The Swiped and the Furious

AN: Yes, its been awhile, but I've had a few near finished chapters laying around I really miss my boys and my reviewers! Y'all have become a second family. So I'm trying to get back into fanfic writing.

Love and wax to all. ;)

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"Get off!" Brawn yelled.

Cliffjumper grunted, taking the sharp turn and feeling his axels threatening to snap. "Stop!"

"Suck it up, pedal car," Sunstreaker sneered, lowering himself on the unfortunate minibot as he continued to slalom downhill.

"My struts!" Brawn wailed.

Sideswipe used his pede to push off on the ground, adding a little extra speed to his minibot sled.

"Little faster. We're gaining on them" Sideswipe hooted, adopting his twins pose and lowering himself to cut win resistance.

"My struts cant handle the strain," Brawn agued, trying to shake his chassis on the turns to throw off his unwanted passenger. Sideswipe wasn't going to budge though. He was latched onto this new toy for all he was worth, a maniacal gleam in his optics as he maneuvered around Sunstreaker.

"Catch ya later, bro," Sideswipe hooted, coming alongside his twin. While Sunstreaker was within range, Sideswipe reached out and swiped his brother, marring his lustrous finish with a minor scratch.

Sunstreaker hissed and spit, rearing up and growling oaths at the blemish. The shift in body position added wind resistance, and with a skilled maneuver, Sideswipe overshot his twin to take the next turn.

Sunstreaker realized his mistake and grasped Cliffjumper's hood with vice like knuckles.

"Ouch!" Cliffjumper cried, feeling the metal dent from the force being exerted in Sunstreaker's anger. Primus, the mech was STRONG! He could give Omega Supreme a run for his credits.

"Pit bound slagger!" Sunstreaker yelled, kicking the asphalt to gain some speed.

Both twins took the turn with their unfortunate props groaning beneath them. There was a distinct pop under Cliffjumper's hood, but Sunstreaker didn't pay it any mind. As long as the minibot's four wheels were turning, Sunstreaker was determined to win this race.

One more turn lay at the bottom of the steep hill. It wasn't as sharp at the others, but it still offered a steep grade. The lined road turned a wide, sweeping arc, and with glee, two laughing Lamborghini's tried their best to be the first to reach the marked line at the bottom.

Much to Sunstreaker's dismay, and cursing, Sideswipe was the first to cross, but only by a couple of seconds. Sunstreaker knew if he hadn't been distracted by the scratch on his arm, he would have won.

Well he'd just have to challenge his brother to another race.

It took almost a mile for them to coast to a stop, climbing off their rides and picking the battered ,minibots up and tucking them under their arms like toys.

"Did you feel any G's on that quarter turn at marker sixteen?" Sideswipe exclaimed carrying Brawn amidst protests. Sideswipe didn't pay him any heed.

"I think so, but its hard to tell when you're slowed by substandard conveyances." Sunstreaker answered, following his brother back up the winding mile.

The mountain had become a fast favorite for the twins. The only joy they took from the high mountains, were they afforded steep slopes to test maneuverability. The curvs were held in high regard by the sporty model Autobots, who loved to challenge themselves on the incline. Thankfully, very little traffic frequented the area, giving the Autobots chances to stretch their wheels.

"You scratch me again and I'll slag you." Sunstreaker promised darkly. He noticed some yellow scuffs on Cliffjumper's hood and groaned, knowing he had scratched up his finish with this childish endeavor. Oh well…. At least he'd beat his brother later until he agreed to a thorough polishing.

"Another round?" Sideswipe inquired, knowing his twin had a competitive streak to rival his own.

"If my ride holds out," Sunstreaker said, jostling Cliffjumper in his arms.

"Not funny guys" Cliffjumper griped. "Look, you had your fun. Reinstate our transformation sequences and let us go. I think you've damaged my struts."

"Not gonna happen," Sideswipe grinned devilishly to the mini car tucked under his brothers arm.

"Come on guys," Brawn pleaded. "I'm already drifting to the right. My alignment won't take another run."

As the twins rounded the top of the mountain shalom, the bend a nice gentle turn to get one prepped for the coming turns, there was a group awaiting the misbehaving Lamborghinis. Both paused mid-step, mirror images of each other. One could almost see their mental cogs working, wondering if they could turn around and go for one last run before their inevitable incarceration.

But, Ratchet was one of the ones waiting, and it was never good to slag him off.

Heads held high, the twins approached, acting nonchalant with their comrades tucked under their arms like toys.

"What…is...going...on?" Ratchet asked in a slow, deep rumble. His hands were on his hips. His brow was furrowed. His voice so low, it vibrated his chassis.

Oh! He was in a throwing mood.

"Just… having a little fun," Sideswipe said with false cheer.

Sunstreaker could already tell from body language that they were screwed. He stomped up to the medic, and held out his toy car. "His handling is rough and he groans around turns. Supe him up a little, will you?"

Ratchet took one look at the dents, dings, scratches and slightly bowed frame and let out a feral growl. He knew Brawn had to be in similar shape. Neither were equipped to haul such extra weight, even if it was a Lamborghini.

"What, are you doing?" Prowl was stupid enough to ask.

Sideswipe told the truth for once. "We're paying Grand Theft Minibot."

Prowl resisted the urge to face palm. Prime looked like he wanted to cry. Jazz was smirking. Ratchet looked ready to explode. Ironhide was containing his laughter, though it was making his chassis jiggle with effort.

"How did you did you pull this off?" Jazz wondered. He meant the question to be rhetorical but Sideswipe had a habit of explaining his unusual methods and procedures. Much to Jazz's surprise, he employed similar tactics.

"Told them Sunny needed a minibot for perspective on a piece. They volunteered to help, and transformed. We keyed in Ratchet's medical codes and locked them into vehicular form."

"And their comms?" Prowl asked. He knew where it was headed, but like a fool, went there anyway.

"Since you took our scramblers, we've had to improvise jamming the signal."

Ratchet opened Cliffjumper's hood and found a metal spatula wedged in the slot that provided their comm units.

"Slagging morons," he muttered, running a scan and expecting the worst. The tests showed minimal damage. Thank the All Spark.

Prime was furious his troops had been used in such a fashion. He knew Prowl kept the twins busy with menial tasks and brig time, but it didn't seem to sink into their processors that minibot sledding was not a sanctioned pastime for soldiers, regardless of faction. Though he normally allowed his SIC to dish out punishments, Prime stepped forward, glaring at the two.

Most bots would have melted under Prime's anger glare, but though the Lamborghini's possessed lighter chassis, they also sported tougher than nails personas. Sideswipe looked mildly ashamed, but Sunstreaker quirked a brow, amused.

"For blatant disregard to your comrades and potentially causing severe structural and neurological damage, I'm instituting that both of you will enjoy a similar situation than what you forced Cliffjumper and Brawn to imitate. For the next three months, you will pick up and carry everyone who asks you to, regardless of time, place, or distance."

Both twins instantly darkened, Sunstreaker's signature scowl etching on his handsome face.

"Say what?" Sideswipe asked

"You will continue your assigned duties, patrolling and monitory duty, but during your off time, then you will act as transportation for your comrades."

"And how are we supposed to do that? Most of you weigh more than we do." Sunstreaker glanced to Ironhide. There was no way he was hauling Ironhide's heavy skidplates anywhere!

"You will have to figure it out for yourselves, but the crew will be notified that if they wished to go to the rec room, their quarters, or the command hub, you are on call to answer their summons. Hopefully, by being forced to physically lift and haul their weight will remind just how fragile, and heavy, we really are. The damage that happened to Cliffjumper and Brawn was not done out of fun and games. It was pure malice, inflicted on those smaller than you simply because, you can. And I will not tolerate bullying in my ranks any longer. Regular forms of punishment have not driven this fact into your processors, so I'm taking unilateral action and institute that both will act as ferrymen, shuttling your comrades to wherever they need to go. Only then will you understand the magnitude of your actions."

Silence stretched after Prime's speech, everyone taking a moment to understand the full impact. It was Sunstreaker who processed the fastest.

"And if we refuse to adhere to this... ridiculous form of punishment?" Sunstreaker asked, crossing his arms over his chassis and staring malevolently at his rival. Prime was built of stronger alloys and didn't shatter. Much to Sunstreaker's disgust.

"Then you will be placed in cognizant stasis for a month. If you continue to act as schoolyard bullies, then the measure will go to six months." Prime took a step forward, towering over his subordinates like a churning tsunami, ready to unleash its wrath upon those below. "The bullying of Minibots ends here and now. You may not like them, but you will at least show them a modicum of respect by not tormenting and injuring them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Sideswipe grumbled, staring morosely at Ratchet, who was trying to get Cliffjumper's hood up so he could reinitialize the minibot's transformation sequence. Minus his spatula.

Prime looked to Sunstreaker, his stare hard and steel edged.

Sunstreaker relented with a sigh. "Fine. Whatever. But if they irritate me, I'm implanting them into a bulkhead. No apologies."

"They don't try to irritate you," Prowl said, having had this conversation a hundred times before. "They try to be friendly and invite you into their conversations so you don't feel left out. It's called socializing. It is not a reason for you to physically attack someone."

"Look, I don't like you. I don't like any of you," Sunstreaker said, glaring from one bot to the next. "I can't stand being around people. I like being left alone. I don't want to be included. I don't want to be spoken to. I don't want to be touched and hugged, or slapped on the back in congratulations. What you people seem to forget is, I'm not like you. I don't like companionship. I don't feel the need to be surrounded by people, laughing and drinking and partying. I like being alone. I like peace and quiet." Sunstreaker turned his burning glare to Prowl. "You're the same way. Don't bother denying it. You prefer to be alone as well."

"I don't mind the occasional company," Prowl admitted.

Sunstreaker sighed, rolling his optics. "But you don't like to party. You don't want to drink and dance and be surrounded by a lot of people."

Prowl's mouth pursed in a tight line. It was true. He preferred a solitary life.

"I hate crowds," Sunstreaker snapped, glaring at each bot in turn, including his brother. "I hate the noise. I hate the laughter. To me, its too much like Kaon. And I resent each and every one of you for forcing me to relieve the worst period in my life, simply because you believe I need to socialize more and be your definition of happy."

Sunstreaker glared at Prime, who was left speechless. He offered a sigh of frustration and whirled on his heel, marching toward the base. "I'm going to a nice quiet cell. Come get me when there's a fight you need me to win for you."

"Sunny?" Sideswipe asked softly, but Sunstreaker was already gone.

Sideswipe visibly deflated. He could feel the dark thrums coming over their bond. It reminded him of the times they fought in the gladiatorial arena.

Sunstreaker had never been able to shake that off.

"He's right, you know," Sideswipe muttered, his shoulders slumping. "When we fought in the arena, he had to turn off his audials because the chants of the crowd, ordering him to terminate someone, was too much to bear."

"He is aware that we are all on the same side, and our boisterous gatherings are for enjoyment, and not for termination?" Prowl asked, hearing a couple of the bots send out the alert that Sunstreaker was headed to the brig.

"It's the noise and air of celebration," Sideswipe explained. He opened his mouth to speak, but a comms interrupted. Gears was wanting to be carried from the command hub to the rec room. Sideswipe scowled at Prowl. "You do realize I can't carry most of your heavy afts, right?"

"You'll just have to improvise," Prowl said, now hearing Red Alert informing the command unit that Sunstreaker locked himself in a cell and was curling up on the berth. "And since Sunstreaker requires peace and solitude, he will remain in the brig and you will act on his behalf."

"Oh, man," Sideswipe whined.

"I believe you already have several mechs awaiting your transportation," Prowl said, pointing toward the Ark. "You are require to attend them until lights out and are only allowed down time to charge and refuel."

"Great,' Sideswipe growled, stomping past Prowl as Gears was whining over the comms about his negligent transport.

"I suggest you use this week to think about what you've done and the danger you put your comrades in," Prowl said, turning to follow the ruby mech.

Ratchet's growling oaths faded as Sideswipe entered the Ark to begin his unusual sentence.

By the second hour, Sideswipe was ready to commit murder. Each time he complained, Prowl stated his punishment and Ratchet informed him of the extensive damage he inflicted on the two unfortunate minibots.

The second day and Sideswipe suffered a cracked back strut from picking Ironhide up to carry him from his quarters to the rec room. Howling and thrashing in pain, Sideswipe was taken to the medical wing and sedated. When he woke up the next day, Ratchet informed him of the structural damage and recovery period.

"Cracked spinal strut. Two dislocated joints. Stress fractures. Ruptured hoses. Damaged neural conduit. One circuit blew a fuse." Ratchet gave Sideswipe a dose of iron for good measure. "What were you thinking? Ironhide is three times your weight!"

"More like ten," Sideswipe corrected with a groan. His entire body felt like he went through a giant wringer wrapped in titanium spikes.

Ratchet loomed overhead, glaring down with all the malice he could at his favorite patient. "Now you know what the minibots endured while you played your little game."

Most bots would have instantly repented and begged forgiveness and swore to never inflict such damage again. But not Sideswipe. He grinned up into the devilish visage that hovered a couple of inches from him, and offered a cheeky look.

"Kiss me, you fool."

Clang.

Sideswipe was unconscious in an instant.

"Slagging moron." Ratchet flipped his favorite wrench in his hand and subspaced the medical weapon.

The next time Sideswipe woke up it was to find Sunstreaker on the berth on the right. He was covered in damage, the unmistakable scuff of Constructicon green gouged deep into the golden plating.

"Sunny?" Sideswipe called softly. It was unnerving to see his twin so silent and still.

"He's fine. Just recovering." Ratchet ambled into view, his attention centered on a scanner. "Had to replace some of his neural wires so I have to wait until he comes out of stasis to check on signal integrity."

"He's not going to like those scratches," Sideswipe said, knowing his brother was going to be a handful when he woke up. He usually was Sunstreaker didn't like being in stasis. Bad things happened when he was unconscious.

"He'll live," Ratchet grunted, walking away from the troublesome pair to attend another patient.

As expected, when Sunstreaker awoke, he was not a happy Lamborghini. It was even worse when he tried to move and realized the neural wiring had yet to take. His systems were having difficulty in integrating the new parts. After a heated argument, Ratchet hovering over Sunstreaker and the two snarling viciously. No one was sure how it happened, but Ratchet dosed Sunstreaker with an iron supplement, knocking the golden mech cold.

Sideswipe was the first one to be excused from the medical wing. He rose with a groan, feeling as if his struts were burdened with Prime's weight. He didn't realize how much it hurt to be so injured.

To everyone's surprise, Sideswipe sought out Cliffjumper and Brawn. Both were still on limited duty due to the damage Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had inflicted on them during their game.

"Sorry, guys," Sideswipe said, crippling up to the two. "Lesson learned."

Cliffjumper smiled. "Thanks."

"Hurts doesn't it?" Brawn groused. He didn't appreciate having a spatula where Sideswipe had shoved it.

"Yeah," Sideswipe admitted, wincing when his joints squeaked in protest. "Definitely not fun."

"Just, don't do it again," Cliffjumper said, shuffling his way past the Lamborghini to attend his monitor duty.

"Don't plan on it," Sideswipe said, deciding to take a nap before his own monitor duty.

Sideswipe's charge was interrupted by Prowl. "Sideswipe, I need to see you in my office for a moment."

"Do you want me in leather or lace?" Sideswipe asked, stretching his frame and his impudence.

"Vinyl." Prowl deadpanned. "And make it snappy."

Sideswipe slid off his berth and ambled toward Prowl's office. "Oh, must be fast and rough today. Okay, I'm game. Just make sure you tip me well."

Prowl knew better than to rise to Sideswipe's goads. The mech was infamous for his quips. One just had to go with it and never take anything he said too seriously. It was highly unlikely that Sideswipe had ANY serious circuits in his whole body.

By the time Sideswipe reached Prowl's office, he was still smarting off. He didn't bother knocking to announce his presence. Simply opened the door and stood grandiose in the threshold.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Prowl ignored the idiot in the doorway and started to explain the sudden summons. "Prime is under the assumption Sunstreaker needs some cheering up, so he has made plans to host a party in Sunstreaker's honor."

"What?" Sideswipe gasped, striding into the room to lean over Prowl's desk. "Say again?"

Prowl ex-vented slowly, a relaxation technique he learned from Smokescreen when dealing with trying situations and idiots. Like Sideswipe.

"Prime believes Sunstreaker would see that when he is included in social gatherings, it is meant to be a form of camaraderie, so he doesn't feel alone and isolated. A party would demonstrate this inclusiveness. And before you argue about Sunstreaker not attending parties, please be advised that there will be no music or talking during this party."

"What the slag we supposed to do?" Sideswipe asked, drawing back in slight alarm. Sunstreaker would initially balk at the idea, but like always, he would concede and attend. If only for a short time. Then he would have to retreat to the quiet and safety of their quarters. "Drink our afts under the table in total silence?"

"I believe you do that already," Prowl said, hiding a smirk.

"To loud music, yes. Lots of noise, yes. During a screaming match, yes. During briefings, yes." Sideswipe counted off the ways he had gotten drunk off his aft, not caring about Prowl's ruffled visage about admitting to drinking during mission briefings. "Even been hammered while fragging a femme, but I don't think I've ever been wasted in total silence."

Prowl resisted his natural instincts, and cleared his vents to redirect Sideswipe's waning attention back to himself. "Sunstreaker doesn't enjoy the noise and chaos of a typical party, so we are going to show him we can be quiet and still enjoy each other's company."

"Oh, that's fragged up," Sideswipe muttered.

"Please see to it that your twin is occupied tomorrow afternoon. The party will commence at 8." Prowl nodded to the door. "Dismissed."

Sideswipe didn't acknowledge the dismissal. Normally he would have teased his commanding officer about being called for a private meeting, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He hadn't realized where he was going until he entered the Command Hub and ran headfirst into Prime's massive chestplates.

"Opps! Sorry, Prime,' Sideswipe muttered.

"What has you so distracted?" Prime asked quietly, as Mirage and Brawn were at the monitors and eavesdropping.

"Prowl told me about the party you planned for Sunstreaker tomorrow evening."

Prime shuttered his optics in surprise. "Party for Sunstreaker? I have not spoken to Prowl about such an event. Are you sure you have gotten your facts straight?"

Sideswipe opened his mouth, then closed it again. That wily Praxian. Prime had nothing to do with wanting to show support to Sunstreaker so he wouldn't be isolated and feel so alone. Leave it to Prowl to find a way to subtly support his teammates, without making such a spectacle of it. Course, now Sideswipe had fresh ammunition to use against the Praxian.

"Tomorrow evening. Eight o'clock. There will be drinking, but no music or noise. Sunstreaker enjoys peace and quiet, so we're going to give that to him."

"I see," Prime muttered, though he was totally clueless.

The next evening Sunstreaker allowed himself to be steered toward the rec room, knowing there was going to be a party in full swing. To his utmost surprise, the room was quiet. Eerily so. Everyone was present. Tables and chairs were in their usual places. But the sound system was turned off. No one was dancing. No one was arguing. No one was speaking. It was as if their vocalizers had been turned off. The only noise was the soft gurgling of the energon being filtered through the cooling unit, and the occasional scrape of a chair or clinking of a cube.

"What the slag is going on?" Sunstreaker asked, not liking the dead silence that surrounded him from his usually loud and extremely boisterous cohorts.

Prowl tipped a cube toward Sideswipe, allowing him to make the explanations.

Sideswipe, ever the eloquent diplomat, spoke. "Your dumbaft hates noise and these fragging morons wanted to hang around you for some odd reason, so to show you how much they care, they threw this 'quiet party' for you so you can hang out, yet still enjoy your stupid peace and quiet."

Prime shook his head. Prowl toasted the explanation. Ratchet dozed off and on in his usual seat in the corner, totally unfazed by the whole situation.

"Peace... peace and quiet?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Yeah." Sideswipe poured two cubes of chilled high grade and passed one to his twin. "So sit down, surrounded by dumbaft fraggers who should know better than to be around you, and drink your cube in annoying peace and disgusting silence."

Sideswipe directed his twin to a table where Ironhide and Bluestreak were seated. Ironhide huffed in agitation but didn't break his silence. Bluestreak's lip plates were twitching, but he too remained mute.

Sunstreaker sat down and stared around the unnaturally quiet room. Even when no one was occupying it, the stereo equipment was always tuned into a local music station. To see such immobility and lack of life was more disturbing than reassuring. Sunstreaker started to feel as if he was surrounded by lifeless machines. The silence was abnormally deafening in a room that often shook with bass. Several of the bots lifted their cubes and saluted Sunstreaker, but still, no one spoke.

Bluestreak shifted uneasily, his mouth quivering with unvoiced conversation. Sunstreaker regarded the young gunner for a moment. He knew Bluestreak despised silence. Couldn't stand it. If he was awake, he was talking. The only time he was silent was when he was set up in position during missions and couldn't give away his location. But every time the mission was complete, he would bombard his comrades with endless chatter.

It was so strange to see him quiet. His doorwings were in frantic animation along his back, displaying the urgency he wished to make noise, but respectfully held his vocalizer.

"Okay, this is too weird," Sunstreaker said after a couple of moments of watching Bluestreak's doorwings. "Everyone shouldn't be this quiet. It's... fragging unnerving."

"Merely giving you the peace you desire," Prowl said, sipping his cube and hiding his smirk. He found great amusement in disrupting the twins.

"Well, stop it. It's not natural," Sunstreaker said, glancing around the room. Bots smiled but no one dared to break their vow of silence. Sunstreaker knew what he had to do. "Bluestreak, how was your day?"

The congested dams of perpetual chatter opened up and poured over Sunstreaker's audials. Bluestreak babbled about the new strip mall, the drive in theater, new costumes of the crew's favorite television program, road work, traffic conditions, the new energon dispenser, Wheeljack's latest failed experiment and finding a junkyard that made the sensitive Praxian mourn the loss of his city. All spoken in the proverbial one breath.

One by one bots began to mutter, the conversation remaining a soft murmur as to not fall back into the outlandish ruckus that was normally associated when a party was in full swing.

The stereo stayed off. Voices hushed though the crowd mingled more freely. No one danced. Even Ratchet woke out of his stupor to join in the conversation.

Sunstreaker's gaze raked the room, his audios partially aware of Bluestreak's devastation that he was kicked out of the local library and his hopes to sweet talk the head librarian into allowing him to read to small children.

It was then that Sunstreaker was hit with a sudden and shocking fact. The mechs he had known for millennia had shown him a kind of respect by throwing this unorthodox party. Though he had fought beside, argued with, and sent almost every member of the crew to the medical ward on at least a dozen instances, they still included him. The anger, the fights, the pain inflicted, was all forgotten at the end of the day. When it was time to celebrate the fact they had survived another day in a war that waged for too long, they included Sunstreaker, whether he liked it or not.

Such consideration made him feel honored. Maybe even a tad humbled. If that's what that odd feeling was in the back of his mind. Gentle voices rolled around the room as a stream, ebbing in a natural flow between long time friends and allies.

With a mental groan, Sunstreaker cursed.

Slag. He DID like them!

The ill wills and damaged bodies meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. He would gladly take another bullet or missile intended toward those who had somehow managed to wiggle their way into his half spark. Though he had fought most of the crew, he also fought FOR them. When they were out on the battlefield, they were his responsibility to keep safe. To make sure they returned home, even if it meant he would not. It was a burden he willingly accepted. And this subdued party was a way to say thank you to a mech who didn't like loud noises.

Despite Sunstreaker's many emotional flaws, he was still accepted and included. Welcomed among those who saw beyond his gorgeous shine and foul temper.

Oh, Slag it!

The fraggers had become his... family!

Just the thought left a knot in his tank.

Then Bluestreak touched his arm to gain his attention. Wide, innocent blue optics shone through Sunstreaker's dim thoughts. The background noise that was Bluestreak's chatter rose and with it, the darkness fled, peeled away by a young gunner who was adamantly describing a new scenic outlook that Sunstreaker would enjoy replicating on canvas. His doorwings bobbed happily, his smile as radiant as the setting sun.

Typical kid brother.

Sunstreaker sighed, though it lacked the normal annoyance and malevolence.

Yup. The insane unit he was assigned to all those millions of years ago had become his family.

And he vowed to make sure each one would return home at the end of the war.

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Dunno if there's anyone left on the site who reads as most of us have went to AO3 to get away from trolling.

I should finish updating on these random fics here pretty soon and will be uploading them when I am able.

THANK YOU ALL for sticking with me and sending me reviews, emails, and PMs. You have truly touched my heart.