"I've just got off the horn with Huffer; He says your replacement parts will be ready within the hour, though matrix only knows why you two knuckleheads deserve them so quickly."
Ratchet walked into the main repair bay from his office. His news seemed to sail over the brooding pairs' heads, Tracks lightly nodding his shattered head, causing First Aid to hold it still while he worked on it, and Sunstreaker completely ignoring it, sitting with his arms folded and looking seriously pissed.
"Hello? Earth to Sunstreaker? Actually, should that be Cybertron to Sunstreaker? I can never tell..." Ratchet saw his attempt at humor was going nowhere; Sunstreaker's scowl not deviating from its southerly position. "Scrap you then, for crying out loud," Ratchet's good humor had faded now, melting back into his usual cranky disposition.
"How long is he going to keep that up?" inquired First Aid?
"I haven't the foggiest, but one time after he had been drag racing with Sideswipe and got a tiny scratch in his paintwork, he sulked for two weeks."
"Will you kindly watch what you are doing?" It was Tracks. Ratchet wasn't sure if First Aid had made a slip up, or if Tracks was just sick of hearing about Sunstreaker, but he didn't care. He carried on his conversation with First Aid all the same
The loud guffawing of the two medics was just white noise to Sunstreaker. He didn't even notice the loud, indignant cry of protest from Tracks. He was angry. Imagine that stuck up corvette insulting his perfect bodywork, and then have the audacity to actually ruin it!
I bet he's just jealous, the fuming Sunstreaker concluded. He twitched with anger when he thought about how Tracks was being fixed first, granted the extensive damage he had caused to Tracks was far greater than the superficial hull damage Sunstreaker had received, but that wasn't the point to the vain yellow Autobot. He lifted his folded arms to reveal the long, wide scratch in his paintwork. If he were human he would have broken down and cried.
Optimus Prime entered the repair bay with the heavy burden of his responsibilities weighing down on his mighty shoulders. He expected squabbles to break out in such a ragtag mismatched group as the Autobots, but not for them to develop into life or death brawls between formally close friends. Tracks and Sunstreaker were very similar individuals, perhaps too similar. They had formally gotten on well, their constant claims that each was the better looking developing into a friendly rivalry that transferred into an excellent working relationship, one that even rivaled the one between Sunstreaker and his own brother
But a while ago a bitter gulf had grown between the friends. Each now viewed the other scornfully, and for no apparent reason, certainly not one Prime could put his finger on. Even Smokescreen, Prime's usual link to the inner workings of his troops, was stumped on this one. After about a minute of looking over the damage done to the two, Prime spoke up
"Any body feel like giving me an explanation?"