More thing.
And the rest of the Blue/Stunt thing.
Bluestreak woke on a berth, groaning. His head hurt, and his spark...
"How do you feel, Blue'?" Ratchet asked, coming over at the groan. "You're the first to wake."
"I'm sore..." Even recharging, he could feel them. Light presences against his, suggestions of personalities not his own. Bluestreak found it surprisingly comforting.
"The ache should diminish in time. You were all under a lot of strain, and your systems need time to readjust. None of them were fueled properly or-"
"Ratchet, I know." Bluestreak did know... he had bonded them. "I know they'll recover, though, and you'll take good care of them- of, of us- Oh. B- Breakdown is waking."
"So soon? I thought he'd take at least another thirty minutes. I want to keep all of you until I'm certain you're recovered. Prowl and Red Alert are deciding on rooms for you." Ratchet was already doing a few basic scans. Bluestreak was just fine, physically.
"Together. Like the Aerials... How do you feel, Breakdown?" Bluestreak had felt the Lamborghini's awareness, could feel the undercurrent of fear, ruthlessly suppressed. "And, Ratchet? Could you give Wildrider more painkillers, unless you want him to wake up now?"
Bluestreak's presence was... calm. Breakdown didn't think the grey mech knew what he had gotten into. "I'm... well enough." It was pointless to try and lie. "You- That is, Drag Strip salvaged Motormaster's force field generator. Do you want it?"
As negligent as the offer was, Bluestreak could feel Breakdown's panic. He was terrified the their new leader would take offense at the offer... "Yes. Please? Um, once he's awake, there's no hurry-" Bluestreak cut himself off abruptly. He didn't... need to talk to make himself heard... Breakdown was amused at his realization.
"I'll need to compare systems to make sure I install it correctly. You remember where the energon dispenser is, you can get more. I want you fully fueled as you recover," Ratchet said, taking Bluestreak's advise and giving Wildrider another dose of painkillers, checking the Ferrari's repairs. He was doing surprisingly well.
"Of course." Breakdown went and drew two cubes of energon, handing one to Bluestreak. Bluestreak was grateful, attempting to show his feelings via their bond instead of speaking. Breakdown wasn't sure why Bluestreak was doing that, but it was nice to receive gratitude. Halfway through the cubes, Drag Strip woke up.
"Ugh... who hit- oh, right." Drag Strip managed to sit up, to Bluestreak's surprise, looking around the room. Bluestreak was surprised once again when words came across the bond, and then he realized how Breakdown had been talking to his brothers. ~So, I guess we won that race. Ah... hello.~
~H- hello,~ Bluestreak answered tentatively. Gnawing on his lower derma for a moment, the grey mech stood and got a cube of energon for Drag Strip, ignoring the apprehensive shock from his... teammates? Bondeds? ...Brothers?
"I suppose Dead End will be up soon as well?" Ratchet asked, coming over to check Drag Strip. "Please try to keep him still until I've checked him. Also, I did disable your weapons. Drag Strip, I want to take a look at the force-field generator you salvaged."
"Right-oh," the yellow mech answered, balancing the energon cube and digging through his subspace. After a moment, he brought out an object a little bigger than his hand, handing it to Ratchet. Only then did Drag Strip eagerly drink the energon. Bluestreak could feel how pleased he was to get it, and abruptly remembered how starved for praise Drag Strip was, and how frightened Breakdown had been when mentioning it.
~Thank you. For, remembering to grab the generator,~ Bluestreak sent, silently. He had the feeling that it was better to say these sorts of things in private... at least some of the time. Bluestreak found himself looking into a pair of dazzlingly grateful red optics. "Are you going to keep the red optics, because that's mostly Decepticons that have red you're... um, you're not anymore so were you going to keep them or change them?"
"Probably change. 'End'll complain they don't match his paint." Breakdown had felt Bluestreak's... alarm at looking into red optics. It was second nature to placate their leader, and they had no particular desire to retain too many Decepticon traits.
~Y- you'll probably need it...~ Drag Strip was unsure how to respond, and seized the topic of conversation eagerly. "Yes! Blue optics, and I'm sure a color can be found that 'End would like."
"Why am I supposed to like anything?" Dead End asked, optics still offline, not moving. ~I heard he wanted to check me. There's not much point to it, but I'll allow it. ...Greetings, Bluestreak.~
"Because I think you'd look- all of you, pretty good with blue optics, and I'm not, you know, used to red, and, um, it kind of scares me, but if you want to keep the red it's not a big deal, really, but Drag Strip is right, we do have lots of blues for you to look at..." Bluestreak smiled a little.
"They can look while I check this over. First Aid can change the lenses, it's not that hard," Ratchet commented, barely looking up from the generator Drag Strip had handed him. "Then First Aid and I can install this, assuming it passes my inspection." There was a lightness to his tone that suggested he was teasing. Ratchet certainly knew enough about gestalts, and he had seen what this one had gone through, to know that they were unlikely to put a member in danger unless they absolutely had to.
"I suppose I might as well." Dead End sat up, looking at Bluestreak and nodding a little as he took the energon the other had brought. Bluestreak could feel that Dead End was as surprised as Drag Strip had been.
"Here you go, then. You can all look. First Aid will be in soon. I'll be busy, so leave me alone unless Wildrider wakes." Nodding, Ratchet went into his office after bringing out a tray of optics.
"Okay, that's just a little freaky. Hum... I'll go with pale. These." Drag Strip chose quickly, and then moved out of the way. Bluestreak could feel a curiosity coming from him, but didn't feel comfortable pushing Drag Strip to talk.
"That kind of reminds me, was there anything you left behind, like mementos or anything, I mean, I'm sure I could ask Mirage if he would be able to pick anything up that you left the next time he's on a mission-"
"Only 'End's wax and paints, and I'm sure we can get replacements for those," Breakdown answered, picking a shade of blue that he thought would match his paint.
"Of course, that stuff is all pretty easy for us to get." Bluestreak smiled, watching Dead End pick through the optics listlessly. He was struck once again by the realization that this was his team now. He had taken responsibility for them...
"Hello. Ratchet tells me I'm supposed to change out your optics? Who's first?" Walking in, First Aid managed to smile.
"I'll go first," Drag Strip said, choosing a berth and laying down. "Breakdown, want to watch?" ~You'll know exactly what to expect.~
"I'd like to watch to," Bluestreak added, moving a little closer. ~He'll... stop if I ask him to.~ The explanation was clumsy, and Bluestreak knew First Aid wouldn't attempt anything, but he could feel Breakdown relax just a little as he approached to watch the change.
"Well, this is more of a show than I'm used to." First Aid smiled again, digits moving surely as he numbed Drag Strip's face and removed his optics. "Are you... um, are you feeling okay, Blue'? You're... being quiet," he asked, attaching the new optics. "There, everything working?"
Waiting until Drag Strip had answered in the affirmative and First Aid had unnumbed him, Bluestreak answered, "I'm fine. I just, you know, I have a lot to think about, and just..."
"He doesn't need to annoy you by runnin' his voc," Breakdown said bluntly. "He can listen to us, and babble to us, without botherin' any of you." He exchanged places with Drag Strip, letting First Aid numb him. Bluestreak wasn't surprised when Breakdown emotionally pressed closer to Drag Strip, almost begging for reassurance.
"These." Standing, with chosen optics in hand, Dead End made his way over to the knot of mechs. He joined the emotional knot as well, the despair actually draining away Breakdown's paranoia. If it was all going to end, why worry? Bluestreak joined shyly, hating the surprise they felt. It wasn't exactly reassurance, but Breakdown was able to endure until the operation was finished, vacating the berth the moment he was allowed.
Dead End had chosen very dark optics, apparently to match the black he had. He didn't say anything as First Aid installed them, and Bluestreak, following Drag Strip's lead, was very careful to pay attention to the red and black mech and let Breakdown go unseen for a while.
"Those look nice, Dead End. You all do..." Bluestreak smiled at them, and found himself wishing that he wasn't so easily swayed by simple things like visuals... Optic color should not have made him so uncomfortable in the first place!
~But they did. And now you're mostly comfortable again. And the others will be comfortable as well. This is not a big thing.~ Bluestreak wasn't actually sure who said that, though he guessed Breakdown. It... didn't really matter, he discovered. None of the Stunticons were unhappy about the change. That was what mattered...
"Alright, I think I've figured this thing out. If one of you would be willing to let me compare systems, I would be happier, but even without that, I think we're ready to put this in, if you're comfortable with that, Blue." Ratchet came out of his office with the force-field generator, looking from mech to mech expectantly. No one bothered to answer, Dead End simply opening himself up without a care. His most prominent thought, as far as Bluestreak could tell, was that he hoped his offlining was fast. In all honesty, the sheer depth of Dead End's apathy was beginning to frighten him.
~It's better when Wild's online.~ Nodding a little at Drag Strip's explanation, Bluestreak got onto the berth next to Dead End. Cobalt optics were directed towards him for a moment, and then Ratchet offlined Bluestreak for the installation.
He onlined to find a red and black face about a hands-breath away. "He's awake!" the face said, and Bluestreak realized this was Wildrider, who had apparently changed optic color while Bluestreak was offline.
"Yes, I am... is this a surprise or something?" Bluestreak didn't feel any different...
"Hehehe... No no! No surprise. But it is news, it really is!" Bluestreak could feel Wildrider's overwhelming cheerfulness, with only a slight undercurrent of his earlier all-encompassing confusion.
"You'll should have the option to turn the force-field on, Blue'." Ratchet spoke up, ensuring he was heard. "I recommend you don't leave it up that much, because it does use quite a lot of energy. I'm not sure where they found... anyway. I'll let you explore it."
"A room has been found," Prowl added. Bluestreak hadn't realized Prowl was in the med bay. Looking around as Wildrider helped him sit up, the grey mech saw both Prowl and Red Alert, in addition to the Stunticons and the two medics. "Also, Bluestreak, you have no duties for the next month."
"I want Wildrider back here in two days to see how his repairs are taking. Don't do anything strenuous," Ratchet added. Bluestreak stood, nodding and then following Prowl and Red Alert to the quarters that had been chosen for them all. The rooms were pretty much the same as the Aerialbot's and the Protectobot's suits, five personal berth rooms around one common room which connected to the rest of the Ark. It would work very well, and Bluestreak's stuff had already been moved to one of the private rooms.
Three days went by, with Bluestreak slowly adapting to spending time with the, now former, Decepticons. It was not as distasteful as he had feared. They listened to him when he talked about the war, or about Cybertron, which they had barely seen. They didn't seem curious as to why anyone was fighting, a fact that kind of disturbed Bluestreak, but then, it did help to assure him that they really would stay just by being treated nicely.
The third day ended with an odd soreness in his chest. Waking on the fourth day was painful, and Bluestreak stumbled out of his room bitting back whimpers. He looked at Breakdown in confusion, but it was Drag Strip who came and helped him to the couch.
"We didn't expect it to hit you so soon." Drag Strip spoke quietly, staying close to Bluestreak. The contact felt good to the grey mech, welcome. It made the pain ease. He yelped in surprise when Wildrider draped against his other side, but relaxed a moment later.
"Your spark misses us. It doesn't have to be done all at once, not usually, though you might prefer it, but one or two of us in your berth at night would be enough, and time between can go longer after everything settles." Wildrider was still cheerful, but there was nervousness as well, and... lust. Enough lust came over the bond from the dark mech that Bluestreak moaned quietly. But... the idea of doing what Wildrider suggested...
"Make it stop hurting. Just... I can't-!" Bluestreak knew that 'his' team had been interfacing at night. He didn't mind it, not even getting the emotions as they did so. He had never thought about joining them.
"Shh... It's okay. We'll make it stop." It could always be worse, Breakdown knew that. Bluestreak hadn't done much in the way of actively leading, had done almost nothing to enforce rules or set himself above them. It was a nice reprieve, though his paranoia was getting worse, waiting for the facade to fall apart. As he thought, he opened Bluestreak up, pressing their sparks together while ignoring Wildrider's desire for 'more' to be done. This was still so much better than it had been.
Mewling, Bluestreak let it happen. After he and Breakdown overloaded, the others came, soft hands touching him and moving him, but keeping things fairly impersonal. He could feel their desire for more, for erotic caresses and lustful words, but he couldn't. He couldn't do that, not now, and they didn't push, ridiculously grateful just because he didn't hurt them. Bluestreak couldn't look up when they were done, as they slipped away to one of the private rooms. He didn't even know who's... The pain was gone, and he felt like he had betrayed them, feeling them work off the lust he had created and not sated. Stumbling a little as he stood, Bluestreak went to find First Aid. The gestalted medic would understand and have advice.
A couple hours later, feeling, in general, happier about life, the Stunticons left their rooms, braving the Ark in search for Bluestreak. On the way, they came to the rec-room, Breakdown flat off hiding behind Drag Strip and Dead End. Wildrider, practically bouncing on his toes, was more or less circling, looking around and enjoying the stability that came from having most of his brothers near him and the bonds so recently reaffirmed. He was the one to first see the human, sitting on a small yellow mech's shoulder.
"Hey! It's a native!" Calling out cheerfully, Wildrider picked the human up, using more care than it seemed. He had heard they were fragile, and even he knew that the Autobots didn't hurt humans.
"H-hey! Put me down!" the human yelled, striking futilely at the large black hand around him. Spike knew about the Stunticon's defection, of course, but that didn't mean he wanted to be at the mercy of one!
"Give Spike back!" Bumblebee yelled, grabbing towards Spike. Wildrider reacted instinctively, cupping his hands and pulling them closer to his body, and then Dead End was pushing him towards the middle of the other three, taking the place Breakdown had occupied, as the Autobots turned their guns towards the Stunticons. At least there wasn't any shooting, Wildrider thought miserably.
"Please lower your weaponry," Dead End asked, preparing for a fight and hoping Bluestreak wouldn't be too angry.
"Give Spike back!" Bumblebee repeated, looking towards Wildrider's hands. Spike was still yelling, muffled now.
"What's going on?" The Autobots parted as Bluestreak approached the Stunticons, and the former Decepticons looked at him fearfully. "Wildrider, give him to me." Bluestreak waited until the black mech obeyed, then began babbling as he carefully handed Spike to Bumblebee. "Spike, are you okay, only he didn't mean to hurt you, he was actually trying to be careful, I'm sorry, I should have warned them not to do that..."
~You can't just pick them up without permission. You have to ask!~ Scolding them silently, Bluestreak tried not to notice how the Stunticons flinched away from him. It really was his fault, he had so much to tell them, and he'd just forgotten that they didn't know how to behave around humans!
"What happened?" Prowl was asking this time. Fighting back nervousness, Bluestreak faced the black and white mech, ready to explain. Spike beat him to it.
"It seems to be just a misunderstanding, Prowl. I'm not hurt, I was just surprised."
"It won't happen again, Prowl, everyone's just jumpy, and they were just coming to look for me, but next time we socialize I'll be right there so this won't happen again," Bluestreak added, looking at Prowl earnestly. The tactician finally nodded, and Bluestreak herded the others all the way back to their quarters, only slowly relaxing. Things could have gone so wrong!
"Wildrider really was being careful. We know how important humans are to, um, Autobots..." Drag Strip was hoping to buy Wildrider a little leniency, at least.
Bluestreak looked at Drag Strip blankly for a moment. "I know that. Like I said, it was my fault- I'm not angry! I was just... I could feel how frightened you all were and I couldn't tell why..." Primus, he wasn't going to hit them!
"We couldn't find you..." Wildrider sounded almost lost, and Bluestreak was embracing the mech a spark-beat after the words, cycling his vents.
"I was just in med-bay. I needed to talk to First Aid... I didn't mean to take so long." Bluestreak squeaked a little as the other Stunticons pressed against him, shivering a little. They didn't know how to handle him, how to react when he didn't get angry... Bluestreak could read their expectations with painful ease and precision. They had opened the bonds in what had to be an unconscious reaction, trying to convince him that they were sorry, that they would do whatever he said... If Motormaster hadn't already been offline, Bluestreak thought he would have hunted the black and grey mech down himself.
"How are we supposed to handle the native species?" Dead End asked, always the calmest of them all. They were so desperate...
"You- you need to remember that they're people. Um... Wildrider was doing good to be careful, but... you need to ask before picking them up, and you can't touch them if they don't want you to. Ah, unless you're touching them to save their life, that's different." They all gave a stuttered gasp as Bluestreak remembered to praise what Wildrider had done right. First Aid was right... he just needed to give them a chance, and not do anything unless he was comfortable with it.
Bluestreak took the Stunticons out the next day, figuring that they and the Ark crew both needed to get used to each other. They spent the day almost completely alone, only Prowl and Wheeljack coming over and saying hello. The Stunticons didn't seem to mind this too badly, though Bluestreak couldn't help but feel bad for them.
The second day went much better, the Protectobots making a concerted effort to befriend the Stunticons, aside from Blades, who spent his time staring at Breakdown. That night, unsurprisingly, was spent calming the white and blue Lamborghini. Even though he left most of work to the others, Bluestreak was exhausted when he went to his own recharge. They were so damaged, and it hurt him so badly to see it.
Drag Strip woke early the next morning, and slipped from the gestalt quarters quietly, heading to the rec room. He had the vague idea of bringing energon back for everyone, but got distracted when Sideswipe came up to talk.
"Hey! Ah... You're Drag Strip, right? I'm Sideswipe, I heard that, um, one of you brothers is looking for high quality wax?"
"...Yes. Dead... End would like some..." Drag Strip was slow to admit it, sure that the red mech wanted something in return. He took the wax fast enough when Sideswipe brought some out and practically forced it into Drag Strip's hands, though.
"Hey, you like competition too, don't you? I have an idea..." Drag Strip perked up at the suggestion of something to win, and Sideswipe smiled. "I'll teach you how to prank, and then we can find out who's best at it. How's that sound... Drag'?"
Drag Strip accepted the rubber sacks Sideswipe pulled from subspace. "What do I do with these?"
"They're filled with paint. First winner is the one to hit the best targets. And I'll give you some free advice, Drag'. Don't hit my bro. He won't take kindly to it." Smirking, Sideswipe waited for Drag Strip's nod before slipping out of the rec room.
He would go back to their room, Drag Strip decided. Use the balloons on the way, and get the energon with his brothers. He smiled a little as he considered what would come after that. Bluestreak was so sweet, even if he couldn't bear to let them show him pleasure yet. It was better than finding pleasure in their pain, and more would come in time.
Having no real clue who counted as a 'good' target, the yellow mech thew at the first mech he saw. Ironhide dodged, and sparkly pink paint covered Optimus Prime's office. Drag Strip had approximately enough time to think 'Oh slag' before Ironhide tackled him.
Bluestreak, with the rest of his gestalt, was just leaving their quarters to get fuel. Drag Strip's panic changed that, so they were already changing direction when Prowl contacted Bluestreak. "It's okay, Drag Strip's fine, Prowl says it was just a prank," Bluestreak soothed, and sighed as the fear dissapated slightly. A couple clicks later, they were there.
"Sideswipe got to him. We caught him before he did anything, but we didn't expect Drag Strip to agree to anything. As you can see, no major harm was done." Prowl explained things quickly, and Wildrider started to cackle at the sight of Prime's office.
"I meant to hit him..." Drag Strip said mournfully, motioning at Ironhide with his chin. His arms were bound behind him by cuffs.
"I don't think that really helps," Bluestreak muttered, holding back his own laughter. ~You need to learn subtlety...~ Poor Drag Strip... Bluestreak couldn't feel angry with him. He had pulled quite enough pranks himself!
"The standard 24 hours in the brig, and you have to clean this up. I am sure you know the drill, Bluestreak," Prowl said. Bluestreak just nodded and started to hunt down a mop as Drag Strip was led away. Drag Strip didn't think he would ever forget the sight of his gestalt leader patiently preparing to clean up a mess he had made.
The brig wasn't bad. Drag Strip had known it wouldn't be. Around midday he could feel the others renewing their bonds. They didn't want Bluestreak to hurt like he had last time. Drag Strip agreed fully, and it was his own fault he wasn't there.
One good thing did happen in the brig. Sideswipe was there, and he told Drag Strip that he had won that round. The red Lamborghini found it hilarious that he had hit Optimus' office. That, and the lack of recrimination from his brothers, had the yellow mech feeling pretty good when he was released the next morning. Despite the gestalt bond, he was surprised to find Bluestreak waiting for him.
"You... weren't here last night, and I'm not hurting, but I don't know if you will, and- And I'm not angry at you at all, I actually thought it was funny, everyone did, really, but, you know, there are rules, and so that's why I let them, but I wanted you to know and anyway..." Drag Strip could only feel nervousness and determination from Bluestreak as the gestalt leader almost forced himself to speak.
"I know. I can feel that. That doesn't change the fact I made things hard on you. I'm sorry, I won't... I'll not talk to him ag-"
"Drag Strip. No," Bluestreak interrupted. Motioning for the yellow mech to follow, he lead the way to his room, ignoring Drag Strip's fear. "He's my friend too. Go right ahead and make friends with him. Play pranks. I don't mind, and it makes others happy. Please... try not to be afraid of me..." He turned, and Drag Strip was not sure what to do as he was pulled into a kiss. Hands went for his wheels, and Drag Strip couldn't stop himself from reaching for Bluestreak's doorwings.
Bluestreak's hands were unsure as the two mechs tumbled to the berth. He could not make himself forget that Drag Strip had been a Decepticon, with all that meant, but he could focus on the needy, damaged, painfully afraid mech that Drag Strip was. In causing that mech pleasure, in allowing that mech to give pleasure, Bluestreak could put aside fear and hate and find friendship and pleasure, if not yet love. It would come, he was sure.
Drag Strip was lost in the joy of pleasure with no pain, no demands. The doorwings fascinated him, and made Bluestreak feel so good, make such interesting noises. They were both too unsure to let the interface go for long, chests opening after only a moment or two. The merge was even faster, but the overload sated them, and Drag Strip was able to lay in his leader's arms afterwards. Bluestreak cooed a little, stroking him softly. Thanks were not needed, gratitude felt over the renewed bond.
After a while, the other Stunticons found their way into the room, wordlessly welcomed by Bluestreak. They squirmed their way onto the berth, and Bluestreak gave a shudder before moving to better cuddle with his brothers. It was... good, to spend time like this.
Bluestreak thought nothing of it when he woke up a week later and the other Stunticons were nowhere around. They were gaining confidence, making friends. Breakdown seemed to enjoy Prowl's company, while Wildrider found Wheeljack's propensity for explosions to be hilarious. Drag Strip was still hesitant about his friendship with Sideswipe, and Mirage was quite happy to talk about Cybertron and teach Dead End about the old art. Bluestreak toot the time to fuel and wash, and the day was half over before Prowl came up to him.
"Where is your team?" It was the urgency that caught Bluestreak, and he looked at Prowl curiously while using the gestalt bond.
~Hey, where are your? Prowl's asking about you.~ Bluestreak could feel their pleasure at something, excitement, a drive to win... None of it was really that much out of the ordinary.
~Um, not really sure. I think we just left a town...~ Wildrider was distracted by whatever they were doing.
~We are racing. I told them we should have waited for you,~ Dead End added, and Bluestreak ignored the graphic musing on how he would offline soon. It was common for Dead End to feel that way, after all...
"They're racing somewhere, I'm not sure where, they don't know where, they just left a town but I don't know, Prowl, what's wrong?" Bluestreak did not like the expression on Prowl's face, and unconsciously pressed the other Stunticons for more information.
Menasor woke.
There was no shooting. No pain... There were explosions, his bodies, for the most part, gleefully playing on the road, dodging the other cars, or going right through them. His components treated themselves the same way... all but the new one? It said he should stop? Autobots...? Menasor was unsure, and the gestalt merge fell apart, leaving the components stunned and shivering wherever they happened to be or to stop.
"Primus..." Bluestreak whispered, looking at Prowl, who was kneeling and holding him up. "Primus, please, they didn't know, please don't be angry this time, I'll teach them, they won't ever do this again, Prowl, I promise, I just need to make them understand, I swear, please-"
"Bluestreak," Prowl interrupted sternly. "Calm yourself. You are the leader, appropriate punishments are up to you. Just tell Prime and myself what you plan this time. They... were the ones behind the reports of destructive racing vehicles, correct?"
Still shivering a little form the unexpected processor sharing, Bluestreak nodded, letting Prowl help him stand. "They didn't mean to hurt anyone... They just don't understand...."
Prowl made soothing noises, accustomed to calming Bluestreak down, even if the reason was new, slowly coaxing the grey mech to his office and contacting Optimus. The three of them were waiting when the four Stunticons walked in, a curious mix of nervous and defiant.
"At least tell us what we did wrong," Breakdown said, pleading almost inaudible in his tone. He had, unexpectedly, taken the role of 'ambassador' to the other Autobots on his brothers' behalf when Bluestreak wasn't around. Or, like this, when Bluestreak seemed to be against them.
Bluestreak gave Optimus a look before going over and more or less forcing Breakdown into a hug. "It's okay. We're not going to the brig, you won't be hurt. I told them what Menasor showed me, and they understand, they'll take care of things, but there are some things we have to do, the five of us. Right now let's go get some energon, and then I want to hear you say what you were doing." Bewildered, the Stunticons followed their leader out of the room.
All five of them were silent while they gathered energon, the entire way back to their room. Bluestreak could feel the silent tension curling in them, and they stood frozen when the door closed. "Dead End," Bluestreak said, and the red Porsche flinched before stepping forward. "Please explain to me what you were doing." Words weren't needed, but Bluestreak was more comfortable with them, and so Dead End spoke.
"We were racing. We weren't hurting anyone, just racing and ramming each other. We had our forcefields up, even, so we wouldn't hurt each other!" Even through his apathy, Bluestreak could hear desperation in Dead End's voice. Every one of the formerly Decepticon Stunticons fully expected Bluestreak to beat them, though they fervently believed that he was better than Motormaster. Bluestreak groaned a little.
"We have a race track here. Drag Strip, I thought Sideswipe had told you?" Bluestreak sighed, shaking his head a little. "Drink you energon, and then we need to take a drive. ...Please. Try to relax. I don't intend to hurt you at all."
"It wouldn't be so bad if you did, at least then it would be over with..." Wildrider muttered, looking at the ground and awkwardly drinking.
Bluestreak was silent a moment, and then he shook his head again. "No. No, and I want you to listen to me." There was a moment of confusion, and then he opened himself through the bond as much as he could, speaking over it and aloud. "~I swear now, on my spark and before Primus Himself, I will never hit any of you in punishment.~" Bluestreak looked at each of the former Decepticons in turn, and they shivered and broke, surrounding him and pressing against him with soft mewls. They accepted his oath, though there was a lot of confusion over what he would do.
"Come on... drink up..." Bluestreak broke the near-silence gently, stroking those near him while following his own suggestion. The others did so slowly, reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort. Eventually they were all finished, and Bluestreak led them out to the highway.
They drove in silence, Bluestreak turning occasionally, obviously aware of where they were going. A couple hours later, turning down another street abruptly brought the Stunticons into a scene of devastation.
~Wow. What happened here? It looks like one of those disaster movies!~ Drag Strip muttered, angling his path to be slightly closer to Wildrider.
~You ought to recognize the location,~ Bluestreak answered, mental tone carefully neutral. He felt his team shiver, still used to bad things happening when their leader was angry. There was nothing he could do about that at the moment.
Wildrider got it first, his uncertain logic making a leap that was foreign to the gestalt. ~But... We didn't hit anything! We were being careful!~
~The other cars on the road didn't have the time or the skill to get safely out of the way,~ Bluestreak answered sadly. Driving up to one of the relief crews, he transformed. "We're here to help clean this up. I'm sorry for my team's behavior. You have my word that it will never happen again."
It was a quiet team that Bluestreak lead home that night. They huddled closely to him, even on the road, and he silently opened himself to them, giving whatever comfort they needed. He wasn't angry with them... Especially not now, not seeing them.
It was neither haughtiness nor fear that drove the gestalt to avoid the rec room and go straight to their own quarters. It was need, the need to be together. They never even thought of going into individual rooms, and Bluestreak found he didn't want to. He wanted to be here, with his team, with his... brothers, as comforting touches turned seductive, as worried whimpers faded into kissing and pleased moans and soft little cries. Watching Drag Strip and Breakdown merge right next to him was almost unbelievably erotic, and the sense of understanding that Dead End radiated when Bluestreak turned to him for help with the need was freeing. Bluestreak still couldn't say that he loved them, but... they were his, his family, his gestalt. And he was theirs.
The next couple of days were like that. The Stunticons helped to clean up their mess, even growing the least bit friendly with the other workers, who appreciated the former Decepticons repentance. In the evenings, they would stay in the rec room long enough to get energon, but it was apparent to all that they were gestalted, with all the changes that meant. Then came the day that Bluestreak lead his team down a different road, to a quiet meadow with carved stones laid out. He told them to be quiet, pushing that it was important, and they obeyed.
After maybe an hour, the quite was broken by the solemn tolling of a near-by bell. A little while after that, a line of black cars pulled up, and Bluestreak could feel a bubble of glee from Wildrider at the sight of so many like-colored vehicles. The glee burst a moment later as black-clad humans left the vehicles, and Bluestreak wasn't surprised that Wildrider was, again, the first to get it.
~A funeral? ...We caused it...? W- when they tried to get out of our way...?~ At Bluestreak's silent affirmative, Dead End took up the reasoning.
~Damaging what they are in can... Can kill them?~ Bluestreak found himself wishing he could hold them when he answered.
~And worse. They're not like us, they can't replace parts. Your race caused five deaths, three people are in stasis and can't be brought out, six have lost the use of one or more limbs for the rest of their lives, and twelve are still repairing their injuries.~ Bluestreak used Cybertronain terms, wanting to make sure that his team understood what he was saying.
~Oh.~
Bluestreak knew they still weren't sure why it mattered. It was just humans, they were fun to be around but ultimately inferior. Bluestreak didn't try to explain how wrong that was... It was enough that they would be careful, that they were willing to give humans a chance. He wasn't try to erase their perspectives, he liked the differences they brought to the bond. Change, beyond the minimum, would take time. They did see the humans as people now... that was enough.
---
"Bluestreak, are you certain?" Prowl asked. Bluestreak gave a little bit of a sigh, he really did appreciate Prowl's caution, but...
"They are loyal to me. They may not understand our ideals, but they are trying, and they will do what I ask of them. They like- we are beginning to love each other, I think. And they want to help!" Bluestreak answered.
"But sending them into battle with mechs they lived with, knew... Bluestreak, that is a lot to ask of them." Prowl appreciated that Bluestreak was slowly becoming happier with what he had chosen, comfortable and content with it. But asking to lead the fragile team into battle... and yet Prowl could not ignore help they could give. Or the trouble they could cause...
"Mechs they hated, who knew what they suffered and ignored it! Prowl, they chose me, an enemy, an unknown, over any of those mechs they knew!"
Prowl didn't answer right away, looking at Bluestreak. Really looking at him... He was maturing, Prowl realized. Right now his doors were flared, and he stood straight, lacking the slight hunch Bluestreak had so often shown... He was willing to fight for his team, his bonded gestalt team, even in the face of his own commander's doubt. Making a decision that was not entirely logic-bound, Prowl nodded. "I will put your team on active rotation." They might not be deployed in the next battle, but it would happen eventually, and in all likelihood, soon.
"Thank you, Prowl! We won't let you down, I'll make sure of it!" Smiling happily, Bluestreak left the office to go tell his mechs. He felt like seeing their expressions, even if they already could guess it was good news.
It was maybe a month later that the untested gestalt team actually saw combat. It was the usual chaos, but Prowl thought Bluestreak was actually handling it pretty well. He was still acting as a sniper, able to see the battle and relay orders to his team instantly. It was going well. Until everything went wrong.
Dead End was teaming up with Drag Strip, shooting at Seekers and trying to get them low enough for his yellow brother to attack them. Drag Strip had heard about 'Jet Judo', and had bragged that he would be better than either of the Twins, and Dead End just enjoyed harrying them. The red mech misjudged a shot, Dirge didn't do what was expected, and the end result was that the cone-head came down, wing on fire, practically on top of Bluestreak, who had been hiding in a forest.
The Stunticons looked towards the fire, mirrored expressions of terror on their faces, just before the screaming started.
It didn't actually take long for Inferno to put the beginning fire out, or for the Stunticons to stumble towards their leader, who was curled into a ball. None of them were quite sure what to do, and they looked at each other helplessly, none quite daring to touch. But when Prowl stepped forward to take charge, Drag Strip hissed at him, moving between his leader and the tactician. A moment later, Wildrider took the chance, reaching out and moving Bluestreak into his arms. The grey mech mewled, pulled away, and then stopped and threw himself at the black mech hard enough to knock them both to the ground. Breakdown and Dead End joined, and Drag Strip, after glaring one last time at Prowl, also joined the pile. With work to be done elsewhere, Prowl had no choice but to leave the gestalt to itself.
Bluestreak was not entirely sane at the moment, it appeared, and he was showing it by buffeting his team with just as many fears as they had ever shown, even as he caressed and mewled needily. The fire, and the Seeker falling from above, had trigged every memory he tried to hide, and the Stunticons were getting quite intimately aware of their leader's nightmares.
He had been trapped and alone and scared, and so young. No-one had preyed on his weakness, he had had no Motormaster to twist him further, but he had never really dealt with the trauma, never known how. None of the others knew how to deal with it either, but they accepted his fears, welcomed him, made no effort to shut him out or stop his sharing.
The physical pleasure and affirmation of their bonds was little more than a side effect. Bluestreak was able to rest after overload, to fall into recharge without fear, with mech that he, for the first time, truly regarded as his mates. He woke up just as close, Menasor a hovering presence on the edge of consciousness, with no sense of fear. Almost immediately, Bluestreak felt something on Dead End, small and soft, as though it was on his own chassis. It had to be the overmind's nearness...
Onlining optics slowly, pretty sure they were his own, Bluestreak saw it was a bird on his red and black brother. A pretty bird, but he wasn't sure what kind. Feeling the others beginning to wake, Bluestreak sent a quite order to hold still. He didn't want to startle the small avian. Mechs woke around him, and Wildrider went so far as to softly 'ask' if he could use Bluestreak's optics, wanting a better view of the creature. The quiet sharing lasted until the bird tired of its perch and fluttered away, at which point the five mechs carefully stood up, picking sticks and debris out of each other wordlessly.
Before they were ready to go, but after they were no longer ready to stay, First Aid showed up. Hot Spot came out of the singed forest a moment later, followed by the rest of the gestalt. Blades glanced at Breakdown, but a glare from Streetwise and a motion from Hot Spot made him look away again.
"Would Menasor like to meet Defensor?" Hot Spot asked. He was talking to Bluestreak, and to Bluestreak only, and what some mechs might have seen as insulting, the new gestalt leader knew was simply respectful.
"We've never deliberately merged... not without combining," Bluestreak answered. It would be... NICE to combine, he thought, to really join with his mates like they were meant to. He would have to ask Ratchet for some modifications. "I can't say how long it will last."
"We won't combine either, then. It would be a good thing to practice, no?"
Bluestreak nodded, still feeling the overmind right there, so close to him. There was still a thrill of fear as he tipped into, let Menasor take over, and he could feel his mate's fear as well. The merge lasted only a few moments, and left them disoriented and blinking, but Defensor was watching, components moving to support them. With a shiver, the Stunticons tried again, and again.
After a week, hunger was too much to ignore, and the rations the Protectobots had brought had run out. Bluestreak lead his team back to the Ark, half Menasor and only half himself. This was what the Aerialbots had spoken of, this closeness... never alone. Never alone, and though they hadn't said a thing, Bluestreak knew he was loved, because he loved them, and he felt the same emotion reflected from their processors.
Bluestreak woke on a berth, groaning. His head hurt, and his spark...
"How do you feel, Blue'?" Ratchet asked, coming over at the groan. "You're the first to wake."
"I'm sore..." Even recharging, he could feel them. Light presences against his, suggestions of personalities not his own. Bluestreak found it surprisingly comforting.
"The ache should diminish in time. You were all under a lot of strain, and your systems need time to readjust. None of them were fueled properly or-"
"Ratchet, I know." Bluestreak did know... he had bonded them. "I know they'll recover, though, and you'll take good care of them- of, of us- Oh. B- Breakdown is waking."
"So soon? I thought he'd take at least another thirty minutes. I want to keep all of you until I'm certain you're recovered. Prowl and Red Alert are deciding on rooms for you." Ratchet was already doing a few basic scans. Bluestreak was just fine, physically.
"Together. Like the Aerials... How do you feel, Breakdown?" Bluestreak had felt the Lamborghini's awareness, could feel the undercurrent of fear, ruthlessly suppressed. "And, Ratchet? Could you give Wildrider more painkillers, unless you want him to wake up now?"
Bluestreak's presence was... calm. Breakdown didn't think the grey mech knew what he had gotten into. "I'm... well enough." It was pointless to try and lie. "You- That is, Drag Strip salvaged Motormaster's force field generator. Do you want it?"
As negligent as the offer was, Bluestreak could feel Breakdown's panic. He was terrified the their new leader would take offense at the offer... "Yes. Please? Um, once he's awake, there's no hurry-" Bluestreak cut himself off abruptly. He didn't... need to talk to make himself heard... Breakdown was amused at his realization.
"I'll need to compare systems to make sure I install it correctly. You remember where the energon dispenser is, you can get more. I want you fully fueled as you recover," Ratchet said, taking Bluestreak's advise and giving Wildrider another dose of painkillers, checking the Ferrari's repairs. He was doing surprisingly well.
"Of course." Breakdown went and drew two cubes of energon, handing one to Bluestreak. Bluestreak was grateful, attempting to show his feelings via their bond instead of speaking. Breakdown wasn't sure why Bluestreak was doing that, but it was nice to receive gratitude. Halfway through the cubes, Drag Strip woke up.
"Ugh... who hit- oh, right." Drag Strip managed to sit up, to Bluestreak's surprise, looking around the room. Bluestreak was surprised once again when words came across the bond, and then he realized how Breakdown had been talking to his brothers. ~So, I guess we won that race. Ah... hello.~
~H- hello,~ Bluestreak answered tentatively. Gnawing on his lower derma for a moment, the grey mech stood and got a cube of energon for Drag Strip, ignoring the apprehensive shock from his... teammates? Bondeds? ...Brothers?
"I suppose Dead End will be up soon as well?" Ratchet asked, coming over to check Drag Strip. "Please try to keep him still until I've checked him. Also, I did disable your weapons. Drag Strip, I want to take a look at the force-field generator you salvaged."
"Right-oh," the yellow mech answered, balancing the energon cube and digging through his subspace. After a moment, he brought out an object a little bigger than his hand, handing it to Ratchet. Only then did Drag Strip eagerly drink the energon. Bluestreak could feel how pleased he was to get it, and abruptly remembered how starved for praise Drag Strip was, and how frightened Breakdown had been when mentioning it.
~Thank you. For, remembering to grab the generator,~ Bluestreak sent, silently. He had the feeling that it was better to say these sorts of things in private... at least some of the time. Bluestreak found himself looking into a pair of dazzlingly grateful red optics. "Are you going to keep the red optics, because that's mostly Decepticons that have red you're... um, you're not anymore so were you going to keep them or change them?"
"Probably change. 'End'll complain they don't match his paint." Breakdown had felt Bluestreak's... alarm at looking into red optics. It was second nature to placate their leader, and they had no particular desire to retain too many Decepticon traits.
~Y- you'll probably need it...~ Drag Strip was unsure how to respond, and seized the topic of conversation eagerly. "Yes! Blue optics, and I'm sure a color can be found that 'End would like."
"Why am I supposed to like anything?" Dead End asked, optics still offline, not moving. ~I heard he wanted to check me. There's not much point to it, but I'll allow it. ...Greetings, Bluestreak.~
"Because I think you'd look- all of you, pretty good with blue optics, and I'm not, you know, used to red, and, um, it kind of scares me, but if you want to keep the red it's not a big deal, really, but Drag Strip is right, we do have lots of blues for you to look at..." Bluestreak smiled a little.
"They can look while I check this over. First Aid can change the lenses, it's not that hard," Ratchet commented, barely looking up from the generator Drag Strip had handed him. "Then First Aid and I can install this, assuming it passes my inspection." There was a lightness to his tone that suggested he was teasing. Ratchet certainly knew enough about gestalts, and he had seen what this one had gone through, to know that they were unlikely to put a member in danger unless they absolutely had to.
"I suppose I might as well." Dead End sat up, looking at Bluestreak and nodding a little as he took the energon the other had brought. Bluestreak could feel that Dead End was as surprised as Drag Strip had been.
"Here you go, then. You can all look. First Aid will be in soon. I'll be busy, so leave me alone unless Wildrider wakes." Nodding, Ratchet went into his office after bringing out a tray of optics.
"Okay, that's just a little freaky. Hum... I'll go with pale. These." Drag Strip chose quickly, and then moved out of the way. Bluestreak could feel a curiosity coming from him, but didn't feel comfortable pushing Drag Strip to talk.
"That kind of reminds me, was there anything you left behind, like mementos or anything, I mean, I'm sure I could ask Mirage if he would be able to pick anything up that you left the next time he's on a mission-"
"Only 'End's wax and paints, and I'm sure we can get replacements for those," Breakdown answered, picking a shade of blue that he thought would match his paint.
"Of course, that stuff is all pretty easy for us to get." Bluestreak smiled, watching Dead End pick through the optics listlessly. He was struck once again by the realization that this was his team now. He had taken responsibility for them...
"Hello. Ratchet tells me I'm supposed to change out your optics? Who's first?" Walking in, First Aid managed to smile.
"I'll go first," Drag Strip said, choosing a berth and laying down. "Breakdown, want to watch?" ~You'll know exactly what to expect.~
"I'd like to watch to," Bluestreak added, moving a little closer. ~He'll... stop if I ask him to.~ The explanation was clumsy, and Bluestreak knew First Aid wouldn't attempt anything, but he could feel Breakdown relax just a little as he approached to watch the change.
"Well, this is more of a show than I'm used to." First Aid smiled again, digits moving surely as he numbed Drag Strip's face and removed his optics. "Are you... um, are you feeling okay, Blue'? You're... being quiet," he asked, attaching the new optics. "There, everything working?"
Waiting until Drag Strip had answered in the affirmative and First Aid had unnumbed him, Bluestreak answered, "I'm fine. I just, you know, I have a lot to think about, and just..."
"He doesn't need to annoy you by runnin' his voc," Breakdown said bluntly. "He can listen to us, and babble to us, without botherin' any of you." He exchanged places with Drag Strip, letting First Aid numb him. Bluestreak wasn't surprised when Breakdown emotionally pressed closer to Drag Strip, almost begging for reassurance.
"These." Standing, with chosen optics in hand, Dead End made his way over to the knot of mechs. He joined the emotional knot as well, the despair actually draining away Breakdown's paranoia. If it was all going to end, why worry? Bluestreak joined shyly, hating the surprise they felt. It wasn't exactly reassurance, but Breakdown was able to endure until the operation was finished, vacating the berth the moment he was allowed.
Dead End had chosen very dark optics, apparently to match the black he had. He didn't say anything as First Aid installed them, and Bluestreak, following Drag Strip's lead, was very careful to pay attention to the red and black mech and let Breakdown go unseen for a while.
"Those look nice, Dead End. You all do..." Bluestreak smiled at them, and found himself wishing that he wasn't so easily swayed by simple things like visuals... Optic color should not have made him so uncomfortable in the first place!
~But they did. And now you're mostly comfortable again. And the others will be comfortable as well. This is not a big thing.~ Bluestreak wasn't actually sure who said that, though he guessed Breakdown. It... didn't really matter, he discovered. None of the Stunticons were unhappy about the change. That was what mattered...
"Alright, I think I've figured this thing out. If one of you would be willing to let me compare systems, I would be happier, but even without that, I think we're ready to put this in, if you're comfortable with that, Blue." Ratchet came out of his office with the force-field generator, looking from mech to mech expectantly. No one bothered to answer, Dead End simply opening himself up without a care. His most prominent thought, as far as Bluestreak could tell, was that he hoped his offlining was fast. In all honesty, the sheer depth of Dead End's apathy was beginning to frighten him.
~It's better when Wild's online.~ Nodding a little at Drag Strip's explanation, Bluestreak got onto the berth next to Dead End. Cobalt optics were directed towards him for a moment, and then Ratchet offlined Bluestreak for the installation.
He onlined to find a red and black face about a hands-breath away. "He's awake!" the face said, and Bluestreak realized this was Wildrider, who had apparently changed optic color while Bluestreak was offline.
"Yes, I am... is this a surprise or something?" Bluestreak didn't feel any different...
"Hehehe... No no! No surprise. But it is news, it really is!" Bluestreak could feel Wildrider's overwhelming cheerfulness, with only a slight undercurrent of his earlier all-encompassing confusion.
"You'll should have the option to turn the force-field on, Blue'." Ratchet spoke up, ensuring he was heard. "I recommend you don't leave it up that much, because it does use quite a lot of energy. I'm not sure where they found... anyway. I'll let you explore it."
"A room has been found," Prowl added. Bluestreak hadn't realized Prowl was in the med bay. Looking around as Wildrider helped him sit up, the grey mech saw both Prowl and Red Alert, in addition to the Stunticons and the two medics. "Also, Bluestreak, you have no duties for the next month."
"I want Wildrider back here in two days to see how his repairs are taking. Don't do anything strenuous," Ratchet added. Bluestreak stood, nodding and then following Prowl and Red Alert to the quarters that had been chosen for them all. The rooms were pretty much the same as the Aerialbot's and the Protectobot's suits, five personal berth rooms around one common room which connected to the rest of the Ark. It would work very well, and Bluestreak's stuff had already been moved to one of the private rooms.
Three days went by, with Bluestreak slowly adapting to spending time with the, now former, Decepticons. It was not as distasteful as he had feared. They listened to him when he talked about the war, or about Cybertron, which they had barely seen. They didn't seem curious as to why anyone was fighting, a fact that kind of disturbed Bluestreak, but then, it did help to assure him that they really would stay just by being treated nicely.
The third day ended with an odd soreness in his chest. Waking on the fourth day was painful, and Bluestreak stumbled out of his room bitting back whimpers. He looked at Breakdown in confusion, but it was Drag Strip who came and helped him to the couch.
"We didn't expect it to hit you so soon." Drag Strip spoke quietly, staying close to Bluestreak. The contact felt good to the grey mech, welcome. It made the pain ease. He yelped in surprise when Wildrider draped against his other side, but relaxed a moment later.
"Your spark misses us. It doesn't have to be done all at once, not usually, though you might prefer it, but one or two of us in your berth at night would be enough, and time between can go longer after everything settles." Wildrider was still cheerful, but there was nervousness as well, and... lust. Enough lust came over the bond from the dark mech that Bluestreak moaned quietly. But... the idea of doing what Wildrider suggested...
"Make it stop hurting. Just... I can't-!" Bluestreak knew that 'his' team had been interfacing at night. He didn't mind it, not even getting the emotions as they did so. He had never thought about joining them.
"Shh... It's okay. We'll make it stop." It could always be worse, Breakdown knew that. Bluestreak hadn't done much in the way of actively leading, had done almost nothing to enforce rules or set himself above them. It was a nice reprieve, though his paranoia was getting worse, waiting for the facade to fall apart. As he thought, he opened Bluestreak up, pressing their sparks together while ignoring Wildrider's desire for 'more' to be done. This was still so much better than it had been.
Mewling, Bluestreak let it happen. After he and Breakdown overloaded, the others came, soft hands touching him and moving him, but keeping things fairly impersonal. He could feel their desire for more, for erotic caresses and lustful words, but he couldn't. He couldn't do that, not now, and they didn't push, ridiculously grateful just because he didn't hurt them. Bluestreak couldn't look up when they were done, as they slipped away to one of the private rooms. He didn't even know who's... The pain was gone, and he felt like he had betrayed them, feeling them work off the lust he had created and not sated. Stumbling a little as he stood, Bluestreak went to find First Aid. The gestalted medic would understand and have advice.
A couple hours later, feeling, in general, happier about life, the Stunticons left their rooms, braving the Ark in search for Bluestreak. On the way, they came to the rec-room, Breakdown flat off hiding behind Drag Strip and Dead End. Wildrider, practically bouncing on his toes, was more or less circling, looking around and enjoying the stability that came from having most of his brothers near him and the bonds so recently reaffirmed. He was the one to first see the human, sitting on a small yellow mech's shoulder.
"Hey! It's a native!" Calling out cheerfully, Wildrider picked the human up, using more care than it seemed. He had heard they were fragile, and even he knew that the Autobots didn't hurt humans.
"H-hey! Put me down!" the human yelled, striking futilely at the large black hand around him. Spike knew about the Stunticon's defection, of course, but that didn't mean he wanted to be at the mercy of one!
"Give Spike back!" Bumblebee yelled, grabbing towards Spike. Wildrider reacted instinctively, cupping his hands and pulling them closer to his body, and then Dead End was pushing him towards the middle of the other three, taking the place Breakdown had occupied, as the Autobots turned their guns towards the Stunticons. At least there wasn't any shooting, Wildrider thought miserably.
"Please lower your weaponry," Dead End asked, preparing for a fight and hoping Bluestreak wouldn't be too angry.
"Give Spike back!" Bumblebee repeated, looking towards Wildrider's hands. Spike was still yelling, muffled now.
"What's going on?" The Autobots parted as Bluestreak approached the Stunticons, and the former Decepticons looked at him fearfully. "Wildrider, give him to me." Bluestreak waited until the black mech obeyed, then began babbling as he carefully handed Spike to Bumblebee. "Spike, are you okay, only he didn't mean to hurt you, he was actually trying to be careful, I'm sorry, I should have warned them not to do that..."
~You can't just pick them up without permission. You have to ask!~ Scolding them silently, Bluestreak tried not to notice how the Stunticons flinched away from him. It really was his fault, he had so much to tell them, and he'd just forgotten that they didn't know how to behave around humans!
"What happened?" Prowl was asking this time. Fighting back nervousness, Bluestreak faced the black and white mech, ready to explain. Spike beat him to it.
"It seems to be just a misunderstanding, Prowl. I'm not hurt, I was just surprised."
"It won't happen again, Prowl, everyone's just jumpy, and they were just coming to look for me, but next time we socialize I'll be right there so this won't happen again," Bluestreak added, looking at Prowl earnestly. The tactician finally nodded, and Bluestreak herded the others all the way back to their quarters, only slowly relaxing. Things could have gone so wrong!
"Wildrider really was being careful. We know how important humans are to, um, Autobots..." Drag Strip was hoping to buy Wildrider a little leniency, at least.
Bluestreak looked at Drag Strip blankly for a moment. "I know that. Like I said, it was my fault- I'm not angry! I was just... I could feel how frightened you all were and I couldn't tell why..." Primus, he wasn't going to hit them!
"We couldn't find you..." Wildrider sounded almost lost, and Bluestreak was embracing the mech a spark-beat after the words, cycling his vents.
"I was just in med-bay. I needed to talk to First Aid... I didn't mean to take so long." Bluestreak squeaked a little as the other Stunticons pressed against him, shivering a little. They didn't know how to handle him, how to react when he didn't get angry... Bluestreak could read their expectations with painful ease and precision. They had opened the bonds in what had to be an unconscious reaction, trying to convince him that they were sorry, that they would do whatever he said... If Motormaster hadn't already been offline, Bluestreak thought he would have hunted the black and grey mech down himself.
"How are we supposed to handle the native species?" Dead End asked, always the calmest of them all. They were so desperate...
"You- you need to remember that they're people. Um... Wildrider was doing good to be careful, but... you need to ask before picking them up, and you can't touch them if they don't want you to. Ah, unless you're touching them to save their life, that's different." They all gave a stuttered gasp as Bluestreak remembered to praise what Wildrider had done right. First Aid was right... he just needed to give them a chance, and not do anything unless he was comfortable with it.
Bluestreak took the Stunticons out the next day, figuring that they and the Ark crew both needed to get used to each other. They spent the day almost completely alone, only Prowl and Wheeljack coming over and saying hello. The Stunticons didn't seem to mind this too badly, though Bluestreak couldn't help but feel bad for them.
The second day went much better, the Protectobots making a concerted effort to befriend the Stunticons, aside from Blades, who spent his time staring at Breakdown. That night, unsurprisingly, was spent calming the white and blue Lamborghini. Even though he left most of work to the others, Bluestreak was exhausted when he went to his own recharge. They were so damaged, and it hurt him so badly to see it.
Drag Strip woke early the next morning, and slipped from the gestalt quarters quietly, heading to the rec room. He had the vague idea of bringing energon back for everyone, but got distracted when Sideswipe came up to talk.
"Hey! Ah... You're Drag Strip, right? I'm Sideswipe, I heard that, um, one of you brothers is looking for high quality wax?"
"...Yes. Dead... End would like some..." Drag Strip was slow to admit it, sure that the red mech wanted something in return. He took the wax fast enough when Sideswipe brought some out and practically forced it into Drag Strip's hands, though.
"Hey, you like competition too, don't you? I have an idea..." Drag Strip perked up at the suggestion of something to win, and Sideswipe smiled. "I'll teach you how to prank, and then we can find out who's best at it. How's that sound... Drag'?"
Drag Strip accepted the rubber sacks Sideswipe pulled from subspace. "What do I do with these?"
"They're filled with paint. First winner is the one to hit the best targets. And I'll give you some free advice, Drag'. Don't hit my bro. He won't take kindly to it." Smirking, Sideswipe waited for Drag Strip's nod before slipping out of the rec room.
He would go back to their room, Drag Strip decided. Use the balloons on the way, and get the energon with his brothers. He smiled a little as he considered what would come after that. Bluestreak was so sweet, even if he couldn't bear to let them show him pleasure yet. It was better than finding pleasure in their pain, and more would come in time.
Having no real clue who counted as a 'good' target, the yellow mech thew at the first mech he saw. Ironhide dodged, and sparkly pink paint covered Optimus Prime's office. Drag Strip had approximately enough time to think 'Oh slag' before Ironhide tackled him.
Bluestreak, with the rest of his gestalt, was just leaving their quarters to get fuel. Drag Strip's panic changed that, so they were already changing direction when Prowl contacted Bluestreak. "It's okay, Drag Strip's fine, Prowl says it was just a prank," Bluestreak soothed, and sighed as the fear dissapated slightly. A couple clicks later, they were there.
"Sideswipe got to him. We caught him before he did anything, but we didn't expect Drag Strip to agree to anything. As you can see, no major harm was done." Prowl explained things quickly, and Wildrider started to cackle at the sight of Prime's office.
"I meant to hit him..." Drag Strip said mournfully, motioning at Ironhide with his chin. His arms were bound behind him by cuffs.
"I don't think that really helps," Bluestreak muttered, holding back his own laughter. ~You need to learn subtlety...~ Poor Drag Strip... Bluestreak couldn't feel angry with him. He had pulled quite enough pranks himself!
"The standard 24 hours in the brig, and you have to clean this up. I am sure you know the drill, Bluestreak," Prowl said. Bluestreak just nodded and started to hunt down a mop as Drag Strip was led away. Drag Strip didn't think he would ever forget the sight of his gestalt leader patiently preparing to clean up a mess he had made.
The brig wasn't bad. Drag Strip had known it wouldn't be. Around midday he could feel the others renewing their bonds. They didn't want Bluestreak to hurt like he had last time. Drag Strip agreed fully, and it was his own fault he wasn't there.
One good thing did happen in the brig. Sideswipe was there, and he told Drag Strip that he had won that round. The red Lamborghini found it hilarious that he had hit Optimus' office. That, and the lack of recrimination from his brothers, had the yellow mech feeling pretty good when he was released the next morning. Despite the gestalt bond, he was surprised to find Bluestreak waiting for him.
"You... weren't here last night, and I'm not hurting, but I don't know if you will, and- And I'm not angry at you at all, I actually thought it was funny, everyone did, really, but, you know, there are rules, and so that's why I let them, but I wanted you to know and anyway..." Drag Strip could only feel nervousness and determination from Bluestreak as the gestalt leader almost forced himself to speak.
"I know. I can feel that. That doesn't change the fact I made things hard on you. I'm sorry, I won't... I'll not talk to him ag-"
"Drag Strip. No," Bluestreak interrupted. Motioning for the yellow mech to follow, he lead the way to his room, ignoring Drag Strip's fear. "He's my friend too. Go right ahead and make friends with him. Play pranks. I don't mind, and it makes others happy. Please... try not to be afraid of me..." He turned, and Drag Strip was not sure what to do as he was pulled into a kiss. Hands went for his wheels, and Drag Strip couldn't stop himself from reaching for Bluestreak's doorwings.
Bluestreak's hands were unsure as the two mechs tumbled to the berth. He could not make himself forget that Drag Strip had been a Decepticon, with all that meant, but he could focus on the needy, damaged, painfully afraid mech that Drag Strip was. In causing that mech pleasure, in allowing that mech to give pleasure, Bluestreak could put aside fear and hate and find friendship and pleasure, if not yet love. It would come, he was sure.
Drag Strip was lost in the joy of pleasure with no pain, no demands. The doorwings fascinated him, and made Bluestreak feel so good, make such interesting noises. They were both too unsure to let the interface go for long, chests opening after only a moment or two. The merge was even faster, but the overload sated them, and Drag Strip was able to lay in his leader's arms afterwards. Bluestreak cooed a little, stroking him softly. Thanks were not needed, gratitude felt over the renewed bond.
After a while, the other Stunticons found their way into the room, wordlessly welcomed by Bluestreak. They squirmed their way onto the berth, and Bluestreak gave a shudder before moving to better cuddle with his brothers. It was... good, to spend time like this.
Bluestreak thought nothing of it when he woke up a week later and the other Stunticons were nowhere around. They were gaining confidence, making friends. Breakdown seemed to enjoy Prowl's company, while Wildrider found Wheeljack's propensity for explosions to be hilarious. Drag Strip was still hesitant about his friendship with Sideswipe, and Mirage was quite happy to talk about Cybertron and teach Dead End about the old art. Bluestreak toot the time to fuel and wash, and the day was half over before Prowl came up to him.
"Where is your team?" It was the urgency that caught Bluestreak, and he looked at Prowl curiously while using the gestalt bond.
~Hey, where are your? Prowl's asking about you.~ Bluestreak could feel their pleasure at something, excitement, a drive to win... None of it was really that much out of the ordinary.
~Um, not really sure. I think we just left a town...~ Wildrider was distracted by whatever they were doing.
~We are racing. I told them we should have waited for you,~ Dead End added, and Bluestreak ignored the graphic musing on how he would offline soon. It was common for Dead End to feel that way, after all...
"They're racing somewhere, I'm not sure where, they don't know where, they just left a town but I don't know, Prowl, what's wrong?" Bluestreak did not like the expression on Prowl's face, and unconsciously pressed the other Stunticons for more information.
Menasor woke.
There was no shooting. No pain... There were explosions, his bodies, for the most part, gleefully playing on the road, dodging the other cars, or going right through them. His components treated themselves the same way... all but the new one? It said he should stop? Autobots...? Menasor was unsure, and the gestalt merge fell apart, leaving the components stunned and shivering wherever they happened to be or to stop.
"Primus..." Bluestreak whispered, looking at Prowl, who was kneeling and holding him up. "Primus, please, they didn't know, please don't be angry this time, I'll teach them, they won't ever do this again, Prowl, I promise, I just need to make them understand, I swear, please-"
"Bluestreak," Prowl interrupted sternly. "Calm yourself. You are the leader, appropriate punishments are up to you. Just tell Prime and myself what you plan this time. They... were the ones behind the reports of destructive racing vehicles, correct?"
Still shivering a little form the unexpected processor sharing, Bluestreak nodded, letting Prowl help him stand. "They didn't mean to hurt anyone... They just don't understand...."
Prowl made soothing noises, accustomed to calming Bluestreak down, even if the reason was new, slowly coaxing the grey mech to his office and contacting Optimus. The three of them were waiting when the four Stunticons walked in, a curious mix of nervous and defiant.
"At least tell us what we did wrong," Breakdown said, pleading almost inaudible in his tone. He had, unexpectedly, taken the role of 'ambassador' to the other Autobots on his brothers' behalf when Bluestreak wasn't around. Or, like this, when Bluestreak seemed to be against them.
Bluestreak gave Optimus a look before going over and more or less forcing Breakdown into a hug. "It's okay. We're not going to the brig, you won't be hurt. I told them what Menasor showed me, and they understand, they'll take care of things, but there are some things we have to do, the five of us. Right now let's go get some energon, and then I want to hear you say what you were doing." Bewildered, the Stunticons followed their leader out of the room.
All five of them were silent while they gathered energon, the entire way back to their room. Bluestreak could feel the silent tension curling in them, and they stood frozen when the door closed. "Dead End," Bluestreak said, and the red Porsche flinched before stepping forward. "Please explain to me what you were doing." Words weren't needed, but Bluestreak was more comfortable with them, and so Dead End spoke.
"We were racing. We weren't hurting anyone, just racing and ramming each other. We had our forcefields up, even, so we wouldn't hurt each other!" Even through his apathy, Bluestreak could hear desperation in Dead End's voice. Every one of the formerly Decepticon Stunticons fully expected Bluestreak to beat them, though they fervently believed that he was better than Motormaster. Bluestreak groaned a little.
"We have a race track here. Drag Strip, I thought Sideswipe had told you?" Bluestreak sighed, shaking his head a little. "Drink you energon, and then we need to take a drive. ...Please. Try to relax. I don't intend to hurt you at all."
"It wouldn't be so bad if you did, at least then it would be over with..." Wildrider muttered, looking at the ground and awkwardly drinking.
Bluestreak was silent a moment, and then he shook his head again. "No. No, and I want you to listen to me." There was a moment of confusion, and then he opened himself through the bond as much as he could, speaking over it and aloud. "~I swear now, on my spark and before Primus Himself, I will never hit any of you in punishment.~" Bluestreak looked at each of the former Decepticons in turn, and they shivered and broke, surrounding him and pressing against him with soft mewls. They accepted his oath, though there was a lot of confusion over what he would do.
"Come on... drink up..." Bluestreak broke the near-silence gently, stroking those near him while following his own suggestion. The others did so slowly, reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort. Eventually they were all finished, and Bluestreak led them out to the highway.
They drove in silence, Bluestreak turning occasionally, obviously aware of where they were going. A couple hours later, turning down another street abruptly brought the Stunticons into a scene of devastation.
~Wow. What happened here? It looks like one of those disaster movies!~ Drag Strip muttered, angling his path to be slightly closer to Wildrider.
~You ought to recognize the location,~ Bluestreak answered, mental tone carefully neutral. He felt his team shiver, still used to bad things happening when their leader was angry. There was nothing he could do about that at the moment.
Wildrider got it first, his uncertain logic making a leap that was foreign to the gestalt. ~But... We didn't hit anything! We were being careful!~
~The other cars on the road didn't have the time or the skill to get safely out of the way,~ Bluestreak answered sadly. Driving up to one of the relief crews, he transformed. "We're here to help clean this up. I'm sorry for my team's behavior. You have my word that it will never happen again."
It was a quiet team that Bluestreak lead home that night. They huddled closely to him, even on the road, and he silently opened himself to them, giving whatever comfort they needed. He wasn't angry with them... Especially not now, not seeing them.
It was neither haughtiness nor fear that drove the gestalt to avoid the rec room and go straight to their own quarters. It was need, the need to be together. They never even thought of going into individual rooms, and Bluestreak found he didn't want to. He wanted to be here, with his team, with his... brothers, as comforting touches turned seductive, as worried whimpers faded into kissing and pleased moans and soft little cries. Watching Drag Strip and Breakdown merge right next to him was almost unbelievably erotic, and the sense of understanding that Dead End radiated when Bluestreak turned to him for help with the need was freeing. Bluestreak still couldn't say that he loved them, but... they were his, his family, his gestalt. And he was theirs.
The next couple of days were like that. The Stunticons helped to clean up their mess, even growing the least bit friendly with the other workers, who appreciated the former Decepticons repentance. In the evenings, they would stay in the rec room long enough to get energon, but it was apparent to all that they were gestalted, with all the changes that meant. Then came the day that Bluestreak lead his team down a different road, to a quiet meadow with carved stones laid out. He told them to be quiet, pushing that it was important, and they obeyed.
After maybe an hour, the quite was broken by the solemn tolling of a near-by bell. A little while after that, a line of black cars pulled up, and Bluestreak could feel a bubble of glee from Wildrider at the sight of so many like-colored vehicles. The glee burst a moment later as black-clad humans left the vehicles, and Bluestreak wasn't surprised that Wildrider was, again, the first to get it.
~A funeral? ...We caused it...? W- when they tried to get out of our way...?~ At Bluestreak's silent affirmative, Dead End took up the reasoning.
~Damaging what they are in can... Can kill them?~ Bluestreak found himself wishing he could hold them when he answered.
~And worse. They're not like us, they can't replace parts. Your race caused five deaths, three people are in stasis and can't be brought out, six have lost the use of one or more limbs for the rest of their lives, and twelve are still repairing their injuries.~ Bluestreak used Cybertronain terms, wanting to make sure that his team understood what he was saying.
~Oh.~
Bluestreak knew they still weren't sure why it mattered. It was just humans, they were fun to be around but ultimately inferior. Bluestreak didn't try to explain how wrong that was... It was enough that they would be careful, that they were willing to give humans a chance. He wasn't try to erase their perspectives, he liked the differences they brought to the bond. Change, beyond the minimum, would take time. They did see the humans as people now... that was enough.
---
"Bluestreak, are you certain?" Prowl asked. Bluestreak gave a little bit of a sigh, he really did appreciate Prowl's caution, but...
"They are loyal to me. They may not understand our ideals, but they are trying, and they will do what I ask of them. They like- we are beginning to love each other, I think. And they want to help!" Bluestreak answered.
"But sending them into battle with mechs they lived with, knew... Bluestreak, that is a lot to ask of them." Prowl appreciated that Bluestreak was slowly becoming happier with what he had chosen, comfortable and content with it. But asking to lead the fragile team into battle... and yet Prowl could not ignore help they could give. Or the trouble they could cause...
"Mechs they hated, who knew what they suffered and ignored it! Prowl, they chose me, an enemy, an unknown, over any of those mechs they knew!"
Prowl didn't answer right away, looking at Bluestreak. Really looking at him... He was maturing, Prowl realized. Right now his doors were flared, and he stood straight, lacking the slight hunch Bluestreak had so often shown... He was willing to fight for his team, his bonded gestalt team, even in the face of his own commander's doubt. Making a decision that was not entirely logic-bound, Prowl nodded. "I will put your team on active rotation." They might not be deployed in the next battle, but it would happen eventually, and in all likelihood, soon.
"Thank you, Prowl! We won't let you down, I'll make sure of it!" Smiling happily, Bluestreak left the office to go tell his mechs. He felt like seeing their expressions, even if they already could guess it was good news.
It was maybe a month later that the untested gestalt team actually saw combat. It was the usual chaos, but Prowl thought Bluestreak was actually handling it pretty well. He was still acting as a sniper, able to see the battle and relay orders to his team instantly. It was going well. Until everything went wrong.
Dead End was teaming up with Drag Strip, shooting at Seekers and trying to get them low enough for his yellow brother to attack them. Drag Strip had heard about 'Jet Judo', and had bragged that he would be better than either of the Twins, and Dead End just enjoyed harrying them. The red mech misjudged a shot, Dirge didn't do what was expected, and the end result was that the cone-head came down, wing on fire, practically on top of Bluestreak, who had been hiding in a forest.
The Stunticons looked towards the fire, mirrored expressions of terror on their faces, just before the screaming started.
It didn't actually take long for Inferno to put the beginning fire out, or for the Stunticons to stumble towards their leader, who was curled into a ball. None of them were quite sure what to do, and they looked at each other helplessly, none quite daring to touch. But when Prowl stepped forward to take charge, Drag Strip hissed at him, moving between his leader and the tactician. A moment later, Wildrider took the chance, reaching out and moving Bluestreak into his arms. The grey mech mewled, pulled away, and then stopped and threw himself at the black mech hard enough to knock them both to the ground. Breakdown and Dead End joined, and Drag Strip, after glaring one last time at Prowl, also joined the pile. With work to be done elsewhere, Prowl had no choice but to leave the gestalt to itself.
Bluestreak was not entirely sane at the moment, it appeared, and he was showing it by buffeting his team with just as many fears as they had ever shown, even as he caressed and mewled needily. The fire, and the Seeker falling from above, had trigged every memory he tried to hide, and the Stunticons were getting quite intimately aware of their leader's nightmares.
He had been trapped and alone and scared, and so young. No-one had preyed on his weakness, he had had no Motormaster to twist him further, but he had never really dealt with the trauma, never known how. None of the others knew how to deal with it either, but they accepted his fears, welcomed him, made no effort to shut him out or stop his sharing.
The physical pleasure and affirmation of their bonds was little more than a side effect. Bluestreak was able to rest after overload, to fall into recharge without fear, with mech that he, for the first time, truly regarded as his mates. He woke up just as close, Menasor a hovering presence on the edge of consciousness, with no sense of fear. Almost immediately, Bluestreak felt something on Dead End, small and soft, as though it was on his own chassis. It had to be the overmind's nearness...
Onlining optics slowly, pretty sure they were his own, Bluestreak saw it was a bird on his red and black brother. A pretty bird, but he wasn't sure what kind. Feeling the others beginning to wake, Bluestreak sent a quite order to hold still. He didn't want to startle the small avian. Mechs woke around him, and Wildrider went so far as to softly 'ask' if he could use Bluestreak's optics, wanting a better view of the creature. The quiet sharing lasted until the bird tired of its perch and fluttered away, at which point the five mechs carefully stood up, picking sticks and debris out of each other wordlessly.
Before they were ready to go, but after they were no longer ready to stay, First Aid showed up. Hot Spot came out of the singed forest a moment later, followed by the rest of the gestalt. Blades glanced at Breakdown, but a glare from Streetwise and a motion from Hot Spot made him look away again.
"Would Menasor like to meet Defensor?" Hot Spot asked. He was talking to Bluestreak, and to Bluestreak only, and what some mechs might have seen as insulting, the new gestalt leader knew was simply respectful.
"We've never deliberately merged... not without combining," Bluestreak answered. It would be... NICE to combine, he thought, to really join with his mates like they were meant to. He would have to ask Ratchet for some modifications. "I can't say how long it will last."
"We won't combine either, then. It would be a good thing to practice, no?"
Bluestreak nodded, still feeling the overmind right there, so close to him. There was still a thrill of fear as he tipped into, let Menasor take over, and he could feel his mate's fear as well. The merge lasted only a few moments, and left them disoriented and blinking, but Defensor was watching, components moving to support them. With a shiver, the Stunticons tried again, and again.
After a week, hunger was too much to ignore, and the rations the Protectobots had brought had run out. Bluestreak lead his team back to the Ark, half Menasor and only half himself. This was what the Aerialbots had spoken of, this closeness... never alone. Never alone, and though they hadn't said a thing, Bluestreak knew he was loved, because he loved them, and he felt the same emotion reflected from their processors.