Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related.
AN: This chapter was hell to write.
It should have so simple, a silly, funny little chapter without any deeper meaning. Then the twins decided to go all earnest on me, Starscream discovered his philosophical side and they simply took over. Trio of terror, indeed.
And where the hell did the beach go?
Shouldn't there have been a beach somewhere?
Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing.
27/28 At the beach (set some time after "Dishevelled")
It was… a pitiful sight, to say the least.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe just sat there, in the corner of the rec room, far away from their usual spot on the couches and just did… nothing.
One could have called it suling, perhaps. Or even mourning.
But mourning what?
A lost opportunity to interface? That Prowl had finally managed to completely box them in, leaving them no chance to do what they so desperately wanted? A vision of incredible mischief that would never come true?
Or perhaps the fragile bud of new love that would never blossom….
Szzzk-shtkk....
With a faint sizzling, a flicker of Prowl's optics and an involuntary twitch of his fingers, his logic centers failed and rebooted. Not crashing completely but still stalling at the thought of the twins and Starscream pairing up. It was just… NO.
I strict and simple "NO" - something that should, and could, never happen, for the sanity of all involved - whether it be the actual impossible paring itself, or the unsuspecting and innocent bystanders who would be caught in the fallout.
But still… the imaginary dark cloud drifting through the entire Ark from the twins' lonely corner of the rec room was threatening to overcome even Prowl's infallible logic (and common sense) and guilt him into giving in and adjusting a rule in some way that would get the twins a loophole to get what they wanted.
But he had to stay firm, the consequences of him wavering would be far too disastrous!
The other occupants of the Ark weren't as resistant to the twins' obvious heartache as Prowl, even if only a handful really knew what was up with them.
Those who didn't know tried to comfort them, to cheer them up and to tempt them with opportunities for pranks. They got them tickets for a sports car show, for a concert of their favorite band, for several free car washes, new video games, contraband….
Needless to say that nothing worked and the twins stayed lost in their little, Starscream-less limbo of doom and gloom, sighing longingly now and then and generally resembling less and less the carefree and lively daredevils they had been not so long ago.
The only one who had gotten a reaction out of them at all had been Bluestreak, and that particular reaction had nearly sent the young mech into a depression himself. The kind sniper had wanted to cheer his friends up with a handmade "best-of" jetjudo scenes recorded by Teletraan.
To Bluestreak's - and every other mech's present - horror, the twins had looked utterly heartbroken and close to weeping at the sight of the good old days. Only quick interference from Jazz and Prowl had kept Blue from beating himself up for obviously making everything worse.
Prowl smiled sardonically.
Comforting Blue was really the only helpful thing Jazz had done all this time since the fateful battle. Come to think of it, it was the only helpful thing any of the other officers had done since then.
Ratchet was hiding in his medbay and refused to come out until the situation was resolved. He had stated that he could probably rebuild each twin from scratch if he had to, but that he would stay the pit away from any matters involving their Sparks. Some things were just too delicate, even for the hands of a medic.
Ironhide was making himself scarce also, either doing inventory of the weapon storage or testing every last setting of the shooting range, happily pretending to be just the old, trigger-happy, oblivious mech most of the Arks occupants saw him as anyway.
Wheeljack hadn't done anything other than be his usual self – and producing even louder explosions than usual, keeping everyone far away from his workshop.
Jazz was the only officer aside from Prowl who was still around, but he had opted for living the saying "Ignorance is bliss" and denied the whole situation. Whenever somebody tried to ask him what was actually going on and what was wrong with the twins, his internal radio would mysteriously "malfunction" and he would skip away, the curious questioner unable to find him for the rest of the day.
And then there was Prime.
Heroic, glorious, brave Optimus Prime, who had suddenly discovered his love for human politics and was attending some far away convention, whereas previously he would have assigned Prowl to cover these meetings whenever possible.
Such a selfless and courageous leader, indeed….
Which left Prowl as the only officer left to keep an optic on the twins, in addition to doing what he always did: Working on reports, giving orders, regulating the life on the Ark – and calculating the value of Pi whenever his logic center threatened to complain over his troublingly obedient and subdued misfits. He had reached the three millionth figure behind the decimal point by now.
But what should he do, set the twins free to do whatever they pleased with Starscream?
Szzzk-shtkk....
Sideswipe dully noted how Prowl froze over at his own table in the rec room, rebooted and then continued working as if nothing had ever happened. That was the seventeenth time today and it wasn't even noon yet.
He sighed and looked at his brother, who sat slouched over on the floor and slowly flipped through Bluestreak's recordings. Whenever he found Starscream in one of the scenes he copied the image and added it to his ever-growing collection.
Sideswipe really hoped he did that because his brother studied the Seeker's appearance to later catch it in one of his beautiful paintings and not just because they had quickly become the world greatest fan boys – but somehow the red twin doubted this would prove to be true. He too felt the urge to collect Starscream photos and build some sort of altar to worship him on as well. As disquieting as that thought was, what else should he do when he was denied the real thing?
He sighed again, wondering what the object of his affection was doing this very moment.
Was Starscream flying over the ocean?
Blue sky over a blue sea, a perfect ruby-red and diamond-white shooting-star soaring through the clouds, ruler of his azure kingdom, completely free and untamable….
Sideswipe heard a sigh to his left and noticed that his brother now sported a dreamy look of his own. Obviously his thoughts had seeped over the twin-bond and, if Sunny's twitching fingers were anything to go by, he wanted nothing more than to paint the image.
Sideswipe felt the ghost of a smile glide over his lips, then he grabbed his brothers hands and stood up, pulling Sunstreaker with him. "Come on. Let's go back to our quarters."
Sunstreaker frowned at being pulled out of his fantasy, but the thought of brush and easel awaiting him in their quarters cheered him up slightly. So, he complied with Sideswipe's request and followed him out of the rec room, neither twin noticing the worried looks of the other Autobots, at all.
Upon arrival at their quarters they were in for a surprise.
A datapad was taped to their door, dimly blinking to get their attention. The twins checked the adjourning corridors to the hallway their quarters were situated in, but no mech was in sight and the datapad looked like any other, aside from the blinking screen.
Shrugging, Sideswipe plucked the datapad from their door and entered their room, Sunstreaker immediately starting for his easel, the mysterious pad completely forgotten. Sideswipe had long since gotten used to his brother's occasional inability to keep focused on things other than his paintings or his finish. He sighed and began to concentrate on figuring out who had left them a message.
The datapad was merrily blinking away, the screen completely blank but changing colors sporadically. Sideswipe began to examine the pad, turning it over in his hands and pushing every button he could find. Nothing changed, the colors continued to flash happily as if mocking him.
The red mech scowled and began poking the screen in time with the changing lights while he thought about what he could try next. He liked riddles, he really did.
But, not when his Spark was in constant flux, either flaring at the sight of Starscream, or - what was onfortunately far more often the case - seemingly withering away whenever Sideswipe realized anew that he could never have the Seeker.
Whoever had said that love was the most wonderful feeling in the world had oviously never experienced it for himself and should shut the frag up before ever spouting such slag again.
He couldn't have known how it was to constantly think of one lovely black face, of the gleam of the sun on slivery-white wings, of bright red and sky blue united in one sleek body of….
Sideswipe stopped his daydreaming and stared astonished at the datapad and the myriad of flashing colors. Perhaps….
He waited for the cycle of flashing colors to start anew and then touched the screen whenever one of the colors of Starscream's paintjob appeared. In a matter of mere seconds the screen turned black and lit up again, this time showing a simple message that sent Sideswipe's Spark into doing a hopeful jump in his chest.
"Sunny!"
He only got an absentminded grunt in return, his brother completely engrossed in mixing just the right blue color for the background of his painting.
Sideswipe sighed and threw one of the cleaning rags Sunstreaker had left lying around at his brother, "Hey Sunshine, I've used all your wax. Whatever will you do, Sunnyboy? You're not exactly the shiniest mech right now, you know?"
Sunstreaker only grunted again and showed no interest in him at all.
Sideswipe narrowed his optics at his brother. Come to think of it, Sunstreaker really had let himself go these last few weeks. His armor was scratched and had lost its shine, the paint slightly faded and showed cracks around the joints, some small dents littered the golden warrior's frame and, Sideswipe didn't quite trust his optics, there were still traces of the raindrops from last week's storm all over his brother.
The red twin hesitated, then he looked down at his own frame. He didn't look any better.
The warrior winced – had they really let themselves go that much? – and tried to get his brother's attention again, "Sunstreaker! Starscream called, he said he really likes your altruistic and modest personality."
The yellow warrior perked up at the name of his beloved, not listening to the rest of the sentence, and looked in Sideswipe's direction with such a hopeful expression on his faceplates that his twin felt badly for tricking him. At the same time he couldn't help but to be slightly angry with himself and his brother.
It was almost disgusting how infatuated they were with the Screaming One. It was ridiculous, they had always hated him, he was whiney, he was arrogant, he was a backstabber, he was a Decepticon – and yet….
And yet they were reduced into two fawning little fan boys whenever he was mentioned.
He waved his brother over, absentmindedly noticing new, bright blue spots on the golden paint, and showed him the message.
"So, hat do you think?"
"If you really do love Starscream and aren't just searching for an excuse to cause mischief, then open this video file. Think twice about the answer, I will find out.
A friend"
Sunstreaker looked at his brother and narrowed his optics, "Do we open it?"
Sideswipe shrugged, "Usually I would laugh and say, Pit, yes! But right now I'm not sure if we should do so. Do you love Starscream?"
Sunstreaker hesitated and actually thought it over.
He knew that many thought of him as shallow, but he wasn't quite shallow enough to think that you really were in love just because you were pining for somebody or answering "Yes, I do. I love you." fast enough.
What was really important, was that for some inexplicable reason, he felt his Spark jump whenever he heard the flyer's name, that he felt warm and fuzzy inside when he saw him and that he was actually willing to accept all those faults he had ever ridiculed in the Decepticon SIC. And Sunstreaker knew he would even attempt to change himself – a little bit – should the Seeker ever ask it of him.
Was that love?
If not, then it was close enough for Sunstreaker to try and turn it into real thing.
"I'm for opening it."
He looked at his brother and saw that the red mech had also been thinking things over, and he looked as determined to make this work just as much as Sunstreakers, himself, felt.
They opened the video file… and saw the not-really-appealing faceplates of Swindle.
"Greetings my dear associate – and his yellow menace of a twin. A friend of mine, who prefers the stay anonymous by the way, has clued me in that you are in desperate need of someone who is willing to help you out of a certain state of emergency. He said it would be of utmost importance that I am the one to establish contact with you, or you would fall victim to certain rules your anal… spoilsport of a SIC has created. So I hope you are able to consider the contact as established now and will not hesitate to send me a message outlining your wishes. I'm awaiting your answer, which will be brought to me by our dear friend if you leave it on this datapad and put it outside your room the night you received this. Swindle."
Sunstreaker lifted one optic ridge at Sideswipe, clearly puzzled by the way Swindle had addressed them. His brother only shrugged, "What can I say? He's weird – but helpful."
Sideswipe turned back to the datapad and opened the record function, "So, what are we trying first to get Screamer's attention?"
Starscream's day had been fairly ordinary so far.
He had survived a free-for-all brawl in the rec room when he had gone to retrieve his Energon ration, he had gone against Megatron and lived to tell the tale, he had managed to not go berserk when he found his work station full of human crap (and he had even been able to let the obnoxious Cassetticon twins live and in one piece, perhaps he finally got better in keeping his temper in check, who knew?), and he had finished all the work he had to today without exploding even once.
So, in hindsight, he decided to correct his former statement.
It hadn't been a fairly ordinary day for him, but an extraordinary good day.
So why did some stupid, meddling little slagheap of a Decepticon grunt have the audacity to chose this exact day to break into his quarters?
Whoever it was had probably messed up everything inside while shuffling through his personal data and belongings, breaking his latest experiment, spreading dirt everywhere and generally polluting his only privacy on this slagging tin can of a base. Wasn't anything sacred and holy anymore?
And then the fragging nosey moron hadn't had even the good grace to get caught. Nooooo, he only left some sooty residue on the wall near the door pad where he had hacked into it to open the door.
So Starscream couldn't even attempt to delude himself into thinking that it was just Skywarp being an over-curious aft again.
"Great, just slaggin great," the Seeker murmured to himself as he warily opened the door to his quarters and peered inside. One could never be too careful.
Suddenly he stopped right in his tracks.
One tiny part of his processor made a sweep of the room and noticed that everything looked exactly as he had left it, even the thin layer of dust he always blew on his most important datapads was undisturbed.
Once this tiny part of his consciousness was content that his privacy was still secure and nothing important had been stolen, it joined the rest of his CPU and gawked at the… beautiful painting on the wall opposite his berth.
It was a blended mix of blue and white, light blue for the endless plane of the summer sky, a deep turquoise for the ocean that faded subtlety the closer it got to the blurred line of the horizon and soft, otherworldly swirls and cotton balls of white symbolizing the clouds, heaven's way to touch his children.
Starscream couldn't help but feel enthralled and slowly stepped closer, his optics sliding over every inch of the painting, taking in every small detail. He could almost feel the wind caress his wings, kissing his face with its cool touch, urging him to follow the silent, ever present lure of the freedom of the skies, seducing him to forget and forgo his life and his identity forever and to become one with Primus' most precious gift to his beloved children.
A sky blue hand reached for the painting and traced a finger over the small, easily overlooked shape in the middle of the blue, nothing more than a hint of brilliant red and a smear of glazing silvery white – and yet it was the focus of the piece, the purpose of the whole painting, the reason why any Seeker looking at the image would be truly enchanted with it.
He stopped his caressing motion and his fingers flew to the bottom of the painting, searching for the faint impressions of the glyphs that made up the artist's designation.
Starscream was shocked when the Cybertronian letters he found spelled the name of one of the greatest banes of his existence: Sunstreaker.
The Seeker realized that Sunstreaker had been well known on Cybertron before this war and he had even seen some of his paintings – but never one like this.
Never before had Starscream seen a non-Seeker truly understand how any Seeker felt whenever he flew and touched the sky. Not as its king, but as a humble creature favored enough to be granted the gift of flight, to be one tiny part of this wholeness of infinite freedom.
He couldn't help but be impressed by the golden warrior's skill and his… empathy, as ridiculous as it sounded. But then again, perhaps the yellow menace had simply been lucky when painting this true work of art. Starscream snorted. The second option was much more likely.
That left the question of which one of his fellow Cons had known how much he would appreciate this picture and had gifted it to him.
Starscream sat on his berth, his optics still fixed on the wonderful painting, his processor calculating and comparing. Thankfully, not many of his peers were sophisticated and tasteful enough to secure any art they may have come across since the war started. Most of them stemmed from the lower classes of Cybertron, and had no sense for the finer things of life.
That left enough mechs to count on one hand: Onslaught, Blast Off and Swindle from the Combaticons, Soundwave and the old Slagmaker himself.
He ruled out Swindle and Megatron immediately. The oily two-faced little jeep would have probably converted the painting to credits a long time ago, perhaps even selling it to someone currently on base. The little Combaticon could be used as a last resource if Starscream didn't manage to figure out the – well, what? Admirer? Hidden friend? Possible ally? – by himself. But nothing more.
And Megatron….
The thought of Megatron giving such a beautiful painting to him was enough to make Starscream almost purge his tanks – and completely nonsensical.
They hated each other.
Period.
Soundwave sounded improbable as well. While he was certainly able to guess the pure financial value of the picture, the old mask-head would be unable to really see what made it that special. But then again, perhaps he never even knew what he was gifting to Starscream and just thought that the Seeker would like it because it was showing the sky?
And he certainly knew how to hack doors – but would he really leave so many traces if he had been the one to do so?
Surly not…
Starscream hummed, unable to decide.
Well, on to the next candidate: Onslaught.
He could be a real possibility, intelligent enough to understand what he had given to Starscream and what it meant for him. Blast Off, with his aristocratic demeanor, was a likely candidate as well, and as a fellow flyer more desirable to the Seeker than his team-mate.
Yes, Blast Off it must be.
Starscream smiled and couldn't help but marvel again at his gift.
Now, what to do about his new found… whatever…?
It was one of the most disturbing battles in the history of the war.
It started with the Lamborghini twins entering the battlefield slowly, with long, sorrowful faces, scuffing their feet the whole way and sending teary, pleading looks in Prime's and Prowl's direction.
The more reasonable members of the Decepticon army considered a retreat then and there, if just to save their sanity. Naturally, Megatron didn't want to hear any of it.
Prowl and Prime acted as if they didn't notice their best frontline warriors moping around and shooting only half-heartedly at everything that moved, never aiming above chest height of a standard frame mech.
This particular behavior clued the Seekers in that something was up.
Usually, the twins would be all over them, wrestling them out of the skies and scratching their wings and cockpits.
But this particular riddle would have to wait until later, much later time, because after a few minutes of puzzled staring, Thundercracker, Skywarp and the Coneheads became more interested in watching their Air Commander who, out of some unfathomable reason, had decided to use his unexpected free time to get friendly with Blast Off, of all available mechs.
The Combaticon, on the other hand, became seriously weirded out at the sight of a smiling, coy, slightly flirtatious Starscream asking him if he had gotten his hands on any interesting paintings lately.
Blast Off was – at least for the near future – saved from the jet's not entirely unwanted but extremely unsettling advances when Onslaught called his team to him to form Bruticus.
The space shuttle cycled air in immense relief at the prospect of losing himself and his thoughts on this strange day in the mindless killing machine that was his Gestalt in his full glory.
He had barely connected to his team members, when his audios registered were two rage-filled battle cries and his world exploded in pain.
Megatron stared at the unique sight of two red and yellow colored, very foolish but determined blurs attacking the several feet taller, several feet broader and several tons heavier shape of his Gestalt, Bruticus.
Correction.
The suicidal blurs attacked Bruticus' right arm.
The rest of the gigantic body didn't do anything but stare at the, in-comparison, tiny twins ripping, shredding and blasting away at their poor, unmoving component.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe attacked Blast Off's part of the Gestalt with a vengeance that was both admirable and completely insane to Megatron's mind.
His left optic twitched.
Was Sideswipe biting him?
Finally Bruticus registered what was happening, roared in obvious pain and moved to get rid of the pests crawling all over him, determinedly trying to kill his right arm and ignoring everything else.
"What the frag are you feeding your soldiers, Prime?"
Optimus Prime, standing right next to his long-time nemesis, stared, like the rest of both armies, at the horribly fascinating spectacle right in front of him, feeling slightly surreal at watching his two front-liners methodically downing a whole gestalt with ease, their war cries echoing over the whole battlefield.
"I don't know, but I will tell Prowl to feed them less of it…," was his absentminded reply, his gaze locked on the terrible display of violence, carnage and bloodshed in rapt attention.
Suddenly his optics widened and he grabbed his only left sane companion in the world and pulled him down and out of the line of danger as part of a thruster sailed by.
Disturbed blue met equally traumatized red.
"I guess that means… we win this round?"
Starscream was pissed.
After his rather unsuccessful attempt to coerce Blast Off into admitting that he was the Seeker's secret admirer, he wasn't even one step closer to finding out who had gifted him with the painting. Additionally, Starscream had also been gifted by now with several boxes of expensive Highgrade, a whole crate of hard to come by Energon goodies, a full Cybertronian sized mirror, several Cybertronian novels and scientific journals and an ever-growing list of rare, expensive or well-thought over trinkets that slowly but surely filled Starscream's quarters and made them the best furnished and homey rooms of the entire Nemesis.
It was ridiculous, really.
After the battle, Starscream had visited Hook's medbay wearing his most beautiful smile and his optics dimmed in a way that had made lesser mechs' knees weaken in the past. When he had stepped up to the medical berth holding the drugged remains of what once (with much conjecture and at least one optic closed), could have been Blast Off, the quivering heap had screamed.
Blast Off had screamed like a little fleshing femme, higher pitched than even Starscream's own horrible voice could reach, and actually tried to get away from the jet, his gurgling, broken voice pleading and begging Hook and the rest of the shocked Constructicons to keep the Seeker far away from him.
A little bit hurt and more than a little bit miffed after that episode, Starscream decided that he wouldn't have wanted the wuss anyway.
He would continue to search for his secret beau – right after he had finished reading and critiquing the latest scientific text that had found its mysterious way into his tightly locked quarters.
Several hours later, the Seeker had set his sights ontotheserious and level-headed team leader of "the wuss". He cornered Onslaught in the rec room, where the truck was sitting and drowning the memory of last battle's terrible ending in Energon.
Upon seeing a determined Air Commander strutting in his direction, Energon and defeat had suddenly been forgotten and Onslaught's whole focus had been on a tactical retreat. Starscream was sure that he had never before seen somebody make such an utter fool out of himself in such a dignified and serious manner.
He hadn't even realized that it was possible.
But, well, he had to admit, while the smooth talking and babbling had been kind of irritating, and the second failure annoying, he had gotten a kick out of tempting and luring Onslaught into increasingly ridiculous behavior as well.
His next victim… err, possible suitor had been, after long consideration, Swindle. Even if he doubted that the little jeep had the gearings (and the mindset) to practically shower him with expensive gifts without revealing himself (and demanding some kind of compensation), chances were high that the greedy fragger at least knew where some of the trinkets had come from and could help Starscream track his admirer down - for a small fee.
The only things the SIC got out of that particular meeting was a processor-ache, the urge to punch the jeepformer's smarmy grin in and the certain feeling that the little yellow annoyance knew far more than he let on and was having far too much fun with the whole thing to even consider the generous bribes Starscream had tried to tempt him with.
Slag!
The next mech on his list had been Soundwave.
Tired of the whole ordeal, the laughter of his by now clued in subordinates (courtesy of a grinning Skywarp who had "Just wanted to increase your chances, Screamer, really. He..hey! What are you doing? Watch where you point that thing! No! No! Don't…! ARGGH! TC!!! HELP!!!"), and actually dreading the answer, Starscream had just entered the bridge one day and flopped down on a chair next to the Communication Officer and started staring at the blue mech.
For a long time nothing happened, Soundwave kept working and Starscream kept staring, his face completely blank and unreadable.
After almost half an hour, the longest time any Decepticon had ever seen their SIC sit still and actually do nothing, not even tormenting them with his voice, Soundwave had relented and turned to face the motionless Seeker.
Starscream had done nothing.
Soundwave had stared.
Starscream didn't flicker an optic.
Soundwave continued to wait.
And so, to the amusement and bewilderment of Megatron and the rest of the Decepticons onboard the Nemesis, a three-hour-long game of "Who cracks first" had started.
Surprisingly enough, making some Cons feel uneasy in the process, it had been Soundwave who had caved first. With a nervous twitch he had averted his optics.
"Query: What do you want, Starscream?"
Starscream had looked him up and down, his face remaining carefully blank, "Are you…?"
"NO!"
Every mech on the bridge had stared at Soundwave at this exclamation, who had squirmed, squirmed!, turned and tried to hide behind his console, shyly stating a soft, "Negative," refusing to make optic contact with anybody for the rest of the day.
Starscream hadn't cared about the unique opportunity to make fun of his fellow officer, he was far too relieved that his secret suitor wasn't Soundwave.
He couldn't help but sag into his chair and relax his tense wings for a bit before he tackled the last possible candidate.
A few minutes went by, and Soundwave attempted to slowly curl into himself in an attempt to vanish completely behind his console. Then Starscream jumped dramatically to his feet – Soundwave flinched noticeably – and made a determined step in Megatron's direction.
He never got much further, suddenly finding himself staring right into the slowly brightening barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon, the hellish depths spewing sparks and white hot air over his faceplates and changing him from a proud, young warrior out to take on the world into a quivering wreck ready to crumple and beg for forgiveness for whatever he had done this time.
Face to face with certain death Starscream couldn't help but congratulate himself for not fainting straight away.
"I'lll take this as a 'No'…," he murmured faintly and fled from the bridge.
So Starscream was pissed.
He sat on the bridge in front of one of the monitors that usually displayed the security feeds of the Nemesis and tried to distract himself from the torture that was his life with some stupid human computer game.
He played a digitally created fleshling, affectionally called "MS" or "MiniScreamer" by Skywarp and "MegatronSucks" by Starscream could be bothered to change the name back from whatever Skywarp or the Cassetticon twins had hacked into the game. The tiny fleshling was slaughtering other digitally created fleshlings that belonged to players all over this miserable mudball of a planet, in as many ways as he could think of.
The carnage and bloodshed usually managed to soothe his nerves almost as well as the real thing and his ego loved to see the fleshling-played characters fall all around him, courtesy of his superior skills, mind, computer and internet connection.
Even now he could feel his irritated thoughts settle and his processor slow down, enjoying the mindless destruction and the cheers of his subordinates in the background.
For all intents and purposes, Starscream and his little group of fans should have been keeping an optic on any suspicious behavior in- and outside the base during the night-cycle and on their newly acquired prisoners, the infamous Autobot twins themselves – but watching Starscream, the uncrowned (and for once unchallenged) master of all video games himself, mowing his way through dozens of enemies at once was way more fun and had serious betting potential.
Even now Energon cubes were changing hands, the bets placed on everything from the number of XP Starscream would make with this particular mission, the time he would need until he was the last one standing or if that strange duo from last week would turn up and blow kisses at their weirded out SIC's character again.
Starscream didn't care for the bets at all, he didn't want to think anymore, so he just entered the next mission and lifted his sword.
Only one mech on the bridge didn't care that much for the Seeker's usual stress therapy.
Swindle had already blackmailed Onslaught into placing and collecting the bets, threatening him with disclosing why exactly the big, bad Gestalt leader was afraid to even come near their lovely SIC.
Scared of two colorful, loud-mouthed Autodorks, what a great and powerful Decepticon warrior he was.
Swindle snorted.
Even if the rest of the battlefield hadn't been able to hear what the twins had whispered when their comrades had finally managed to keep them from attacking Blast Off, Bruticus' other components had heard them loud and clear and the majority of them had vowed to never get within a ten meter radius of Starscream again.
Swindle knew no such fright and, while thoroughly amused with the situation and his superiors inability to connect the dots and think outside the proverbial box, he treated Starscream the same way as always, wary of the mercurial moods and mean streak of the Seeker but mainly a likely source of credits and Energon.
The little jeep made sure that everybody on the bridge – every Decepticon apart from Megatron, Soundwave and the Cassetticons – were occupied with the images of Starscream ruthlessly slaying another opponent, then he opened a com channel.
"It's safe, let them out."
Deep in the under levels of the Nemesis, Rumble grinned up at two pairs of icy blue optics and deactivated the energy barrier of the brig.
"You heard the gentlemech. You've got six hours, then you've got to be back in your cells or we're in really deep shit."
"Four hours," a deeper voice corrected.
"I bet that Jazz will be here to free us in four hours."
"No way, don't forget he has to cross the ocean to reach the base. Five hours tops."
"You're on, Autobot," Frenzy grinned. "So… I take it he's in on our little plan? He can help if he makes it fast enough."
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged an uneasy look.
"No, officially he doesn't know anything and thinks it's a usual search-and-rescue operation…. But I'm pretty sure he kind of noticed that you've practically begged to be captured these last few days," drawled a familiar voice from the doorway.
The Autobot twins had the good grace to look suitably embarrassed and guilty as Jazz appeared in the door to the brig, beating all odds and complicating their plans for the night without even trying.
The officer stared at his foolish subordinates for some moments, then he sighed and shook his head. He too had been infatuated once, and even if he didn't recall going to these lengths just to get a foot into the door, he was willing to help Sideswipe and Sunstreaker just this once, as long as nobody got hurt.
Correction: As long as nobody got more hurt than Blast Off, the poor, unsuspecting chap.
"Come on, guys. Didn't you have plans for the night?"
The four beaming grins he got in return almost made it worth the lecture he was sure he would receive once he got home to Prowl.
Starscream wearily poked the door pad, the Cybertronian glyphs covered in soot from the booby trap he had set to catch his admirer this time around. Naturally, it hadn't worked, his security had been breached and he couldn't decide if he should be angry that he still didn't know who was making his life that much harder or if he should be bouncing in glee with anticipation at yet another sweet, well-thought out gift given to him by a secret suitor.
He finally settled on anger, after one swift look at Skywarp at his side confirmed that the black and purple Seeker had already taken over the bouncing part.
Starscream sighed, steeled himself, checked that his scowl was firmly in place and keyed open the door.
He was faintly aware that the sound of his and his wingmates' jaws meeting the floor must have been heard throughout the whole Nemesis, but he just couldn't bring himself to care right now.
Skywarp was the first to find his voice.
"You know, if it turns out you don't like your suitor, I'll take him any time," he said softly and eyed his superior's quarters appraisingly.
"Primus, even if you DO like him, would you mind if I borrow him?" Thundercracker murmured. When he noticed the sudden dark glare that was sent in his direction, he rushed to clarify, "Just once, for redecorating my quarters. Nothing else, promise!"
Starscream chose not to comment, he wanted to see his admirer first before he decided if he would share or lend him in any way. Apart from that, he was still completely captivated by what his beau had made of his formerly dull, purple quarters.
The boring old paint had been stripped completely away and replaced by a giant mural of the sky, fitting seamlessly to the still prominent painting that had been the very beginning of this whole, strange courting. It continued the vague horizontal lines of the image, using it as the centerpiece of a larger picture showing the clear blue of the sky slowly fading into the colorful hues of a sunset right above Starscream's berth, bathing the berth itself and the floor it stood upon in red, purple and gold.
Everything was colored, not just the walls, the ceiling and the floor, but also the computer, the desk, the chair – everything. And with a love for even the tiniest of details.
Starscream was sure that he could see a flock of seagulls sailing lazily just above his main datashelf and some dolphins playing right under his mirror.
Slowly the Decepticon SIC became aware of his logic center patiently trying to get his attention, announcing happily that it had connected some dots and was 96% certain as to the identity of the secret suitor. Starscream, still scanning his new quarters and marveling over the many tiny details, like the little rock in right corner or the evening star he could faintly see near the melting colors of the setting sun, acknowledged the message absentmindedly, and pinged his logic center to send him the results.
This time it wasn't just his jaw that dropped.
Under the worried gazes of his wingmates, Starscream spontaneously decided that standing was way too much of a feat right now….
Sideswipe stared into the dull blue optics of his brother.
Sunstreaker stared right back.
Why did nothing work?
They had tried everything, wooed Starscream as professionally as Casanova, getting him gifts, getting him sweets, actually striking up conversations with the respective nerd bots of the crew to get a grip on what somebody of their sort would and wouldn't like, endured the incessant chatter of the Aerialbots trying to find out how a flyer ticked, intimidating Wheeljack into telling them how exactly he managed to calm their ever temperamental CMO down after an especially gruesome day, bribing several mechs, including the great Optimus Prime (who looked like he just had wanted to get away and forget that this conversation had ever happened), how they had courted their respective bondmates or lovers.
And still, nothing worked.
Starscream showed no sign of interest, let alone affection for them, he was even going around chatting up other mechs if Swindle's hints were anything to go by.
For the second time in several weeks the twins were at a complete loss of what to do.
"I don't understand it," murmured Sunstreaker, his shoulders sagged and his whole posture slumped. Sideswipe sighed and leaned forward on his berth until he could hold his heavy head upright with his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.
"I know. I… I don't understand it either. We've tried everything. We…."
He sighed again, one of his hands mindlessly wiping over his faceplates while his processor ached from trying to come up with ever-new possibilities to win Starscream over.
By now he was almost ready to admit defeat, to admit the unthinkable.
"Perhaps… perhaps we should give up? Maybe he just can't like us like that. I know Swindle says that we still have a chance – but perhaps he's laughing at us. Perhaps it's just one giant joke for those Cons and they are sitting there in their stupid tin can and betting on what those stupid, goo-goo opticed Autobot twins come up with next and…."
Sideswipe slowly stopped when he became aware of warm pressure against his forehead. He lifted his optics from the floor and stared right into the, for once understanding and empathic optics of his brother, showing the same misery and desperation he himself felt.
For a moment he reveled in the closeness, of the feeling of belonging and peace, and tried to forget everything.
After a minute in which both twins simply sat, forheads touching and sharing their worries and fears but also their determination and hopes, he was composed enough to face their dilemma once again.
"What do we do now?" He asked much calmer now.
Sunstreaker shrugged, not breaking the contact.
"We've tried everything."
Sunstreaker nodded, moving his brother's head with his own and getting him to smile faintly at this. The golden twin couldn't help but mirror this smile with one of his own.
Suddenly Sideswipe stilled the motion, optics wide and fixated on his brother's smile.
He had had an epiphany.
The red twin sat up straight and continued to stare at his brother, amazed that they had overlooked this small, but very important fact for so long.
"We've tried everything," he exclaimed excitedly.
Sunstreaker sat up also and grimaced, "We've already established that."
"Yeah, but don't you understand? We've tried everything - but only things that others suggested or told us to do. Sweets and gifts are practically standard, the mirror idea was from Tracks, Bluestreak suggested your paintings as presents, Jazz advised us to do something so… so impressive that it couldn't be ignored, Optimus said it shouldn't be too flashy but something that shows that you've thought about it, Prowl, after fritzing, gave us his list of interesting novels, the science guys got us the journals…."
Sideswipe jumped from his seat and began to pace, gesturing animatedly with his hands while speaking. "We've done nothing that's completely something we thought out. We did nothing uniquely 'twin-style'. We just sort of reused their ideas."
He stopped to look directly at his brother.
"Shouldn't Starscream be worth more than that? If we want to convince him to at least consider us as possible… somethings, then we have to do it completely our own way."
Sunstreaker pondered the words of his brother for a moment, than a slow grin began to form on his faceplates.
"Gee, Sides, what do you want to do tonight?"
Sideswipe grinned devilishly and began to rub his hands together, "The same thing we do every night, Sunny."
Sunstreaker's grin widened, then it suddenly turned into a frown when he looked his brother over a bit more thoroughly, only now noticing the traces of weeks of self-abandonment.
"But first we're going to clean up."
"Why did we bother to wash again?" muttered Sunstreaker for the thousandth time in three hours. "Slagging sand. All the good polish and wax, wasted for nothing. We'll look worse than an avergage Empty, all scratched and dinged up, once Starscream arrives."
He narrowed his optics and futilely tried to find a position that kept the tiny grains from finding their way even further into his circuitry. He only succeeded in even more scratches marring his formerly pristine finish.
And he had spent so much time primping for their meeting with Starscream….
Well, at least the other Autobots had appreciated his effort and congratulated him for getting over whatever had dampened his mood for those last months.
Sunstreaker snorted. Clueless idiots.
Speaking of idiots.
He whacked his own resident idiot over the helmet for good measure. Sideswipe yelped, rudely woken out of his doze. "What was that for?" he whispered harshly, carefully rubbing over the newly formed dent, wondering if Starscream would notice.
"I've got a list of reasons but I'll settle for the top three. One, I'm dirty, hot and my paint is a mess. Every effort I ever put into my appearance is totally wasted thanks to you and your stupid plan. Two, we've been sitting here for three hours now, doing absolutely nothing while the sand is slowly clogging my gears and more than one crab has eyed me as their possible new domicile and I refuse to stink of shrimp even more than I already do, thanks to you. Three, your whole plan is bullshit! Just accept it, Starscream won't come! We should just give up and be done with it. He obviously isn't interested in us."
Sunstreaker stared intently at his brother, his enraged ventilations heating the tight space under the camouflage foil even further. Sideswipe shuffled around, not knowing how to answer his brother for once. He was worried, too, that Starscream wouldn't appear and that he and his twin had waited the last three hours for nothing here, in their tight little hole at the beach, after painstakingly digging it, hiding their traces and holding out in the cramped room despite the heat of the particular sunny summer day.
Perhaps Swindle hadn't been able to convince him to come, or Megatron had slagged him again, or – Primus beware – Sunny was right and Starscream was laughing at their attempts somewhere in the nice, comfortably cool coziness of his wonderful new quarters.
Sideswipe felt his Spark clench inside his chest, practically whithering away at the mere thought of its feelings being not returned.
Sunstreaker, not comfortable with his brother's lack of a reaction – any reaction – and the sudden ache in his own Spark, began to shuffle around, flinching when even more sand began to tickle and itch underneath his armor plates.
After some minutes of heavy silence, Sideswipe, despite the heat, shifted closer to his brother, searching his closeness. "Perhaps you're right…," he admitted quietly, optics downcast.
Sunstreaker sighed. He couldn't get any dirtier anyway.
He slung one arm around his brother's shoulders, careful not to move the foil above them.
"We'll wait another hour."
Their patience was rewarded.
Forty-five minutes later the sounds of thrusters could be heard.
A jet approached the beach at a rapid pace, shooting right over it once, before banking and coming back a second time, checking it for hidden threats at a more leisurely pace.
Sideswipe bit on his hand to keep from letting out a loud whoop of joy when the Seeker's wing flashed in the oh-so-long-awaited colors of red and white.
A glance to his side confirmed that Sunstreaker was grinning like a maniac and was hunching even closer to the ground, not caring anymore about the sand.
The twins sent a quick prayer to Primus when Starscream made a third pass, hoping that their camouflage worked and that he couldn't see them from the sky.
Apparently it worked a little too well, because the next second they were praying that the Decepticon SIC wouldn't land right on them, melting their frames together in the process.
Wouldn't that be just the perfect ending of the day? Melted to tiny colorful blobs by the flyer they had the hots for.
They were lucky.
Starscream redirected in the last moment and flew to a point closer to the shoreline, transforming when he touched down. The Seeker looked around nervously, shifting from one foot to the other and searching the beach critically for anything out of place.
The twins huddled closer together under their foil, kept their vents down as much as possible and hoped for the best. Percy was a genius after all, right? So the camouflage foil they had "borrowed" should work and hide them from the jet's optics and scanners alike – or Perceptor would get a piece of their mind should they ever make it back to the Ark alive.
Apparently it worked, as Starscream's gaze wandered right past their little hole and over the rest of the beach. The Seeker frowned, folding his arms over his chassis and tapping impatiently with his fingers on his arms.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker waited, the heat in their hideout becoming slowly unbearable.
Starscream muttered some profanity and nervously began wandering around, optics searching either the horizon or the beach for movement of any kind, his head turning slowly from left to right and left again.
The twins managed the impossible and stopped their vents completely, valiantly ignoring the warnings of overheating circuitry on their HUDs.
One more meter, one more step….
Starscream walked closer, turned to the sea once more and – with a wild cry of triumph - the twins jumped out of their hole and downed the shrieking Seeker.
The poor Starscream didn't even know what hit him.
One moment he was staring worriedly at the horizon, battling with himself if he should stay or run as fast as possible, the next second the ground behind him practically exploded and he tumbled head over heals into a mix of dust, sand, red, blue and yellow flashes and too many grabby hands for his liking, his audios ringing because of the wild screaming of three different voices at the same time.
When the world finally righted itself and began to make sense again, the Seeker found himself in stasis cuffs and being dragged over the sand to a nice flat spot on a small cliff above the beautiful turquoise ocean, far away from the tiny grains of sand getting everywhere. He was set down on a some sort of cloth, a soft click was heard and then several cubes of expensive Highgrade and Energon treats were arranged before him, intermixed with some tasteful decorations.
Starscream watched, at a complete loss for words, as the infernal Autobot twins methodically began to spread flower petals, candles and colorful artificial pebbles around, lit said candles, checked everything one last time – and then stared hopefully up at Starscream, waiting for his reaction.
"You two are weird! Beyond weird!"
The twin's faces fell and they gazed at each other unsure, then, gathering their courage again, back at Starscream.
"Look, Screamer… Starscream." Sideswipe glanced at his brother who nudged him to go on, optics glued on the Seeker's bound form. Suddenly he reached out, hesitated for a moment, and then, shyly, swept some dust from Starscream shoulders, his hand lingering for a moment, than abruptly returning to his lap as if burned. The Seeker's optic ridge rose, he himself caught between amusement, disbelief and some strange sense of having somehow ended up in the wrong dimension.
Sideswipe sighed, could they both be any more obvious?
"Starscream…," oh, how to say it. "Over the course of the last month or so, Sunny and I have found out that we both like you, a –"
"Wait a moment! Both of you?" Starscream stared at them and cursed. His logic center obviously was out of practice for not having grasped that possibility.
The twins looked crestfallen at his sudden exclamation and huddled unconsciously closer together. Bravely Sideswipe continued, "We like you a lot and would like to get to know you better. So we wanted to ask you out for a date."
Starscream snorted and looked meaningful at the arrangements around him, "Do I even have a choice?"
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked at each other, silently conversing. After some moments, their shoulders sagged and the golden twin, sitting closest to Starscream, sighed and opened the cuffs. "Yes, you do."
Starscream rubbed his wrists absentmindedly, wondering when exactly his world had turned upside down.
One look at the dejected expressions of the twins, who should be the bane of his existence, and he felt like he had just kicked a turbo-puppy.
Two turbo-puppies.
Repeatedly!
He sighed and made himself more comfortable on the blanket.
"Alright, you've got one chance to make it worth my while. Don't mess it up!"
The twins positively beamed and Starscream ruthlessly quashed the warm, fuzzy feeling that his Spark and the tiny shreds that were left of his conscience tried to send him in a joint effort.
He held up one finger.
"On one condition!"
And there were the turbo-puppies again….
Starscream frowned and suppressed the bouncy feeling in his Spark yet again.
"You will have to clean out my thrusters, afterwards. One shard of glass in there after I power them up, and there will never be a second date!"
The happy, hopeful smiles returned instantly, causing Starscream to almost reconsider his choice, especially when the warm feeling wormed it's way back into the forefront of his processor.
And this time, it refused to go away.
Prowl was worried.
He paced in front of the Ark's entrance, sending anxious glances in the direction of the slowly rising sun every now and then.
Jazz was worried.
He stood next to Prowl, silent for once, and keeping an optic on the horizon as well as an audio on the radio channels.
Ratchet was worried.
He was scurrying around in his medbay, polishing his tools until they mirrored his concerned face, wishing that he wouldn't have to use them today.
Ironhide was worried.
The shooting range was silent for once and he just stood there and stared at the targets, his processor far away from the fun things of life.
Wheeljack was worried.
That means, he had been, until he was distracted enough to connect the wrong wires and short circuit himself.
He was currently lying forgotten on the floor of his lab and was in temporary stasis until his repair systems had finished their work.
Prime was worried.
In fact, he was so worried that he was having bad dreams as he lay twitching and groaning with his head on his desk, half filled Highgrade cube in one hand and surrounded by even more empty ones.
Everybody was worried.
So it was understandable that every mech on the Ark cycled a huge intake of air in relief the moment the announcement came over the ship-wide comm., courtesy of Red Alert: "They are back."
Indeed, Prowl and Jazz spotted them the very same moment, two slowly moving shadows, weaving unsteadily from side to side as if unable to drive straight.
Both officers were torn between hurrying to the twins' side to help them, look them over and make sure that they weren't hurt and still alive and in one piece, and staying where they were, awaiting the misfits who had once again sent the whole Ark in a chaotic frenzy with their sudden disappearance, and that wasn't even counting their behavior over the previous months, and deal out well-deserved punishment.
They stayed, waiting, worrying and not being able fight the growing feeling of dread in their Sparks at the twins' uncharacteristic behavior.
No racing, no name-calling, no fighting. Not even an attempt to run away or to excuse their actions with unbelievable stories.
Just the same slow, unsteady pace, slowly revealing to the officers more and more scratches, dents and scuffed paint.
Finally the twins, still in vehicle mode, came to a rest right in front of the two officers, sitting low on their shocks, their undercarriage almost touching the ground.
Prowl and Jazz looked at the sorry state of the two mechs and the way their forms seemed to almost droop, then they looked at each other and silently decided to change tactics.
Right now they just hadn't the Spark to punish their poor, favorite troublemakers.
"Hey, guys." Jazz, an easy if slightly forced, grin on his face, stepped closer and lightly rested a hand on each hood, patting it comfortingly. "Primus, you look as if somebody tossed you off a cliff. Everything all right?"
Sunstreaker sighed, his form lifting and sagging noticeably with the movement.
"Fine. Better than fine. Starscream liked the date, we had fun and we interfaced," he murmured dreamily. "Then he kicked us off the cliff."
"Said, it was sweet what we did, but he didn't like being messed around with like that and we shouldn't dare do it again," Sideswipe added cheerfully but clearly exhausted.
"Wasn't easy to get back on the beach. The tide was horrible."
Jazz stared at them, at a loss of words.
He barely noticed a soft Szzzk-shtkk in the background, then Prowl crashed to the ground, becoming the first official victim of the newly formed pairing/trio of the pit.
The twins waited for some moments, but when it became clear that neither officer would say something anytime soon, they just continued on their way to a nice, long, hot shower and an even longer recharge filled with dreams of their favorite jet.
Red Alert smirked at the sight of Jazz playing statue in front of the Ark and commed Ratchet to go retrieve the lifeless form of Prowl. Then he closed the feed on the screen, opened one of Swindle's many fake bank accounts and transferred a generous amount of the money the Autobot had earned through advising companies on security issues, at the same time mailing the Combaticon some of the highly sensitive information he had picked up as the one bot who had his optics and audios everywhere and knew practically everything that happened on Earth.
It was a small price to pay compared to the devastating impact the twins would have had on the general morale of their fellow Autobots if they had continued to mope or even defected just to be nearer to their crush.
As much as Red liked to rant and rave about the twin terrors, he was well aware of how important they were to the cause and that he had to keep them close and loyal.
And with Starscream obviously willing to overlook the boundaries of factions, everything would be back to normal soon enough.
The Seeker was probably even thrilled at the thought of basically committing high treason, knowing that Megatron wouldn't do anything about it. The former gladiator had his faults, and there wer many at that, but he was as aware as Red Alert was of what they had to let slide if their repective factions ever hoped to win this war.
Now the Security Chief only had to wait for his fellow officers to get over their ridiculous fears, stopp behaving like Younglings who'd imagined seeing Unicron under ther berths and to finally decide to get over it and take it like the mechs they were.
Red Alert snorted at the thought, wondering how much more blackmail material his fellow High Command would provide him with before they decided to simply suck it up and deal with it. Transactions completed, he leaned back in his chair, feet on his console and began whistling a jaunty little tune he had picked up from Jazz sometime, feeling completely content with himself and the world at large, and congratulated himself on a job well done.
Now, what to do about their second date….
After looking at the chapter count of this story, I decided that 33 is a better number than 32 and so the next chapter won't be "On his knees" but a last special, called either "Abyss" or "Status Quo". Tell me what title you like better.