that joined with the room next door. Thankfully it was empty and Sunstreaker could enjoy a good wash. And educate a young mech on the proper maintenance of one's frame and how to polish their bodies to the point of blinding lesser mechs.
Sideswipe staggered in when the duo were rinsing, Bluestreak giggling at the tickling spray.
"You slagger," Sideswipe growled, ignoring the hissing rebuke by his twin.
"Language!" Sunstreaker snapped, causing Bluestreak to stop giggling and look at the golden mech.
'Quickline was willing to do whatever we wanted,' Sideswipe griped over comms. He glared at the grey mechling held in his brother's arms. Why Sunstreaker didn't mind the clashing infant, Sideswipe couldn't fathom.
'Not with Bluestreak here,' Sunstreaker said, grabbing a brush and raking it across Bluestreak's back, causing the little one to squeal in laughter and wiggle to evade the tickle brush.
'What if I want to bring someone back for a frag?' Sideswipe asked, nudging his brother away from the spray so he could wet his armor. 'You saying I'm banned from my own room because of a little… Primer Pest?'
'Bluestreak is the only survivor of Praxus,' Sunstreaker said, jostling the youngling under the spray to remove any remaining solvent. Bluestreak laughed at the action, his arms waving with joy. 'While he's here, you won't corrupt him.'
'Oh, like you're a fragging model of perfection?' Sideswipe countered.
Sunstreaker's brow ridge shot up in a perfect imitation of Prowl. "Of course I am."
Sideswipe gave a loathsome look to Bluestreak, jerking his head toward the door. "Get out of here. I want to wash down my panels. They're very uncomfortable because they were denied exercise last night."
"Come on, Bluestreak," Sunstreaker said, grasping a drying cloth on the way out. "Let Sideswipe relieve some tension so he'll be a better mech."
"I would be better if my spike was allowed some exercise," Sideswipe called, earning another scalding rebuke that he ignored. It was going to be very difficult to watch his language around the small circuit.
Sunstreaker had barely gotten Bluestreak dried off when there was a comms.
'Sunstreaker, you are needed in the command center to cover a shift for Blaster,' Prowl said.
'Busy,' Sunstreaker said. Being a front line warrior he had a very limited skill set. Sitting at monitors was not part of his programming. He was needed in battles. All other times, he was free to do what he wanted, just as long as he remained on call for skirmishes.
'That was not a request,' Prowl said, going over his duty roster. 'With most of our forces out looking for survivors, we are short staffed.'
'I'm taking care of Bluestreak,' Sunstreaker said, smiling at the youngling when he grabbed a round silver ball bearing that was a momentum from a downed gestalt team the twins dismantled. Bluestreak found the ball bearing to be very shiny and fun to roll around.
'I understand the youngling is your top priority as it was a directive given by Prime himself, but we are short staffed and there are a few mechs who are educated in our surveillance operations,' Prowl stated, sounding just as drone and monotonous as the screens that blinked before him.
Several memory cubes were found, most of them loaded with questionable imagery and glowing in different colors. Bluestreak started to arrange the colors in order, then started stacking them, lost in his own little world.
'Only because Sideswipe and I hacked the system and learned its parameters,' Sunstreaker amended, smiling with pride when Bluestreak grouped the colors according to their breakdown by a prism. 'Sideswipe is free. He can do monitor duty.'
'He relieves you in sixteen joors,' Prowl said. 'Now get up here before I put you on suspension and throw you in the brig. I do not believe you would want Bluestreak to join you there.'
'You wouldn't dare!' Sunstreaker snapped, scowling at the voice on his comms.
'You should know by now that I do not bluff,' Prowl said before cutting comms.
Sideswipe chose that moment to appear, a drying cloth swiping over his plating in sure strokes.
"I have monitor duty,' Sunstreaker said roughly, turning his brother. "I can't take Bluestreak with me so that means you have to watch him until I get back."
"Me?" Sideswipe squawked. "What am I supposed to do with it?"
"He!" Sunstreaker corrected. "Bluestreak just needs someone here to make sure he doesn't get hurt. When he gets tired, he likes to press above your spark chamber and be fed while he slips into charge." Sunstreaker subspaced a sparkling feeding bottle and placed it on the table. "Oh, and be careful with his doorwings. Though the protective plates are still in place, the hinges are very sensitive and can hurt him."
"Whoa!" Sideswipe said, raising his hands in a defensive manner. "I didn't agree to sparkling sit! I don't know what to do. I don't want to know. And I most certainly don't want to be stuck with it during the entire time you're on monitor duty!"
"You don't have a choice,' Sunstreaker snapped. "I cant take him with me and until they can place him somewhere safe, he's my responsibility, which by default, means he's also yours."
Sideswipe grumbled, looking like he was about to throw a temper tantrum.
"First I can't bring anyone to my own berth," Sideswipe said, skirting around the words he so desperately wanted to use. "And now I have to take care of a stranger's sparkling?"
"His carrier was able to see him before she terminated," Sunstreaker said, venom gone from his voice. He looked to Bluestreak, who had been watching the adult conversation with interest. "She spoke his designation before she terminated. Bluestreak never got to say goodbye."
Sideswipe frowned, not liking the sensations flooding their bond. Whatever had gotten into Sunstreaker must have been bad. Possibly infectious. Sideswipe had never known his brother to have such a tender spot in his spark. This little mechling must have something of note to cause a steadfast warrior to be so gentle and patient. Bluestreak rolled the ball bearing toward Sunstreaker, who knelt down, smiling, and rolled it back. Bluestreak grinned, rolling the ball back. When Sunstreaker went to return it, Bluestreak picked up a block and placed it in the path of the ball, preventing it from reaching him. He giggled, grabbing another block and soon was immersed in building a fort around the ball to prevent its escape.
Sunstreaker stood up, his expression turning stern as he regarded his brother. "Watch him. If anything happens to him, a raging Prime will be the least of your worries."
Without another word, Sunstreaker left. When the door slid shut, Sideswipe turned his burning gaze to the small lump of grey that was sitting in the middle of his nearly unrecognizable room.
"You're more trouble than your worth," Sideswipe growled, still feeling a sting from the female attention he was denied.
Bluestreak placed the last memory cube on top of the box, and looked up to Sideswipe. He looked back to his makeshift blocks, and picking out the one that had a deep carmine tint, he lifted it toward his temperamental caretaker.
Sideswipe took in the small body surrounded by pseudo-toys and the offered cube that coincided with his paint scheme. Big blue optics regarded him, innocent, curious, and so sinfully adorable. Sideswipe's gaze locked with the fathomless optics as the two stared into forever. It suddenly hit Sideswipe like a transport vessel.
In slow motion, Sideswipe lowered himself opposite of Bluestreak, taking the offered cube. A happy chirp was his answer as Bluestreak grabbed another cube, showing the adult how to stack the pretty colors.
Sunstreaker was at the monitor when he felt the unnatural feeling coming through from his twin. He rubbed his chassis, his brow plates creasing as he tried to decipher what he was sensing. Then a wave of protectiveness, and adoration flooded his senses, nearly dislodging him from his seat. He smiled, knowing his brother had just fell prey to the optical oceans.
Sunstreaker grinned, scaring the others performing their duties. If someone would have told him he would have been entrusted with the care of a sparkling and that he would honestly display 'soft emotions', he would have slagged them. Now?
Well…. Now he couldn't wait to finish monitor duty so he could return to the ebbing tide in a sparkling's optics and to hear the soft coo as immature systems curled close, trusting the arms that held them while an orphaned youngling succumbed to his dreams.
And woe until anyone who dared to threaten or harm the little mechling, for they would be slagged to the Unmaker by an overprotective adoptive caretaker sent straight from the Pit.
{{-}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}}{{-}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}}{{-}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}} {{_}}
It totally went in another direction. I don't know what happened. *sighs*
Reviews as always, will be loved and hugged and cherished and called 'george'….. :D
And I want to hear... how many went "AWWWWWWW"...?
