A happier sort of fic
As promised, here is the other one-shot I wrote. This one is from a request made by Jo who wanted me to write a fic with sparkling!twins and her OC Pursuit. Also set in the NvN verse, this one is a bit more fun and is intended to help explain Sideswipe's fascination with doorwings and show Pursuit's need to adopt anything she ever comes across.
Featured are my OC's Triggerpinch (the twins' creator), Flattop (their eldest brother, a Wing Commander), and Pursuit (belonging to Jo, Flattop's mate and creator of Prowl), and of course Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Also mentioned is Triage (my OC and Flattop's younger sister, a doctor). You don't need to know any backstory to these guys, or have read anything else with them in order to understand this fic (lol I'm hoping!) Those stories just help deal with my version of the twins' origin story, an engineer given two commissions to build and train into the perfect soldiers.
Warnings for cute sparkling!twins.
The mysteries of the universe were slowly revealing themselves to her.
Once, Pursuit had wondered how such a sweet mech as Flattop, patient with his students and level-headed in aerial combat, could have such a quick and explosive temper. At first, it had surprised and frightened her, but as he’d never raised a single hand to her, she quickly learned to put him back in his place. She’d learned which buttons not to push, and how to calm him down quickly. What she never learned was why it existed in the first place.
Be careful what you wish for, she mused to herself, too annoyed to be frightened now. You may one day get it.
Flattop’s creator, a codgey old mech named Triggerpinch, continued to verbally rail into her lover with an enthusiasm that put Flattop to shame. “How dare you bring her here to flaunt in my face,” he snarled at his creation who was holding up remarkably well, all things considering. “After all I’ve done for your ungrateful aft, getting you into the best of society and a position at the Academy, and this is how you repay me? By showing up here with some gutter-crawling Praxian?” He spat the name out as if it were a vile curse.
“Who the frag do you think you are telling me who I can and can’t bring anywhere?” Flattop shouted back with renewed vigor. “And don’t you talk about her like that. She’s better than any Towers bimbo you threw at me! And she’s a fragging better engineer than you’ll ever be!”
That appeared to be the final straw according to Triggerpinch, for he lashed out to grab one of the flier’s wings, wrenching it in a way she knew must have been excruciating. Her own doorwings twitched in sympathy, but he did nothing to defend himself. In fact, he leaned in closer to Triggerpinch, unafraid.
“You take that back, boy,” the elder mech hissed dangerously.
“You slagging make me, old man,” Flattop responded. She was, as she had been since the start of this whole insanity, entirely forgotten. It was just as well; she wouldn’t have been so restrained had he snarled his insults to her directly. As it was, it was only Flattop’s quick defense of her that kept her from lashing back at the odious piece of scrap.
Her honor being valiantly defended by a mech who was really too old to be yelling like he was, Pursuit shook her head and looked around the room. This visit was already ruined, so she might as well have a look around. The apartment was spartan for an engineer’s home. Her own home in Praxus before it was destroyed was filled with every gadget and part you could think of. Triggerpinch’s home, by contrast, was completely sterile. Not an object out of place or drop of oil upon a single workbench. Such a set up would have driven her insane before long.
A flash of red and gold caught her attention suddenly. Pursuit lifted her head to gaze down the hall where a door was being shut quietly. Curious, she slowly stepped toward the door, sparing only a half glance behind her. Both mechs were still busy at each other’s throats and not paying her any mind.
There were four doors in the small hallway, and it was the first on the right that she chose. Whatever she had seen, it must have gone through one of the different doors, because it wasn’t in here. The room she was in was recognizable immediately as Flattop’s from before he moved out. It struck her as odd that a mech who clearly held only contempt for her lover would keep his eldest creation’s room just as he had left it.
His berth had smudges of blue where he must have rolled over during recharge. Model planes sat on counters, and various datapads were haphazardly stacked in the corner. It even still smelled like him a little.
“Who are you?”
She spun around, afraid that she had overstepped herself by entering Flattop’s old room. Yet it was not Triggerpinch who addressed her, but a taller mech with black and red plating.
“Why are you here?” Another mech appeared in the door, black and gold this time, and stood beside the other.
Brothers, Pursuit thought. Flattop’s younger twin brothers, recently built on commission. He’d mentioned them to her briefly, clearly not enjoying the subject. From his description of the pair, she expected something more… intimidating. Sure, they could do some damage with those powerful limbs, but there was nothing aggressive in how they stood there watching her, an intruder in their territory. Their optics were bright and alert, beautiful forms relaxed and natural. Hardly the monsters he painted them out to be.
“I’m Pursuit,” she replied, facing them fully. “I’m a… friend of your brother’s.”
The yellow one scowled at the mention of Flattop but didn’t comment. It appeared the dislike was mutual between the bothers.
“I’m Sideswipe and this is Sunstreaker,” the red twin introduced them. He had a wary look on his face, but the curiosity was obvious. The clear optics of a sparkling barely out of infanthood. Her spark clenched painfully with the memory of her own young one, still missing since the attack that stole her home. Her only solace was that he was out of the city at the time, but as she had yet to find a trace of him, her relief didn’t last long.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled at them and watched as they slowly began to relax. From the yelling still going on strong in the main room, and the twins’ reactions, Pursuit guessed they were unused to quiet cordial greetings.
“What are those?” Sideswipe broke the awkward silence, unable to stand the quiet for long.
“What are what?” she tilted her head.
“Those,” he sighed as if it were obvious. “On your back.”
One of her doorwings twitched as she realized what he was talking about. “Oh!” She turned around to show them, the wings fanning back.
“How do you fly with them?” Sunstreaker asked as he walked a little closer. “They’re so short.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Fly? I don’t fly. They’re not real wings.”
“What are they used for?” The red one again, emboldened by the friendliness of their guest. “Do they do magic?”
“Magic?” she chuckled, facing them again. “They’re sensitive to electrical currents and magnetic waves, but they’re certainly not magical.”
He pouted in a child’s disappointment. “Our sister says some femmes have magic wings.”
“Those are aliens, stupid,” Sunstreaker snorted, poking his chest.
“No, she said ‘bots, idiot.”
“Boys!” Pursuit laughed, not wanting another fight to break out in this house. Primus below, what was it with the mechs in this dysfunctional family?
“Well what about that?” Sideswipe pointed at her chevron, trying again. It was a common feature found in those hailing from Praxus. Surely she wasn’t he first Praxian he had ever seen?
“My chevron isn’t magical either,” she assured him, smiling as the pout deepened. Even Sunstreaker appeared disappointed. Apparently, her chevron looked like it held more potential than her doorwings.
“What’s it do then?” Sunstreaker asked.
“It doesn’t do anything, little one.”
“No function?” from Sideswipe.
“Not everything needs a function,” she explained. Then a wicked grin appeared. “Though sometimes I use it to poke sparklings that ask too many questions.”
The pair laughed at that, charmed by their brother’s choice in femme. She wasn’t angry or frightening at all like they’d first thought.
“Do you want some energon?” Sideswipe asked suddenly.
“I would love some,” she smiled at their eager faces. “But won’t your creator mind?”
“He doesn’t know,” the yellow one shook his head. “It’s a game.”
She didn’t know what sort of game he meant, but it had piqued her interest. The gray femme’s doorwings fluttered in response, and she caught the red twin staring again. She playfully swayed them to her right, then to her left, and watched as his gaze tracked the whole movement.
When he realized she was doing it to tease him, he ducked his head a little. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She touched his arm lightly, but then quickly released when their whole nature changed. He tensed up tightly and Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed, expression cold. Ok, no touching. “No then, how about that energon?”
Instantly it was if it had never happened. Their optics cleared and they eagerly led her back to their room just next to their brother’s. It wasn’t much bigger than that one, if at all, but with two berths instead of one, and no models or diversions to speak of.
Once the door was shut behind him, the twins had Pursuit sit on one of the berth’s, Sunstreaker’s if the paint scrapings were any indication, while they got the energon.
Sideswipe knelt on the floor by his berth and searched for an invisible seam on the floor with a finger. Apparently finding it, he looked back up at his guest with an expression so solemn, she almost laughed. “You promise not to tell?”
“Tell what?” But the serious look did not fade, and it was so cute she had to give in. “Alright, I promise. No telling.”
Satisfied, Sideswipe pressed on the floor and slid it under another panel. What this revealed was a whole store of energon. No less than 20 small cubes were carefully stacked by type, high grade to mid to low. The mother in her was displeased to see that the stack of pale high grade was the lowest. What did they need such a high charge for?
“We get hungry sometimes,” shrugged Sunstreaker as though reading her thoughts.
“What would you like?” asked his brother, eager to please.
“Regular is fine,” she said, and she watched him pluck three cubes from the compartment before replacing the panel. Even knowing where the hidden stash was, Pursuit would still have trouble recognizing it as any different from the rest of the floor.
She accepted the cube with a nod of thanks, careful not to touch him during the transfer. He handed a cube to his brother and kept one for himself, both of them watching her intently, fidgeting a little anxiously.
The femme suddenly realized they were waiting for her to take the first sip, which she did so with a flush of embarrassment. They quickly drank from theirs then. Practicing your manners was tiring after all.
“What’s your function?” Sunstreaker asked when the cubes were gone.
“Not magic,” grumbled Sideswipe, still put off by that.
“No, not magic,” she chuckled and scooted back on the berth so she was leaning her back against the wall, her doorwings spread flat. “I’m an engineer.” She patted the berth in an invitation for them to sit with her, if they wanted.
Either the invitation or the words was the wrong move to make, because the cloud returned to cover their optics again. With what she had seen, the femme could hardly blame them if they disliked their only other interaction with an engineer. Their creator was less than charming and she was sure she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“I have a sparkling too,” she added, hoping to get them to relax again. “He’s older than you, but not by too much.”
“Is he a warrior too?” Sunstreaker asked.
“No,” her smile grew wistful and sad. “He’s a tactician. The best tactician. I’m very proud of him. I think you three would get along.”
“What’s he like?” Sideswipe asked, not used to other young ‘bots around his age.
“Very kind and very clever, like you,” she said. “But too serious sometimes. You’ll have to teach him your games, ok?”
They promised her they would. Again, they warmed back up to her and whatever offense she’d caused unknowingly had been forgiven.
“You said your sister told you stories?” she asked them, remembering the shy but gentle doctor while Pursuit was recovering in the hospital after Praxus fell.
“Sometimes,” Sideswipe admitted. “When Pinch is gone.”
“Well I won’t tell.” They smiled in gratitude.
“Do you tell stories to your creation?” Sunstreaker asked.
“When he was very young I did.” She sighed, the ache in her chest only growing. “I haven’t seen him in a long time… I miss him so much.”
Not one to have his guest unhappy, Sideswipe sat at the edge of the berth looking at her with wide eager optics. Apparently this was as close as his personal comfort would allow. “Will you tell us one?”
Sunstreaker seemed very agreeable to the idea and nodded. “Yeah. Just one?”
She opened her mouth to refuse them, but the words would not come. Flattop and Triggerpinch certainly hadn’t missed her presence if the ever present hollers were any indications, and the twins were both giving her big soulful optics that begged for her compliance.
Acquiescing to the young ones, Pursuit softened and nodded. “Once upon a time…”
Thirty minutes later, Pursuit heard a ping over her radio. Still drowsy from the doze she’d just been woken from, she replied to the inquiry with her location. Her lover entered a few moments later, wings high and tense from the long fight with his creator, and expression worried.
“Love?”
She looked over at him and smiled lazily, not at all the tense or upset femme he’d expected to greet him. She certainly looked comfortable too in the position she was in. Sunstreaker was curled up over her legs, head resting on his twin’s stomach. One of her hands was busy gently rubbing one of his headfins while a steady purr thrummed from his idling engine. His brother was sleeping just as soundly, an arm slung over the yellow twin’s back, head in Pursuit’s lap. His other hand gently gripped the bottom corner of a doorwing.
Flattop was amazed and not a little worried at this. Each of his younger brothers was strong and wild enough to hurt her without even realizing it, and here she was, curled up with the enormous mechs taking a nap?
“Well,” he blinked. “You look comfy.”
“Is everything alright?” she asked in concern. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
The flier shrugged and he stepped closer, cautious that the twins might wake. They wouldn’t appreciate him in their room. “So… what’s all this? I told you what they were like….”
“Not everything.” She looked down at the sparklings fondly. “You didn’t tell me how sweet they were.”
“Sweet?” Had she lost her mind?
“Can I keep them?”
Yes. Yes she had.
Not looking to see if she was serious or not, he offered a hand. “Come on, let’s go. Pinch stormed out a few minutes ago. We should leave before he gets back.”
Reluctantly, she took his hand and carefully de-tangled herself from the pile of red and yellow. They didn’t so much as stir, only curling closer together to make up for the lost warmth of her lap.
After they’d gotten home, Flattop explained that she wouldn’t be able to see the twins anymore, which made her more sad than she thought it would. He claimed it would interrupt the strict training they were in to eventually become warriors fit for the army that paid for them. They could have no deviation from the regimen, and certainly nothing that would soften them to others.
“They’re sparklings,” she argued. “Just children.”
“They’re dangerous,” he countered.
“Oh yes,” she crossed her arms stubbornly. “Vicious. I don’t know how I got out of there alive.”
The red and blue shook his head in frustration. He loved the femme, and part of the reason he loved her was for her desire to take in and soothe all lost hurt things. But she couldn’t do it to them. Why didn’t she understand? She was so daft sometimes…
For her part, she agreed to drop the subject altogether. She really wasn’t in the mood for another argument, especially when she was already formulating a plan to visit again. She never did finish her story.
Featured are my OC's Triggerpinch (the twins' creator), Flattop (their eldest brother, a Wing Commander), and Pursuit (belonging to Jo, Flattop's mate and creator of Prowl), and of course Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Also mentioned is Triage (my OC and Flattop's younger sister, a doctor). You don't need to know any backstory to these guys, or have read anything else with them in order to understand this fic (lol I'm hoping!) Those stories just help deal with my version of the twins' origin story, an engineer given two commissions to build and train into the perfect soldiers.
Warnings for cute sparkling!twins.
The mysteries of the universe were slowly revealing themselves to her.
Once, Pursuit had wondered how such a sweet mech as Flattop, patient with his students and level-headed in aerial combat, could have such a quick and explosive temper. At first, it had surprised and frightened her, but as he’d never raised a single hand to her, she quickly learned to put him back in his place. She’d learned which buttons not to push, and how to calm him down quickly. What she never learned was why it existed in the first place.
Be careful what you wish for, she mused to herself, too annoyed to be frightened now. You may one day get it.
Flattop’s creator, a codgey old mech named Triggerpinch, continued to verbally rail into her lover with an enthusiasm that put Flattop to shame. “How dare you bring her here to flaunt in my face,” he snarled at his creation who was holding up remarkably well, all things considering. “After all I’ve done for your ungrateful aft, getting you into the best of society and a position at the Academy, and this is how you repay me? By showing up here with some gutter-crawling Praxian?” He spat the name out as if it were a vile curse.
“Who the frag do you think you are telling me who I can and can’t bring anywhere?” Flattop shouted back with renewed vigor. “And don’t you talk about her like that. She’s better than any Towers bimbo you threw at me! And she’s a fragging better engineer than you’ll ever be!”
That appeared to be the final straw according to Triggerpinch, for he lashed out to grab one of the flier’s wings, wrenching it in a way she knew must have been excruciating. Her own doorwings twitched in sympathy, but he did nothing to defend himself. In fact, he leaned in closer to Triggerpinch, unafraid.
“You take that back, boy,” the elder mech hissed dangerously.
“You slagging make me, old man,” Flattop responded. She was, as she had been since the start of this whole insanity, entirely forgotten. It was just as well; she wouldn’t have been so restrained had he snarled his insults to her directly. As it was, it was only Flattop’s quick defense of her that kept her from lashing back at the odious piece of scrap.
Her honor being valiantly defended by a mech who was really too old to be yelling like he was, Pursuit shook her head and looked around the room. This visit was already ruined, so she might as well have a look around. The apartment was spartan for an engineer’s home. Her own home in Praxus before it was destroyed was filled with every gadget and part you could think of. Triggerpinch’s home, by contrast, was completely sterile. Not an object out of place or drop of oil upon a single workbench. Such a set up would have driven her insane before long.
A flash of red and gold caught her attention suddenly. Pursuit lifted her head to gaze down the hall where a door was being shut quietly. Curious, she slowly stepped toward the door, sparing only a half glance behind her. Both mechs were still busy at each other’s throats and not paying her any mind.
There were four doors in the small hallway, and it was the first on the right that she chose. Whatever she had seen, it must have gone through one of the different doors, because it wasn’t in here. The room she was in was recognizable immediately as Flattop’s from before he moved out. It struck her as odd that a mech who clearly held only contempt for her lover would keep his eldest creation’s room just as he had left it.
His berth had smudges of blue where he must have rolled over during recharge. Model planes sat on counters, and various datapads were haphazardly stacked in the corner. It even still smelled like him a little.
“Who are you?”
She spun around, afraid that she had overstepped herself by entering Flattop’s old room. Yet it was not Triggerpinch who addressed her, but a taller mech with black and red plating.
“Why are you here?” Another mech appeared in the door, black and gold this time, and stood beside the other.
Brothers, Pursuit thought. Flattop’s younger twin brothers, recently built on commission. He’d mentioned them to her briefly, clearly not enjoying the subject. From his description of the pair, she expected something more… intimidating. Sure, they could do some damage with those powerful limbs, but there was nothing aggressive in how they stood there watching her, an intruder in their territory. Their optics were bright and alert, beautiful forms relaxed and natural. Hardly the monsters he painted them out to be.
“I’m Pursuit,” she replied, facing them fully. “I’m a… friend of your brother’s.”
The yellow one scowled at the mention of Flattop but didn’t comment. It appeared the dislike was mutual between the bothers.
“I’m Sideswipe and this is Sunstreaker,” the red twin introduced them. He had a wary look on his face, but the curiosity was obvious. The clear optics of a sparkling barely out of infanthood. Her spark clenched painfully with the memory of her own young one, still missing since the attack that stole her home. Her only solace was that he was out of the city at the time, but as she had yet to find a trace of him, her relief didn’t last long.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled at them and watched as they slowly began to relax. From the yelling still going on strong in the main room, and the twins’ reactions, Pursuit guessed they were unused to quiet cordial greetings.
“What are those?” Sideswipe broke the awkward silence, unable to stand the quiet for long.
“What are what?” she tilted her head.
“Those,” he sighed as if it were obvious. “On your back.”
One of her doorwings twitched as she realized what he was talking about. “Oh!” She turned around to show them, the wings fanning back.
“How do you fly with them?” Sunstreaker asked as he walked a little closer. “They’re so short.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Fly? I don’t fly. They’re not real wings.”
“What are they used for?” The red one again, emboldened by the friendliness of their guest. “Do they do magic?”
“Magic?” she chuckled, facing them again. “They’re sensitive to electrical currents and magnetic waves, but they’re certainly not magical.”
He pouted in a child’s disappointment. “Our sister says some femmes have magic wings.”
“Those are aliens, stupid,” Sunstreaker snorted, poking his chest.
“No, she said ‘bots, idiot.”
“Boys!” Pursuit laughed, not wanting another fight to break out in this house. Primus below, what was it with the mechs in this dysfunctional family?
“Well what about that?” Sideswipe pointed at her chevron, trying again. It was a common feature found in those hailing from Praxus. Surely she wasn’t he first Praxian he had ever seen?
“My chevron isn’t magical either,” she assured him, smiling as the pout deepened. Even Sunstreaker appeared disappointed. Apparently, her chevron looked like it held more potential than her doorwings.
“What’s it do then?” Sunstreaker asked.
“It doesn’t do anything, little one.”
“No function?” from Sideswipe.
“Not everything needs a function,” she explained. Then a wicked grin appeared. “Though sometimes I use it to poke sparklings that ask too many questions.”
The pair laughed at that, charmed by their brother’s choice in femme. She wasn’t angry or frightening at all like they’d first thought.
“Do you want some energon?” Sideswipe asked suddenly.
“I would love some,” she smiled at their eager faces. “But won’t your creator mind?”
“He doesn’t know,” the yellow one shook his head. “It’s a game.”
She didn’t know what sort of game he meant, but it had piqued her interest. The gray femme’s doorwings fluttered in response, and she caught the red twin staring again. She playfully swayed them to her right, then to her left, and watched as his gaze tracked the whole movement.
When he realized she was doing it to tease him, he ducked his head a little. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She touched his arm lightly, but then quickly released when their whole nature changed. He tensed up tightly and Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed, expression cold. Ok, no touching. “No then, how about that energon?”
Instantly it was if it had never happened. Their optics cleared and they eagerly led her back to their room just next to their brother’s. It wasn’t much bigger than that one, if at all, but with two berths instead of one, and no models or diversions to speak of.
Once the door was shut behind him, the twins had Pursuit sit on one of the berth’s, Sunstreaker’s if the paint scrapings were any indication, while they got the energon.
Sideswipe knelt on the floor by his berth and searched for an invisible seam on the floor with a finger. Apparently finding it, he looked back up at his guest with an expression so solemn, she almost laughed. “You promise not to tell?”
“Tell what?” But the serious look did not fade, and it was so cute she had to give in. “Alright, I promise. No telling.”
Satisfied, Sideswipe pressed on the floor and slid it under another panel. What this revealed was a whole store of energon. No less than 20 small cubes were carefully stacked by type, high grade to mid to low. The mother in her was displeased to see that the stack of pale high grade was the lowest. What did they need such a high charge for?
“We get hungry sometimes,” shrugged Sunstreaker as though reading her thoughts.
“What would you like?” asked his brother, eager to please.
“Regular is fine,” she said, and she watched him pluck three cubes from the compartment before replacing the panel. Even knowing where the hidden stash was, Pursuit would still have trouble recognizing it as any different from the rest of the floor.
She accepted the cube with a nod of thanks, careful not to touch him during the transfer. He handed a cube to his brother and kept one for himself, both of them watching her intently, fidgeting a little anxiously.
The femme suddenly realized they were waiting for her to take the first sip, which she did so with a flush of embarrassment. They quickly drank from theirs then. Practicing your manners was tiring after all.
“What’s your function?” Sunstreaker asked when the cubes were gone.
“Not magic,” grumbled Sideswipe, still put off by that.
“No, not magic,” she chuckled and scooted back on the berth so she was leaning her back against the wall, her doorwings spread flat. “I’m an engineer.” She patted the berth in an invitation for them to sit with her, if they wanted.
Either the invitation or the words was the wrong move to make, because the cloud returned to cover their optics again. With what she had seen, the femme could hardly blame them if they disliked their only other interaction with an engineer. Their creator was less than charming and she was sure she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“I have a sparkling too,” she added, hoping to get them to relax again. “He’s older than you, but not by too much.”
“Is he a warrior too?” Sunstreaker asked.
“No,” her smile grew wistful and sad. “He’s a tactician. The best tactician. I’m very proud of him. I think you three would get along.”
“What’s he like?” Sideswipe asked, not used to other young ‘bots around his age.
“Very kind and very clever, like you,” she said. “But too serious sometimes. You’ll have to teach him your games, ok?”
They promised her they would. Again, they warmed back up to her and whatever offense she’d caused unknowingly had been forgiven.
“You said your sister told you stories?” she asked them, remembering the shy but gentle doctor while Pursuit was recovering in the hospital after Praxus fell.
“Sometimes,” Sideswipe admitted. “When Pinch is gone.”
“Well I won’t tell.” They smiled in gratitude.
“Do you tell stories to your creation?” Sunstreaker asked.
“When he was very young I did.” She sighed, the ache in her chest only growing. “I haven’t seen him in a long time… I miss him so much.”
Not one to have his guest unhappy, Sideswipe sat at the edge of the berth looking at her with wide eager optics. Apparently this was as close as his personal comfort would allow. “Will you tell us one?”
Sunstreaker seemed very agreeable to the idea and nodded. “Yeah. Just one?”
She opened her mouth to refuse them, but the words would not come. Flattop and Triggerpinch certainly hadn’t missed her presence if the ever present hollers were any indications, and the twins were both giving her big soulful optics that begged for her compliance.
Acquiescing to the young ones, Pursuit softened and nodded. “Once upon a time…”
Thirty minutes later, Pursuit heard a ping over her radio. Still drowsy from the doze she’d just been woken from, she replied to the inquiry with her location. Her lover entered a few moments later, wings high and tense from the long fight with his creator, and expression worried.
“Love?”
She looked over at him and smiled lazily, not at all the tense or upset femme he’d expected to greet him. She certainly looked comfortable too in the position she was in. Sunstreaker was curled up over her legs, head resting on his twin’s stomach. One of her hands was busy gently rubbing one of his headfins while a steady purr thrummed from his idling engine. His brother was sleeping just as soundly, an arm slung over the yellow twin’s back, head in Pursuit’s lap. His other hand gently gripped the bottom corner of a doorwing.
Flattop was amazed and not a little worried at this. Each of his younger brothers was strong and wild enough to hurt her without even realizing it, and here she was, curled up with the enormous mechs taking a nap?
“Well,” he blinked. “You look comfy.”
“Is everything alright?” she asked in concern. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
The flier shrugged and he stepped closer, cautious that the twins might wake. They wouldn’t appreciate him in their room. “So… what’s all this? I told you what they were like….”
“Not everything.” She looked down at the sparklings fondly. “You didn’t tell me how sweet they were.”
“Sweet?” Had she lost her mind?
“Can I keep them?”
Yes. Yes she had.
Not looking to see if she was serious or not, he offered a hand. “Come on, let’s go. Pinch stormed out a few minutes ago. We should leave before he gets back.”
Reluctantly, she took his hand and carefully de-tangled herself from the pile of red and yellow. They didn’t so much as stir, only curling closer together to make up for the lost warmth of her lap.
After they’d gotten home, Flattop explained that she wouldn’t be able to see the twins anymore, which made her more sad than she thought it would. He claimed it would interrupt the strict training they were in to eventually become warriors fit for the army that paid for them. They could have no deviation from the regimen, and certainly nothing that would soften them to others.
“They’re sparklings,” she argued. “Just children.”
“They’re dangerous,” he countered.
“Oh yes,” she crossed her arms stubbornly. “Vicious. I don’t know how I got out of there alive.”
The red and blue shook his head in frustration. He loved the femme, and part of the reason he loved her was for her desire to take in and soothe all lost hurt things. But she couldn’t do it to them. Why didn’t she understand? She was so daft sometimes…
For her part, she agreed to drop the subject altogether. She really wasn’t in the mood for another argument, especially when she was already formulating a plan to visit again. She never did finish her story.