This Shining Armor Could Use Some Polish (Transformers, Sunstreaker/Arcee/Tracks, PG)
Title: This Shining Armor Could Use Some Polish
Author/Artist: raisedbymoogles
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some violence, Sunstreaker's mouth.
Word Count: 1134
Summary: Arcee's struggle to fit in after her company's exile to Earth.
Prompt: Transformers G1, Sunstreaker/Arcee/Tracks - lady-knight in shining armor - "It's called gallantry, Sunstreaker. Do look it up."
The front line extended from Dover Street in front of the arcade to the half-abandoned strip mall down Fifth Avenue where the auto body shop used to be. Tracks and Sunstreaker found themselves on the arcade side of the line, strafing down Dover at the relentless surge of Decepticons ahead. "Your paint's scratched," Tracks observed coolly, ejecting the spent power pack from his rifle and slamming a new one home.
"Blow it out your exhaust," Sunstreaker answered, amiably enough for a mech with a gun in his hands. In contrast to Tracks's calm, almost methodical method of shooting, choosing each target as if it were his final round of blaster bolts, Sunstreaker sprayed ammo wildly, hitting brick facades and black asphalt as often as Decepticons. Neither method seemed to make much headway. There were always more of the enemy to replace the damaged or deactivated. Ever since Megatron and Shockwave had cemented their control on Cybertron, there were always more Decepticons.
Just more to choke on our blasters, the frontliners said among themselves; but they wondered, sometimes, whether the Autobots were losing this war.
"Y'know, you might actually hit something if you weren't too busy posing," Sunstreaker said thoughtfully to his fellow frontliner.
"Oh? I've hit more targets today than you have all week," Tracks countered. "I'll wager my best wax-"
"Down!" Sunstreaker barked, and both Autobots hit the gravel as a missile screamed by overhead and slammed into the brick facing of the building behind them. Concrete and brick rained down in heavy chunks, shattering on impact and half-burying both Autobots. Amid Sunstreaker's affronted roars, Tracks struggled to get his sidearm up to aim at the Decepticon wielding the missile launcher, but he knew with a horrible jolt that he wouldn't take him down before a second missile ended his and Sunstreaker's lives.
Bright yellow bolts of energy suddenly bloomed amid the Decepticon lines, scattering them like toys as the one with the missile launcher fell in several pieces. Tracks struggled up on one elbow against the concrete shrapnel and looked toward the direction of their unseen sniper.
A vision in pink waved jauntily back at them, photon rifle slung jauntily over her shoulder. Her identification beacon marked her as an Autobot, running the software peculiar to the Femme subgroup, but her nametag was security-scrambled and neither Sunstreaker nor Tracks recognized her. As the Decepticons retreated back down Dover, the newcomer trotted over and bent to dig at the concrete trapping the two bigger Autobots. "Sorry I cut it a little close," she said conversationally. "I'm not used to Earth cities yet and I got turned around. Everything's pretty much aboveground, isn't it?"
"You're with Magnus's crew," Sunstreaker said bluntly. "The refugees."
The pink femme's hands paused for just a moment. "My name's Arcee," she said, straightening and dusting off her hands. "I'm a gunner under Magnus's command."
"Tracks, and the boor to my left is Sunstreaker." Tracks endured Sunstreaker's glower with lofty patience. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Arcee."
Arcee grinned brightly. "It was my honor. Do you need a medic? I think Defensor's just about done putting the fear of Primus into the 'Cons, so..."
"Thank you, no." Tracks nodded to her; Arcee sketched a brief salute and jogged off, rifle ready at her shoulder against any enemy who might challenge her.
Tracks allowed himself to watch her go until Sunstreaker heaved himself to his feet with a grunt of disgust. "And what was she doing here, anyway?"
Tracks gave him an eloquent roll of his optics. "It's called gallantry, Sunstreaker," he said. "Do look it up."
***
The Ark was over-full, new arrivals from Cybertron jockeying for space against the established Ark crew, and despite the joint injunctions against fighting from Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus, altercations were perhaps inevitable. Springer offered insult to the Minibots and paid for it with dents in his greaves; Blades and Slingshot took an instant and intense loathing to each other. And a young hothead named Hot Rod got into it with Sideswipe in the common room and it took the combined intervention of Sludge, Trailbreaker and Silverbolt to pry them apart.
"Sit on him if you have to!" Arcee called after Sludge as the Dinobot walked out with Hot Rod slung over his shoulder. "Honestly, he doesn't quit. Are you all right, Sideswipe?"
Sideswipe brushed off her concern along with the scuffs in his paint. "Just fine. Think the little fragger bit me - er, no offense, I know he's your friend." Sideswipe gave her a self-assured grin and got a grateful smile in return. "And if he's half as much a pain in the aft to the 'Cons, I'll forgive him."
Arcee laughed. "Of course he is."
From his seat behind them both, Sunstreaker snorted. " 'Course he is," he repeated. "What do you expect from a bunch of tunnel rats."
Arcee stilled, her face turned away. "Sunny!" Sideswipe protested. "Don't be an afthead!"
"It's okay," Arcee said quietly. "I'd better go."
"Hope you're happy," Sideswipe growled at his brother as Arcee retreated. Sunstreaker scoffed at him, but the day's next fight didn't come until later, when it got back to Tracks what Sunstreaker had said.
***
They found her afterwards, sitting on the mountainside watching her first Earth sunset. Sunstreaker and Tracks were both scuffed and dented, stained with grass and sod, and it was a measure of apology from them both that they hadn't cleaned up before presenting themselves to the femme.
"Oh," Arcee murmured, and hopped to her feet. "Sorry, am I in the way?"
Sunstreaker cleared static from his vocoder; Tracks nudged the yellow insistently. "Listen, um," Sunstreaker muttered. "You don't have to be polite around me. If I'm being an aft, tell me I'm being an aft."
Arcee glanced down pensively, twining her hands behind her. "I've... heard stories about you and the rest of the Ark crew," she explained haltingly. "Ever since I was created. It's... hard to think of you as real people and not heroes of legend."
"Oh, Primus spare us all," Tracks implored dramatically.
Arcee hid a smile. "So... respectfully speaking, Sunstreaker?"
"Yeah?"
"...You're kind of an aft."
"She can be taught," Sunstreaker said, grinning finally. "So, can an aft show you around?"
He offered his elbow; briefly confused by the Earth mannerism, Arcee allowed Tracks to show her how to loop her arm through Sunstreaker's. "I'd like that," she said, and smiled when Tracks took her other arm.
"And what are you doing?" Sunstreaker sniped.
"I am making sure you treat the lady well," Tracks told him tartly. "Especially if you intend to take her to the washracks."
"I think the lady can take care of herself in the washracks or out..."
Between them, Arcee ducked her head and smiled.
Author/Artist: raisedbymoogles
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some violence, Sunstreaker's mouth.
Word Count: 1134
Summary: Arcee's struggle to fit in after her company's exile to Earth.
Prompt: Transformers G1, Sunstreaker/Arcee/Tracks - lady-knight in shining armor - "It's called gallantry, Sunstreaker. Do look it up."
The front line extended from Dover Street in front of the arcade to the half-abandoned strip mall down Fifth Avenue where the auto body shop used to be. Tracks and Sunstreaker found themselves on the arcade side of the line, strafing down Dover at the relentless surge of Decepticons ahead. "Your paint's scratched," Tracks observed coolly, ejecting the spent power pack from his rifle and slamming a new one home.
"Blow it out your exhaust," Sunstreaker answered, amiably enough for a mech with a gun in his hands. In contrast to Tracks's calm, almost methodical method of shooting, choosing each target as if it were his final round of blaster bolts, Sunstreaker sprayed ammo wildly, hitting brick facades and black asphalt as often as Decepticons. Neither method seemed to make much headway. There were always more of the enemy to replace the damaged or deactivated. Ever since Megatron and Shockwave had cemented their control on Cybertron, there were always more Decepticons.
Just more to choke on our blasters, the frontliners said among themselves; but they wondered, sometimes, whether the Autobots were losing this war.
"Y'know, you might actually hit something if you weren't too busy posing," Sunstreaker said thoughtfully to his fellow frontliner.
"Oh? I've hit more targets today than you have all week," Tracks countered. "I'll wager my best wax-"
"Down!" Sunstreaker barked, and both Autobots hit the gravel as a missile screamed by overhead and slammed into the brick facing of the building behind them. Concrete and brick rained down in heavy chunks, shattering on impact and half-burying both Autobots. Amid Sunstreaker's affronted roars, Tracks struggled to get his sidearm up to aim at the Decepticon wielding the missile launcher, but he knew with a horrible jolt that he wouldn't take him down before a second missile ended his and Sunstreaker's lives.
Bright yellow bolts of energy suddenly bloomed amid the Decepticon lines, scattering them like toys as the one with the missile launcher fell in several pieces. Tracks struggled up on one elbow against the concrete shrapnel and looked toward the direction of their unseen sniper.
A vision in pink waved jauntily back at them, photon rifle slung jauntily over her shoulder. Her identification beacon marked her as an Autobot, running the software peculiar to the Femme subgroup, but her nametag was security-scrambled and neither Sunstreaker nor Tracks recognized her. As the Decepticons retreated back down Dover, the newcomer trotted over and bent to dig at the concrete trapping the two bigger Autobots. "Sorry I cut it a little close," she said conversationally. "I'm not used to Earth cities yet and I got turned around. Everything's pretty much aboveground, isn't it?"
"You're with Magnus's crew," Sunstreaker said bluntly. "The refugees."
The pink femme's hands paused for just a moment. "My name's Arcee," she said, straightening and dusting off her hands. "I'm a gunner under Magnus's command."
"Tracks, and the boor to my left is Sunstreaker." Tracks endured Sunstreaker's glower with lofty patience. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Arcee."
Arcee grinned brightly. "It was my honor. Do you need a medic? I think Defensor's just about done putting the fear of Primus into the 'Cons, so..."
"Thank you, no." Tracks nodded to her; Arcee sketched a brief salute and jogged off, rifle ready at her shoulder against any enemy who might challenge her.
Tracks allowed himself to watch her go until Sunstreaker heaved himself to his feet with a grunt of disgust. "And what was she doing here, anyway?"
Tracks gave him an eloquent roll of his optics. "It's called gallantry, Sunstreaker," he said. "Do look it up."
***
The Ark was over-full, new arrivals from Cybertron jockeying for space against the established Ark crew, and despite the joint injunctions against fighting from Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus, altercations were perhaps inevitable. Springer offered insult to the Minibots and paid for it with dents in his greaves; Blades and Slingshot took an instant and intense loathing to each other. And a young hothead named Hot Rod got into it with Sideswipe in the common room and it took the combined intervention of Sludge, Trailbreaker and Silverbolt to pry them apart.
"Sit on him if you have to!" Arcee called after Sludge as the Dinobot walked out with Hot Rod slung over his shoulder. "Honestly, he doesn't quit. Are you all right, Sideswipe?"
Sideswipe brushed off her concern along with the scuffs in his paint. "Just fine. Think the little fragger bit me - er, no offense, I know he's your friend." Sideswipe gave her a self-assured grin and got a grateful smile in return. "And if he's half as much a pain in the aft to the 'Cons, I'll forgive him."
Arcee laughed. "Of course he is."
From his seat behind them both, Sunstreaker snorted. " 'Course he is," he repeated. "What do you expect from a bunch of tunnel rats."
Arcee stilled, her face turned away. "Sunny!" Sideswipe protested. "Don't be an afthead!"
"It's okay," Arcee said quietly. "I'd better go."
"Hope you're happy," Sideswipe growled at his brother as Arcee retreated. Sunstreaker scoffed at him, but the day's next fight didn't come until later, when it got back to Tracks what Sunstreaker had said.
***
They found her afterwards, sitting on the mountainside watching her first Earth sunset. Sunstreaker and Tracks were both scuffed and dented, stained with grass and sod, and it was a measure of apology from them both that they hadn't cleaned up before presenting themselves to the femme.
"Oh," Arcee murmured, and hopped to her feet. "Sorry, am I in the way?"
Sunstreaker cleared static from his vocoder; Tracks nudged the yellow insistently. "Listen, um," Sunstreaker muttered. "You don't have to be polite around me. If I'm being an aft, tell me I'm being an aft."
Arcee glanced down pensively, twining her hands behind her. "I've... heard stories about you and the rest of the Ark crew," she explained haltingly. "Ever since I was created. It's... hard to think of you as real people and not heroes of legend."
"Oh, Primus spare us all," Tracks implored dramatically.
Arcee hid a smile. "So... respectfully speaking, Sunstreaker?"
"Yeah?"
"...You're kind of an aft."
"She can be taught," Sunstreaker said, grinning finally. "So, can an aft show you around?"
He offered his elbow; briefly confused by the Earth mannerism, Arcee allowed Tracks to show her how to loop her arm through Sunstreaker's. "I'd like that," she said, and smiled when Tracks took her other arm.
"And what are you doing?" Sunstreaker sniped.
"I am making sure you treat the lady well," Tracks told him tartly. "Especially if you intend to take her to the washracks."
"I think the lady can take care of herself in the washracks or out..."
Between them, Arcee ducked her head and smiled.