Disclaimer and Stuff: Okay, I couldn't resist expanding this piece of drabble. No, I do not own Transformers or anything else that you might recognize, except for the crazy idea of Sunstreaker giving Sam art lessons. Yes, this might seem OOC.

This chapter was inspired by this plot bunny by alabaster demon from livejournal:

Sunstreaker realizes that the sand all around the Ark would be perfect for glass-blowing. Perhaps it's time he took up a new artistic medium.

I just tweaked it a little bit.

Sunstreaker was standing outside the entrace of the base, staring at the ground. To be more precise:

Sunstreaker was staring at the sand.

Several of the human soldiers were giving him odd looks, but they'd learned a long time ago not to mess with him. The only humans he seemed to tolerate were Sam, Will, Epps, and to a degree, Mikaela, but only because she was Ratchet's apprentice and knew how to aim with a wrench.

It was exactly one week since he'd made the announcement that Sam was his apprentice. Mikaela had been somewhat miffed, but after Sam bought her chocolates, she'd accepted his apology. His parents, on the other hand, gushed about his talent until Sam went into hiding out of pure embarressment.

Sam, who was currently attempting to escape from all of the people asking to see his art, wandered over to Sunstreaker, reasoning that he'd be less likely to get bothered if he was with the frontliner. "Hey, Sunstreaker. What're you doing?"

Sunstreaker was silent for a while, then turned toward him. "We," He said slowly. "Are going to learn a new medium."

"We are?"

"Yes. We are."

"Oh." Sam seemed at a loss for words. "So, uh . . . what are we learning, then?"

"Glassblowing."

". . . Are you serious?" Sam squeaked.

"There's plenty of sand we can use." Sunstreaker said, more as if he was speaking to himself. Nodding decisively, he stood up, grabbing Sam, who, now used to it, didn't protest, and marched off to Wheeljack's lab. "We'll need the right tools." He said when Sam asked where they were going. "And to do that, we need the material."

"Why do I get the feeling this is going to be harder than painting?" Sam muttered to himself.

Their first attempts turned out badly. Sunstreaker misjudged the amout of force needed to blow and ended up making a weird, spiral-like blob that looked like it'd exploded and then been clumsily smooshed back together. Sam was no better-his turned into one long, misshappen, hollow thing that vaguely resembled a tear shape. After numerous attempts, and failings, they managed to get the hang of it.

Thankfully, Sunstreaker's reputation ensured that no one bothered them while they worked-a few people, like Mikaela and Sideswipe, were allowed to watch. Optimus had allowed them to use a hangar bay turned storage room for their experimenting. It was an out of the way place for most soldiers and Autobots to go, so they were rarely inturrupted.

Things had gone smoothly for over two months, so it was inevitable that something would happen.

And something did happen.

The Decepticons attacked.

To put it in a different perspective, the Decepticons attacked the base while Sunstreaker was glassblowing and Sam was sketching him working.

Sam jumped as the alarm started blaring, ruining his sketch as the charcoal his was using slipped in his hand, crossing out Sunstreaker's head in a nice black streak. Sam stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Sunstreaker, who was covered in molten glass.

The two echanged looks.

"Shall we?" Sunstreaker asked, optics narrowed as he gestured at the door.

"By all means, yes." Sam said calmly, setting aside the ruined picture.

Optimus and Megatron were in the middle of exchanging their normal insults and challenges when Sunstreaker came storming out of the base, Sam sitting on his shoulder, weilding a machine gun. Both wore equally ticked off looks, verging on near-murderous.

Scratch that. They were murderous.

"Oooh boy." Sideswipe said, optics widening as he took in his brother's appearance. "You might want to start running." He advised Starscream, whom he was currently facing off with.

"And why would I want to do that?" Starscream asked with a sneer.

"Sunny's mad. Mad as in, you just ruined his paintjob and whatever art project he was working on at the same time. And Sam . . ." Sideswipe did a double-take at his expression. "Looks ready to kill. I think you just ruined both of their projects."

Starscream didn't have a chance to respond, as he was forced to retreat because of the hail of bullets and cannon fire aimed in his direction.

"Hey!" Sideswipe complained indignantly, ducking a bullet. "Watch where you're shooting!"

"If you don't want to get shot, then get out of the way!" Sam yelled back. "Get back here, you chickens!"

Skywarp, wisely, did not obey his order and warped away, and Starscream followed his example, making a hasty retreat.

Optimus and Megatron exchanged looks, then Optimus calmly stepped away from the warlord.

"Where are you going?" Megatron demanded furiously. "Are you too much of a coward to face me, Pri-?"

The next instant, he was tackled to the ground by a yellow blur.

Sam, who had run out of ammo, stood next to Bumblebee, where Sunstreaker had left him, cheering, "Kick his head in, kick his head in!"

Several of the Autobots in the near vicinity gave him alarmed looks, including his guardian.

Megatron finally managed to knock down Sunstreaker and scrambled away, furiously ordering a retreat and spluttering useless threats to save face. Not that he had much face to save, as he was covered in purple and lime green spray paint where he wasn't covered in dents.

There was a dead silence for exactly sixty seconds after they'd gone. Then Sam turned to Sunstreaker and said, "So after Ratchet lets us out of the med bay, do you wanna try turning Starscream into our next piece of art? 'Cause I think hot pink would really look good on him. And maybe a tiara or something. Just think about it: Princess Starscream."

Sunstreaker paused, giving him a considering look.

"Princess?"

Sam smirked.

"You wanna give him a frog prince too, or just a frilly ballgown?"

Like teacher, like student. :)

Does anyone have any suggestions about other kinds of art they should dabble in?