A/N: I really had to fight this one onto the page--but both my twin and my beta swear it passes inspection, so here ya go.

Oh, and cookies to all my reviewers--ya'll are awesome.

EDIT: I have just realized that I forgot something. None of the games and/or copyrighted material mentioned in this fic belongs to me. If they did, I would be rich. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

"Will it really kill you if we die?" Sunstreaker asked in a low voice as they walked down the corridor from Prime's office to their quarters. Ratchet winced a little at the brooding guilt that Sunny was obviously attempting to conceal from him. Sideswipe turned his head to look at them expectantly.

"It's a possibility," he admitted softly—he wouldn't lie to them. "My spark is not dependent on yours for its existence, though, so there's a chance I'll survive your deaths," he added, trying to be encouraging.

"Only a chance?" Sideswipe inquired, sounding disheartened.

So much for encouraging.

"Sides…" He shuttered his optics for a moment, then opened them again to look at his bondmates. "The way that the bond works… I wouldn't want to live if you died."

Sunstreaker went from depressed to livid in the space of a second. "Don't you dare say that," he hissed, fists clenched in anger. A glance at Sideswipe confirmed that he was just as furious as his twin.

"You're way too important to just lie down and die," the red mech said in a hard, clipped tone. "You heard Prime in there!" he added fiercely.

The medic sighed. "Yes, and I also heard him say that there was nothing to be done for it now—and he was right. What will be, will be. It's one thing you learn, when you're a medic—some you can save, and others you can't, and sometimes you don't really know which it'll be or why."

The Lamborghini brothers' ire abruptly faded at that. "That is the most depressing thing I have ever heard," Sideswipe muttered, scuffing his feet along the floor. "How do you keep from going crazy?"

"Honestly?" Ratchet asked, and both twins nodded earnestly. "I throw things. If that doesn't work, getting plastered off my aft usually does." He shook his head. "I completely trashed my quarters after we lost those twins in Iacon," he added wryly. "It's… painful… to lose a perfectly healthy patient because his brother lies dead on another table." His optics took on a faraway look. "They were such dainty little things—real delicate and fragile-looking." He snorted. "They weren't fighters, that's for sure—worlds different from you two. We knew the minute we lost the first one; his brother just got this look in his optics, like he'd given up. We did what we could, but his mind was gone, and it didn't take long before he deactivated, as well." Ratchet shivered. "It didn't help with the guilt that their creator was some wealthy politician. There was a big fuss over it—they claimed we didn't try hard enough to save them. It was in all the news feeds at the time."

Looking both ways to make sure they were alone in the hall, Sunstreaker pulled him roughly into his arms. "Sorry you had to deal with all of that," he murmured, fingers stroking tenderly over the medic's head.

"I don't remember it," Sideswipe commented thoughtfully.

"It was a long time ago—you would have been too young to pay much attention when it happened," Ratchet replied, pulling free of Sunstreaker's embrace—though he left his fingers entwined with the yellow mech's, and pulled him on down the corridor toward their room. "I was fresh out of the Academy, myself." The door to their quarters came into sight; Wheeljack leaned against the wall beside it.

"So how'd it go?" the inventor asked, pushing away from the wall to stand straight as they approached.

"Better than expected," Ratchet replied warmly, clasping his friend's hand for a brief moment. "Prime's not the happiest 'Bot, but at least he's not ready to rip our heads off yet." He keyed in the entry code to the door, and they all stepped inside.

"Been a while since I visited," Wheeljack commented, taking in the changes the twins had made to the room since he had been in it last—he whistled when he saw the entertainment center they had set up. "Nice." He ran a finger along the spines of the games and movies stacked neatly on one of the upper shelves.

Just like that, the two Lamborghinis were distracted from their unpleasant moods. "Spike gets 'em for us," Sideswipe said, proud as a peacock over the collection he and his brother had amassed. "And the companies special-made us some controllers and consoles—but it's still a bit tricky switching out the games. It wasn't really practical to alter the size of the media, they said."

"I'll say this for the humans: they really know the entertainment business," Sunstreaker added, flopping down on the berth so that he lay on his back with his head and one arm hanging over the side and looking at them from his new upside-down perspective. His other arm he folded over his chestplate.

"You look ridiculous," Ratchet told him, amused, and Wheeljack laughed.

"You're the only mech I know of that can tell Sunstreaker he looks ridiculous and get away with it." The inventor chuckled at the yellow twin's disgruntled expression.

"Just for that, Ratchet, you owe me a wax," Sunstreaker growled, and Ratchet snorted derisively.

"No way."

"Here, 'Jack, check this one out, it's awesome," Sideswipe said, having completely ignored what was going on behind him. He pulled out a tiny hard-plastic case and showed it to Wheeljack.

The engineer dutifully leaned over to look at it. "'Oddworld: Abe's Exoddus'," he read, brow furrowing in his version of a frown. "Isn't exodus spelled with one 'd'?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "It's a game. They spell things funny all the time."

"I will never get over 'All your base are belong to us'," Sunstreaker chortled, rolling over and sitting up.

His brother snickered. "That was a case of really bad translation, bro," he said cheerfully.

"Umm… explanation?" Ratchet asked, looking confused.

The two brothers looked at each other and grinned.

"You see," Sideswipe began, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, "there was this really bad game—"

"Zero Wing," Sunstreaker supplied agreeably.

"—and it completely and totally had no plot."

"And horrible gameplay."

"In other words, it sucked," Sideswipe summarized.

"So, to lessen the suckage and further the plot—"

"—they added an intro."

"Except it was in Japanese, and they didn't have time to translate it properly into English." Ratchet didn't think it was physically possible for the twins' grins to get wider, but they managed it somehow.

"Thus," Sideswipe concluded happily, "resulting in the rather awful phrase, 'All your base are belong to us'." For a moment, Ratchet thought he detected a hint of the red twin's 'scheming' look, but it was so fleeting that he figured he must have imagined it.

"Is this a… commonplace occurrence?" Wheeljack asked, bemused.

"Unfortunately, yes," Sideswipe replied. "It does make for some hilarious stuff, though." He set his game back down on the shelf and made himself comfortable next to his brother on the berth.

"If you two know all that, you have way too much time on your hands," Ratchet said dryly.

"We knew that already," Wheeljack commented. "Speaking of which, I don't think there's been a single prank attributed to you in the past month—been too busy?"

Sideswipe's leering grin made him pause. "Oh, I've been pretty busy," he said slyly, glancing sidelong at Ratchet.

Ratchet snorted and looked away. "Don't embarrass me, 'Jack," he said calmly. "You won't like it."

"Ooh, is that a threat?" the inventor taunted cheerfully.

"You realize that we'll always side with Ratchet, right?" Sideswipe asked innocently, sending Wheeljack a meaningful look.

The engineer arched an optic ridge. "Point taken," he replied, amused. "Note to self: never prank Ratchet." He paused, then added cheekily, "Note to Sideswipe: never mess with the guy with the explosives."

"Point taken," Sideswipe laughed. "Hey, Ratch, come sit with us," he invited, patting the berth beside himself. Both twins had been more clingy than usual since he had gotten injured yesterday, trying to keep him as close as possible. It should have been suffocating—and before the bond, Ratchet most certainly would have taken their heads off for it—but now it was rather comforting, so he didn't quibble about walking over and sitting down between them. Wheeljack pulled a chair around to face them and settled himself in that.

Watching Ratchet thoughtfully, the engineer commented, "You're a lot calmer since you bonded with them, aren't you? I mean, when Huffer came in complaining about his joints again you didn't even yell at him all that much."

The medic looked at him in surprise. "Yeah… I guess I am," he admitted. He leaned into Sideswipe, who put an arm around him absently, and Sunstreaker rearranged himself so that he lay with his head in Ratchet's lap. The yellow twin made a soft noise of contentment and shuttered his optics as his bondmate gently stroked the vents framing his face.

Wheeljack heaved a gusty sigh. "It's enough to make a mech jealous, seeing you three so happy," he murmured, almost longingly.

Ratchet raised his head up from where he had laid it on Sideswipe's shoulder and watched his friend with sorrow in his optics. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, 'Jack? Since—"

"No!" Wheeljack interrupted in a sharp voice. "Don't even say the name," he added wearily. Both twins turned their optics to the inventor in curiosity. "And before you ask—no, I'm not going to tell you," he told them firmly. Sunstreaker just 'hmphed' and closed his optics again, and Sideswipe shrugged and said, "Whatever."

"I didn't think it really bothered you anymore," Ratchet murmured softly.

"It's… not as bad as it used to be. I still think about it, occasionally, but I'm mostly over it," Wheeljack admitted. "So," he added with forced cheer, "which of you boys wants to show me how one of these game consoles works? I've been itching to get my hands on one for a while…"

"I'll do it," Sideswipe replied quietly, standing and walking over to the entertainment center to set one up for the inventor. For a while, they let themselves become immersed in the game, laughing and cheering as Wheeljack, and then, after much wheedling, Ratchet, tried to figure out the controls. Finally, the two older mechs sat back and watched the twins play Mortal Kombat, animated blood spraying across the screen as their characters whaled on each other.

"That's disgusting," Ratchet commented as Sideswipe's character wrenched Sunstreaker's character's head off and held it up with the spine dangling. Sunstreaker growled and tossed the controller petulantly—though they all noticed that he took care not to throw it hard enough to break it. Sideswipe crowed in victory.

"If you don't get that finger out of my face, I will break it off," the yellow mech snarled at his brother, and Sideswipe was quick to snatch his hand back with an alarmed look.

Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanged a look and then burst out laughing at the red mech's expression.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Sideswipe muttered with mock annoyance.

Wheeljack was still chuckling as he stood and stretched limbs gone stiff from sitting in one place for too long. "Well, as much fun as this has been, I'm out," he announced, fins flashing merrily. "I've got other things to do besides waste time with you three."

"We'll have to do this more often," the medic remarked, getting up to see his friend to the door.

"Definitely," the inventor replied, clapping Ratchet on the shoulder before walking out and letting the door shut behind him.

Before he even had the chance to turn around, a pair of red arms wound their way around him and began pulling him backwards toward the berth. One black hand splayed across his windshield while the other slid under the white armor to tweak sensitive wiring, and he couldn't help it—he gave an undignified squeak of surprise. Soft laughter sounded next to his audios, and he frowned a little and tried to get away.

"Hey now, where do you think you're going? I still haven't paid you back for yesterday morning," Sideswipe purred, arms tightening around the medic.

"That wasn't my fault," Ratchet protested breathily as the hand beneath his armor delved a little deeper. Sideswipe didn't reply at first, merely continuing to pull him backwards until finally Sunstreaker came into view. The yellow twin's attention was riveted on them, and the look in his optics was predatory.

Sunstreaker slithered off the berth, all sinuous grace and supple power. He never actually came close enough to touch, just watched intently as his brother dragged the medic onto the 'charge pad and continued to wring little cries from his vocalizer. Ratchet had to admit that it was a bit unnerving to know that Sunstreaker was just standing there, observing as Sideswipe seduced him thoroughly, even though he could still feel the little knot of his presence in the back of his mind through the bond.

The medic finally gathered the wits to respond to what Sideswipe was doing to him and flipped the red Lamborghini onto his back, taking the role of aggressor—not something he could generally pull off with these two—and making him writhe beneath him. He slowly gentled the exchange, caresses becoming softer and kisses sweeter but no less intense, and Sideswipe moaned throatily in response.

Sunstreaker was suddenly, finally, there with them, hands running over the medic's chassis with a need that he couldn't hide—and when the trembling golden fingers discovered an access port, Ratchet cried out and arched up into the touch. Moments later Sideswipe found another port, and, moving as one, both brothers linked their systems to his.

It was tender and almost sweet this time as they reaffirmed their bond; their movements were lazy and languid and the pleasure built in a slow deep burn as minds and sparks became fully meshed. Overload became an inferno that consumed them to ash—and it was in the aftermath, when their bodies felt liquid from the heat and their consciousnesses were still entwined, that Ratchet discovered the little hidden corner of memories in Sunstreaker's mind that he had never seen before.

He felt both twins stiffen against him, and nearly recoiled in surprise that they had purposefully kept something secret from him. He had not really shared memories with them before, since the here-and-now had been of more interest to them than the past—it threw him for a moment to realize that he really didn't know that much more about their past than he had when he had first met them—but he had never gotten the sense that they had anything to hide from him. He had certainly not concealed anything from them—his memories were as open to them as he had believed theirs to be to him.

Then he found out just what they were hiding.

"Oh, Sunny," he murmured, spark breaking at this latest revelation.

"Don't pity me!" Sunstreaker snarled, breaking away from the bond and disengaging the physical connection between them so roughly that Ratchet gasped in pain at the loss. He flung himself out of the berth to stand on unsteady feet, staring at the medic with something akin to betrayal in his optics. Sideswipe was a bit gentler about his withdrawal—but it still hurt to feel him pull away so completely.

"I'm sorry," Ratchet whispered hoarsely, scrambling to tuck himself into the corner of the berth by the wall and drawing himself up into a ball, arms wrapped around his knees. "Primus, Sunny—"

"Shut up—!"

"Sunstreaker!" Sideswipe abruptly snapped, glowering at his brother. "Don't you think he has a right to know?" The red twin turned to Ratchet, tugging carefully on the medic's arm in an attempt to pull him out of his corner, but Ratchet wouldn't budge. "C'mon, now, Ratch," he wheedled, fingers searching for a way to pry open the miserable ball of medic. "You just surprised us is all, now come outta there…" Finally the ambulance let Sideswipe coax him into his arms, and he huddled there, beyond upset.

Sunstreaker wavered, irresolute, before gingerly sitting back down on the berth beside them—though he made sure not to look at or touch either one of them. They sat in silence for long moments as the bond amplified all that they were feeling to the point that depression nearly swamped them. Finally, Sunstreaker spoke.

"You tell it, Siders, I don't think I can," he whispered, optics locked on the floor.

Hesitantly, Sideswipe nodded. "Alright… Hmm, where to start?"

"How about at the beginning?" Sunstreaker asked sarcastically, and Sideswipe glared at him.

"Do you want me to tell this or not?" the red Lamborghini demanded.

"I'd rather not, but better you than me," his brother snapped in return.

Sideswipe opened his mouth to say something back, and then shut it with an audible click and a wordless noise of frustration. More silence followed.

"This is not something we've ever told anyone else," Sideswipe said at last, arms tightening around the medic. "In fact, we've tried our best to forget it ourselves, but I think it's permanently imprinted in our databanks." He shook his head as though to clear it, and continued. "I guess I should start by saying that we're not really very trusting mechs. I guess it comes from being bonded to one another for our entire lives—we're so used to just knowing where we stand with each other that it makes it hard not to second-guess an outsider. We were so relieved that you made the decision to bond with us," he confessed, "even if it was subconscious." He caressed the white cheek with awed gratitude in his expression, and Sunstreaker eased just a little bit closer—and then Sideswipe surprised him by snaking out a hand and yanking him up flush against Ratchet's other side so that the medic was pressed between them. Sunny struggled for a few moments, then gave in and draped himself across his bondmate, letting Sideswipe support both of their weights and sighing in resigned contentment.

"It was so stupid. I was so stupid," said Sunstreaker, burying his face in the crook of Ratchet's neck.

"You're not stupid," Ratchet protested automatically.

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily. "But you've said it yourself often enough," he said, raising his head a little. Ratchet winced.

"Then I apologize. I'm usually too mad—and too worried—to think about what I'm saying when someone's injured. And you two seem to end up in my medbay more than all the other Autobots combined," he replied, turning his head and finding Sunstreaker so close that their lips brushed as he spoke. The yellow mech closed the last millimeter between them in a light, chaste kiss.

"Hey, now," Sideswipe protested when he heard Sunstreaker's systems revving at the simple contact. "None of that—this'll never get dealt with otherwise." Sunny finally pulled away and laid his cheek against the medic's shoulder.

"Alright," he grumbled, shuttering his optics. "Go ahead and get it over with, Sides."

"In our defense, we were very young, and naïve. That's the only excuse I can come up with even now, so long after the fact." He started to say more, but Sunstreaker abruptly stood up. "Sunny?" he asked, concerned, but his brother only shook his head.

"I have to go," he said shortly, and escaped through the door before either of them could stop him.

Sideswipe sighed. "It probably would have done him good to hear it told, but I'm not surprised he couldn't make himself stay." He shook his head in unconscious imitation of Sunstreaker. "In any case, we were just barely out of adolescence when Sunstreaker met this pretty little femme-bot. She was quite a bit older than we were, and everything a mech could want—lovely and warm and sweet—and Sunny was smitten. At first she seemed like a dream, and I thought Sunny was so lucky to have met her, but the longer we knew her, the more something struck me as… off… about her. Sunny wouldn't hear a word against her, though. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

"Eventually, he began spending more time with her than with me—which, I'll admit, fragged me off pretty bad—and we argued about it. Then one day I'm going back to our room, just as she's running out, babbling that my brother's a monster, and that he tried to kill her. I admit she had some marks on her, but nothing worse than what he's put on you before—certainly nothing to have a fit over. I found Sunny sitting on his bunk looking like his world had been destroyed, and frag me if he didn't go after her the minute I got him calmed down, the idiot. You'd have thought he would have taken the hint and left her alone—"

"Sunny's too hard-headed for that," Ratchet interrupted, and Sideswipe smiled grimly.

"Yeah, ain't that the truth. Anyway, you gotta keep in mind that the war had just gotten into full swing, and both sides were recruiting heavily, and either faction would have been thrilled to acquire a set of twin frontline fighters like us."

"I don't see what that has to do with all of this…"

"I'm getting to that part," the red Lamborghini insisted. "Long story short, she was working for the Decepticons, and it was all a trick from the get-go. She wanted Sunny to come after her—and when he caught up to her, she had all her big friends with her. They held him down for her while she tried to force a spark-bond on him. Apparently that was the latest Decepticon tactic—bind 'em to you so they'd have to join—and they'd developed a way to break past the firewalls that usually stop stuff like that from happening.

"For some reason, though, it didn't work on Sunny. He fought 'em off long enough for me to get there, and there wasn't much left of them when we got done. Primus, but it hurt like the Pit when they broke past his firewalls—he was transmitting to me in a panic, so I got caught up in it. Took us a while to get all our systems back up and running again, but once we did, we went straight away and signed up with the Autobots."

"Primus," Ratchet whispered. "No wonder he has issues."

"Sunny has good reasons for being the way he is," Sideswipe agreed. "But then, you knew that already—just not the specifics." Ratchet nodded, confirming his red lover's statement. "In any case, I'm pretty sure that was about when Megatron decided it wasn't worth losing so many already loyal soldiers over the possibility of gaining one or two. And you know what the crazy thing is? If she had asked, instead of trying to take, Sunny would have gone right along with her, and we would have been Decepticons now, instead of Autobots."

Ratchet shuddered. "We had heard rumors that things like that had been happening," he said quietly. He paused, then, thoughtfully, he added, "You know, it just occurred to me that the reason that the forced spark-bond didn't take had nothing to do with Sunny fighting it."

"I don't follow you," Sideswipe said, sounding confused.

"Well, think about it—a spark-bond requires two whole sparks…"

Understanding dawned in the red twin's optics. "And we each only have half of one—Primus, the only reason we escaped that was because we're twins," he said in a horrified whisper.

Ratchet nodded grimly. "If what I suspect is true, then—yes. But… Primus, those rumors were never confirmed—"

"Well, now you know," Sideswipe replied darkly, and then added, "We'd better go find Sunny before he gets into trouble," and pulled the ambulance off of the berth with him.

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When they did find Sunstreaker, however, it completely threw both of them for a loop—he was sitting in the rec room, talking companionably with Bumblebee. Both mechs looked up when they entered, and 'Bee, kind little 'Bot that he was, motioned them over to sit with them.

The Volkswagen looked at them with some amusement in his optics as they approached. "Nice paintjob," he greeted them cheerfully. They looked at each other in surprise and realized that they were both streaked with smudges of red and yellow and white paint. A glance at Sunstreaker revealed the yellow mech's paint to be just as pristine as it had after he'd waxed it just this morning, and he gave them a gloating smirk.

Then they caught the glimpse of bare metal showing through on his fingertips. ::Slagger,:: Ratchet sent affectionately. ::You're just hiding it better.:: Sunstreaker's smirk grew wider.

Meanwhile, Sideswipe responded to 'Bee's teasing statement with a mild, "Yeah, it's my new look. You like it?" And he did a silly little pirouette, making all of them chuckle.

"It's fabulous," the minibot laughed. "Really suits you."

"I thought so," the red Lamborghini sighed theatrically. "I'll have to beat my admirers off with a stick. It's so hard being beautiful," he mused, and then yelped when Ratchet hit him.

"Fragging glitch," Sideswipe said in mock aggravation, grinning as he rubbed his dented head.

"Someone's jealous," Bumblebee giggled.

"Actually," Ratchet corrected, "someone needs to have his ego deflated." He glared good-humoredly at his red bondmate. Sunstreaker snickered.

"Sooo, the rumors that you two are friends now must be true," Sideswipe commented.

"Apparently," 'Bee said, glancing sidelong at Sunstreaker, who nodded amiably. Ratchet could see that the little Volkswagen was still a little wary of this new relationship with the volatile Lamborghini, and the medic could understand his viewpoint—it was much like being friends with a tame lion. It may like you, but you never forget that it can rip your throat out.

Regardless, 'Bee was nothing if not loyal, and he took his responsibilities as a friend seriously—so whatever they had been talking about before Ratchet and Sideswipe entered the room, it had likely been aimed at cheering the big warrior up.

The weird thing was that, to all appearances, it had worked.

Neither of them said a word about what had been spoken between them before Sunstreaker's brother and bondmate had come in, and neither Lamborghini nor medic felt the need to press.

Not after the revelation in their quarters. That was overwhelming enough for one day, Ratchet decided. If it made Sunstreaker happy, he was not about to quibble as long as it didn't involve maiming and/or killing.

They chatted pleasantly about nothing for a while, until Bumblebee's shift started and he had to leave—Sunstreaker patted the little 'Bot on the shoulder as he left, murmuring a soft, "Thanks", much to the other mechs' surprise.

"What?" Sunny demanded, seeing the unreadable looks they were giving him once 'Bee was gone.

"I love you," Ratchet said gently, and Sunstreaker twitched in startlement—and then his mind touched the medic's with a fierce, wordless reciprocation of the sentiment.

"You alright, bro?" Sideswipe asked, fingertips just barely brushing his brother's arm. Sunstreaker nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "I will be. Sorry I took off. I was—" The unspoken word afraid hung in the air.

Sideswipe waved away the yellow mech's embarrassment. "Hey, it's over and done with now—and he knows, and it's ok." Ratchet nodded in agreement, and reached out to grip his yellow bondmate's hand.

"Let's get back to our quarters, get some recharge in. Tomorrow starts early, and we've all got shifts in the morning," the medic suggested, and the twins followed his lead when he got up and headed for the door.