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Dream of Life- Escapism

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As the minutes passed, Jazz felt more and more on edge. Every little sound had him jumping to see what caused it. Most of what he heard were dislodged pieces of debris falling, but he knew Skywarp could potentially appear any moment. He wasn’t armed, and he couldn’t abandon Thundercracker here.

Draped partway over the seeker, he frowned. “Why did you take the full hit, TC? Should’ve let me take it. Then we’d have made it home.” But he knew why. Thundercracker wanted to protect anyone he could, even at the cost of his own life if it came to that. “Mirage’ll never forgive me,” he murmured.

The sound of heavy footfall drew his attention. Jazz focused as best he could with his un-modified visor. He prayed to Primus it was Shockwave when he saw a flash of purple, but that hope faded when he saw the outlines of wings.

“Hey, betrayer! Where are you?” Skywarp taunted.

Jazz quickly looked around for anything he might use as a weapon. Getting to his feet, he grabbed a piece of metal and then darted off, taking a long path around to try and come up behind Skywarp. He wasn’t sure if Skywarp’s teleporting still worked or not, so he needed to try and surprise him if possible. Good thing he was smaller and lighter than the seeker, his own footsteps quiet enough to not give himself away as Skywarp lumbered toward Thundercracker’s prone form. Jazz climbed up one of the partial roadways and looked down at Skywarp from behind. This was his only chance.

Leaping off, he swung his piece of metal with all the force he could, landing it dead center against the back of Skywarp’s head. The two fell forward only a short distance from where Thundercracker’s body.

“Why you little piece of scrap!” Skywarp rolled over, fist flying up. He landed a blow against Jazz’s chin hard, sending the world spinning.

Trying to regain his equilibrium, Jazz squeezed the invisibility cloak and crawled as the world spin away from Skywarp.

“Tricky little thing, but you’re weak!” Skywarp obviously saw the displaced debris from Jazz’s crawling and kicked him hard in the side.

This mech was larger, stronger, and armed. Jazz was scrappy and good at thinking on his feet, but he knew he was no match for this winged mech. Especially with his world tilting sideways from that head blow. He disengaged the cloak. Maybe he could talk his way out of this.

“Hey, there!” Jazz held his hands up defensively as he got to his knees.

Skywarp smirked as he aimed his arm cannon and moved in closer. “Worthless Autobot scum. Where’s TC?”

They were near him, but apparently Skywarp hadn’t spotted his body in the debris yet. Jazz wished he had his specialized visor. But he was close enough to see Skywarp’s yellow optics were flickering and one was dimmed. Perhaps the fall damaged his vision. That punch to his head must’ve been a lucky hit. Maybe he could get away with the cloak? He squeezed his invisibility device and scrambled away.

“Hey! Get back here!” Skywarp fired wildly, some of his shots going wide, but a handful sprayed over Jazz’s backside and one hit a major line of mech fluid.

Crying out in pain, Jazz fell forward. “Fraggit,” he muttered as he felt the warm liquid pool dribble down his plating. He was unable to move and now the world was fading fast. “Sorry, Sounders,” he whispered as his grasp on the cloak device went slack and he shimmered back into view.

“Stupid little piece of scrap,” Skywarp said, walking up and pressing his cannon to Jazz’s head. “I’ll put you out of your misery.”

The cannon whirred as it filled with a large charge. Jazz had never felt regret when faced with death before. He’d always been able to face it with a clear processor, but this time all he could think about was how he’d failed to keep his promise to Soundwave.

The cannon started to discharge and Jazz offlined his optics, hoping it would be quick. But instead of death, he heard a different frequency blast and Skywarp yelp as his shot pinged off the ground nearby.

“Step away from the Autobot and I might consider sparing your life,” Shockwave said, armed with a really big fusion cannon pointed at Skywarp.

Twisting his head, Jazz saw the shot Shockwave took had crippled Skywarp’s arm.

“Never! You’ve betrayed Lord Megatron, too! How could you–” Skywarp didn’t get to finish his sentence, another shot throwing him back as it hit his chest square on.

“Better late than never,” Jazz rasped, his lower body no longer responding to him.

Shockwave walked over and knelt down, fingers inspecting the shots in his back. “He hit a major line. I cannot repair this in the field.”

“Yeah, tell Sounders I’m sorry,” Jazz replied, voice filling with static now.

“Don’t give up so easily. I won’t let you die.” Shockwave slung his weapon over his shoulder, and scooped Jazz up into his arms. “Soundwave would never forgive me if I don’t return with you.”

“And TC?” Jazz asked, trying not to be disturbed at the lack of sensation in his legs and his fading vision.

“You are both coming back with me. Prowl made me promise,” Shockwave replied.

Jazz half-smiled. “He can be pretty bossy sometimes.”

“He’s a natural leader,” Shockwave replied with clear amusement in his tone as he carried Jazz to his nearby shuttle.

“The controls are simple enough. Touching the sphere activates or deactivates the forcefield.” Ironfist squinted as he examined the ancient tech that was powering the forcefield around the compound. “And Shockwave set this up so a remote signal makes his jerry-rigged piece of metal tap the sphere top to open up for his shuttle to come and go.”

And sliding this lever along the bottom portion increases or decreases the size. But What I don’t understand is how it’s doing it. What powers it?” Skyfire asked, shaking his head.

Red Alert silently watched them, two of the smartests mechs on Cybertron completely stumped by the small sphere floating just above a pedestal in the hangar next to the ship. It was almost comical to watch how perplexed they were by such a small thing.

Looking up at the ship, Red Alert saw some of his comrades on the roof, and others still milling around the open cargo hold door. They were all working hard to get the ship in tiptop shape. A part of him felt guilty he was so useless to them. He wished he could be like the rest of them, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He was far too fragmented to ever be whole enough to resemble ‘normal’ again. He only felt somewhat stable in Skyfire presence, and found it easiest to follow him around.

“Well, the ultimate question is: can we copy and adapt this ancient tech for the ship?” Ironfist said as he rubbed his faceplate.

“Without being able to understand how it works, I have no idea how we could do that,” Skyfire replied. “I suppose when the time comes, we’ll just have to load it on the ship. I really don’t know how else to make good use of it.”

Red Alert stared at the pedestal and sphere and frowned as he spotted a seam line in the base. He wandered closer and ran a finger down the back of the pedestal, following what looked like a panel that might open. He saw a small ‘v’ shape in the seam line and pressed it. The panel snapped open, revealing the inner workings. “Does that help you?” Red Alert asked.

Ironfist and Skyfire peered around the backside at the exposed inner part of the pedestal.

“I just assumed the mechanisms were inside the sphere! You’re brilliant, Red!” Ironfist said, squatting down next to him to get a good look.

As much as Red Alert did like Ironfist and felt somewhat safe around him, the small scientist was crowded too close for his comfort and he quickly stood up and stepped back. Skyfire then pulled Red Alert close hugged him from behind. “Thank you,” he said kissing one of his helm horns.

“You two are smart, but lack common sense sometimes,” Red Alert replied, leaning into the affectionate hug. He canted his head at Ironfist. “Can you copy it now?”

Ironfist clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Oh yes! We certainly can, Red! You’re the best!”

In the cargo hold almost everyone on board had gathered. Bluestreak looked around and saw only Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were missing. His gaze met with Red Alert’s for a moment, and Bluestreak smiled. Red Alert quickly averted his optics and grabbed hold of Skyfire’s arm. The large mech looked at Bluestreak, and sadly smiled as he held Red Alert against his side.

What a mess things had become for so many of them. Bluestreak dimmed his optics a little and looked back at Prowl standing at the front of their little gathering.

“Don’t take it personally, Blue,” Bumblebee said into his audio.

Bluestreak gently rubbed his thumbs against Bumblebee’s legs he was holding, despite knowing his companion probably couldn’t feel it. “I know,” Bluestreak quietly replied. He felt Bumblebee nuzzle his helm, and dimmed his optics in response.

“Thank you all for being here. The situation has evolved beyond what had been expected. On the tarmac right now, Tremorwave and his assistant, First Aid, are awaiting all of your helping hands to cart his chosen supplies and belongings down here to the ship,” Prowl explained. “While visiting Tremorwave’s compound, we were privy to a message sent to him that indicates we will not be fighting alone. We have a two-week window to prepare for what will literally be the fight of our lives alongside additional forces.”

“Where is Thundercracker and Jazz? Where is Shockwave?” Mirage asked.

Prowl looked over at him. “Shockwave left to retrieve Jazz and Thundercracker. They should be here soon.”

Bluestreak glanced at Mirage, who was clearly unsatisfied with the answer.

“Let’s set to work on the first task: unloading our new Chief Medic’s belongings,” Prowl said with finality, before leading them out of the hold and toward the stairwell.

Bumblebee reached over and pat Mirage’s shoulder. “Unloading things should be a good distraction, right?”

“I suppose,” Mirage replied.

On the tarmac Tremorwave was hauling items out of a cargo attachment linked to the back of his shuttle. It was semi-organized chaos as Prowl directed everyone as best he could. Bluestreak didn’t have his hands free to help, though.

“Almost forgot all about you,” Tremorwave said as he walked over to him and Bumblebee.

“Me?” Bluestreak asked.

“Not you,” Tremorwave replied with a raised optic ridge. He then looked at Bumblebee. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it to be perfectly honest. I see you’ve got the same sensory net damage as my assistant, but I have a good stop-gap solution for you. Follow me.” The medic whirled around and led them to his cargo hold attachment.

“He’s got so much junk in there, maybe he’ll have new legs for me?” Bumblebee said, chuckling.

Bluestreak shook his head. “Always looking on the bright side, hm?”

Tremorwave reappeared pushing a hoverchair. “I’m afraid it’s a little big for your size, but should work nonetheless.”

“Awesome,” Bluestreak said as he turned around to let Tremorwave help Bumblebee into the chair.

He was a little surprised to see Bumblebee frowning as Tremorwave explained the controls. Moving the chair around, Bumblebee seemed to quickly get a feel for it’s capabilities and hovered off down the tarmac a little ways. Bluestreak stayed close to him, and Tremorwave resumed unloading.

“Isn’t this great?” Bluestreak asked, trying to figure out why Bumblebee looked upset.

“Yeah, no, it’s… helpful,” Bumblebee replied, bringing the hoverchair to a stop.

Bluestreak wandered over and squatted down next to Bumblebee. “What’s wrong?”

Sadly smiling, Bumblebee shrank in on himself in the chair. “I dunno. I think I just–” he paused looking away from Bluestreak. “I like being close to you better. But, I’m a burden. I get that.”

“You aren’t a burden,” Bluestreak quickly replied, taking hold of Bumblebee’s hands in his own. “But don’t you want your freedom back? To move around however you want?”

With bright blue optics, Bumblebee gazed at Bluestreak and sighed. “Yeah, it’s good to be able to get around.” He then pursed his lips for a moment. “But, promise you’ll still want to hang out with me?”

“Don’t be silly,” Bluestreak replied. He stretched up, and pressed their forehelms together. “You took my pain away when no one else could. You’ve been the best friend I’ve had since before the war. And now…” he trailed off, tipping his head to press a gentle kiss to Bumblebee’s lips. “You’re even more than that.”

Smiling, Bumblebee swept his fingers down Bluestreak’s face.

Their quiet moment together was put on hold when the roar of another shuttle overhead drew everyone’s attention upward.

It was Shockwave’s shuttle.

The moment it landed, the side door flew open and Shockwave got out. He flagged Prowl over and after one look inside, Prowl ran to get Tremorwave. The chaotic scene turned to a panicked one as Mirage jogged over with Soundwave on his heels.

Bluestreak and Bumblebee watched in horror as both Jazz and Thundercracker’s unconscious bodies were removed from the shuttle. Soundwave carried Jazz in his arms, and moved quickly across the tarmac. Shockwave held Thundercracker tightly as he strode along behind Soundwave. Mirage jogged to keep pace with the larger mech’s longer steps, and the whole group headed toward the compound entrance with Prowl and Tremorwave running just ahead of them.

“We should go be with Mirage. He’s gonna be inconsolable,” Bumblebee said, putting his own issues aside.

Bluestreak squeezed his hand and gave a firm nod. “Let’s go.”

Sideswipe gently touched Sunstreaker’s chest. He was practically burning his plating was so hot. He’d fallen into a deep recharge shortly after Prowl left them earlier in the day and he hadn’t woken since. Worried, Sideswipe had stayed even when Prowl asked for help over the intercom earlier.

The door to their quarters whooshed open and closed in the next room. Sideswipe felt relief when Prowl appeared in the doorway to their berthroom.

“Hey, handsome,” Sideswipe said, smiling.

Prowl tiredly smiled back and walked over, sitting down on Sunstreaker’s opposite side. “How is Sunstreaker doing with the poison?”

Sideswipe sat up and frowned as he gazed at his brother. “He’s been recharging and his plating is hot to the touch.”

Pressing his white fingertips to Sunstreaker’s chest, Prowl frowned a little. “If he doesn’t wake in the next couple hours, I’ll go retrieve Tremorwave.”

“That medic is here?” Sideswipe asked.

“He is our new CMO,” Prowl replied.

“Seriously?” Sideswipe wondered how much he’d missed.

“A lot has happened in a very short span of time.” Prowl sighed, then looked at Sideswipe. “I find I’m in need of comfort.”

Sideswipe perked up at that, and was off the berth, holding Prowl’s hand seconds later. He pulled him into the front room of their quarters and sat down on the couch. Prowl didn’t resist, and once Sideswipe was seated, he straddled his lap facing him.

Prowl fingered his two scars on his chest. “We are going to war all over again. I know it’s the right thing to do, fighting for our ultimate freedom, but still. I’m not as sure about my ability to lead.”

“And that right there is why you’re a great leader for us. You think about what you do, about how it’s going to affect us. We matter to you,” Sideswipe replied with a warm smile as he placed his hands on Prowl’s hips.

Gaze softening, Prowl cupped Sideswipe’s face in his hands. “I have you to thank for softening my spark.” He leaned in, and their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Glossae tangling together, twisting around one another.

Sideswipe’s spark fluttered, so happy that he had Prowl in his life. He knew he’d be long dead if not for this mech. He slid his arms around Prowl, hugging him close.

The kiss finally broke, and Prowl’s optics were darker in hue. “I want you to make me forget everything outside this room. Just for a little bit.”

“Anything you want,” Sideswipe replied with a lop-sided grin.

His hands moved over Prowl’s frame slowly, taking in each shape of his lovely form. He’d never tire of touching this beautiful mech in his grasp. His hands made separate paths, one reaching behind to fondle a doorwing, and the other pushing between Prowl’s already parted legs to cup his heating interface cover.

Prowl moaned in response, bracing himself with both hands by pressing them to Sideswipe’s chest.

“Open up,” Sideswipe said, tapping the closed cover with a fingertip.

Complying, the cover retracted, and Sideswipe rimmed the edge of Prowl’s valve with his fingers. Prowl gyrated his hips against them, clearly wanting more. Sliding a forefinger in and hooking it, Sideswipe rubbed the already dewey mesh just inside.

“Tell me what you want,” Sideswipe said, adding another finger and drawing circles against the heated mesh.

Prowl whimpered a little, his hands grasping at Sideswipe’s shoulders tightly. “I want to ride you until I forget about everything outside the walls of this place.”

That was more than enough to cause Sideswipe’s own spike to pressurize and almost painfully press against the closed cover. “Ride me, hm?”

Prowl leaned forward, mouthing Sideswipe’s lower lip. “Yes. I love feeling connected to you.”

“And I love filling you up,” Sideswipe replied with a rumble to voice. His cover retracted and his spike jutted forth. Prowl smiled at the sight of it, and let go of his shoulders to wrap both hands around the length and pump it slowly.

Sideswipe moaned and let his head fall against the couch back. “Frag, Prowl…”

“That’s the idea,” Prowl replied with a lightness to his voice Sideswipe only ever heard when they were intimate.

“Then hop on for a ride,” Sideswipe replied with a little laugh. Prowl smiled and did just that, lifting himself into a kneeling position, then sitting back down over top of his spike. Sliding into the smooth, slick heat of Prowl’s valve, drew a low moan from Sideswipe. He then slipped both hands under Prowl’s aft and sat forward a little. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Prowl breathed, once again grabbing hold of Sideswipe’s shoulders.

Sideswipe lifted Prowl up by aft and rocked his hips forward as he lowered him again, sinking to the hilt with a moan. Prowl whimpered and let his head roll back. Sideswipe repeated the motion with practiced skill over and over, impaling Prowl’s shivering body and throbbing hot valve with abandon.

The world shrunk down around just them; their bodies moving fluidly together and the lovely sounds Prowl made as he was driven toward overload. Prowl’s voice cut out, and he squeezed Sideswipe’s shoulders tight. Sideswipe thrust deep, feeling the constriction of Prowl’s valve as he tipped over the edge and overloaded. Pressing his face against Prowl’s neck, Sideswipe shivered at the feeling of his spike squeezed.

Once Prowl finally went slack in his grasp, Sideswipe mouthed his throat. “Ready for for the finish?” he said with a growl.

“Of course,” Prowl replied, voice airy.

This time Prowl did all the work, rocking and gyrating over Sideswipe’s spike until he also overloaded with a roar a few moments later, practically crushing Prowl in his arms with his moment of release.

Leaning back against the couch with Prowl hugged to his chest, Sideswipe hummed approvingly. “We’re really good at that.”

Prowl chuckled a little. “Yes, well, we’ve practiced quite a bit.”

Nuzzling Prowl’s chevron, Sideswipe felt the warm flutter of his spark fill his chest. He adored this mech in his arms just as much he did his brother. It meant everything to him that Prowl was open to having them both in his life like this.

“I missed something good, hm?”

They both looked up at Sunstreaker standing with both hands grasping the doorway. He looked like he might fall over if he let go.

“Sunny, you shouldn’t be up,” Sideswipe replied.

Prowl quickly slid off Sideswipe’s lap, snapping his cover back in place and moving to offer Sunstreaker a hand. “Your brother is right. Come lay back down.”

Sideswipe got up, and filled a glass with energon before following the two back into the berthroom.

“I’m actually feeling a lot better,” Sunstreaker replied as he sat.

Pressing a hand to Sunstreaker’s chest, Prowl canted his head. “You’re no longer running hot.”

Sideswipe handed off the fuel, and his brother tipped the glass up, gulping it all down in one go. He sighed as he handed the empty glass back. “Can I have a little more?”

“Anything you want,” Sideswipe replied with grin. He leaned down and kissed Sunstreaker on the cheek before bounding into the front room to refill the glass. When he returned he paused to watch Prowl and his brother deeply kissing. “You two look hot together,” Sideswipe said after a long moment.

The kiss broke, and Sunstreaker shyly smiled and took the refilled glass Sideswipe held out for him. Prowl grabbed hold of Sideswipe’s free hand and squeezed it while he gazed lovingly up at him. Things were finally starting to come together for them. Sideswipe prayed to Primus they’d win their ‘ultimate fight’ for freedom so they could settle into a life with one another without anymore looming threats. He wasn’t sure when his dream life had become a desire to settle down with the mechs that meant the world to him, but that was all he wanted now. And he’d fight for that wish of a peaceful life with all he had.

Mirage had refused to return to the barracks, sitting at the base of the regen tank Thundercracker was floating in. Bumblebee watched Bluestreak peek in on Jazz just before they left and frowned a little.

Bluestreak wandered back over to Bumblebee and sadly smiled.

“How is he?” Bumblebee asked, doing his best to hide the small flare of jealousy in his spark.

“The readings on the monitors look good, and Soundwave and all his little cassettes are in there with him,” Bluestreak replied with a shrug. “He’ll be alright.” He glanced across medbay at the regen tank. “Wish the same could be said for Thundercracker.”

Bumblebee gazed at the sad sight of Mirage staring off at nothing, sitting leaned against the tank base. “Yeah. But, he doesn’t want us hovering.”

“I know,” Bluestreak replied. “Guess we should go back to the room, then?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day,” Bumblebee replied.

Reluctantly, Bluestreak and Bumblebee left Mirage behind in medbay and returned their quarters.

Back in the room, Bluestreak scooped Bumblebee up out of his hover chair and set him on the berth. He gazed at Bluestreak as he pushed the chair over to the side, all his worries and self doubt from earlier returning.

He hadn’t been in a relationship with anyone in eons. Not since the mech he’d once loved with all his spark left the planet at the start of the war. They had completely different ideals, which hadn’t been exposed until the war began to take hold. Bumblebee resigned himself to not looking for love again after that. But the moment he’d woken up to Bluestreak’s voice, after he was so sure he was dead, it felt like he was being given a second chance. One he didn’t want to squander on a lonely life.

Bluestreak plopped down next to him on the berth and sighed. “I'm sure Thundercracker will wake up, but I feel bad for Mirage.”

Bumblebee smiled a little at that, loving Bluestreak’s unbendable hope. He was like a beacon of light who’d helped bring Bumblebee back after he’d been enveloped by darkness. “Me too.”

“Nothing to do but wait, I guess,” Bluestreak replied. He turned and wrapped his arms around Bumblebee, swinging his doorwings back to lay down sideways on the berth and hug him against his chest.

Practically giddy at the warmth and physical interaction, Bumblebee dimmed his optics and snuggled in close as best he could. Part of him was still unsure if Bluestreak’s whole saying he wanted more was actually the truth or just a reply out of pity. After all, it wasn’t like he was another beautiful Praxian, or even in the best-looking shape with his broken horns and scarred frame. How could someone as pretty as Bluestreak really want to be with him? Especially if Jazz was his usual type; handsome, bold, take-charge. Bumblebee was none of those things.

“You’re being quieter than usual,” Bluestreak commented, nuzzling one of his broken horns.

“Don’t mean to be. Just processing everything is all,” Bumblebee replied.

“Like your new hover chair?” Bluestreak prompted.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Bumblebee replied, gently running his fingers over Bluestreak’s chestplate.

“What was with that promise earlier?” Bluestreak asked.

Wincing a little, Bumblebee pressed his face against Bluestreak’s neck, not wanting to show how insecure he was about all this. “It’s nothing.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” Bluestreak asked.

“Probably because I’m not being totally truthful,” Bumblebee admitted.

Bluestreak gave him a squeeze. “Tell me what’s going on, Bee. Please?

Sighing, Bumblebee kept his face hidden against Bluestreak. “You’re you, and I’m me.”

“What does that mean?” Bluestreak asked.

“You’re gorgeous and sweet and young and fun to hang out with. I’m broken and old. Plus, I’m just a minibot, and completely out of your league. Why would you ever want to be with someone like me? Especially since your type is someone like Jazz?” Bumblebee winced at his rambled confession, his spark pulsing hard in his chest with fear of rejection.

Bluestreak hugged Bumblebee tighter. “You’ve got the most amazing spark of anyone I’ve ever met. You’re strong, wise, and the best friend I’ve ever had. How could I not want to have more with you? And yeah, you’re a minibot, but does that matter? In terms of, uh, well, you-know-what, I guess it might. But there’s other things we do if regular interfacing is off the table…”

Snorting a little laugh, Bumblebee tilted his head back to finally look into Bluestreak’s optics. “Not that I like bringing up my extremely distant past love life, but I can promise you from experience we aren’t too different in size to interface.”

Bluestreak smiled at that. “And about things with Jazz, I don’t know that I really have a type other than someone being nice to me? Truth is, he was the only thing I saw from outside that apartment for months on end. You came after Mirage softened up Thundercracker. I was confined to that back section before that.” His optics dimmed as he frowned. “Seeing Jazz for a couple hours each week kept me from losing my mind completely.”

Bumblebee had been told Thundercracker changed after Mirage arrived, but he had no idea Bluestreak had been a prisoner in isolation like that. “Blue… I didn’t realize.”

Forcing a small smile, Bluestreak shrugged. “I know. I don’t talk about it. I just want you to understand why I was even with Jazz in the first place. I didn’t choose. Thundercracker probably could’ve brought anyone over and I would’ve gotten just as attached.” He then pressed a kiss to Bumblebee’s forehelm. “But I’m choosing you.”

“Blue…” Bumblebee reached up and cupped Bluestreak’s face, pulling him closer for a kiss. Their mouths met, and his spark felt like it was going to explode with all the adoration he felt for this wonderful mech. The kiss quickly deepened, and there was a definite stir in Bumblebee’s array. Breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, he gazed at him with darkened optics. “Did I also mention how you melt my gears?”

Grinning, Bluestreak rolled them over so Bumblebee was on his back. “So, since we’re being truthful and all, how long has it been for you?” Bluestreak asked as he began to kiss his way down Bumblebee’s smaller frame.

Arching as best he could into those warm lips against his plating, Bumblebee hummed approvingly. “Honestly? It’s been eons.”

Bluestreak paused at that, looking up at him. “Really?”

Heat pooled in Bumblebee’s faceplates. “Got my spark broken and swore I wouldn’t ever let it happen again.”

Placing a lingering kiss to the center of Bumblebee’s chest, Bluestreak dimmed his optics. “I won’t let it happen again, either. Promise.”

A mad flutter overtook Bumblebee’s spark as gazed lovingly at Bluestreak. “Careful now. I might fall even harder for you.”

“Good.” Bluestreak kissed a line down Bumblebee’s abdomen.

Bumblebee hadn’t been touched like this so long, every kiss was leaving his plating burning with desire. He fingered Bluestreak’s chevron, earning his a cute little moan of approval. Bluestreak was apparently on a mission, though, soon mouthing the closed, heating cover of Bumblebee’s interface array. He couldn’t hold back very long, and embarrassingly the cover snapped open revealing his very much onlined spike that stood up to greet Bluestreak.

His faceplates heated even more. “Sorry.”

Confusion clouded Bluestreak’s face. “Sorry for what?”

“Being over eager?” Bumblebee replied, fingering his chest nervously.

“You said eons, right?” Bluestreak said, raising an optic ridge. “Plus, I take it as a compliment.” He smiled as he flicked his glossa out and licked up the shaft.

Bumblebee shivered and moaned as heat and pleasure flooded his lower body. “I-ah-I won’t last long…”

“Then I’ll go nice and slow,” Bluestreak replied, before swirling his glossa over the head.

“Primus,” Bumblebee gasped, unconsciously lifting his hips upward.

Bluestreak pulled off, and shook his head. “Nice and slow,” he repeated.

Treated to a series of licks and soft sucks between pauses, Bumblebee’s array built up a strong charge that had him moaning and writhing on the berth. He whined when Bluestreak sank his whole mouth over his spike and held it there for a long beat before pulling off again. He desperately wanted to tip over over the edge, but he was also very much enjoying Bluestreak’s talented glossa and mouth.

Grasping at the berth, Bumblebee knew only a couple more of those kind of moves and he was done for. He gazed down at Bluestreak, marveling at how sexy and beautiful he was all at once. How had he gotten this lucky?

Bluestreak’s mouth enveloped his spike again and he very slowly pulled back, making sure to suck the head hard.

“Primus!” Bumblebee’s whole frame shivered, and his overload that had been barely held at bay came rushing forth.

Bluestreak’s lips let go just as Bumblebee’s spike exploded, partly splattering over his face before he quickly reacted and captured it again with his mouth, milking every last drop. Whether is was the lack of use over time, or Bluestreak’s expert skill, Bumblebee was caught up in one of the most intense overloads he’d ever experienced and it seemed to last forever.

Panting hard as he came down from the high, he refocused his gaze on Bluestreak who was carefully lapping up anything he’d missed. Staring the splatter on his face, Bumblebee felt a tingle of heat flicker in his array again. Primus, he was a dirty old mech. He reached down and gently wiped at some of it with his thumb. “I made a mess of you,” he commented, voice more hoarse-sounding than he expected.

“You lasted longer than I thought.” Bluestreak grabbed his smaller wrist and licked the fluid off his thumb.

“Frag,” Bumblebee rasped as he felt that vague tingle shift to a deep stir.

“So, um, I won’t hurt you if we-if I spike you?” Bluestreak asked with a sheepish smile.

It was a little funny to see Bluestreak be so unsure of himself, especially in light of how unashamed he’d been moments before.

“Yeah. I actually like bigger mechs…” Bumblebee trailed off, offering his own sheepish smile. “Just go slow until my body adjusts is all.”

Bluestreak sat back on his heels and his interface cover opened to reveal his equally beautiful spike. It was silver like his plating with two red lines running up each side. Was there anything about this mech that wasn’t incredibly gorgeous? He was suddenly very grateful that Bluestreak hadn’t ended up in someone else’s hands, being used and abused like so many of them had.

Palming his spike with one hand, Bluestreak carefully pressed his thumb into Bumblebee’s valve, clearly intending to stretch it. But Bumblebee knew he’d just end up overloading again, and he wanted to do that filled with that beautiful spike. He grabbed Bluestreak’s wrist with both hands to still him.

“There’s lubricant in the drawer over there. I stole it from medbay the other day. If you keep going–” he squeezed Bluestreak’s wrist in his grasp. “I’ll overload before you even do anything. Normally not a big deal, but I don’t think my stamina is what it once was.”

Withdrawing his thumb, Bluestreak leaned forward and kissed Bumblebee sweetly, leaving the lingering scent and taste of his own overload on his lips. “Okay. Don’t move.”

Bumblebee snorted a laugh at that, poking Bluestreak in the side as he got off the berth. “Jokes at my expense, I see how it is.”

Bluestreak simply smiled in reply, locating the stolen container of lubricant. Returning to the berth, he twisted off the top and dipped his fingertip into it. "Did you steal it before or after we kissed?"

"Before," Bumblebee admitted.

Laughing a little at that, Bluestreak carefully spread the lubricant over his spike. "Just how long have you had this thing for me and I didn't notice?"

“Since I woke up to you reading to me,” Bumblebee replied with a small smile.

“Really?” Bluestreak looked surprised.

Shrugging, Bumblebee nodded. How could he have not fallen for the mech that had been caring for him despite his invalid condition?

Setting the container aside, Bluestreak crawled forward, leaning over to kiss him. “So, how do I do this without hurting you?”

Gazing into his pretty optics, Bumblebee warmly smiled. “Just go slow to start.”

“I can do that,” Bluestreak replied.

Unable to move his legs, Bumblebee had to rely on Bluestreak to position them, which he carefully did before he laid over top of him, his larger frame surrounding him almost completely. Bumblebee pressed his hands against the smooth, curved chestplate above him and mouthed the base of Bluestreak’s neck. He’d always prefered larger mechs for all sorts of reasons, including the feeling of them all around and within him at once.

Heat rippled over his plating as he felt that pretty spike gently nudge against his valve. He wished he could move his legs, but at the very least he could part his thighs as much as possible as Bluestreak slowly pushed into his valve. He curled his fingers against Bluestreak’s plating, repressing a whine as he was stretched. Optics dimmed, he tried to relax as much as possible, letting his valve adjust.

“Hold here?” Bluestreak asked in an airy voice.

“Yeah,” Bumblebee replied, voice wavering a little. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to be so full of someone else. It hurt and felt wonderful all at once. This wasn’t just anyone else, though. He pressed his face against Bluestreak, drinking in his scent, his warmth, his everything. “You can move.”

With all the tenderness Bluestreak had always shown him, he shifted his hips and withdrew partway before pressing forward again. Bumblebee moaned at that, his whole frame shivering as his array rippled with pleasure from such a small movement. Bluestreak repeated the shallow, gentle thrusts, rendering Bumblebee a quivering mass beneath him.

“Primus,” Bumblebee groaned, his valve squeezing around the spike buried in him.

Bluestreak moaned his agreement.

Heat rolled off Bluestreak’s frame, and he was only barely rocking his hips. Bumblebee mouthed his collar fairing, knowing that this kind of interfacing was a lot more intense. “You won’t hurt me,” Bumblebee said, voice thin and wavering. “You can move more.”

“If you’re sure,” Bluestreak breathlessly replied.

With deeper thrusts, Bluestreak’s pace picked up, but was still just as gentle as when he started. Bumblebee keened, pleasure roiling through his array. Curling overtop of Bumblebee, Bluestreak panted and whimpered. Each thrust pushed Bumblebee closer and closer toward another overload.

“Close,” Bumblebee whimpered.

Bluestreak grunted in reply.

From the throb of Bluestreak’s spike against the mesh of his valve, Bumblebee knew he wasn’t the only one on the precipice. Only a few more deep thrusts later, he gasped before crying out as a sharp, lovely overload claimed him. He was so lost in his own moment of pleasure, he didn’t register the spill of fluid until he felt a warm trickle running down his aft. The fog of euphoria parted enough that he caught the tail end of Bluestreak’s full body shudder and long, low moan as he overloaded, too.

“Holy slag,” Bluestreak said as he sagged, his weight pressing down over Bumblebee.

Smiling at that, Bumblebee dimmed his optics. Happiness he’d not known in eons fluttered around inside his spark. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn him a relationship with such an amazing mech, but he was grateful.

Eventually shifting, Bluestreak slipped his spike free and bundled Bumblebee up in his arms as he laid on his side again. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” he quietly asked as he kissed a broken helm horn.

“Not even a little,” Bumblebee replied, tipping his head to place little kisses to Bluestreak’s jawline.

“That was so intense,” Bluestreak said with obvious awe.

“It’s partly the slow build up,” Bumblebee replied, pressing closer. “And my being a tight fit for you.”

“Well, I’m up for that anytime you are,” Bluestreak replied, squeezing Bumblebee tightly.

Chuckling at that, he nuzzled Bluestreak’s neck. He’d never been this lovesick before. He wanted to savor every moment of it. So what if Bluestreak was practically half his age, and completely out of his league? There was a very real affection and love between them. In the end, that was all that really mattered to him.

Mirage woke with a start. He bolted upright in a medical berth, disoriented. He’d been sitting a the base of the regen tank, hadn’t he? “The regen tank–” He flew off the berth and left the small room he’d been in, coming to a halt in front of the the now empty tank.

“Where is he?” Mirage called out, looking around desperately.

First Aid emerged from a nearby room in his hover chair. “Resting comfortably. I can show you to his room.”

“Who put me in the other room?” Mirage asked, annoyed he’d recharged through Thundercracker’s extraction from the tank.

“Tremor, um. Well, he may have given you something to help you rest, and then might’ve put you in there so you'd be out of the way when he took Thundercracker out,” First Aid replied as he rubbed his chin.

Fuming, Mirage squeezed his hands into fists. “Never thought I’d actually miss Ratchet,” he muttered. “I want to see Thundercracker. Now.

“Follow me,” First Aid quickly replied.

Mirage was led to a row of private rooms in the back area of the ship’s medbay. First Aid came to stop by one of the rooms, and Mirage peered inside. Wires and monitors crowded the small space with Thundercracker at the epicenter.

“What’s his current condition?” Mirage asked, spark contracting with fear.

“He’s not woken up yet. Tremor took him out of the tank when his vitals stabilized,” First Aid replied.

Frowning, Mirage glanced at First Aid. “May I sit with him?”

“Yeah, of course,” First Aid replied. “I know Tremor doesn’t believe in it, but I think touching patients and talking to them when they’re in this condition helps them heal.”

Mirage smiled a little at that, suspecting the only reason Bumblebee hadn’t passed on was due to Bluestreak’s diligent care of him when he was offlined. “Thank you.”

Stepping into the room, Mirage pulled a chair up to the edge of the medical berth, and sat down. He wrapped his hands around Thundercracker’s nearest hand as he gazed at his face. “You’re not allowed to die. I say this in case you were thinking of letting this world go.” His gaze then slowly traversed the dented and damaged frame before him, pausing at what looked like a blast hole in his side currently covered with a crude piece of mis-colored plating. What had happened to him?

“I never thought I’d ever move past what was done to me,” Mirage said, looking back up at his offlined face. “But you were so patient. So understanding in how you treated me. You showed me respect and love I’ve never known before. It seems to be Primus’ way to rip the good things in life out of my hands, though.”

Lifting up Thundercracker’s hand, he pressed it to his face as tears threatened to escape. This was all he could bear. If Thundercracker died, Mirage had no plans on going on with life himself. He’d been through too much to want to go on again. This was it for him. Either Thundercracker woke, and he’d continue on living, or if not, then he’d follow him into the Well, assuming it was real.

Why was it so loud in here? Jazz grimaced at the layers of voices chattering away. Didn’t they know he was trying to rest? He lit his optics as the last staticy memories came rushing back; trying to scramble away from Skywarp with the invisibility cloak on, the wild shots striking him, Shockwave saving him at the last moment, and passing out as warm fluid pooled under his frame in the shuttle.

“Jazz?” Soundwave said, leaning over him.

Looking up into that red visor, Jazz smiled. “Hey there, handsome.”

Soundwave pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly, practically crushing him.

“Big guy was really worried ‘bout you, Autobrat,” Frenzy said.

“I can see that,” Jazz wheezed.

Loosening his grasp, Soundwave laid Jazz back on the berth. “My apologies.”

Jazz chuckled and cupped his face in one hand. “You never have to be sorry for carin’ ‘bout me.”

Rumble snorted at that. “You two make my tank churn!”

“Yeesh. So mushy and in love,” Frenzy teased.

“Says the two little Pit spawns I saw all painted up to look like us,” Jazz shot back.

Rumble and Frenzy looked at Jazz with matching grins.

Soundwave sat back and touched his chestplate. “Rumble, Frenzy, return.”

“Aww, come on!” Rumble whined.

“We were just kidding around,” Frenzy added.

“Time alone with Jazz is necessary,” Soundwave replied, sounding stern despite his monotone.

Fine,” the replied in unison.

Soundwave’s special subspace pocket opened and the brothers leapt up, transforming and storing themselves. After it closed, Soundwave retracted his mask and leaned over Jazz again, kissing him this time. As the kiss broke, Jazz grinned up at him. “You store ‘em just so we can make out?”

Soundwave smiled a little and gently trailed his fingers down Jazz’s cheek. “Perhaps. And thank you.”

“Thank you?” Jazz asked, pressing into the touch.

“You kept your promise,” Soundwave replied. “Though, you were almost irrevocably damaged.”

“Shockwave got there just in time,” Jazz replied. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I’m a bit out of practice, I guess.”

“Skywarp’s warping ability is formidable,” Soundwave replied, his fingers trailing down Jazz’s body slowly.

Dimming his optics at the touches, Jazz softly sighed.

“How are you feeling?” Soundwave asked.

“With your hand wandering over me? Turned on,” Jazz replied with a impish smile.

Soundwave’s smile grew wider as he shook his head. “You can be quite insatiable.”

“Like you aren’t?” Jazz teased back. “Besides, what better way to celebrate not being dead than a nice overload?” He reached up, sliding a thumb over Soundwave’s lower lip. “Especially with your spike buried in me,” he murmured in a lower voice.

Soundwave’s visor brightened, then darkened in hue. “Your words have a strong effect,” he said before he mouthed Jazz’s thumb, glossa flicking out to swirl around it.

“Never would’ve pegged you as one to like dirty talk, but glad you enjoy my guttermind,” Jazz replied, optics sharply focused on erotic sight of Soundwave licking and suckling his thumb.

Pushing a hand down, Soundwave cupped Jazz’s interface cover, rubbing the closed cover. Arching his hips into his large hand, Jazz whined. “The door is open, and we’re in medbay. Should I add exhibitionist to the list of kinks I’ve discovered you’ve got?” Jazz asked, heat rippling over his plating.

Soundwave paused licking his thumb. “You requested a reward.”

“You make things so simple sometimes, you know that?” Jazz asked, spreading his legs wider for Soundwave’s groping fingers.

“I am simply overjoyed at your return to me,” Soundwave replied, leaning in to capture Jazz’s lips in another, deeper kiss.

Too turned on to care, Jazz let his cover snap back. Soundwave sank his finger into his already hot, slicked valve, and he gyrated his hips against that thick digit buried in him, wanting more.

The kiss broke with a soft gasp from both of them and Jazz shivered from the pleasure blooming between his legs as Soundwave continued to finger his valve.

“Frag,” Jazz moaned.

Soundwave stood, and carefully scooped Jazz up in his arms, sitting back in the chair beside the berth with Jazz curled up in his lap. Letting his legs part again, Soundwave resumed pumping his fingers in and out of his valve. Now that he was closer, Jazz mouthed Soundwave’s lips and they traded soft-mouthed kisses.

“Love you,” Jazz whispered against Soundwave’s lips.

Soundwave paused his hand and gazed at Jazz. “And I love you,” he quietly replied.

Jazz’s spark fluttered madly in his chest at that, and he wanted more than anything to be connected bodily to Soundwave. He shifted in his lap, straddling larger thighs. “Open up.”

Soundwave obeyed, the cover retracting to reveal an onlined spike that stood up between them. Jazz squeezed it a few times with both hands, then smiled as he let go to scoot forward. He lifted up and over the large spike, then sat down on it, letting it slide slowly inside, filling him to the point where the mesh was strained from the stretch. He sighed at how good it felt, fingers grasping tightly at Soundwave’s shoulders.

Large hands pet Jazz’s frame. “You are so beautiful,” Soundwave commented.

“Sweet talk will get you everywhere with me,” Jazz replied with a half-smile.

He then slowly gyrated his hips, allowing his valve to stretch and accommodate the girth splitting him open. Soundwave stifled a moan, hands resting on Jazz’s hips and squeezing. He began to slowly lift up and then sink back down once his valve finally adjusted.

Soundwave’s hands guided him as he began to ride the thick spike between his legs. Jazz’s fingers held so tight to Soundwave, they threatened to leave little indents. He threw his head back and groaned as his entire array throbbed with heat and pleasure.

Lost in one another, Jazz forgot where they were. All that registered, all that mattered to him was how amazing it felt to be impaled over and over while his spark fluttered like crazy. It was pleasure on a different level, leaving his whole body quivering with barely contained bliss.

Overload came on a short time later, causing Jazz to sharply cry out, his valve squeezing hard around Soundwave’s spike. He was then pulled down so Soundwave was fully seated inside him while he groaned and shuddered with his own overload. Hot fluid flooded Jazz, electrical charges sending a secondary overload through his already twitching frame.

Sagging forward against Soundwave’s hot plating, Jazz softly panted. “Frag,” he murmured.

Arms wrapped around him, and he felt Soundwave kiss and nuzzle his helm horn. Smiling in response, Jazz snuggled in closer and dimmed his optics. He felt safe and loved in Soundwave’s arms. Something he’d never felt with anyone else before. A touch of guilt tinged his happiness when he thought of how much he’d hurt Bluestreak, though. Not that he could ever tell either of them, he knew he’d never have found this love with Soundwave had it not been for Bluestreak being his first real relationship that lasted more than a few weeks.


They both looked over at the doorway. Tremorwave stood there holding a container in his arms, looking completely shocked. “If you’re well enough to interface, then consider yourself discharged. Yeesh, ever heard of closing a door?” Tremorwave elbowed the controls and the door snapped shut.

Jazz snickered, giving Soundwave a devious look. “Am I imagining things, or did you just get harder again when he caught us?”

Soundwave smiled and nodded.

Laughing, Jazz cupped Soundwave’s face and kissed him. “You’re the most amazing mech I’ve ever met.” He then rolled his hips. “Wanna go one more time?”

“As many times as you would like,” Soundwave replied.

“Primus, I love you.” Jazz chuckled.

“How are the final preparations going?” Shockwave asked as he watched Prowl direct a handful of others in packing up and moving the parts of the lab Ironfist wanted to have transferred to the ship.

“Well, so far,” Prowl replied.

Sunstreaker lifted a box as he watched Shockwave with a sharp optic. He was standing really close to Prowl, and a couple times he’d even seen him put his hand on him.

“Sunny, you holding up okay?” Sideswipe asked, pausing with his arms full next to him.

“Yeah, feeling back to my usual self mostly,” Sunstreaker replied. He followed his brother out to the hallway, setting his container on the hover transport. Before Sideswipe headed back in, he grabbed his arm. “What’s with Shockwave and the touchy feely stuff with Prowl?”

Sideswipe vaguely frowned at that. “A little crush he’s had since I got here, but don’t mention it. Prowl–” he paused. “Just let Prowl deal with it.”

Sunstreaker didn’t really like that answer, but nodded anyway.

Back inside the lab, Sunstreaker returned to the back where Ironfist was busily packing up more containers.

“Good thing it’s a big ship!” Ironfist said in a cheery tone.

Sunstreaker shook his head, unsure what to think of the small scientist. He was about to pick up the sealed container Ironfist pushed toward him when he caught sight of something moving in the junk pile. He froze, looking over and squinting his optics. Nothing more moved, and he vaguely wondered if that poison had damaged his optics or something.

“You okay, Sunny?” Smokescreen asked.

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Sunstreaker muttered as he picked up the container.

“Well, we care? I care?” Smokescreen replied, looking worried but also a little hurt.

“Sorry. I know,” Sunstreaker replied. He then half-smiled. “Poison is all gone, and I’m doing better.”

Smokescreen nodded. “It’s kinda weird, we went from spending every minute together to hardly seeing each other. And now I don’t know what to say when I see you.”

Sunstreaker sadly frowned. “Just say what comes to mind.”

Nodding, Smokescreen picked up a bundle of large tubes. “So other than the poison, are things better with them?” Smokescreen jerked his head in Prowl and Sideswipe’s direction across the room.

“Yeah, they are. Good, actually.” Sunstreaker flashed a grin. “And you and ‘Hide?”

Smokescreen’s doorwings practically fluttered at his question. “Good. We, ah, share the same kind of misery and somehow it makes things not seem so bad.”

Sunstreaker chuckled a little. “Know how that goes.”

Behind Smokescreen, he saw movement in the junk pile again, and this time he knew he hadn’t been just seeing things. He dropped the container and walked past Smokescreen.

“Sunny?” Smokscreen asked, looking confused.

Sunstreaker stepped into the pile, seeing the spilt energon from when he’d accidentally gotten Sideswipe stabbed. He paused, looking at the dried, discolored stain on a piece of scrap metal when the junk pile just beyond shifted and pieces tumbled down. “There’s something here. Alive,” Sunstreaker said loudly, proceeding further into the unstable mound.

What?” Ironfist yelled back.

“No way! You sure?” Smokescreen asked.

In his peripheral, Sunstreaker saw Sideswipe, Prowl, Shockwave and Ironhide all gather to watch him as he moved in deeper.

“Be careful, it’s unstable on that end!” Ironfirst called out.

Crouching down, Sunstreaker peered into what looked like an opening. Four little optics stared back at him. “What in the name of–”

A small, four-legged insecticon leapt out, knocking Sunstreaker on his aft. It chirred at him, then scampered off, digging into the junk and disappearing again.

“Was that an insecticon?” Prowl shouted as he started to wade into the junk.

Sunstreaker sat up, and held out his hand to halt Prowl. “Yeah, it was. But not a killer kind. He looks like a runt or something.”

After being caught under a writhing, biting pile of them, Sunstreaker knew from one look that this one wasn’t anything like the others. He pulled away some of the pieces of scrap near where it had tunneled in again.

“Where did you go?” Sunstreaker asked, peering into the darker parts of the junk. “I won’t hurt you. Come on out.”

More pieces tumbled down off the mound, and he heard a chir again. He started dig where he heard it, and when he removed a round panel piece off a generator, he came face-to-face with the insecticon.

It’s four optics brightened, and it tried to back further into the pile.

“Whoa, don’t do that. The whole thing might come down. Come on out. You won’t get hurt as long as you don’t try to hurt us. You understand?” Sunstreaker had no idea if it understood language or not, but when it made a distressed sound and tried to flatten down in it’s hole in a vain attempt in hiding, he figured it didn’t have a clue what he said.

He turned to yell. “Anyone got–” he paused when he saw Prowl standing right behind him. “Sorry, didn’t know you were right there. You got any energon treats?”

Prowl looked worried. “I don’t. Are you sure we shouldn’t dispatch it?”

“Don’t you think there’s been enough death already? Why kill it? It’s not a threat.” Sunstreaker looked across at his brother who was trying to pick his way over through the junk. “You got any energon treats on you?”

“Sunny, we still don’t have our sub-space pockets turned back on. Where the frag would I put a pack of snacks?” Sideswipe replied.

“I have some,” Shockwave said as he removed a small container from his sub-space and tossed it to Sideswipe.

“Thanks,” Sideswipe replied. He then waded over and handed off the box to Sunstreaker.

Still crouched down in front of the wayward insecticon, Sunstreaker took out a treat and offered it. The insecticon scooted closer, and a long tube-like tongue flicked out to poke at the treat. After carefully examining it, the tongue wrapped around it and sucked it back into his mouth. His four-eyes dimmed and he made a funny little chirp sound.

“He liked it?” Sideswipe asked.

Prowl frowned. “What is your plan?”

“Plan?” Sunstreaker scooted back a little, and offered another treat, coaxing the insecticon out. “Get him out of the mound of junk that might land on our heads any second, I guess.”

He felt a hand press the top of his helm and looked up. Prowl warmly smiled down at him. “Then proceed. If you need our assistance, we’re here.”

Sunstreaker understood how much trust Prowl was placing in him, and he couldn’t deny how good that felt. He half-smiled, then resumed coaxing the creature out, treat by treat until they were finally in a flatter area. Kneeling in front of it, he pet the insecticons head, and it actually made a happy clicking noise, pushing up into his hand

“He likes you,” Smokescreen said, walking over.

“What should be done with him?” Shockwave asked, optic focusing on Prowl.

“I’ll leave it’s fate up to Sunstreaker. What would you suggest?” Prowl asked, attention focusing back on him.

He looked into the insecticon’s face, it’s four optics staring up at him full of hope for more treats as it wriggled its aft. He was pretty cute for a being a member of a mutated species. “For now, I want to keep it. As a pet.”

“You almost died to a giant pile of those things, and you wanna make this one a pet?” Ironhide asked. “How much poison you still got in your system?” he said, clearly teasing.

Sunstreaker smirked at Ironhide.

“He will be your responsibility,” Prowl said, raising an optic ridge at it. “You’ll need to tend to it, be sure it’s fed and keep it out of trouble on board.”

“So, wait, we get to keep him in our room, right? Maybe we can teach him tricks?” Sideswipe excitedly said with bright optics.

“Our room…” Prowl repeated, suddenly realizing the implications of his allowing Sunstreaker to keep it.

“Yeah, where else?” Sideswipe replied.

Prowl fluffed out his doorwings and took on an authoritative stance, giving a sharp nod. “Yes, where else indeed. He will stay with us.”

Smokescreen crouched down next to Sunstreaker and tentatively pet the insecticon’s head, earning another happy chir sound. “He’s pretty adorable for one of those things.”
“Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied, looking into his new pet’s four optics and smiling a little as it chirred happily. In a weird sort of way, Sunstreaker could relate to this creature that didn’t really fit in anywhere, but then accidentally ended up right where he belonged. Sounded a lot like his life.