Title: Friends
Rating: K+
Continuity: G1
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Prowl, Jazz
Disclaimer: Don't own
Prompt: 6. "You want to know who your real friends are? Screw up and see who's still there."
Sideswipe was sitting dejectedly in a corner, shoulders slumped, a cube of high-grade in his hand. There was a bubble of space around him, like there normally was around, say, Prowl, Sunstreaker, or Mirage. But not usually around Sideswipe. Sideswipe didn't do bubbles of space. That was for other mechs. Sideswipe liked crowds, liked people, liked the noise and comfort offered by many EM fields pressed close to his.
But now, he was alone.
And as far as he thought, he deserved it. He hadn't been where he needed to. Hadn't done what needed doing. Hadn't listened to Prowl. And now, Optimus Prime was in the Med Bay with a fractured spark chamber.
Because of him.
Another swig of high-grade was downed.
He deserved the space, the isolation. They all blamed him. Heck, he blamed himself! It was his fault. He didn't deserve to have friends ar-
"Hey, Sides," a quiet voice greeted as a frame settled into the chair beside him.
The red Twin glanced up to see a familiar, gray frame. Blue optics gazed at him kindly from under a red chevron, and plainly colored doorwings twitched.
"Hm," someone else hummed from his other side, and his head swiveled around. Prowl was sitting down, doorwings hitched high on his back, and though they were tense, it seemed to be an unusual of stress that held them there. Not just the tension that came with being Second in Command, but... something else. "It is unlike you to sit alone, Sideswipe."
"Well, isn't like anyone wants to sit next to me today, is it?" the red mech rumbled lowly, ducking his black helm again.
"Well, I find that statement to be rather... false. We are here, are we not?"
"He's got a point, bro," Sunstreaker said as he sat down in the chair next to his brother, the one Prowl had left empty. "We're here."
"Why?"
"Why what, Sideswipe?"
"Yeah. And why wouldn't we be here?" Bluestreak asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"It... I mean... it's my fault."
"Hey, mech," Jazz chimed in from across the table, where he had just sat down with a load of mid-grade energon. "Don't be doin' that t' yerself. Heck, if Ah start'd blamin' mahself fer every death Ah'd caused..." He trailed off. As cheery as he often was, everyone had seen him at least once in "Saboteur and Head of SpecOps" mode, and his record spoke for itself. Everyone knew what he was capable of.
"Yeah, but-"
"Sideswipe. Stop. We are here. We obviously don't care. Yes, you did not follow my orders. However, Prime can handle himself in most situations, so you did not worry about him, as it is normally right to do. Sideswipe, everything is going to be fine."
"Yeah, Sides," Bluestreak agreed. "Don't do this to yourself, because nobody likes it when you're grumpy, and it wasn't really your fault, and everyone gets it, they're just-"
"They don't, Blue. They're avoiding me."
"We aren't."
Sideswipe cast a rather surprised glance at the tactician. "Why is something I'm still trying to figure out."
"'Cause we care, Siders," Jazz answered with a grin. "Somethin' a friend told me a long time 'go... 'Wanna see who yer real friends are? Screw up n' see who's still there.' Sides, ya messed up. But we still care 'bout you. We mess up too."
Slowly, Sideswipe looked from one mech to another, first Bluestreak, then Jazz, then Prowl, then Sunstreaker.
"You mean it?"
"We're you're friends, Sideswipe," Prowl said, a faint smile on his face. "Though not everyone would believe it, I know. However, we will stand by you. As you have for me. As anyone would do for their friends. I know I speak for all of us when I say that."
"Thanks, guys. I... Thanks..."
"Ain't nothin', Siders. An' anyways, y've done th' same fer us, an' Ah know y' still will."
"It's what friends are for, bro."