The Art of the Sun
AN: THANK YOU ALL REVIEWERS! You've been AWESOME! Signed reviews have been answered and updated.
AN2: Sneak peeks to a couple of chapters have been posted to my page. Want exclusive updates to what I'm planning? Want to participate in livestreaming events, including Q&A? Have some ideas and need feedback? I'll be happy to help!
Come join me at … and look for me, padawan_jinx! :D
O-o
-o-
o-o
"You called for me?" Sunstreaker asked, startling Ratchet out of his silent inventory. Sunstreaker smirked, loving the effect he had on people.
"Yes, I had a project in mind, and I need your input," Ratchet said, putting away the assorted parts back into the bin and giving Sunstreaker a look that made the golden mech pause. Sunstreaker was great at causing mechs to fear him, but the only thing that really scared him was a pleased looking Ratchet. Especially one who had that look of unexpected intentions. Sunstreaker felt his brother ping his locator, having no doubt sensed his momentary flash of fear.
"If it's something to build or blow up, ask Wheeljack," Sunstreaker said, taking an involuntary step backward.
"Oh, this isn't something Wheeljack can assist me in," Ratchet said, his optics gleaming. "This is something that requires only your particular skill set."
Sunstreaker paused, not getting a bad vibe from the medic. This wasn't something that was going to require pain and possible concussion. This is something that Ratchet was genuinely pleased with. This intrigue Sunstreaker.
He narrowed his optics and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you have in mind?"
Ratchet's grin was slow, knowing he had Sunstreaker on the hook.
o-o
-o-
The next day Sideswipe awoke to the sensation of flying, though he knew he was curled up on his berth. He never charged with his jetpack, due to the fact it had a habit of igniting in his sleep and sending him careening into a wall. With a quick command, the jetpack would detach and allow him freedom of movement without killing him.
So when he opened his optics and saw the same dented ceiling of his quarters, he wondered why he was flying. Instinctively, he grasped the berth to keep from flying off as the sensation continued.
It took a moment for his systems to boot and when he was fully awake, he realized it wasn't him that was flying. It was Sunstreaker. Whatever his antisocial brother was doing, it was causing him happiness.
And apparently at a high altitude.
Sideswipe was fine with that. His brother needed enjoyment. Pit only knew the disasters Sideswipe threw at him on a regular basis. Content with his ray of sunshine enjoying something, Sideswipe got up and went about his day, forgetting about his twin until later that evening.
It was 'dinner time,' a novelty the bots enjoyed employing and adapting from their human counterparts. Sideswipe had the day off and like most of his free time, it was spent planning, preparing, or executing a prank. Today was no different.
Apparently, Jazz didn't appreciate having his extra visor glued to Prowl's aft. Said Praxian was beyond annoyed that he was unable to find proof of Sideswipe's involvement.
But everyone knew he was guilty.
Which is why Jazz lit into him.
Sideswipe was hobbling toward medbay with dented aft plates courtesy of Jazz and his foul temper. One tended to forget the fun-loving, party mech was Special Ops for a reason. He could be sadistic when he wanted to be.
When Sideswipe entered the med bay, he found the back half of the bay partitioned off. Wheeljack exited the minute doorway in the panels. Sideswipe guessed the engineer was working on his med-berth augmentations again and the partitions were put in place to prevent potential accidents to the patients.
Like the last time.
Who knew Bumblebee made such a cute cannonball?
"Jack!" Sideswipe called, waving at the engineer.
Wheeljack jumped at the sound of his name, his helm fins flashing a bright, neon green.
"Hey, Sideswipe. I would invite you in, but I'm at a delicate stage right now," Wheeljack said, jerking his head toward the narrow opening in which to pass from the main bay into the isolated area.
"So am I, and I'm not as attractive in soot."
Wheeljack laughed at Sideswipe's meaning.
Ratchet stormed out of his office looking like the Pit maker. "What do you want, pest?"
Sideswipe bent over so Ratchet could see Jazz's pedeprints. "Had a run in with a Porsche."
Ratchet motioned to the front of the med bay, the furthest they could get from Wheeljack's 'workspace' without being in the hall.
"Is it safe to have him unsupervised?" Sideswipe asked.
"Wheelajck is helping with upgrades," Ratchet said, removing Sideswipe's aft plates and laughing at the busted protoform beneath. Jazz did a number on the Lamborghini. If he transformed, his trunk would be crooked, unable to seal properly.
Aft sticking up in the air, Sideswipe suffered the humiliation of having his skid plates fixed. Since he was bored, he nudged his twin over their bond and once again was bombarded with a sensation of flying and happiness. Sideswipe sighed, lulling his helm on his arms.
"Sunshine is in one of his moods," Sideswipe grumbled.
"How long is he off for?" Ratchet asked, pulling out a crowbar.
"Prowl usually gives him four days. He knows Sunny goes through these creative cycles."
"Is it full moon already?" Ratchet quipped, wedging in the crowbar and popping out a ding.
Sideswipe snickered through his winces as Ratchet realigned his plating. "It seems to be his cycle. Just like a werewolf of human legend. A WereSunny."
Sideswipe cried out as Ratchet popped out a ding that rested on a sensor cluster. The pain made Sideswipe groan, comets flashing before his closed optics and a sensation of falling downward with a heavy weight. To prevent himself from feeling the rest of the dents being popped out, Sideswipe initiated shut down protocols, making sure he'd be unconscious for Ratchet's tender bedside manners.
When Sideswipe woke, it was to feel a warm, fuzzy feeling inside that made him wonder if a litter of kittens hadn't crawled into his spark chamber. To his relief, and disgust, it was coming from Sunstreaker. He was feeling things Sideswipe believed him incapable. At least until the war started. He tried to comm. his brother, but there was no reply.
Wheeljack could be heard humming behind the partitions. Ratchet was no where to be seen, so Sideswipe took his discreet exit, grateful his hips could swing properly and not squeak. Jazz had one Pit of a kick to him. Sideswipe would be wary in the future.
Hoping to disturb his brother, Sideswipe headed to the far end of the ship where Sunstreaker's studio was located. The light outside was bright white, signaling the artist inside was not to be disturbed. The light used to be red in warning, but Sideswipe thought the color was an open invitation for him. He was reeducated with Sunstreaker's normal grace.
Subsequently, there was also a memorial for two easels and some paint tubes that had to be extracted from Sideswipe's person.
Since then, Sunstreaker had the light changed to white, and Sideswipe learned never to interrupt his twin when he was in a creative fog.
Usually, when Sunstreaker was in one of these moods, he stayed locked away for days. It was a surprise when Sunstreaker ambled into their shared quarters later that evening, looking exhausted. He was charging within seconds of hitting his berth. As Sideswipe surmised, Sunstreaker bore spatters of paint. The artists normal vanity receded while he worked, becoming so engrossed he allowed his immaculate self to be blemished.
o-o
-o-
When Sideswipe got up the next morning, Sunstreaker was already gone. He sighed, missing the morning torment of his twin, and reported for patrol. Tracks appeared, disgruntled and bickering with Hound, whom apparently splattered mud in the halls from his early morning commute. Sideswipe checked the duty roster and sure enough, Sunstreaker had been taken off the lists.
Sideswipe hated when his twin was unavailable. Wrecking havoc wasn't the same without him.
The day went on with most bots avoiding the med bay, seeing how word got out Ratchet was performing berth recalibrations. Wheeljack was also installing new equipment that Ratchet and Perceptor had designed to make the medical scans more efficient.
With Ratchet supervising, Wheeljack was less prone to explosions, but no one was chancing it. Bots steered clear, avoiding anything remotely dangerous to prevent a trip to med bay. Word had it; there was already a minor explosion and a scientist who was dosed with iron in retaliation.
To Sideswipe's surprise, Sunstreaker was absent that night. Usually, Sunstreaker's moods were predictable, at least to Sideswipe. Right now, Sunstreaker should be in the full pangs of creative exuberance, feeling vibrant, alive, excited and making Sideswipe want to purge his tanks.
All day he had been feeling warm, like basking in sunshine. Sideswipe ambled by Sunstreaker's studio, disheartened by the white light, and wandered off to find something to occupy his processor. Without his brother to pester, his favorite medical demon occupied with babysitting a crazy scientist, and Jazz still angry and threatening another aft denting, Sideswipe had no one to play with.
Sideswipe awoke several times in the night. The first thing he'd do was check Sunstreaker's berth. Upon finding it empty, he sent out a locator ping, and each time, he was rewarded with a mellow feeling.
Well, as mellow as Sunstreaker could get.
Sideswipe was shocked to sense peace flowing over their bond. It had been a long time since he felt such things, so it took a few moments to decipher. Whatever therapy Sunstreaker was engaging in, it was agreeing with him.
o-o
-o-
On day three, Sideswipe cycled online and found his brother occupying his berth. Paint splattered his body helm to pedes. A paintbrush was tucked into one of Sunstreaker's audial fins, its tip still stained with an electric blue.
Sideswipe smiled, feeling elated his twin had exercised his artistic endeavors out of his system, but he was wrong.
The occasional pang of excitement or joy would catch Sideswipe off guard, making him gasp and clutch his chest. Or erupt in playful laughter for no apparent reason. The Autobots were starting to worry about him and Sideswipe was worried about sensing the warm pangs of affection throughout the day. When he returned to his quarters after monitor duty that afternoon, Sunstreaker was absent.
Determined, Sideswipe huffed through his vents and started marching toward the other side of the ship, where Sunstreaker's studio was located. It might be time to cause some damage.
A minor explosion shook the base, nearly knocking Sideswipe to the ground. Instantly, Wheeljack was bawling over the comms he was not to blame for the malfunction. Ratchet cackled over the line about maiming the engineer when he caught him, citing broken equipment.
The transmission cut on the two arguing. Well, Ratchet was shouting. Wheeljack was apologizing, then there was a clang and the comms went silent. As a precaution, Prime called for Perceptor to go to medbay and assist Ratchet.
Sideswipe rubbed his plating, feeling annoyance filter through. Sunstreaker wasn't pleased with whatever he did, because annoyance was soon replaced with anger. Sideswipe wondered if Sunstreaker was minutely off on his painting. He could get twisted out of shape if he was one millionth of a micron off in any way.
He was a bit obsessive in that regard.
No doubt Wheeljack's explosion had caused some hand tremors that Sunstreaker didn't appreciate. Oh, there was a chance the engineer would get beat up by Sunstreaker if he saw him while still boiling.
Sideswipe sniggered, wanting so desperately to go lure his brother out of his studio and direct him toward the med bay, just to watch the sparks, and paint, fly.
The last time Sunstreaker fought with paints, the two had demolished Sunstreaker's studio. He had been furious when one painting was ruined, but by the time the two were done, the room was in utter shambles.
And every piece was artfully deigned invigorating, illuminating, and spell binding by art critics.
Sunstreaker sold them for a small fortune.
Sideswipe wondered if it was time to creatively destroy the studio again. Could be fun. But then again, his brother did try to murder him on that occasion. And Ratchet wasn't in the best of moods at the moment.
Better to wait until it was "explosion-free" before attempting such another drastic art project, lest Sideswipe get mangled by Ratchet, and Sunstreaker put HIM on display as his latest piece.
Sideswipe didn't fancy being immobilized and sold. He had endured that lifestyle enough when he was young. Now, he just wanted to torture his brother into spitting fits of rage.
Not getting caught in his schemes was another endeavor. Sideswipe had such high goals in life.
Later than night, Ratchet warned everyone to stay out of medbay unless they wanted to be electrocuted. Wheeljack took over the comms, informing the crew that the damage was not of his making, but Ratchet's miscalculations and once again the comms was filled the angered voice of a medical demon.
Prime sighed, folding his arms on his desk and laying his head down. Why did his crew have to be so dysfunctional? They thrived on the chaotic and ability to self harm.
A noise outside his office drew his attention. He looked up in time to see Sideswipe sneak down the hall to Prowl's office, a tackle box in his hand and a slag eating grin on his face.
A chuckle rumbled the semi's chest. His crew may be nuts, but he wouldn't have them any other way. No other time in history or species, could such an amalgam be put together that somehow remained cohesive.
Even without Sideswipe's help and his apparent affinity toward anything adhesive.
Sunstreaker remained scarce, and on the fifth day, when he was to return, Sideswipe saw his brother in deep conversation with Prowl. Neither looked pleased. Sunstreaker was splattered in paint, most of it appeared dry and flaking. Sideswipe gained the two in time to pick up their conversation.
"Just a few more days," Sunstreaker growled. His hand curled into a fist.
"You have already taken several days off," Prowl informed the golden mech. "You have been negligent in your duties and need to resume your schedule."
"No, I need to finish what I'm doing," Sunstreaker amended. "Or do I need to start painting on Tele-Tran's screens again?"
Sideswipe's face lit up in amusement. He remembered that incident. Sunstreaker was in one of his moods and Prowl refused to grant him leave to exorcise his creative demons.
So Sunstreaker used his paints to color on the monitors. It was a beautiful mural. Too bad it had to be washed off to see the screens.
"How long do you expect you'll need to complete your project?" Oh, Prowl was showing signs of cracking!
"A week," Sunstreaker said automatically.
"Two days," Prowl offered.
"A week," Sunstreaker repeated.
"You have not understood the art of negotiations," Prowl deadpanned. "Three days."
"Six," Sunstreaker said, one brow quirking in a mocking gesture.
"Four."
"Six, and I'll volunteer for monitor duty from eight until two so bots can enjoy some of that socializing slag they enjoy so much," Sunstreaker said. He knew no one wanted such hours, always wanting to be with friends and enjoying company. Autobots were a rather social group. No wonder Sunstreaker felt like he didn't belong most of the time.
"Agreed," Prowl said. "And on the seventh day, you will have morning patrol, followed by day shift at the monitors."
"Agreed." Sunstreaker gave a curt nod. He rather liked this negotiation stuff. Felt weird not to use his fists though.
Prowl turned on his heel and marched away, his doorwings fluttering in a way that meant he was pleased.
"Nice," Sideswipe commented of his brother's negotiating skills.
"Fragger," Sunstreaker muttered, turning and heading in the opposite direction, toward his studio.
"Seriously though, how much longer you going to be holed up in there?" Sideswipe asked, bounding alongside his twin like an eager puppy.
"You heard Prowl. Six days." Sunstreaker turned the corner and stopped short, giving his brother an annoyed look. "What do you want, Sideswipe?"
"I miss you," Sideswipe said with a pout. "I miss hearing you shout at me, and trying to hit me."
Sunstreaker raised a single brow ridge but didn't speak.
"And I miss hearing you charge at night," Sideswipe admitted. "And all the happy, loving, fun stuff filtering over the bond from you has me worried. I miss the anger and violence. The overwhelming urge to flatten some one or some thing."
Sunstreaker offered a soft sigh. Odd, Sideswipe missed the negative stuff he was used to feeling and didn't enjoy the positive emotions Sunstreaker was experiencing.
"Give me some peace and quiet until evening ration, and I'll come sit with you in the rec room," Sunstreaker said.
He knew if he didn't find some way to keep Sideswipe occupied, the crew would start suffering from his loneliness. If Sideswipe had something to look forward to, he'd be less prone to wandering around aimless, trying to buddy up to anyone who could tolerate him.
"Great!" Sideswipe crowed, turning and running off down the corridor to give his brother some space.
"Works every time," Sunstreaker sighed, before heading off to work on his latest project. He was nearly done with one piece. By dinner time, he should be finished with it, barring any Decepticon activity.
Sunstreaker hoped the Decepticons didn't plan on any mischief. He wanted to finish his latest projects without the hindrance of battle. Course, they weren't scheduled for another raid any time soon, having collected enough energy to last for awhile. Sunstreaker often thought the Cons were crazy, stealing energy to survive, while Prime offered many times to give them an energy converter to prevent starvation. But Megatron refused every offer. He would rather steal the energy and destroy human lives and property, than to utilize something freely given to ensure the survival of his troops.
That evening, as promised, Sunstreaker made an appearance. Sideswipe stuck to his twin's side like an adoring sparkling begging for a creator's attention. Sunstreaker took it in stride, keeping himself occupied by buffing and polishing his plates. He hadn't realized how filthy he had become while engrossed in his art.
That night, Sunstreaker curled up on his berth and fell into a deep charge almost immediately. Sideswipe tried several times to spark nudge his twin, but Sunstreaker didn't respond. Disheartened, Sideswipe crawled in behind his twin and fell into a quick charge.
-o-
o-o
The next day Sideswipe woke up to find himself alone. Wanting someone to pester he decided to go and interrupt his brother in his endeavor. It had been far too long since Sunstreaker shouted and punched him. Sideswipe was going through withdraws.
The DO NOT DISTRUB light was on outside Sunstreaker's studio. Without knocking, Sideswipe tried the door. As expected, it was locked. It took Sideswipe twice as long to break his brother's encryption, and when the door slid open to reveal the studio, Sideswipe was shocked.
Sunstreaker wasn't there.
But there was a large case full of freshly delivered supplies.
Including paint.
And Sideswipe was feeling rather ornery today.
Paints in hand, Sideswipe went to the rec room, and much to his delight, Bumblebee was talking with Trailbreaker.
"Bee, can I have a minute?" Sideswipe asked, broad smiles and innocence.
Trailbreaker wisely left, lest he be drawn into something he'd regret later.
"Sure," Bumblebee said, as always, good natured.
"I have a little art project in mind," Sideswipe said, grabbing the Volkswagon and earning a startled beep.
When bots entered the rec room after shift, it was to find a strange scene. Someone with small pedes had stepped in paint and then waltzed along the floor...and the walls...and the ceiling. How a bot could put their pedes on the ceiling was anyone's guess, but the size of the tread left no doubt that it was a minibot.
Bumblebee stood guiltily in Prowl's office, staring at the floor. He still had multicolored tread staining his pedes. The Praxian was pacing, wings held stiffly into a sharp V. He was muttering under his breathing function.
"I'm sorry," Bumblebee said. "I'll clean up the mess."
"I doubt this was your idea. You certainly did not hold yourself up to the ceiling to mark it," Prowl said, looking from minibot to grinning Lamborghini. Bumblebee looked apologetic and embarrassed. Sideswipe looked pleased with himself.
The smug bastard.
"Sideswipe, you are to report to Ratchet for your punishment detail."
Sideswipe's face instantly fell. "Ratchet? Oh man! You're going to let him beat me to teach me a lesson?"
"The lesson will never be learned, and I am fooling myself to believe otherwise," Prowl stated, one doorwing flickering.
"I think you mean, you're insane, performing the same deed expecting a different outcome."
Prowl paused, thinking on what Sideswipe said and rolled his optics skyward. "Yes, that seems to be a summation of your disciplinary file."
Sideswipe grinned, cocking a hip and waggling his brow plating. "You can always spank me."
"You would enjoy it too much."
"True."
"So not a punishment," Prowl said.
"But Ratchet is? I guess I can get him to spank me."
"You mistake a spanking on the aft plates to a strike to the helm."
"Hey, I've had both so much, my circuits are scrambled. I don't really know which end is getting whooped."
"Obviously." Prowl deadpanned. "Report to medbay."
"Isn't Wheeljack still in there?" Now Sideswipe was worried.
"I believe he is helping Ratchet finish the last upgrades to the berths."
"They've been at awhile," Sideswipe muttered. As far as he could recollect, no one had needed the medical services since Ratchet informed the crew of Wheeljack's involvement in medical berth upgrades. "I haven't seen the new berths. Wonder what's different?"
"You break them, and Ratchet will give you to Wheeljack to experiment on. And I will conveniently look the other way," Prowl said, pointing at the door. "Now, dismissed."
"Sure, baby," Sideswipe crowed before dashing out the door before Prowl could smack him.
There was nothing funnier than riling that Praxian up into a hissing frenzy. Sideswipe had even started to clock Prowl, and could calculate the time when he was about to escalate into violence.
Sideswipe swaggered into medbay, every intention of catcalling Ratchet, when his voice died in his vocalizer.
The floor was the same drab orange, but the berths looked brand new, offering two sizes to fit the frame types on the ship. Sideswipe noticed little flaps that allowed the berths to expand for the bigger bots, or for those with oddities, like doorwings. Above each bed was a diagnostic readout, eliminating a lot of machinery that cluttered up the med bay. Wheeljack was laying on one of the new berths, Ratchet using the engineer's vitals to calibrate the system.
But that wasn't what caught Sideswipe's attention and stole his breathing function.
It was his brother.
Standing in front of a large sliding metal curtain, Sunstreaker was putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece. The panels that made up the divider were smooth, polished metal, but Sunstreaker had painted a scene of old Cybertron upon the dull surface.
The cityscape off Kaon adorned the makeshift metal canvas. Sunstreaker was meticulously applying white and yellow squares to the shadowed hulk of a building, giving it the illusion of life. One of Ratchet's instrument trays stood nearby, holding Sunstreaker's art supplies. So engrossed in his work, he hadn't noticed the presence of his twin.
"What do you want, pest?" Ratchet asked when he noticed their company.
Sunstreaker turned in slow motion, looking at his twin with something akin to peace. It was strange to see Sunstreaker so calm. Even wilder to feel it coming over the bond. Sideswipe never felt such tranquility.
"Prowl sent me," Sideswipe managed to say before his optics alighted on the ceiling. He couldn't stop the cry of wonderment.
Cybertron's celestial sky loomed overhead.
The ceiling was vaulted high enough to allow Skyfire to move freely, but the artful blending of colors made it appear as if one could reach out and touch the heavens. Brilliant nebulas, gas clouds, even an ion storm brewing on the horizon, (just above Ratchet's office door,) lit up the dull med bay and turned it into a little piece of home.
"This is what you've been doing instead of working in your studio?" Sideswipe breathed, mesmerized by the sky above.
Sunstreaker nodded, then frowned. "How do you know I haven't been in my studio?"
"Stopped by earlier. Found your supplies. Kinda used all the paint to put Bumblebee's pedetracks around the rec room."
"You what?" Sunstreaker snarled, serene manner gone and instantly replaced with raging homicidal maniac.
"Go ahead and beat him up," Ratchet said, motioning to a berth. "We can use him to recalibrate the new equipment."
"Sunstreaker?" Sideswipe looked to his brother, his expression unreadable. "You painted… this?"
Sunstreaker's rage melted a little as he gave a faint nod, gesturing to the back of the ward, where he had started. Between each berth was a partition, each one showing a scene of Cybertron. Several of the sections were in the beginning stages, their paint still glossy.
Sideswipe was mesmerized by the scenes his brother captured. Every major city was represented, offering a little piece of home to those who were stuck in recovery. This was so much better than looking at burnt pumpkin.
"Ratchet's idea," Sunstreaker said, offering a partial shrug. He had to admit, these were his favorite pieces. The human landscape was nice, and the colors offering Sunstreaker's artistic optic a chance to capture the essence of the organic world, but nothing could compare to the scenes of their home world.
"This is why you haven't been doing monitor and patrol duty, and I have to cover for you?" Sideswipe asked, disgruntled.
"This is working," Sunstreaker said defensively.
"This?" Sideswipe waved his arm to the collection of artistic pieces. "This is… fun! Leisure."
Ratchet joined the two, his optics centered on Sideswipe. "Everyone complains about how ugly the ship is. I brought this to Prime's attention and he allowed Sunstreaker the time off to work on this project."
"But…. He's enjoying himself,' Sideswipe whined.
One brow ridge cocked. Ratchet's optics narrowed. "It is also therapeutic. Sunstreaker has poured countless hours into making this med bay into a place where bots can feel at home and thus, heal quicker. And in doing so, he himself has been allowed to exercise his natural talents."
Sideswipe glared at his twin, who for some strange reason looked like he was embarrassed. His cheeks were darker and he was staring at the floor.
"So, Sunstreaker was assigned to provide a mural that would break the doldrums of lying immobile in the medical ward, and make it more cheerful so the inmates can heal and go out to hurt themselves all over again?" Sideswipe asked.
Sunstreaker smirked at his brother. Sideswipe was notorious for self harming. He and Wheeljack had a pretty even record on that account.
"Come to think of it, you have been rather docile lately,' Sideswipe said, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place and giving him a clear picture of exactly how much of Sunstreaker's passion had went into his artistic endeavors.
"Doing what I enjoy," Sunstreaker gave a partial shrug. He really wanted to say love, but Ratchet and Wheeljack were nearby and he had a reputation to uphold. No one would hear him say such smooshie things.
Sideswipe?
Well, he had already told everyone on the crew he loved them at one time or another. Some were more apt to earn his drunken declarations than others, but he was still notorious for telling bots how much he loved them.
Pit, he even called up Megatron one drunken night and told him he loved him.
The next time they met on the battlefield, there was more tension than actual aggression, in which the only way to break the spell was Megatron calling for a hasty retreat.
Sideswipe, in need of a good thrashing, gave his twin his most cocky grin.
"My little ball of sunshine, being so loveable and warm and soft and fuzzy inside." He paused, ignoring Sunstreaker's building fury. "Oh, and sorry about using up all the new paints. Guess you'll have to order some more!"
Sunstreaker was a golden comet, slamming into his brother, fists flying.
Ratchet observed from a safe distance, calling over to the furious mech beating up his twin.
"Beat him up good. I want to test the biofeeds on the new beds."
Sunstreaker obeyed, thoroughly pummeling his twin into unconsciousness and providing Ratchet with his first patient in his newly improved medbay.
o-o
-o-
o-o
You like? Push that little button down there in the corner and let me know what you think!
Love to all!
PJ
