Ep0 - "So Sorry, It's Over" - Closed-Finished

The anger had bled away into intense concentration, the only part of Sunny’s body actually moving was his hands, wrapping as quickly and tightly as he could. Every twitch of Sides’ body made him want to growl and yell at the mech to hold his ass still, but having been on the business of raggedy field repairs like this himself, he knew that sometimes you just couldn’t sit still. You didn’t have to acknowledge the pain yourself, but that didn’t mean your body wouldn’t react on its own. Reflexes could be a real bitch. But at least all the neural lines were still intact and functional. He knew that’s what reactions like that meant, that everything was still functional.

“Almost,” his voice was distant with concentration. “Keep your ass still and I’ll get done faster.” The retort lacked its usual snarky edge, more like the snark was a reflex of its own. “What the fuck did this mech hit you with? A goddamn battering ram?”

“No, smart ass,” Sunny snapped back, irritated by the bullet comment and Sideswipe’s suggestion, optics flaring as they canted to the side to run over his brother’s battered frame. He snatched up a cloth to wipe off the energon and other fluids that were coating his hands, attacking the joints to wipe away every drop. This was not how Sunstreaker preferred to bloody his hands.

“You think Ratchet is really gonna just repair us and let us leave? You know how loyal he is to the Prime. He’d just rat us out, and it’s not like we’ve got a real surplus of energon going on over here.” A harsh ex-vent and cold look from under the edge of his helm. “It’s been thirty years Sides. You know exactly how I feel about this, but you need medical attention I can’t give you. On top of that, because of you we got a big fucking Con looking for us.” It sounded like Sunny was trying to convince himself to actually go through with this idea, to contact Ratchet and see if they could work out a deal. Both hands pressed flat into the tabletop as the golden mech’s gaze bore down on it. “We’re not gonna be welcome.”

A little grin stretched Sunstreaker's mouth as he was elbowed, his gaze lifting to stare at the far wall. He was loathe to leave this little slice of peace they'd managed to carve out for themselves, and glad to know that Sideswipe wasn't exactly eager either. Without an ugly, artless war to fight recharge came more easily. There was no pressing need to put other mechs back in their place, or to lesson in manners. There wasn't even the worry of thugs breaking in to ransack their home. It was just the two of them, truly free for the first time in their lives.

No one to lie or to betray them. No infinite frustration with tiny minds to set back everything he tried to do right by calling him murderer, psychopath, monster,and making him not even care to try. Not that there was any disagreement with those appellations, but it sort of torqued a mech to be called a monster when that same brutality was what had saved said name-caller's aft at least once before.

The yellow mech looked sideways at his brother, grin growing wider with every successive word out of Sideswipe. Even if they were full of a certain willful blindness that Sunny would swear was exclusive to his lead helmed brother, the words were good to hear. They eased a strutdeep tension he didn't even realize he was carrying until it was gone. "We'll always do what we want. Now go hose off so I can do something about your back."

Abruptly as that tacks were changed, Sunny silently daring Sides to say anything at all about whatever he may or may not have picked up through their bond. There was still an underlying tension in the golden twin, the root of this sudden burst of violent moodiness: everything had just changed.