Make Off
Irritable wouldn't begin to describe Sideswipe's disposition. He sat on the couch in the quarters he and Sunstreaker shared, angrily mashing the buttons on the Transformer-sized controller in his hands. He had no desire to go to the rec room and hang with his friends. They had even less desire to see him as his sour mood made him as pleasant to be with as Sunstreaker.
His character moved across the screen, pulling out impossibly big weapons to blow up the oncoming enemies. He set his personal imaging processes to replace the enemies with little black and white mechs, occasionally a Porsche, or a Datsun, and even the rare Enforcer or Sleektilt. It gave him some small sense of gratification to blow them up, even if it was just in his cortex.
Sunstreaker stepped into the room, soft towel thrown over his shoulder. Sideswipe blinked and frowned at the over-sized Jazz that stood where his sensors, and his spark, told him his brother was.
"Sides, you're not doing that again, are you? Reset your imagers, or I'll fragging break your optics."
Sideswipe scowled and turned his attention back to the game, resuming the destruction of tacticians and saboteurs.
"This is slotting ridiculous." The golden Lamborghini swung Sideswipe back around to face him.
This time Sideswipe saw Prowl.
He almost reached out to the doorwings. Almost said the tactician's name. Almost jumped his former lover.
It was enough to convince him to go ahead and reset his imaging processor to default.
Sunstreaker eyed Sideswipe, arms crossed over his chest, as if he knew what Sideswipe had been about to do. "That is exactly what I mean when I say this is ridiculous. Go and get your mind off him. Bluestreak's been wondering what's wrong with you, and won't leave me the frag alone." Sunstreaker leaned in. "If you don't leave this room, I'll slagging haul you outside and tie you to the peak just to get you out of here. And since you probably haven't been keeping up to date with the weather, it's raining sheets out there."
Sideswipe glared at Sunstreaker, who glared right back. Finally the red twin stood and flicked off the game, not even bothering to save it and then he stormed out of the room. He cast one last glare over his shoulder at his brother before the door closed between them.
Prowl hated this. He hated Jazz for doing it to him. He hated Sunstreaker for uncovering it too soon. He hated Sideswipe for being an aft-headed fool that didn't listen. He hated that he still loved that slagging idiot. He hated hating him, as illogical as it seemed.
Prowl hated the feel of Jazz pressing up against him; his lips caressing his own. Prowl hated himself for subjecting to the unwanted touches. He hated the other mechs for not minding their own business. He hated that Jazz would wait until they were in a roomful of optics to try and soothe him. Where Prowl couldn't object to the strokes and kisses.
Prowl hated that Jazz chose to do it in front of Sideswipe of all mechs, and forced Prowl to submit to his caresses and kisses. He hated that Sideswipe did nothing, that he could do nothing or risk exposing their affair. He hated that he still hoped, when all he saw was despair.
The Autobots time on Earth had distorted their Cybertronian sense of time. They'd adjusted their schedules to fit in with the humans, to make interactions easier on both parties. These past two decacycles dragged along like a metacycle. The breems spent in Jazz's arms took megacycles.
The saboteur went out of his way to fondle Prowl in front of everybody, especially Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He wanted everyone to know that Prowl was his.
Neither twin had spoken to Prowl since Sideswipe had ended their relationship. Orders were acknowledged with deepened frowns. Prime and Ironhide wondered why Prowl didn't call them to task for their insubordination.
Prowl had hoped that Jazz would leave him be, but with not-so-subtle hints, he told Prowl that he could still stir up trouble.
So he sat there, waiting for Jazz to release him, or guide him to one of their quarters. He responded only when pressed; his attention riveted on the one he desired.
Sideswipe ignored the two cuddling mechs, but anger burned in his optics. His friends sat just a little bit further from him, unsure of what angered him. He ignored Prowl's quiet attempts to catch his attention, the silent language they'd worked out to convey their affection to one another.
Jazz seemed to notice Prowl's attention had wandered from him.
"Y'seem tired, Prowl. Why don't we go to your quarters?"
Prowl automatically stood and followed the black and white mech through the ship. He delved into memory files of happier vorn. He didn't notice they'd arrived at his door until Jazz roughly shook him out of his reverie.
"Ain't y' listenin', Prowlie? Put in yer access code."
Prowl lifted his hand, and shielded the keypad with a doorwing. Entering the required combination sent a surge of pain through the hollowness of his emotional circuits. He hadn't changed the combination since the day he'd walked out, away from Sideswipe. Anything locked, that he wanted Sideswipe to have access to; he used one of the many conversions of that first decacycle together. A time Prowl still remembered as though it had happened a bare breem ago.
"Prowl!"
The tactician turned his gaze toward the saboteur, only then noticing that they were in his quarters.
"Y'were thinking of him again, weren't ya?" Black hands curled at Jazz's side.
"I'm always thinking of him now, Jazz." Blue optics narrowed. "It's hard to take one's thought processes off something denied."
Jazz lifted his hands. "Hey, I ain't keepin' Siders fram ya. He's doin' that himself."
Doorwings rose, and flared behind Prowl. "And so you're completely blameless then, are you?" Prowl modulated his vocalizer down, he hadn't meant o yell so loud. "Where do you process that-" Jazz shushed Prowl with a finger over his lips.
"Now, now. Yer gonna make yerself upset. I don' like seein' ya so unhappy."
"Then go! I was happy before you came along. I was happy with Side-"
"Shut up! Shut up about him! I'm sick'a ya talkin' 'bout him. He don' want ya. He tol' ya himself." Jazz waved his hands in sharp, angry motions. "An' now he's makin' ya miserable. Jus' forget about him." The saboteur grabbed Prowl's shoulders. "Yer mine, now. An' I don' wanna hear it."
Prowl looked away, his doorwings drooping.
Primus help him, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to get out of this. Without Sideswipe there waiting for him, he didn't think he could bring himself to care.
"I wonder where Jazz is?"
Sideswipe glared at Bluestreak at the mention of the saboteur. The gunner, completely oblivious of the warrior's glower, prattled on.
"I never thought he'd miss this party. Not when he'd gone through so much trouble to help set it up. He even took Carly out shopping, and she always annoys him when he does that. Of course he had Blaster with him and they got new sound systems, which always make them happy. I'm surprised he and Blaster didn't end up together. He never seemed like Prowl's type. Of course I didn't know Prowl had a type, except maybe Ultra Magnus. Hey Sideswipe, I wonder if Optimus has been able to find him again."
Sideswipe glared around the room, suddenly filled with the inane desire to see his ex-lover. He forced his gaze to the floor, fighting temptation. Bluestreak continued on, jumping from one subject to the next.
"Sides, get to sector 342 now" Sunstreaker's voice roared over his comm. Channel.
Sideswipe stiffened. "I gotta go, Blue."
Bluestreak broke off his rambling, doorwings lifted in surprise. "Really? Why? It's barely begun. Is something wrong?"
Sideswipe squeezed the gunner's shoulder tires and pressed a brief kiss on his lips. "Nah, it's just Sunny. Someone probably threw mud at him or something." The warrior didn't wait for Bluestreak to answer.
Sideswipe took off at a brisk trot, mustering an apologetic smile at those he forced to the side.
"Hey, Sider, where's the fire?" Blaster shouted.
Sideswipe waved the boombox's concern away. "It's just Sunny. I'll be back."
Despite his easy dismissal, something about Sunstreaker's tone set him on edge. As soon he passed the Ark's entrance he transformed and took off. He swept through the small gathering outside and homed in on Sunstreaker's signal. His brother was moving.
Why in the pits wasn't he there already? Slaggit, he'd better not make me miss that party…
The two Lamborghinis arrived at the aptly named 'Dead Mech's Canyon' at the same time. Sideswipe braked as Sunstreaker stumbled to his feet.
"Primus…"
Black and white paint dotted Sunstreaker's paint job. It immediately brought to mind his brother's attack on Prowl.
"Not again. You didn't…" Sideswipe hated the fact that he still didn't want to see the tactician hurt.
"You need to talk to him," Sunstreaker snapped.
"Primus, Sunny, what did you do?" Sideswipe heard himself ask, again.
"You're wretched, Sides. You're using fragging Bluestreak as a substitute for Prowl, because they look alike. And don't tell me that's not true. You are miserable. And, honestly as much as I hate him, I don't think Prowl's happy either."
Sideswipe transformed, eyeing the marks all over Sunstreaker. "Sunny, would you stop and make sense. What happened?"
"I… talked… to Jazz." No guilt touched his proud face.
"And will this talk land you in the brig again?"
"Probably." The golden warrior shrugged. "But that's not the point. I think you need to talk Prowl."
Sideswipe shook his head, frowning in confusion. "You went after Jazz, after telling me that it was Prowl who betrayed me."
"Because, you're making me feel wretched. And that slagger's acting too smug for his own good about the whole smelted thing." The vain twin scowled down at his ruined paint job. "It wasn't easy, either. So you slagging well better appreciate it. And go. Talk. To. Prowl."
Sideswipe threw his hands in the air. "As long as you've objected to our relationship, you suddenly want me to make up with him?"
Sunstreaker looked up, and his optics darkened with emotion he rarely expressed outside of the privacy of their quarters. "He makes you happy, bro. I may hate him, but if I can make you happy again, I'll deal with it."
"So why the sudden change in processing. What did Jazz say?"
In fair imitation of the saboteur's voice, Sunstreaker spoke. "I finally found something' t' hold him. What makes y' think I'll give him up so easily."
The brothers stared at one another while Sideswipe ran those words through his logic circuits. His optics widened and his spark sang with the realization.
"It's not Prowl's fault."
Worn brakes squealed as Prowl rolled to a stop. A golden Lamborghini sat on the side of the road, right next to the mech-sized hidden path to one of many rendezvous points. A sense of unease crawled along Prowl's circuits as he recalled the last time he'd come out here. He gunned his engine, unsure whether he should return to base, or trust the twins.
Hope had driven him out here, despite caution's warning. Just like last time, Sunstreaker had delivered the message, as sullen as always. Sideswipe had made no indication that he knew of the arrangement between then and now.
Trust sent him the rest of the way. He gave Sunstreaker a wide berth and though Prowl was aware of the sensors directed at him, the golden twin acted like the tactician wasn't there. Since they had ignored him, at every given opportunity, that message made Prowl conclude that perhaps Sideswipe was finally ready to listen.
If he had been human he would have cried.
He transformed and stepped through the bushes and trees.
Sunstreaker remained where he was, message clear. 'I'll let you talk, but if you cause trouble, I'm coming in.'
Sideswipe sat on the edge of the small embankment at the brook's edge.
The tactician relaxed, relieved to see his lover. He had never stopped thinking of Sideswipe as anything else. He longed to simply sit there and revel in the warrior's company, but he couldn't shake the sense of abandonment he still felt. It held him back and kept him on his feet, ready to move should Sideswipe show aggression, or should Sunstreaker appear.
"Sides," he started when the silence grew unbearable.
"Nine years, Prowl. Why couldn't you tell me?" The warrior didn't turn to look at the tactician.
"If it had really been that long, I would have told you, Sides."
Sideswipe slid a glare over his shoulder. "That's what Jazz said."
"You believed him?" Prowl winced at how sharp that sounded to his audio receptors.
The warrior turned, still sitting on the muddy bank. "Well, I don't know, Prowl. What am I supposed to believe? You are everything to me, and yet you couldn't say a word to me. I had to find out from Sunstreaker. Do you know how that makes me feel?"
Prowl's optics dimmed and he shifted uncomfortably. "I can imagine."
"How long?"
"A metacycle."
Sideswipe scowled. "Why couldn't you tell me?"
Prowl relaxed, his doorwings trembling with relief. Finally, Sideswipe was listening. "I wanted to be able to present a solution with the problem."
Sideswipe's gaze never left the tactician. "You know how I feel about you 'facing with anyone else. Not once have you complained. So, why?"
Prowl hesitated, pride mixed with a fear of sounding incredulous stalled his answer. Sideswipe waited patiently as one and then two breems ticked by. "It was not by choice."
Blue optics narrowed under that black helmet. "What the slag does that mean?" The warrior's voice rose as did his body. Fists clenched in the dirt as he shoved himself to his feet. "How can it not be by choice? Jazz seemed awfully happy for you not to have chosen him." Sideswipe grabbed Prowl's shoulders and shook him. "Talk to me fraggit!"
The tactician's systems heated as the long withheld emotions finally rose to the surface. He shook and his vocalizer hitched against speaking. His optical relays shorted out, blinding him. Guilt crushed him, and grief flailed at his spark.
Cracking branches announced Sunstreaker's arrival. Prowl felt Sideswipe gesture sharply at his brother, before returning his hand to Prowl. The fingers loosened on his arms and Sideswipe spoke in a gentle, coaxing voice. "Talk to me, sparkles."
Unwilling to look at his lover, Prowl turned his gaze to the ground when his optics came back on line. He struggled for the control he usually had. Slow and halting, he spoke.
He started at the beginning and told Sideswipe everything.
Sideswipe didn't move the entire time. Only the fine motors in his face shifted as his frown deepened or he glanced at his brother. His systems heated with anger as Prowl related just what he and Jazz did; anger that Jazz would force Prowl to do anything. Sideswipe shook with restrained fury, itching to hunt down the retro rat and make him pay.
Sunstreaker had come, thinking there'd been a problem when Sideswipe raised his voice. Now he stood with his arms crossed, optics dark and a scowl in place and listened.
The tactician finished and he glanced up at Sideswipe. The black and white frame still shook and his ventilators still whined noisily.
Sideswipe didn't say anything, running Prowl's words through his processor and committing them to a memory file all their own. Finally he looked into his lover's dim optics.
"I'm sorry Sideswipe." Shaking fingers brushed the red chevron. "I lost control of everything. I … didn't…" and the effort it took to say those words cracked his voice, "know what to do."
The red warrior frowned. "You should have told me." Blue optics looked up at the other twin.
Sunstreaker moved back through the woods, understanding. "If you need me, bro. I'm there."
"I know."
Fingers brushed against his cheek, drawing his attention to the tactician. He leaned his face into that touch and the despair lifted from Prowl's optics.
Prowl stroked Sideswipe's face, then his shoulder. His hesitance spoke of an unrelieved fear of rejection. "I wanted to tell you, Sides. There were many times I almost did."
The warrior slid an arm around Prowl's waist, pulling the tactician closer. He hugged Prowl and Prowl wrapped his arms around Sideswipe. The tactician shook, his sorrow unabated. "I was trying to keep you out of the brig, or worse, because you terminated Jazz."
A laugh rumbled out of the warrior's engine. "You slagging, slagging idiot." Despite the words, he spoke in a soft voice. "Don't you trust me?" Sideswipe clung to his errant lover. "Together we can beat this. We'll think of something." Sideswipe rested his forehead against Prowl's chevron. "We always have, and together we always will."
A smile lifted Prowl's mouth for the briefest of moments. "Why are you being so logical about this? That's my job."
Their lips touched timidly, tentatively, as unsure as the first time so long ago. It would take time to undo the harm this had caused. Cybertronians were notoriously long-lived. Time, they had plenty of.
Author's note: This has been sitting on the hard drive for about a week, but I wasn't happy with it. I'm still not entirely happy with it, so maybe sometime far far down the road it'll get a rewrite. I've decided to not even try to count how many chapters are left before the story's finished. Though my goal will now be to finish it before nanowrimo. --;;