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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4: False-Brother

XXX

It was bright, painfully bright, and Sunstreaker groaned as he placed a hand over his optics to try and keep himself in recharge. What a weird dream he had had. Who knew he secretly wanted Megatron? Well, he wasn’t about to tell Red Alert about it, but it was sure … enjoyable. He had never had such a wonderful …

“About time you woke up. I was going to have Soundwave check your systems in a minute or two to see if I had offlined you last night.”

Sunstreaker couldn’t sit up fast enough, his structure groaning from the sand that had been captured in between his joints last night. It was then that he rose into a sitting position, his optics wide as he met the gaze of a visor and two sleek, red, optics. His vents caught, his gaze automatically going to the fusion cannon that Megatron was securing to his arm.

Megatron stopped for a minute to stare at him and stated simply, “Did you further injury your leg during our recreational activities? You seem pained, Autobot. I can have Soundwave look at it.”

Sunstreaker’s optics brightened and he stiffened when that visor stared at him. The Third in Command made no forward movement towards him but that didn’t quell his fears. T-this wasn’t happening. It was a trick. He hadn’t slept with Megatron. This was a ruse to trick him into offering information. He needed to get up and run. Yet, as soon as he moved, he felt the tell tale wetness between his legs as well as a sharp pinch from his port. He winced before looking down… his cod piece was off and it was hard not to notice the dried fluids on his inner thighs. He pressed his legs together quickly and looked back at Megatron with that same surprised expression.

“I-we… we ...”

“Yes and it was most enjoyable my young Autobot,” said Megatron catching on immediately as he stood, his hand rubbing against his reattached cannon for a second before he started towards the yellow warrior. Sunstreaker stiffened, his gaze on the cannon. He was going to be shot. He was going to be silence. Frag. He couldn’t run, leg was too injured, he didn’t even know which sand hill his gun was buried under, and he couldn’t drive because his tire was still blown out. He didn’t want to die like this, injured and wet. Everyone would think he was raped and then left for dead. He did not …
Suddenly, he felt a hand cupping his cheek, petting the side of his face. He stared up at a grinning Megatron … a happy Megatron … someone who had been glad to have him.

“It was so enjoyable, in fact, that I think I would like to take part in it again,” said the warlord, his grip tightening slightly on Sunny’s chin in a possessive way.

Sunstreaker was at first speechless to the titan looking down at him, but his Autobot programs were screaming for him to run, escape, not to defile himself again, but his spark… it was pained and broken and strangely fuzzy. It did not retort at the thought of such meetings. It welcomed it. It welcomed the thought of someone not disgusted or afraid of him.

Swallowing, Sunstreaker found his optics dimming, his words decided in a beg of want and need, “I want to … but my brother, the Autobots … I can’t … he.”

Megatron placed his thumb over those lovely lips and stated in a deep purr, knowing he could turn the mech to the Decepticons so easily, stated, “No one needs know about this beside you and me,” he looked back at Soundwave, “and Soundwave who won’t be saying anything anyways. This isn’t about politics; it’s about pleasure. What do you say my young lover?”

Sunstreaker, his mind still lost yet feeling no depression like he had when leaving the Ark, stated in an obedient tongue, “Yes, Megatron.”

The smile that followed was soft and so unlike Megatron that Sunstreaker wondered if this was really the warlord that he had spent most of his adult life hating and fighting. Then there was the soft way in which his hand pressed over Sunny’s cheek, rubbing his ear fin, just further pushing back any worry of the warlord’s intentions. All Sunny knew was that he wanted him.

“One last thing before I go. Tell me mech, what’s your name?” said Megatron, his gaze deep and demanding.

The golden warrior felt hurt for a moment but quickly reminded himself… how many mechs had he slept with and not known their names? Not one one-night stand had he stalled to ask his midnight lover for their name. That was Sideswipe’s job. Not once.

He smiled sadly, betrayal slamming in his tubing, yet he found himself wanting someone so badly he found himself stating, “It’s Sunstreaker.”

“Thank you,” and then he kissed the sunshine mech on the forehead goodbye, leaving him with many thoughts and feelings Sunstreaker didn’t quite understand. That was probably why the yellow warrior didn’t show up at base until dusk was falling over the world, the Ark reflecting the last rays of sunlight its metal hull was offered.

…

Trailbreaker leaned against the entrance of the Ark, his optics scanning the horizon. He was on guard duty tonight, not that he was complaining. It was either here or out in the desert all night with the search team. Drama was a norm around here and he wasn’t about to complain… he wanted to be nowhere near Sunstreaker when they found him.

If they found him at all.

Jazz had returned, bloodied and beaten, nearly had a whole arm ripped off. Starscream had found and nearly tore him apart. And when there was one Decepticon there were sure to be others. Jazz had been following Sunstreaker so what did that mean about the yellow hellion?

Trailbreaker wouldn’t forget Sideswipe’s reaction easily. Apparently, the red mech thought his brother might be dead. He couldn’t feel him at all. Trailbreaker didn’t know much about twin bonds but he knew that was a dire situation. He felt for the mech, he did, but at the same time he felt a tinge of cold in him… Sunstreaker was the rejected part of the spark. It would be a sweet release for him to probably be dead.

No, he must not think like that. He was an Autobot. Autobots did not wish death on each other.

Swallowing and trying to forget the desperation in both Jazz and Sideswipe’s expression this morning, Trailbreaker turned his attention back to the horizon and felt his hydraulics wheeze. There was dust being thrown up in the horizon. His hydraulics went still and his comm. link roared to life, Prowl’s voice echoing in his audios.

“Prowl here, Is there something wrong, Trailbreaker?”

“Maybe. There is someone coming from the South East. I don’t believe there is supposed to be anyone coming back from search and rescue duty in the desert, but with all that dust, I believe that’s where they are coming from,” said Trailbreaker. He didn’t think it was a ‘Con, far too straightforward, but whoever it was wasn’t supposed to be here. Bad news all around.

Or maybe it was good. The glint of yellow was hard not to recognize nor the speed that was being used. Trailbreaker sighed, feeling an ease overcoming him. Sunstreaker was safe.

Opening his comm. link, Trailbreaker stated hurriedly, “Prowl. I think it’s Sunstreaker.”

There was a moment of silence on the other line and then in the cool voice that only Prowl could pull off, the Second in Command stated, “I’ll be there in a minute, Prowl out.”

Trailbreaker then turned his gaze back to the horizon and almost had to take a step back when he saw how close the Frontliner had gotten. He was less than a quarter of a mile away and still throwing up dust. He was probably thinking that he was going to slide into the base without any confrontation and find a place to wallow in self-pity; not that Trailbreaker blamed him but there were plenty of mechs that wanted to talk to him. Sideswipe was probably the most desperate but not on the top of the food chain. Prowl, Optimus Prime, and Ratchet wanted to talk to him. Apparently, they all had their own agendas from what the green mech overheard. Prowl was going to punish him for insubordination and abandoning his post without proper consent to do so; Optimus Prime wanted to offer him support and probably a reprisal for leaving like he had; and Ratchet was probably going to beat the Lamborghini into slag for transforming with that injured leg and then demand a psych evaluation.

Poor slagger. He didn’t even want to know what was supposed to occur when Sideswipe got his chance to speak. Well, he had a feeling that the next few weeks would not be boring at least.

The green mech shifted his hips slightly when the yellow Lamborghini came to a halt before him, a dust cloud continuing the race that the yellow vehicle had abandoned. The mech was still for a moment and then with almost a painful slowness Sunstreaker transformed, his arm automatically going to his hip which had tell-tale signs of bleeding all down his thighs … along with something else. What was that…

“What are you staring at?” came a growl from the yellow mech as he glared at the patrol.

Trailbreaker wasn’t the type to return hostility so he asked in a worried tone, looking at all the dents and scratches all over the mech’s form, “You… were you attacked to. Are you okay, Sunstreaker? Let me call Ratchet. He finished Jazz a little while ago.”

The mech’s eyes went wide and his thoughts immediately returned to the fluid between his thighs. Trailbreaker might not have notice the slight glint of something other than energon since the dark was dragging itself over the horizon, but in a fully lit room Ratchet would notice it. He couldn’t really tell the medic that he had voluntarily slept with Megatron and expect to still be an Autobot in the morning. He also was too proud to say he was raped. He didn’t need pity for something that had never occurred though the soreness of his valve was telling him that he probably could pull off an incorrect account like rape off easily.

Stiffening in the shoulders, the yellow soldier’s mind quickly calculated how far he was from the showers. He could probably get there before Ratchet could meet him in the halls. If he left right now…

“Sunstreaker, report.”

The yellow mech was thrust from his thoughts as if a violent wind had just pushed him off the side of a cliff, cackling. He met the cold calculating gaze of the resident tactician. Slag. Resisting the urge to punch the white and black mech in the face, the frontliner merely stated, “Report what? Why I left without getting proper authority or why I look like slag? I’m sure you know the answer to the former and the later can wait until after I take a shower.”

Prowl’s optics kept their same emotionless demur but Sunstreaker couldn’t help but notice the slight twitch of the higher ranking officer’s wing struts.

“I have a theory as to why you went A.W.O.L, but I need to have you say so, so that I can decide a proper punishment. And, given the looks of you, you probably met the same situation that Jazz did.”

Sunstreaker shifted nervously. He needed to go and clean himself, hide this pleasurable-shame, but he could tell that Prowl was going to drag this out and then Ratchet would see and inquire and then Optimus would as well. He had to think of an excuse.

“Are you listening?”

The yellow hellion was pulled from his inner musing and couldn’t help but give the stiff-shoulder superior a surprised look. He hadn’t been listening, he had been so focused on his escape that he couldn’t. The glare from Prowl told him all he needed to know… and that the commanding officer was disgusted by his presence.

Everyone would have that expression from now on, wouldn’t they? Don’t get to close to the reject, don’t touch the reject, he might rub off on you. Rage that hadn’t been there mere second’s ago rose like a sleeping storm off the oceans belly, and the yellow hellion found himself striking out, pushing away a suddenly shocked looking tactician.

“Theory, huh? You just wanted to hear it from my own mouth, didn’t you? You wanted to hear about how I was the freakin’ the second born, the unwanted one? Get the slag out of my way you hypocrite.”

With that, the yellow monster gave a shove, pushing Prowl to a wall and storming off, his destination already decided and a new question in his head. Had Prowl really seemed disgusted and cold at him more than usual or had Sunstreaker’s paranoia just made him into that? Not that he was going to dwell on it. Thinking about it too much would only hurt because if he was wrong… he was acting the part of a reject: paranoid and emotionally unbalanced.

Prowl watched Sunstreaker turn the corner, leaving drops of energon behind in his rush to move that damaged leg. Recalling the thought of Ratchet’s want for a psych evaluation, the tactician turned his comm. link on.

“Prime, it was Sunstreaker, and I think its best that we wait to talk to him. Ratchet’s worries may hold a lot more weight than ours. We should let him have first action,” said Prowl, his face showing signs of emotion, one that he himself hated giving: pity.

…

“What is this! This isn’t even the right tire size for your alt form. What happened to your tire,” all but screamed Ratchet as he continued to roam all over the front-liner’s body with his sensors and gaze.

Sunstreaker tried not to twitch away from that look and tried to keep his cold disposition. He had barely been in the shower for five minutes, washing away fluids but unable to remove his cod piece because he had “bubble-buddies” as Bumblebee had once called it. He didn’t care if they were minding their own business; he hated it when he ran into other mechs in the wash racks. The only being he liked washing with was … no … had been Sideswipe. It seemed he’d have to find a new way to get to the hard to reach spots. Either way, he never even got far enough to worry about that impossible to reach plating because Ratchet all but dragged him away, leaving the water running.

“It was all I could get a hold of in the bloody desert,” stated the yellow mech as he felt Ratchet lay hands on his leg. His groin automatically gave a twitch, thinking for a moment that the touch was that of his lover.

The medic didn’t seem to notice Sunstreaker’s reaction. Instead, he immediately cursed at the state of the appendage and stomped to a nearby supply closet, First Aid stepping out of the way of the enraged healer, giving Sunstreaker a frightful look before heading over to Jazz’s berth side.

Jazz looked terrible by the way. Not that Sunstreaker was complaining. If the friendly saboteur was still awake, he’d be doing nothing by annoying the injured mech. Jazz just had this sixth sense about who needed company and no matter if they were glaring or silent as the dead, he would be offering music and chit-chat. That was probably why he was friends with Prowl. The mech never complained but he probably didn’t have many close friends either. Great … he had just become Jazz’s newest “pity” target, hadn’t he?

Groaning to himself, Sunstreaker paid little mind to the sound of metal objects being violently thrown out of the room and just as the frontliner turned his head to see what was being taken out of the room, he saw a flash of grey and then the tool slammed right into his head. Sunstreaker was knocked out before his optics even went offline.

Ratchet, a moment later, came out of the room carrying a sheet of metal or two along with a collection of tubing and laser scalpels. He laid them on the neighboring berth and started to grumble, “First Aid, get over here; I need to rip most of the leg apart. Bloody fragger messed himself up.”

First Aid stood there a moment, a little petrified of his own master, given the rage he was in. Sometimes, he would never admit it, but he was scared of his creator. Swallowing down any trembling that wished to crawl into his throat, “What’s the metal for then if we are stripping the leg and not rebuilding it?”

“To weld him to the berth! That’s what!” all but yelled the older medic.

XXX

A grunt filled the room followed by the roar of an engine and an angry curse. Ratchet had threatened time and time again, but he had never expected the healer to do it. He had never thought Ratchet would weld him to the berth.

Cursing up a storm, Sunstreaker started to erratically pull at the restraints on his wrists. He quickly tired though and gave up which was strange for him, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised … he was still banged up, his leg partially done and none of his other injuries really taken care of. Not that he was complaining. The moment he was fully repaired, everyone would be down his neck, demanding one thing or the other from him. He could deal with most of them with a silent glare or violent stomping as he left the room, but not Sideswipe. There was this jolt in his spark, a heaviness. He couldn’t face him but he didn’t think he had a choice.

He could feel Sideswipe… right outside the doors… and Sideswipe felt him.

Sunstreaker, suddenly feeling like caged animal, started thrashing violently, engine screeching at the sudden stress. He could not face him, would not! He didn’t care if he had to request a transfer. He was not talking to that false-brother. He would not allow that slagger to lie to him again. He could not take his brother’s false sympathy.

“Quit pulling on those,” finally came a growl as none other than Ratchet came out from his office across the medical bay floor. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave the golden warrior a warning look. “You are not going anywhere. Not only do I have to finish your repairs which will take forever, mind you, due to all the sand you got into your internals, but you and I need to have a little talk.”

He had an idea of what Ratchet meant by “little talk”. It meant a physiological evaluation followed by multiple weeklong counseling sessions until Sunstreaker broke down and cried or made some kind of revelation about himself and his problems. He had no problems! His only problem was Sideswipe who was going to come in here and …

Beating, like a wild thunderstorm over the plains, suddenly fell over the medical bay, stirring Ratchet to look at the door. Sunstreaker merely stilled, his voice coming out as something other than an animalistic growl, “Please don’t…”
Ratchet must have not been paying attention or just didn’t care because he growled something around the lines of “better be bleeding to death” and then walked to the door. He stuck his hand on the door pad lock and the door opened with a swish. He felt Sideswipe crawling at the bond before he heard the medic’s engine growl.

“Sunstreaker isn’t awake yet,” a lie from Ratchet, now that was surprising. “I’ll comm. you when you can come and visit.”
“Don’t lie to me!” all but screamed the red being in the hall, Sunstreaker going still and wondering if he could play it off as if he were still asleep. He knew it wouldn’t work though, Sideswipe was pressing to roughly into the bond, to the point of pain almost.

Ratchet took a step back, perhaps in fear or surprise. Sideswipe never yelled like that. Sunstreaker knew he did from time to time, but never his brother. It was abnormal and haunting.

Then, probably before the medic could regain his composure, a blur of red raged past Ratchet, pushing over the healer, Sideswipe coming in Sunstreaker’s direction. Sunstreaker tightened as he watched his brother’s raged expression become a pained one, and he all but stumbled to Sunstreaker’s berth side, his hand panicking as it clumsily tried to grasp his brother’s hand.

Sunstreaker balked slightly, unable to get away from his brother’s touch … his touch was like fire, his bond being slammed with thousands of words and emotions, all demanding entrance. The yellow mech actually had to ground his dentals and hold back a groan of pain from the intensity of it.

“Sunny, are you alright? I couldn’t feel you, I still can’t! Open up, please! I’m sorry, please let me in,” Sideswipe was near hysteria, if a mech could drop tears that would probably be what he was doing.

Ratchet slowly picked himself up, staring at the whole thing with wide optics. Sideswipe was all but clawing at his brother … demanding access to their bond. Now, that didn’t sound good. Twin bonds were very delicate at times because it was a lifeline for the two beings involved. Even if the two of them would go out and find different bond mates, the bonds would still be strong. It wouldn’t be considered strange for the two to bond and interface still from time to time even if they had mates.

To close off Sideswipe entirely… that was strange and dangerous for twins, especially since only Sideswipe had a mate to balance his bond. Sunstreaker knew he could die especially since he was so “insecure” about obtaining his own mate. Yes, Ratchet knew all the details. They surprised him mostly because it offered a revelation about Sunstreaker and his sexual insecurities which was odd for a mech that made sure he was always beautiful.

Then again, that was probably why he beautiful. He didn’t know how else to acquire love thus making himself seem entirely vain. Sunstreaker had never been in love… except with his brother. A brother that had betrayed him.
Sunstreaker was in emotional turmoil right now and needed time to sort through it. Sideswipe was only making this situation worse, which was probably even hurting the yellow warrior right now since Sideswipe was probably trying to force through the bond. He would not allow anyone to harm his patient further.

Ratchet clicked on his comm. his tone growling, “Prowl, Ironhide, Red Alert! Get to the medical bay now! Sideswipe is hurting one of my patients!”

“Comin’ Ratch!”

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

“C-coming! I’m bringing backup to!”

Ratchet grunted and turned back to the brothers. His eyes going wide at what happened next … maybe welding someone to the berth wasn’t a very wise idea.

“Let me in! Say something! Look at me!” yelled Sideswipe, his grip growing painful.

Sunstreaker winced, his pain rolling over him in waves. He never wanted to talk to that false-brother again! Dragging in a pained breath he finally turned toward the red demon, “Let go! Don’t play this act of false empathy! You are not sorry! You lied to me and then betrayed me! You’ve made me a freak amongst the entire base! Get out! Get out! You are no brother of mine! Get out!”

Sunstreaker found himself pulling at his restraints so roughly he was starting to draw blood, a scream of pain echoing from his vocals as he tried to get away from his false-brother’s touch!

“Stop touching me!”

Sideswipe was shocked and actually took a step back in horror, his optics shivering in setting. Sunstreaker had never acted this way towards him. Not even when the two of them had gotten into spats. His brother was in a lot of pain, emotionally. Sideswipe knew he had been ignoring his brother due to his relationship with Bluestreak. Had he been so preoccupied that he didn’t notice how much his brother needed him? W-was that what really instigated the fight in the rec. room? Had Sunstreaker needed him so badly?

He loved his brother, was near hysteria when Jazz came back half dead. He had thought Sunstreaker was dead, the whiplash of a broken bond soon to be ricocheting back into him. It never came and it made him realize something… he loved his brother but at the same time he had to let him go.

Except he couldn’t do that until he knew his brother would be okay and he couldn’t fix anything if he didn’t know what was wrong.

Unless this was truly about Bluestreak. He couldn’t leave Bluestreak either. He knew ... no, he was, in love. He had to make Sunstreaker see this love, this want. He had to make his brother understand! He’d force it on him if he had to. He would not abandon his brother. After all, he was technically the dominate brother of the two twins.

Sunstreaker would let him in.

“Let me in, Sunny,” said the twin in a dark whisper.

Sunstreaker’s rage seemed drowned. W-what? Hadn’t his brother heard a word of what he had just said? His lip twitched in agitation, “No.”

Sideswipe, who had been looking at the floor, suddenly was looking deeply into his Sunny’s optics, boring into him. The yellow brother barely had time to compute what happened afterwards, rage and demand slamming into the wall between their bond as Sideswipe suddenly jumped upon the berth straddled him like they were going to have a Sunday-fuck.

There was no lust or want there though as his Sideswipe opened his own chassis, bathing Sunny in the red twin’s spark-light. The stillness was echoing as the realization hit the rejected brother: Sideswipe wanted to bond, to share, to strengthen their bond. He wanted to know all Sunstreaker had to offer.

No… that was what Sunny had wanted days ago, but not anymore.

“G-get off me!” Sunstreaker choked as Sideswipe suddenly started to paw at the yellow chassis to get it open, his fingers having memorized Sunny’s chassis long ago. His brother was going to forcefully press himself into him and push his emotions onto Sunny.

What about his own emotions? What about his wants?

Ratchet stared in horror. It was as if he was watching the first stages of rape like a spectator. He knew twin bonds were unique and sometimes they forced feelings on each other but this … this was going too far. Luckily, it seemed the stupor that was consuming Ratchet who was friend to the two feuding brothers could not rule over his medic’s programming. So when Sunstreaker cried in horror and pain, Sideswipe ripping open his brother’s chassis with far too much force, Ratchet started forward like a single knight to take on a fuming, red, dragon. With a stiff arm, the healer forcefully grabbed Sideswipe by the elbow and with a great grunt flung the imposing force to the floor.

Sideswipe, a frontliner for a reason, was to his feet as soon as his body stopped sliding on the metallic tiling. He then, with a bar fight exactness, did a right upper-cut punch to the face of the healer, the jaw hinge cracking and the medic falling against the bottom of Sunstreaker’s berth with a resounding clang.

He sat there for a moment, disoriented, his hand reaching up towards his head. Sideswipe just glared at him before taking a step towards his brother once more. No step followed after though. Not rape. No screaming. No connecting threads of light as the two bonded. There was just the phantom click of the butt of a gun being slammed between the elder frontliner’s shoulders. Ironhide’s lip twitched as Sideswipe fell to the floor, the old mech standing like a marble statue over the silent field of a graveyard, the click of three other sets of heavy feet following after: the only sound amongst the silent dead.

Prowl, Red Alert, and Inferno came up behind Ironhide, looking over the scene to try and distinguish what had happened. He came into the room just in time to see Ratchet rip Sideswipe off his brother. What ensued before that was beyond him but Ratchet looked terrible and that was answer enough.

“You okay, Ratch’?” said Ironhide as he reached down and grabbed Sideswipe from underneath the armpit, hoisting him up like a rag doll, Inferno grabbing the other side of the downed frontliner.

Ratchet rubbed his jaw with aching slowness, wincing when he noticed just how damaged it was. He looked up at the old soldier and nodded, stating in a somber tone, “Just get him the slag out of here and into a cell. I’ll tell you what happened as soon as I take care of Sunstreaker.

Ironhide frowned even more, wondering what had happened until he looked upward slightly, finally noticing that Sunstreaker’s chassis was open and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind. The yellow twin seemed terribly upset, upset in such a way that Ironhide had never seenand it bothered him deeply.

Nodding and turning away, if only to spare Sunstreaker some pride, he started towards the brig with the false-brother. He had an idea of what had happened yet at the same time he had an idea but couldn’t believe it. Sideswipe was supposed to be the emotional one and Sunstreaker the violent one like two sides of a soul. There was so much more to them and he had a feeling he’d be seeing just how separate the two were from now on.

With a calming touch, Ratchet ran a hand down Sunstreaker’s arm, trying to calm him. He gave a soft smile and slowly closed the sunshine colored mech’s chassis. He then, immediately, started to remove the welded restraints, whispering that everything was going to be fine; there was no need to afraid and that it wouldn’t happen again.

Sunstreaker’s engine just continued to whine and cry though as he watched his brother being dragged away by Ironhide, Red Alert, and Inferno, Prowl giving Ratchet a worried look before he followed after. Slowly, as Prowl looked from Ratchet down to Sunny, the young mech turned his head away in shame. A realization had hit him… even if he had wanted to make up with his brother, he could never bond with him again –forcefully or not- because then Sideswipe would see… Sideswipe would see his longing… his longing for a monster with red optics and large hands.

Megatron.

XXX
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Sunny Disposition