A Sunlit Waltz
AN: Sorry for the delay but real life gets in the way of fun. Been battling a cracked sewer line and after two weeks of crawling on belly and working on it, I have to replace the entire line. Joy. So, writing time is drastically reduced! Oy Vey!
AN2: Hope everyone is doing well! My state is resuming operation May 1st and if all goes well we'll be back in full operation by end of May. :D Bout time too! Sick and tired of the craziness and stupidity that's out there! So, let's kick back, relax, and have a bit of a laugh with our favorite mechs, shall we?
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"This is NOT funny!" Sideswipe barked angrily.
Sunstreaker's laughter only increased.
"Better you than me," the golden mech taunted.
"Slagger!" Sideswipe spat, rocking on busted tires.
Oh, those tires were less than a month old. Ratchet was going to be PISSED!
"Jazz! I'm going to slagging terminate you!" Sideswipe bellowed as gravel scraped his undercarriage. "Nice and slow! Painfully! Piece by piece!"
Jazz had the good graces to look ashamed of himself. He slouched on the side of the road, shoulder smoking profusely.
"Sorry, man," the Porsche said sincerely. "It was an accident."
"It was stupidity!" Sideswipe countered.
"You're a fine one to talk," Sunstreaker said, snickering and settling himself comfortably on the ground.
He wasn't assisting Sideswipe. Sunstreaker was a firm believer that pain was a good teacher. However, with Sideswipe's long history of self harming, and Ratchet's cast iron love, Sunstreaker was reconsidering the logic.
"Can you at least help me get off the guardrail?" Sideswipe groused, not wanting to move on his own in case he further damaged himself.
"Nope," Sunstreaker said, taking several pictures of the scene to use as later blackmail. Or possibly entertain his fellow Autobots.
Irritating as they may be, Sunstreaker occasionally enjoyed sharing a joke, or more commonly, a prank gone wrong.
Only this time it wasn't a prank. Or maybe it was. Hard to tell with the high performance idiot.
One minute Sunstreaker was cruising along the double lane highway, Jazz and Sideswipe playing a game weaving through traffic, the next thing Sunstreaker saw was Jazz careening wildly before slamming into Sideswipe, sending the Lamborghini off the road, where he skipped the guardrail, crumpling it beneath him, and wiping out two sapling pines, which happened to be poking out of his trunk which was slightly elevated.
Jazz had transformed to assist and a loud explosion rent his shoulder, rendering his torso lifeless and smoldering.
Though pain filtered through the bond, Sunstreaker figured his miscreant brother had been the underlying cause of the accident. A few passing motorists stopped to ask if they could be of assistance, but Sunstreaker informed them help was already on the way.
Thankfully the humans didn't linger. They hurried along, busy with their own lives.
Which left Sunstreaker waiting on Ratchet and Wheeljack, and possibly a few other bots who would be needed to haul the two injured mechs into Prime's trailer.
Sunstreaker didn't get long to contemplate his teammates predicament when there was a sound of siren approaching from his left. Expecting to find Prowl, he scowled when a human police vehicle pulled up and two humans exited.
"Morning," one of the humans said by way of greeting. "What seems to be the trouble here?"
Jazz glared at Sunstreaker in silent warning, hoping the golden mech wouldn't go ballistic and attempt to step on the ignorant organic.
But Sunstreaker's mood wasn't sour like it normally was. In fact he was downright pleasant. Which was far more terrifying.
"Slight problem, but help is on the way," Sunstreaker said, towering from his considerable height.
One of the officers adjusted his belt, hefting its weight on his bony hips before speaking.
"We had a call about two cars racing," he said, glancing between Sideswipe still up on the guardrail, and Jazz sitting in the gravel, nursing a smoking shoulder. "Weaving through traffic and scaring a lot of folks."
"Nothing to be concerned," Jazz said dismissively. "Heard of a potential emergency call and wanted to offer assistance, but it was a false alarm. No humans or pets were in danger."
"I didn't hear anything over the emergency band," the man said skeptically, eyeing Jazz's busted shoulder.
"Another frequency," Jazz lied easily.
"If it was an emergency, the line would have been buzzing," the officer added, one bushy brow shooting up in his thick hair line. "Have you been drinking?"
Sunstreaker's expression was priceless.
His mood improved even more. If his frightening grin and gleaming optics were any indication.
"No more than usual," Sunstreaker said, not so helpfully. "Downed a few this morning before the drive, but nothing too strong."
Jazz openly glared in hostility.
For once, Sunstreaker didn't retaliate. He was having too much fun. And the ornery streak in him, influenced of his twin no doubt, wanted to see how far the charade could go.
Not to mention, Sunstreaker wasn't threatened by the special ops mech. The trio had an ongoing battle for pranking supremacy.
"How much have you had today?" the officer asked, attempting to assert his authority.
"I haven't been drinking!" Jazz said, trying to remain calm. He was irked at seeing Sunstreaker's cheeky grin.
Sunstreaker didn't prank often, but when he did... it was epic.
"Reports state there was a lot of weaving," the second man put in, confronting Jazz as well. "Crossing of lines and leaving established lane. Putting other drivers at risk."
"Man, I wasn't endangering anyone," Jazz said. "I was only thinking about answering a human call for help, which turned out to be a false alarm."
"Where you racing?" the first cop asked.
"No," Jazz lied. "Merely increased speed to answer an emergency call."
"By weaving through traffic?"
"Couldn't' get there in the slow lane now can I?"
"And you?" they asked Sideswipe.
"Trying to back up my friend and offer assistance to humans in distress," Sideswipe was a talented liar as well.
"And the report of erratic driving?"
"He was listening to music," Sunstreaker added, loving the interrogations of the humans on his teammates. It had been a long time since he was this entertained.
"So, you were distracted as well as speeding?" the officer clarified.
Jazz scowled at Sunstreaker. "You plan this? You have your brother play that awesome music, knowing I have to dance, and when I got into the groove, you set me up to get busted?"
"You were.. dancing?" Sunstreaker asked incredulously. He had seen some wild moves on the road. Jazz never did anything remotely as astonishing as what he had performed several minutes prior while in the throes of rhythm.
Jazz huffed and slouched grumpily, making his shoulder squeak and issue a new curl of smoke.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to walk a straight line," the cop said.
"You're serious?" Jazz asked.
"I take my job very seriously," the cop confided. "I have several reports of two vehicles weaving through traffic at high speeds and by your own confession, you were distracted. And judging how your friend is parked on the guardrail, I'm guessing you swerved or overcompensated, causing your friend to mirror your actions to prevent an accident when in fact, it compounded it and caused this wreck."
"That's not what happened!" Jazz protested.
"That's exactly what happened," Sunstreaker amended, amusement making his optics twinkle. "My idiot brother was blasting music, you were dancing while racing through traffic, and when you tried to avoid a pothole, you ran into Sideswipe, who ended up balancing his undercarriage on the guardrail."
"Oh, this is embarrassing," Sideswipe bemoaned.
"And you were drinking," the officer asked, pulling out a notebook and scribbling information.
"I wasn't drinking!" Jazz exclaimed vehemently.
"Sir, would you walk a straight line?" he asked. "One foot in front of other."
"I haven't been drinking nor am I overcharged!" Jazz said, shakily gaining his feet. His busted shoulder sparked and hissed as he shifted the damaged circuits.
Jazz got three steps before his equilibrium chips went out and sent him teetering along the road, wind milling his good arm to regain balance.
"Slag it!" Jazz cursed, wanting to purge his tanks from dizziness. The impact with Sideswipe had been worse than he thought. Even as a sleek sports car, Sideswipe was still dangerous to tangle with.
"Sir, try to stay in a straight line," the officer said curtly as Jazz wavered.
"Slag it, I'm trying but my circuits are scrambled from the pyscho Lambo!" Jazz yelled, helm spinning so badly he doubled over...
...and purged spectacularly all over the black and white patrol car.
Grayed energon dripped as sickly frosting over the once pristinely polished surface.
Jazz leaned on the car with his good arm, choking on the acidic taste burning his analyzers. His circuits sparked and sizzled, shoulder popping to hang limply in its socket.
The two officers gasped and yelled at the puking mech but Jazz was too far gone in misery and suffering to pay them any mind.
Just then there was the familiar rumbling of a Peterbuilt, followed by a white vanette, a red vanette, and a racing vehicle technically not suited for the open highway.
The air was filled with the sounds of fast transformation as Prime immediately interceded on his soldiers behalf while Ratchet hurried to Sideswipe. Wheeljack and Ironhide flanked Jazz who had thankfully stopped purging and now leaned on the grey frosted police car, heaving through his vents, arm hanging uselessly at his side.
"Dare I even ask?" Ratchet said, kneeling down to check around Sideswipe's busted frame before moving him.
"First idiot played music knowing secondary idiot wouldn't be able to control himself," Sunstreaker provided the running commentary while Ratchet evaluated. "Jazz got creative in his dancing while driving, tried to avoid a pothole, ran into Sideswipe, sending him up the guardrail. Jazz hit another pothole and overcompensated, slamming his quarter panel into the railing a little further down. He transformed and blew out his shoulder."
Ratchet groused expletives under his breathing function. He really had a team of sparklings to take care of.
Hoping to further get the pair in trouble, Sunstreaker raised his voice so the humans could overhear, "Oh, and they've been drinking this morning as well."
"Have not!" Jazz barked, then groaned, doubling over, grasping his throbbing helm.
"We issued a field sobriety test and he was unable to pass, sir," the officer reported to Prime.
Prime sighed, knowing Jazz's true condition, which had nothing to do with being overenergized.
"I'm afraid my soldier suffers from a type of vertigo, so it only appears as if he can't walk a straight line," Prime said patiently. "But rest assured gentlemen, he has not been indulging in high octane fuel."
"He failed the sobriety test," Sunstreaker put in most un-helpfully.
"Vertigo," Prime reiterated, sending a warning glare toward Sunstreaker that earned an amused snort.
"Perhaps his license should be suspended until he's no longer a threat to dizzy spells?" Sunstreaker goaded, clearly not perturbed by Optimus' glare. "Might be a good idea to have him take some driving courses."
Jazz sputtered indignantly, causing Sideswipe, who remained on the guardrail to snigger so hard his chassis scraped on the metal railing as he slid down it in mirth. Ratchet growled in warning.
Sunstreaker quieted, not wanting to incur Ratchet's wrath. He just polished himself into an indecent shine. Be a shame to wrench it up.
"Slag it! I don't need driving lessons!" Jazz argued… and promptly lost a tire.
The wheel bounced twice and rolled away, coming to rest several meters down the road.
"Wow, Jazz, when you cut loose, you really sacrifice your body to the dance," Sunstreaker quipped.
"Drive dancing," Sideswipe added.
"Dancing while driving?" Prime asked, hands knotting into fists and resting on his hips in a parental fashion. It was scary how easily the Autobot leader turned into a creator and treated his soldiers like children.
Which in a way... they were.
Especially the troublemaker on the guardrail.
"His choreography needs a lot of work," Sideswipe added, grunting as Ratchet finally stabilized his undercarriage to be moved and none-to-gently planted the Lamborghini on his tires.
"Perhaps some lessons in road etiquette are in order," Prime said, angry his senior soldiers acted so immaturely.
"What?" Jazz yelled. "You can't be serious!"
"In your vernacular, totally," Prime deadpanned. He turned to the human officers, "Please send the pertinent information to our base and I'll make sure my soldiers attend."
"As along as it doesn't interfere with their dance classes," Sunstreaker added.
Prime's expression was priceless.
Sunstreaker saved the image.
The mood was improved by Sideswipe declaring loudly, "Ballet at 90 miles an hour!"
One officer gaped, the other nearly fainted. An Autobot leader was no amused, nor was his SIC. A twin snickered through his radiator. Another twin laughed at his ill timed joke, causing the medic to dose him with heavy iron.
And a Porsche secretly plotted the demise of the Lamborghini brand.
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Oh, Jazz got BURNED on that one! I loved torturing him. And Sides. They're fun to play off each other. And Sunny, being all amused and egging the situation on. He's such a troublemaker!
Yes, I know I'm focusing on Sunny a lot the past couple of chapters, but I write with whatever strikes my fancy. Bear with me. I don't control the muse. I'm just thrilled I'm writing ANYTHING right now.
