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Sunny Disposition	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 5677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Though I finding it sickeningly obvious, I find it necessary to admit that though this is a fanfiction site, I do not own Transformers nor make any money from it.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: Simple Sorrows
Sunny pulled his knees into his chassis again and listened to the drip drop of water falling from the shower head.
It might have driven any other mech mad but it was the only thing that kept him sane right now. The dripping was predictable, constant, so unlike his life had been recently. What was he going to do? He was … Heavy. He had been Heavy days before, sure, but now it was real. There was no way to wish it away or pray it would fade.
He was the cursed half after all.
Sighing, he hit the ignore button for his tanks again. He had lost almost everything in his tank before his route and then had done the entire route, loosing what little low grade he had taken in and now … the cube was still full at his side.
The thought of ingesting anything and it going to the sparkling's growth make him want to lose his tank all over again.
Not that there was anything in there. He was running on reserve right now.
Offlining his optics, Sunstreaker ignored the pings but Prowl, asking where he was. He had security duty this afternoon.
…
Elsewhere, Soundwave watched as a grumpy looking Ravage flaunted her way into his quarters, the door sliding shut behind the cassette.
Not even looking up from his digi-pad, the blue mech asked, “Inquiry: why did you not report before returning to base.”
“For one, I’m tired, and disgusted… I made the mistake of looking what phone sex was,” growled the femme over the comm, squatting down before she finally leapt up onto the berth, laying down there as if to lounge.
Then, having looked around the room to make sure someone loud mouthed like Frenzy and Rumble wasn’t around, she added, “We have a problem.”
Having gained her creator’s attention, he turned his head to his older creation, visor aglow, “… What kind of problem.”
Laying her head on her crossed paws, as if still relaxing, she added, “That smell… let’s say it’s been pretty popular with you… when you were heavy.”
Putting the pad down, the Communication Officer stated, “I see? Deactivation of mech required?”
Shaking her head, she purred through their bond, “He just needs notes on how to get rid of a unwanted pest. Be it Megatron’s or not.”
…
Back at Autobot headquarters, Ratchet slapped Ironhide on the back of the head before telling him to get out. Then, nodding to his trainee, he stated, “Swoop, I’m going to my office for a little bit. You mind watching over the medical bay?”
The large Dinobot nodded and went back to cleaning off some of the medical tools that had been recently used. The elder medic tried not to smile as he looked at the youth… it seemed that since the lesson with Sunstreaker’s valve, the large mech had taken serious interest in his own valve. He had even caught the youth, completely by accident, dipping his fingers deep into his valve, whimpering. Swoop probably was pressing against one of the seals deep inside, his fingers were certainly long enough, but he was uncertain about breaking it.
That’s what thick spikes were for anyway.
The healer couldn’t help but wonder who would take the youth’s first time. Of course, if asked, Ratchet would do it for him, being professional and experienced in the matter, but he seriously hoped that the flier asked someone a little more in size range to fill up that large valve… Skyfire would be gentle.
Yet, despite his trainee’s growth in the matters of living, he was worried about one mech that wasn’t acting like he was living.
Sunstreaker had become rather reclusive in the last two or three days, more than usual. There was even a rumor going around that the sun colored mech might be ill and that Hound was grabbing his shifts, though apparently the idiot hadn’t thought it was bad enough to come to see him about it.
Not that it mattered. Either way the front-liner was subject to his mercies being that he had sessions every Friday and that was coming up today. So, if Sunny was really ill, he’d take care of it then, if he was just depressed and moping… well, he’d try to take care of it then as well.
Unless Sunstreaker tried to skip out which would bring down all fury from Ratchet. For one, besides his reclusive behavior of late, the healer was rather interested in what Hound had said the other day.
It still bothered him. Why was Sunstreaker speaking of Megatron? And from the recording he had gotten from Hound’s databanks, it seemed anything but pained. The front-liner even raised an arm once and almost begged that name, the rest of the words lost to wheezing and heavy vents… and he been aroused?
Well, Megatron probably would make a hot wet fantasy with his large frame and dominating persona, but this seemed something more. In fact, it always led him back to the thought of that ripped valve. There were a lot of large mechs in the Con’s ranks. Could one of them…
… No, no. Sunstreaker was a loyal Autobot, believed in his cause though he was a little rough around the edges. He would have never willing slept with a Con for that matter let one rip him up like that.
Yet, there was the desert. He had been beaten and his only interest when he came back was not repairs, not even slagging his brother. Sunstreaker had wanted to be clean. He had wanted to wash something away. And the battlefield… Sunny had rushed onto the field as if he had been looking for revenge. Looking to hurt the warlord specifically only to end up having his scream echo over the field.
Who knew exactly what Megatron did in that time when Sunstreaker was behind enemy lines.
Ratchet stalled, nearly dropping his tool, as dark little puzzle pieces started falling together.
He immediately shook such thoughts off.
No, no. If something like that would have happened, Sunstreaker would have told him.
Unless… he was ashamed.
Chiding himself for such thoughts, he refused to think of it again, but … maybe he would press in their sessions. He had had more than one raped mech in his days, far more popular in the earlier years with younger mechs than now, the rapers killed by vengeful lovers or siblings, but mech’s… especially in down time grew bored. Bored mechs, especially Cons, were dangerous.
Time passed quickly for the medic as the day went on, but his worries of Sunstreaker being raped did not pass, especially when he heard Hound came into the bay, looking worn and tired, Swoop immediately directing him to a berth and giving him a cube of high grade with metal infusions before even asking what was wrong.
Not that the younger trainee even got a chance, curiosity driving the medic out of his office, “Will you finish cleaning the parts I was organizing, Swoop. I’ll take Hound.”
Nodding his large head, the dino-bot headed towards the large sink were parts were being recycled and cleaned, placed back into the inventory. It was technically a form of cannibalization, as Ratchet recalled his disgust in the first few years of war, but recycling dead and living mech’s unneeded or partially damaged parts had become a necessity… even in calm times. Never knew when one would run out of a good joint-ball.
The green mech, who was staring at the cube, finally looked up and asked the ambulance, “Do I look that bad?”
“Yes, your paint currently looks like a pale mint color than the usual forest green,” said the healer in a slight hint of humor before he became more serious. “Drink it, now, before you fall over.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Hound did just that, nearly gagging with how thick the energon was with metal and metal-flesh replacements. It was not a satisfying cube, slimy strings going down his throat, the green mech nearly gagging twice as Ratchet patted him on the shoulder, “Yep, drink it all at once and get it over with.”
Finally finishing, a thin film of slim still in the bottom of the cube, Hound grumbled, “Ugh… my tank is going to regurgitate this. I-it is so nasty. Oh… so nasty. Ugh… I’m going to…”
“Head back,” murmured the medic as if this reaction was nothing new, helping the mech tilt his head back as he placed his hand over the other mech’s mouth, stating, “It is worse coming out. Just choke it down.”
A few choking noises later, Hound finally titled his head back and gave his medic a pathetic look, “Isn’t that for carriers and mech’s that have been starving for a few vorns.”
Ratchet nodded, slapping the green mech in the back of the head now that he knew he wasn’t going to fall off the berth, “Yes, and idiots apparently. How many extra shifts have you been taking?”
The green mech looked down trodden as he admitted, “Too many.”
“And for who?” asked the healer, already knowing.
Seeming to sink back, not liking that Ratchet was picking up a wrench and were this was likely going, “Sunstreaker.”
“And why?”
Bitting a metal lip component, shrinking down as if preparing to be hit, he whispered, “Because … he hasn’t been feeling well.”
An optic twitched as the medic continued, “And why didn’t you tell Prowl or send him to me?”
Scrunching up as much as he could, Hound whispered, “He asked me not to, he just wanted to rest.”
The medic nodded, stating, “Ah, I see.”
There was a moment of stillness and for a minute Hound unscrunched his shoulders thinking there wasn’t going to be a punishment for his stupidity, but then … wham!
“Ouch!” cried Hound as he grabbed the side of his helm where the Hatchet had just slapped him with his wrench, which was not a regular occurrence for the tracker.
“I’m used to doing this to Sideswipe when it comes to his brother, but you are his roommate for a few days and bam, you are an idiot as well!” barked the medic. “If he’s sick, especially if it’s been a few days, you tell me! It might be a virus that’s tricking his systems!”
Hound rubbed his helm, murmuring, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s that… it’s just a little tank sickness. He’s been having trouble keeping it down.”
Ratchet looked worried now, asking, “That is really serious, Hound. That sounds like a nasty virus. Has he been able to intake anything.”
Looking away, Hound muttered, “Just low grade and he said it was parasite as well… but… the way he said it and has been acting…”
The tracker sighed, “He’s been crying in the shower, Ratchet. It felt too … personal … to call up the Calvary, yah got me, Ratchet.”
Letting out a gust of air from his vents, the medic nodded, “I understand. It might be emotional. Regardless, please inform me if it gets bad enough that he can’t keep anything down in the future, will you?”
Hound nodded at the medic, glad he wasn’t being hit again, stating, “So… what did you come in here for anyway beside the obvious exhaustion? Have you been having trouble recharging?”
The green mech shook his head, “No… I was actually coming to tell you about Sunstreaker.”
For a moment the medic seemed surprised and a little bit embarrassed, “Oh… well, sorry about the wrench then. Nonetheless, I’m making you take some mandatory R and R. Take the next three day cycles to recharge and refuel and relax. And … to have another cube.”
Hound wilted, thinking another cube was far more punishable then the wrench any day.
“And Sunstreaker’s session is today so makes sure he shows up. I’ll be doing a medical exam for him today.”
…
Sunny hadn’t heard the knocking, hadn’t heard the troubled sigh nor the metallic footsteps on the titled floor. What he did hear... was the ceasing of his dripping faucet. His optics onlined immediately and he whined in his vocals when he saw his energon levels.
He was in the red.
Really in the red and Hound, who had invaded his shower, was kneeling at his side immediately, ““What are you doin’! Are you tryin’ to seriously damage yourself? Have you not drank anythin’ that I’ve been giving you?”
The twin stared, confused. He only had one cube … one? Slag, there were three cubes there. How had he not noticed that Hound had come in one or two other times? Slag… where had that day gone? Slag! Looking at his hub … he’d been in here three solar days.
Frag, fuck. I-it was Friday. No, no. How many shifts had he missed? Prowl was going to be pissed. Scratch that, Ratchet was going to kill him.
FRAG!
Moaning, he struggled to move, murmuring, “H-how long have I been o-out of it?”
Hound stopped Sunstreaker from trying to stand, murmuring, “About three day cycles and don’t bother moving until after you’ve drank some energon.”
Sunstreaker frowned as the mech opened one of the cubes that had been at his side and presented it to him, the green mech looking a little pale in the shower room’s light. Sunstreaker would rather not drink it in all actuality, but he didn’t want to have to fight with Hound especially when he had a feeling the green mech had been covering for him because there was no way Prowl wouldn’t have trampled in here and demanded to know why he hadn’t been going to his shifts or at least Ratchet.
Speaking of Ratchet, “Frag! Today is Friday isn’t it?”
Hounded nodded, stating, “And he knows I’ve been covering for you the last few days. So don’t bother lying to him.”
Sunstreaker stilled, looking at the green mech in a mixture of confusion, thankfulness, and rage. Rage winning out as he nearly crushed the cube in his hand, “Y-you told him.”
“That you haven’t been feeling well? Yes… that you’ve been starving yourself of the last three day cycles. No,” said Hound as he sat next to the sun colored mech, not even frightened at the prospect of getting hit.
Glaring for a moment, he gave into tiredness and, despite how sick it made him, he tipped back half the cube in one gulp, his systems going into yellow… barely. He didn’t need the Hatchet doing an examination. He had to look healthy. He could take admitting he had… broken down.
He had. There was no denying it. He was breaking down. He needed to fix this, but until then he had to act normal. Well, almost raped but certainly not Heavy normal.
Hound, watching the other choke down the second cube, Hound nodded and stated, “Give it a few minutes so it can get into all your systems and I recommended that you not do this again or I will go to Ratchet directly. I know you might just think of me as a room crasher but … I do care what happens to you.”
The green mech, knowing that Sunstreaker didn’t take to emotions well, rose to his feet and started for the door, stating over his shoulder, “Don’t forget that you have that meeting with the Hatchet in a few hours. I was sent to remind you.”
Nodding, watching Sunny start on the last cup of low grade, looking sicker than well with the energon now in him, the tracker turned for some well-deserved rest not missing the almost whisper, “Thank you, Hound.”
It took him a good hour until the energon got to all of his systems so he could stand, taking a quick shower as he tried to wax himself, but the pale shade to his paint could not be waxed out. Regardless, he didn’t need Ratchet coming to fetch him, so, as quite as possible in order to not wake the now recharging mech in the room, he left.
The walk down the halls nearly made him lose the energon he had struggled to intake. All he could think of was how he was going to hide the fact that he was Heavy. He knew that mechs’ didn’t expand the way humans did around the belly when with infants, but he knew there was expansion needed to house the sparkling.
How… he had never met a Heavy mech himself.
Femmes had spaces made for such reasons and he had no such empty space. What was going to happen?
Swallowing, deciding he wasn’t far enough along for anyone to notice physically unless they pressed a hand up his port and groped his birthing chamber, he tried to shake off his worry. Ratchet would notice he was nervous and a medic would ask why and if he lied… Ratchet just knew shit.
He’d find out if Sunny wasn’t careful.
Swallowing, deciding that maybe he would cry today so the medic would comfort him for an hour and then he could leave without really saying anything, Sunstreaker stepped into medic’s territory. He immediately cringed when Swoop looked at him. Yeah, he still had not forgotten that degrading examination and would rather never recall it. His life was horrible enough, being the second born after all. True, he was already a little displaced given that he was prone to depression and anger since his spark had been abandoned in the dark, but the second born had a history of causing disturbances be it wars, killing sprees, dangerous viruses or in one case… foresight.
To this day, no one knew if the visions of famine and war and holy interventions were really seen by the second born, Anti-lock, and could not be changed or were caused because he said they would be.
It was rumored that there were still some visions that still had not come to pass and the only mech’s that knew were the religious sort, all dead with the temples, and the Prime.
Shaking off the thought of his bad luck, how he had become Heavy was one in a million since they weren’t even bonded and he was male on top of that, Sunstreaker wilted as Ratchet came up to him looking him up and down, “You are pale. In fact, you are more like pale yellow then a sunny gold.”
“I’m in no mood for sarcasm,” murmured Sunstreaker, really wishing to go back to his room and panic a little more before he took a nap. He was exhausted as well.
Ratchet frowned as he watched Sunstreaker’s optics dim, his shoulder’s seeming to slump. The kid was tired and hungry and worried if one was going off his posture and color alone and Ratchet had half the mind to slap the front-liner in the back of the head.
So it was true that Sunstreaker had been sick …
The medic didn’t hit him though, there was a deep worry in Sunstreaker’s optics and … that was the perfect time to try and pry. He hadn’t gotten very far in their previous sessions, there had only had a handful. Regardless, if he didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere soon… well, Optimus Prime wanted some results. Not mentally perfect, but at least proof of being mentally capable was what the semi probably expected to hear, but at this rate… Ratchet didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere.
“Well come on. We should start now,” murmured the medic, pointing towards his office.
Sighing like it was a horrible fate to go into the office, he trumped forward and took a seat as the healer stalled outside the door. He looked over his shoulder long enough to watch the Chief Medic take something from Swoop and thank him before coming up to Sunstreaker’s side with a large cube… that swirled with grey and copper metals and purple and blue energy.
He immediately moaned, wincing away as the medic continued to hold it out to him, the front-liner’s mood no longer so despondent, “Please… don’t make me drink that.”
This time Ratchet did slap the younger mech in the back of the head.
“Well, you have been locked in your room for days and from what I hear, unable to keep anything down. Prowl reported you were overheating the other day as well. Have you even been able to intake anything except low-grade?” growled the healer.
Sunny wilted into the chair, knowing he should feel mad at Hound because some of that information was just a little too close to self-starvation, but then again … Hound had been really good to him the last few days considering how Sunstreaker kept everyone at arm’s length.
Hound was growing on him and so was Ratchet.
He had always had Sideswipe for company so that probably explained that.
Lately, he was feeling really lonely. Megatron could chase it away for a few moments and so could the thoughts of said mech, but his spark ached for his brother.
Maybe he would talk to Ratchet today, truthfully. He’d be easy on the medic because he needed someone to be easy on him. He felt so frail with that thing inside him, like it was eating all the walls around his spark and anything could crawl in.
Not wanting to struggle with the healer, he took the cube and gave the ambulance another pathetic look, “Do I have to. I had this stuff and isn’t it only for seriously injured mechs?”
“And for ones that haven’t been in-taking successfully. Now, have your energon and meta-flesh metal cocktail,” said the medic, still standing there like a buzzard.
Sighing, too tired to fight the medic and a part of him wanting to get out of the office as soon as possible as if Ratchet might be able to see through his armor and see the… thing, Sunstreaker kicked it back all in one gulp, the stuff’s sliming texture alone making him swallow hard. He only got to sit still for a mil-a-second before his hand was thrown over his mouth, his tank arching upward as he made gagging noises, leaning forward in his chair in case he lost the new contents.
Ratchet merely came forward and forced him to sit up a little straighter at an angle that made the gagging a little less terrible as he rubbed Sunstreaker’s back, “Just ride it out. Just ride it out.”
And he did, two minutes later sitting back in the chair and looking absolutely miserable though his color looked a little better already as if there was this glow about him.
Sitting down in his own chair across the way, taking out a digi-pad to write things down, Ratchet began.
“Now, to business. A lot has been going on, hasn’t it?” said Ratchet, not quite sure what to go over today. There was the emotional stress and expectations of being a social pariah because Sunstreaker was second born, the fight with his brother, the night he injured his leg, the near rape by his brother, the mystery lover, the fight with Megatron and most recently Sunstreaker’s illness. Though, given what he heard from Prowl and Hound, the healer doubted it was really a bug and more likely emotional stress.
Still licking his denta, a disgusted look on his face from his recent meal, Sunstreaker nodded, a hand unknowingly being placed on his abdomen, “Yeah, you could say that. Been a real horror show as of late.”
Nodding, noting how Sunstreaker wasn’t looking him in the optics, limbs pulled close in a way that signified that he was upset. Ratchet continued onward.
“So, is there anything that has been bothering you more than usual? I don’t want to pick what we talk about, just what is bothering you the most?” said Ratchet, trying to get the conversation started.
Shrugging his shoulders, looking down at his hands for a moment, Sunny wanted to say, ‘I’m pregnant and its really bothering me because its Megatron’s and I have no idea how to abort it’, but all he could state was, “Everything… hurts. My head hurts, my spark hurts and I just want someone to fill my valve and make it all go away.”
Sunny’s own optics went wide at the admittance, cursing himself for being so blunt. He knew he was tired and exhausted and emotionally drained, but to just come out and say he wanted nanites in him. Frag… it had to be the sparkling’s fault. It was making him horny… it wanted its father to feed it.
Or anyone for that matter.
Screw it.
Ratchet nodded, writing something down quickly as he asked, “And was the feeling that drove you to have relations with the mech that ripped you and still remains unnamed? Have you been interfacing to dull this feeling?”
Ratchet couldn’t help but jot down several diagnoses from that sentence alone. It just screamed sexual depravation and need and trouble developing relationships and an acute possibility of developing an interface addiction. He had yet to meet one of the said femmes or mechs that were interface addicts, but he had heard of them. Apparently, they had to frag every day or they would start getting the shakes like they were doped on Drive-sticks, little electric sticks one stuck into sensitive equipment so they were always getting little charges. It wasn’t highly destructive physically, for an addiction, but left a lot of emotional scarring.
Still for a moment as if he was unsure if it was true or not, Sunstreaker decided to admit the truth, “I don’t know. The night we ran into eat other… we might have killed each other… but he then noticed my spark’s stress and told me … he wasn’t afraid of me and he wanted me. He’s been having me since.”
Ratchet actually looked up, feeling a little sick at how hollow those words of fear were from Sunny, but not uncommon. Many mechs and femmes feared the second born or pitied them. The second born always had a horrible end if it was to being publicly executed for starting an uprising to suicide to keep the dark out of their spark. The second borns always had sad endings.
A cruelty by Primus some would say. It was even rumored that sometimes if a femme knew she was with twin sparks… she’d abort them both and try again.
He had seen more than one case.
Deciding to grab onto that line, Ratchet asked, “And why would mechs, beside Cons I mean, have to be afraid of you?”
Glaring as if it was obvious, a bit of rage overcame the exhaustion, and Sunstreaker decided to spit out, “Because I’m the fraggen second born! Everyone always expected it! They either expected me to become some kind of psychopath and kill everyone or to just one day decide living isn’t worth it and end it. Or… if Primus really liked me he would give me some visions. Do you know how many second borns have apparently been given cursed abilities! I heard one mech could hear the dead and it drove him mad! It’s even rumored that those gifts come from the darkness we are alone in, that they are from Unicron himself!”
Placing a hand up, noting that Sunstreaker was about to rise out of his seat and probably start punching things, Ratchet murmured, “I know the rumors, Sunstreaker. You needn’t tell me … and personally, I think they are just social expectations that are forced on mechs so that they think their lives have to have those types of outcomes.”
Sunstreaker looked like he was about to blow again when the medic decided to save that for another day, wanting to keep Sunstreaker calm as possible today. He asked, “But… tell me more about this mech. Did you like those words? Does he say those kinds of warm things to you often or is it just interfacing?”
Lowering into his seat, the thought of Megatron automatically calmed him, those large hands and how the warlord had promised he’d never hurt his lovers was calming in every way for Sunstreaker. Megatron truly was a thoughtful lover if just a little rough before he was about to come. Megatron even worried about ripping him for Primus’s sake.
Uncertain of his feelings, Sunstreaker stated, “I like his cock. It’s big and hard and he always makes sure it’s good for me. He felt bad when he found out he ripped me so badly and … and I feel good just thinking about him.”
Ratchet knew it was just hanging on the edge of Sunstreaker’s tongue, second borns that had bond mates historically showing to do very well, so Ratchet asked, “Do you think you might want it to become more than just interfacing? Do you think you might have feelings of kinship? Maybe even love?”
Love would be good for Sunstreaker, very very good. The healer just hoped that this mystery mech wasn’t fucking with Sunstreaker just to get frags easily because that could end badly with such an emotionally distressed front-liner. Frag, Ratchet wished he knew who it was that was fragging the sun colored bot so he would either worry or banish such thoughts about the relationship. He was a good judge of character and he would know the moment Sunstreaker gave him the name if the feelings were genuine or for a cheap frag.
So far it didn’t sound like the later though.
Optics going wide, as if the word ‘love’ had never occurred to him, Sunny quickly dismissed it, “N-no. He’s not that type of mech. He is kind to his lovers, but he doesn’t … he’s not into that. It would never work out anyway. We are too different.”
Shaking his head, frustrated that a name or at least a hint at the fragger’s identity hadn’t been slipped yet, Ratchet asked, “How do you know? He might be like you… he keeps his emotions to himself. He might be feeling the same way about you and he doesn’t know if you’re that type of mech to want him in a more permanent manner.”
“P-permanent?” whispered Sunstreaker, pressing his hand against his abdomen plating.
Ratchet, surprised by how desperate and afraid and needy that word was, titled his head and murmured, “Yes, bond mates … sparklings. Growing ancient together.”
Sunstreaker looked depressed and wanting at the same time, love sick and confused if Ratchet had a word for it. It now seemed maybe splitting up with Sideswipe momentarily for a while was a good thing. Sunstreaker was now developing his own relationship. Did it have a healthy start, not the best from the sounds of it, but he had heard worse from happy couples.
Well, at least those rape worries from earlier now seemed less and less likely. Sunstreaker wouldn’t love a Con. He was too much of an Autobot for such a grave sin. So it wasn’t a raper that had ripped Sunstreaker’s valve. At least he still prayed that as just a paranoid thought.
“Not stating you have to worry about bonding ceremonies or anything like that quite yet Sunstreaker, but you don’t have to keep a distance from him if you feel like there is more there. Just talk with him, see if you want something more intimate than interfacing,” continued Ratchet, trying not to smile at his gift horse.
Yes, Sunstreaker had issues, there was no denying it, but a healthy relationship could really improve sour outlooks and emotional stress. This nameless lover had to be a good thing. Primus had given the youth too many bad things lately to give him another hard option.
Wanting to keep this light-sparked to increase communication between the two of them, and so that Sunstreaker could maybe dissect if this was in love or not, Ratchet decided to try an exercise, stating, “Alright, for the rest of this session, I want you to tell me what you think love is and what spark-bonding is about and then tell me what you think our society’s definition of those things are as well.”
Sunstreaker frowned, hating this idea already.
Ratchet mere nodded, not dissuaded, “Don’t be like that, there are no wrong answers either way.”
A few minutes later, notes jotted down and feeling like they had got somewhere today, Ratchet patted the sun colored warrior on the shoulder, his EM field pouring out for a moment in a comforting manner as the healer stated, “We had a good talk today. Talking, even about things like bonding and no-name lovers,” Sunny glared for a moment at the jab, “is good for the spark. Hopefully, next week will go well too. Now, gather yourself and then you can head to a berth in the main room.”
“B-berth? Why?” said Sunstreaker, his spark that had been light a moment ago now sinking as the truth started to settle back into his tank. He was Heavy. Did Ratchet want to see if he was Heavy? He had talked a lot about fragging today and maybe the healer had suspicions now.
Frag, frag, frag! He should have kept his mouth shut!
Ratchet stalled and then gave a comforting smile, not noticing Sunstreaker’s inner panic as he stated, “Just want to make sure that you are okay, having been down so many days, and to check your spark. Nothing that will take too long. Just routine maintenance”
Sunstreaker merely nodded and Ratchet led him to a berth.
He felt sick.
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Sunny Disposition