Someone ordered a serving of Sunstreaker x Bluestreak fluff? And I need a Sunny/Blue icon too!
Title: Heirloom
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None I can think of.
Pairings: Sunstreaker x Bluestreak, implied Prowl x Jazz
Characters: Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Prowl, Smokescreen, mention of Sideswipe and Jazz.
Summary: Sunstreaker reflects a little about Bluestreak and finds about a different way to seal a commitment.
Notes: bittereloquent said she was in a Sunny x Blue mood a few nights ago, and I began to cook this baby in response. I am not sure how much this one will fulfill her required dose of 'streakers', but at least I tried! This does take place after "Infiltrating the Datsun Club"
Not beta-ed so feel free to correct me.
Sunstreaker wasn't sure what to make out of the sudden invitation. He hadn't been exactly the happiest since Smokescreen's arrival to Earth - and how could he be? The second the blue and red mech set foot on the Ark the pair of resident Datsuns were instantly all over him.
It wasn't he was jealous.
All right, maybe he was a little jealous, but it wasn't in his nature to share what had taken him vorns to get. Bluestreak's attention and affection were two of the things he just couldn't bring himself to share easily. Even up until recent times the golden Lamborghini still had trouble accepting his Datsun shared so many things with Prowl and seemed to be very happy in his company.
He wasn't worried Bluestreak preferred Prowl over him. But he definitely didn't like the young gunner spending too much time with the older Datsun after all the time it took for Sunstreaker to earn Bluestreak's affection, and even admit he had any kind of attraction towards the gunner.
Everything started shortly after Bluestreak was taken by the Autobots and placed as one of the gunners of Optimus Prime's elite unit. Bluestreak's expertise and skills as marksman quickly positioned him in the same team with Sunstreaker and his twin. It was the warriors' job to keep their gunner protected while he covered for their agents, and since their very first mission together, the twins were certain they didn't want to cover for any other gunner in their unit.
The first few missions brought their young marksman and Sideswipe into a close friendship, and they hung around often, which quickly escalated into invitations to hang with him and Sunstreaker in their private quarters. Sunstreaker didn't really mind, although he didn't care about receiving visitors, but knowing his brother's personality called for interaction with other mechs, the golden warrior was happy enough to accept any mechs his brother invited over as long as they respected his personal space and kept their distance.
Admittedly, Bluestreak's seemingly never ending chatter had annoyed Sunstreaker at first, but the golden twin had been able to tune it out eventually and welcomed the sound of the gunner's voice, even if he rarely paid attention to the words spoken.
Things began to change, however, one orn when Bluestreak had fallen into recharge in their couch. Neither of the twins had it on them to wake him and send him to his own quarters, and they let him stay there. When Sunstreaker and Sideswipe readied themselves to initiate their own recharge, soft whimpers and pained moans started coming from the gunner. It was then when the twins found out about Bluestreak's nightmares and the trauma the gunner kept hidden from the world behind that facade of cheerful optimism.
Bluestreak didn't take it so well when he was forced out of his restless recharge to find himself looking into the worried facial plates of both twins, particularly Sunstreaker's. With reluctance at first, the gunner explained what little information he was willing to share about his nightmares, trying to dismiss them as nothing. But it had been that time when Sunstreaker realized Bluestreak had many things in common with him, and he, too, was a broken mech with demons of his own.
How exactly that revelation led to the golden twin seeking the company of the gunner, he did not know. He just knew he felt the strong need to be there with him, for him. To protect him from that world that had already taken so much from them all; and, as humans put it, the rest was history.
And now he was standing behind the doors of what Jazz had dubbed the infamous Datsun Club. It had been a big shock for everyone, but specially for Sunstreaker, to find out the kind of relationship his lover had with the older Datsuns. And while that made it easier to understand, accept and deal with Bluestreak's meetings with Smokescreen and Prowl, he admitted it stung a little his lover never revealed this information to him. At least that explained why Prowl always seemed to give him those warning looks whenever he took Bluestreak somewhere.
Regardless, Sunstreaker shook his head and pressed a key in the access panel of the door to announce his arrival. Bluestreak asked him to come over this day at this hour because he had something important to talk about with him.
When the door slid open to grant him access, Sunstreaker was surprised to find the three Datsuns sitting around a small table, guarding a box resting over it.
"We were waiting for you, Sunstreaker," Smokescreen said with a smile, and the golden warrior couldn't help but frown a little, Smokescreen's smile always managed to set him on edge. He could feel him scrutinizing him, and measuring him, behind that friendly smile of his. Still, he nodded and stepped forward, and his expression softened when Bluestreak smiled at him.
"Please, take a seat." Prowl held a hand out towards the available chair next to Bluestreak's seat.
"What did you need me for?" Sunstreaker made himself comfortable in the chair, but couldn't help but remain somewhat tense. Smokescreen was still smiling at him, but his optics clearly indicated he was observing him closely, and so was Prowl, though the strategist bore no smile for him, but that was fine for Sunstreaker -- He much preferred the serious expression to the friendly, devilish grin.
Smokescreen's smile widened, but this time the golden Lamborghini could tell the it was genuine, "It's not exactly us who need you for anything."
"Sunstreaker, you and Bluestreak have been... seeing each other for a while, correct?" Prowl asked, and addressed a quick look to his younger brother.
"Yes, we have," the golden Lamborghini replied and quirked an optic ridge. "Why? Are you two going to interrogate me and see if I'm fit to date your little brother?"
"None of the sort." Smokescreen shook his head and stood up, picking up the box, and heading a little further into the room to a more open area, his brothers followed suit. "Bluestreak asked you to come here to partake in a tradition that has been running in our family for generations."
Sunstreaker found himself intrigued and stood up, intending to follow after the three Datsuns.
"Don't come closer," Prowl said softly and held a hand up, nodding to Bluestreak to drag his lover a couple of steps back.
"What in the pit's name is going on?"
"As I said, it's a tradition running in our family for generations," Smokescreen replied, his expression becoming serious and solemn. Somehow, Sunstreaker found he didn't much like a somber and solemn Smokescreen.
"What you're about to see is special, something only a handful are allowed to see and partake in," The racing painted Datsun spoke firmly but softly, handing the box to Prowl. "When we were younglings, our creator offered this box and its contents to us. Today, Bluestreak wishes to share those contents with you."
All of sudden, Sunstreaker felt he was intruding in something akin to a religious ritual, and considering the way the three Datsuns were handling that box as if Primus himself inhabited it, the comparison wasn't too far off.
Prowl opened the box carefully, lifting the lid with great care, revealing a cushioned interior made of some of the finest material available in Cybertron prior to the war. Resting in between the folds and mounds of the material were three smaller silvery cases, so smoothly and diligently polished that the smallest ray of light was reflected beautifully.
Smokescreen gave a passing look to each case before he reached for one, picking it up with reverence and great care before he handed it to Bluestreak, who treated the silver case with the same reverence and respect.
Sunstreaker couldn't help but quirk an optic ridge again and watched his love approach him with a perfectly solemn expression, although the visible twitching of his door wings revealed how nervous the young gunner was. Bluestreak stopped a few steps away from his lover and bowed his head, holding out the case for him to open.
"Go ahead, open it," Smokescreen said softly, watching the two mechs with an unreadable expression not so different from Prowl's.
Sunstreaker did as he was told and carefully lifted the lid of the case, trying to be as respectful and mindful of it as the Datsuns had been, after all the box and the cases were definitely a work of art.
There, laying in a bed of foam cut to fit its shape, was a silvery revolver. The gun was, by all intents and purposes, an impractical and archaic weapon for modern standards. And while it was obvious to the golden Lamborghini the weapon was perfectly functional its purpose was more ornamental than practical.
Still, the Lamborghini took in every detail of the weapon. The silvery surface had the slightest golden tint to it, its polished surface was as reflective as a mirror, and engraved along the barrel were several lines written in Cybertronian. Sunstreaker only bothered to identify Bluestreak's designation. He suppressed a shiver, realizing now what kind of background the Datsuns came from.
One created and raised to become a master of diversionary tactics. One created and raised to be one of the greatest military strategists in Cybertronian history. And one created and raised to become one of the best, if not the best marksman the Autobots would ever see. That spoke of a family sustaining a long standing among the military and law enforcement forces.
"In our family," Prowl spoke softly, pulling the golden twin out of his musings, "These weapons are our heirlooms. Passed from creator to offspring upon reaching a certain age."
"The heirloom has an important sentimental value for us, and only a handful of mechs not in our family are allowed to lay optics on them." Smokescreen spoke next, addressing a severe look at the Lamborghini. "It's tradition for us to present our desired mates with our heirloom. It's our way to say 'You're the only one I want to see'."
"It's a commitment Bluestreak is making to you. You're the only one he wishes to see in such fashion."
Sunstreaker tried hard not to flinch. It was borderline scary to watch the two older Datsuns recite the speech as if they had it rehearsed, despite the fact it was obvious to him they had not. "So, what happens if I don't want to accept it?"
Guilt immediately washed over Sunstreaker when he saw Bluestreak's door wings droop a little bit before he forced them back up.
"You're not obligated to accept the heirloom. It won't change anything for Blue, he's committing to you with this act even if you choose not to accept his gift." Smokescreen locked his optics with Sunstreaker's in that searching way, trying to decipher what thoughts the Lamborghini was having about the subject.
Sunstreaker nodded and glanced back down to the beautifully crafted weapon. Archaic as it was, it was still a nod to a tradition that was obviously important for them all, and in the back of his processor he wondered if Prowl intended to present Jazz with his own heirloom some day.
With a deep cycle through his vents, the Lamborghini closed the lid of the silver case and extracted it carefully from his lover's hands, accepting his gifts.
Bluestreak stepped back and raised his head to look at his lover, fighting back the smile that threatened to take over his face plates. Sunstreaker didn't bother trying to hide his own smile, and reached to brush golden fingers over the gunner's cheek.
Behind the younger Datsun, Smokescreen and Prowl exchanged glances, before little smiles crept into their lip components and the pair excused themselves, leaving the two lovers alone.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None I can think of.
Pairings: Sunstreaker x Bluestreak, implied Prowl x Jazz
Characters: Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Prowl, Smokescreen, mention of Sideswipe and Jazz.
Summary: Sunstreaker reflects a little about Bluestreak and finds about a different way to seal a commitment.
Notes: bittereloquent said she was in a Sunny x Blue mood a few nights ago, and I began to cook this baby in response. I am not sure how much this one will fulfill her required dose of 'streakers', but at least I tried! This does take place after "Infiltrating the Datsun Club"
Not beta-ed so feel free to correct me.
Sunstreaker wasn't sure what to make out of the sudden invitation. He hadn't been exactly the happiest since Smokescreen's arrival to Earth - and how could he be? The second the blue and red mech set foot on the Ark the pair of resident Datsuns were instantly all over him.
It wasn't he was jealous.
All right, maybe he was a little jealous, but it wasn't in his nature to share what had taken him vorns to get. Bluestreak's attention and affection were two of the things he just couldn't bring himself to share easily. Even up until recent times the golden Lamborghini still had trouble accepting his Datsun shared so many things with Prowl and seemed to be very happy in his company.
He wasn't worried Bluestreak preferred Prowl over him. But he definitely didn't like the young gunner spending too much time with the older Datsun after all the time it took for Sunstreaker to earn Bluestreak's affection, and even admit he had any kind of attraction towards the gunner.
Everything started shortly after Bluestreak was taken by the Autobots and placed as one of the gunners of Optimus Prime's elite unit. Bluestreak's expertise and skills as marksman quickly positioned him in the same team with Sunstreaker and his twin. It was the warriors' job to keep their gunner protected while he covered for their agents, and since their very first mission together, the twins were certain they didn't want to cover for any other gunner in their unit.
The first few missions brought their young marksman and Sideswipe into a close friendship, and they hung around often, which quickly escalated into invitations to hang with him and Sunstreaker in their private quarters. Sunstreaker didn't really mind, although he didn't care about receiving visitors, but knowing his brother's personality called for interaction with other mechs, the golden warrior was happy enough to accept any mechs his brother invited over as long as they respected his personal space and kept their distance.
Admittedly, Bluestreak's seemingly never ending chatter had annoyed Sunstreaker at first, but the golden twin had been able to tune it out eventually and welcomed the sound of the gunner's voice, even if he rarely paid attention to the words spoken.
Things began to change, however, one orn when Bluestreak had fallen into recharge in their couch. Neither of the twins had it on them to wake him and send him to his own quarters, and they let him stay there. When Sunstreaker and Sideswipe readied themselves to initiate their own recharge, soft whimpers and pained moans started coming from the gunner. It was then when the twins found out about Bluestreak's nightmares and the trauma the gunner kept hidden from the world behind that facade of cheerful optimism.
Bluestreak didn't take it so well when he was forced out of his restless recharge to find himself looking into the worried facial plates of both twins, particularly Sunstreaker's. With reluctance at first, the gunner explained what little information he was willing to share about his nightmares, trying to dismiss them as nothing. But it had been that time when Sunstreaker realized Bluestreak had many things in common with him, and he, too, was a broken mech with demons of his own.
How exactly that revelation led to the golden twin seeking the company of the gunner, he did not know. He just knew he felt the strong need to be there with him, for him. To protect him from that world that had already taken so much from them all; and, as humans put it, the rest was history.
And now he was standing behind the doors of what Jazz had dubbed the infamous Datsun Club. It had been a big shock for everyone, but specially for Sunstreaker, to find out the kind of relationship his lover had with the older Datsuns. And while that made it easier to understand, accept and deal with Bluestreak's meetings with Smokescreen and Prowl, he admitted it stung a little his lover never revealed this information to him. At least that explained why Prowl always seemed to give him those warning looks whenever he took Bluestreak somewhere.
Regardless, Sunstreaker shook his head and pressed a key in the access panel of the door to announce his arrival. Bluestreak asked him to come over this day at this hour because he had something important to talk about with him.
When the door slid open to grant him access, Sunstreaker was surprised to find the three Datsuns sitting around a small table, guarding a box resting over it.
"We were waiting for you, Sunstreaker," Smokescreen said with a smile, and the golden warrior couldn't help but frown a little, Smokescreen's smile always managed to set him on edge. He could feel him scrutinizing him, and measuring him, behind that friendly smile of his. Still, he nodded and stepped forward, and his expression softened when Bluestreak smiled at him.
"Please, take a seat." Prowl held a hand out towards the available chair next to Bluestreak's seat.
"What did you need me for?" Sunstreaker made himself comfortable in the chair, but couldn't help but remain somewhat tense. Smokescreen was still smiling at him, but his optics clearly indicated he was observing him closely, and so was Prowl, though the strategist bore no smile for him, but that was fine for Sunstreaker -- He much preferred the serious expression to the friendly, devilish grin.
Smokescreen's smile widened, but this time the golden Lamborghini could tell the it was genuine, "It's not exactly us who need you for anything."
"Sunstreaker, you and Bluestreak have been... seeing each other for a while, correct?" Prowl asked, and addressed a quick look to his younger brother.
"Yes, we have," the golden Lamborghini replied and quirked an optic ridge. "Why? Are you two going to interrogate me and see if I'm fit to date your little brother?"
"None of the sort." Smokescreen shook his head and stood up, picking up the box, and heading a little further into the room to a more open area, his brothers followed suit. "Bluestreak asked you to come here to partake in a tradition that has been running in our family for generations."
Sunstreaker found himself intrigued and stood up, intending to follow after the three Datsuns.
"Don't come closer," Prowl said softly and held a hand up, nodding to Bluestreak to drag his lover a couple of steps back.
"What in the pit's name is going on?"
"As I said, it's a tradition running in our family for generations," Smokescreen replied, his expression becoming serious and solemn. Somehow, Sunstreaker found he didn't much like a somber and solemn Smokescreen.
"What you're about to see is special, something only a handful are allowed to see and partake in," The racing painted Datsun spoke firmly but softly, handing the box to Prowl. "When we were younglings, our creator offered this box and its contents to us. Today, Bluestreak wishes to share those contents with you."
All of sudden, Sunstreaker felt he was intruding in something akin to a religious ritual, and considering the way the three Datsuns were handling that box as if Primus himself inhabited it, the comparison wasn't too far off.
Prowl opened the box carefully, lifting the lid with great care, revealing a cushioned interior made of some of the finest material available in Cybertron prior to the war. Resting in between the folds and mounds of the material were three smaller silvery cases, so smoothly and diligently polished that the smallest ray of light was reflected beautifully.
Smokescreen gave a passing look to each case before he reached for one, picking it up with reverence and great care before he handed it to Bluestreak, who treated the silver case with the same reverence and respect.
Sunstreaker couldn't help but quirk an optic ridge again and watched his love approach him with a perfectly solemn expression, although the visible twitching of his door wings revealed how nervous the young gunner was. Bluestreak stopped a few steps away from his lover and bowed his head, holding out the case for him to open.
"Go ahead, open it," Smokescreen said softly, watching the two mechs with an unreadable expression not so different from Prowl's.
Sunstreaker did as he was told and carefully lifted the lid of the case, trying to be as respectful and mindful of it as the Datsuns had been, after all the box and the cases were definitely a work of art.
There, laying in a bed of foam cut to fit its shape, was a silvery revolver. The gun was, by all intents and purposes, an impractical and archaic weapon for modern standards. And while it was obvious to the golden Lamborghini the weapon was perfectly functional its purpose was more ornamental than practical.
Still, the Lamborghini took in every detail of the weapon. The silvery surface had the slightest golden tint to it, its polished surface was as reflective as a mirror, and engraved along the barrel were several lines written in Cybertronian. Sunstreaker only bothered to identify Bluestreak's designation. He suppressed a shiver, realizing now what kind of background the Datsuns came from.
One created and raised to become a master of diversionary tactics. One created and raised to be one of the greatest military strategists in Cybertronian history. And one created and raised to become one of the best, if not the best marksman the Autobots would ever see. That spoke of a family sustaining a long standing among the military and law enforcement forces.
"In our family," Prowl spoke softly, pulling the golden twin out of his musings, "These weapons are our heirlooms. Passed from creator to offspring upon reaching a certain age."
"The heirloom has an important sentimental value for us, and only a handful of mechs not in our family are allowed to lay optics on them." Smokescreen spoke next, addressing a severe look at the Lamborghini. "It's tradition for us to present our desired mates with our heirloom. It's our way to say 'You're the only one I want to see'."
"It's a commitment Bluestreak is making to you. You're the only one he wishes to see in such fashion."
Sunstreaker tried hard not to flinch. It was borderline scary to watch the two older Datsuns recite the speech as if they had it rehearsed, despite the fact it was obvious to him they had not. "So, what happens if I don't want to accept it?"
Guilt immediately washed over Sunstreaker when he saw Bluestreak's door wings droop a little bit before he forced them back up.
"You're not obligated to accept the heirloom. It won't change anything for Blue, he's committing to you with this act even if you choose not to accept his gift." Smokescreen locked his optics with Sunstreaker's in that searching way, trying to decipher what thoughts the Lamborghini was having about the subject.
Sunstreaker nodded and glanced back down to the beautifully crafted weapon. Archaic as it was, it was still a nod to a tradition that was obviously important for them all, and in the back of his processor he wondered if Prowl intended to present Jazz with his own heirloom some day.
With a deep cycle through his vents, the Lamborghini closed the lid of the silver case and extracted it carefully from his lover's hands, accepting his gifts.
Bluestreak stepped back and raised his head to look at his lover, fighting back the smile that threatened to take over his face plates. Sunstreaker didn't bother trying to hide his own smile, and reached to brush golden fingers over the gunner's cheek.
Behind the younger Datsun, Smokescreen and Prowl exchanged glances, before little smiles crept into their lip components and the pair excused themselves, leaving the two lovers alone.