Gimmie some sugar baby!
Title: The Nine Rings of Vos: Defection
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: The world is a much better place when Sunstreaker gets his required amount of pandering.
Timeline: More of this fic found here.
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(In which Sunstreaker cuddles.)
As he sat alone in the rec room, feeling utterly miserable, it occurred to Sunstreaker that as much as he loved the rush and excitement of battle he really, really hated war. War was an ugly, greedy thing. War meant the worried flux of Ratchet’s emissions field and the harsh snap in the medics otherwise soothing voice. War meant the blank feeling of stasis from his bond to Sideswipe. War meant nightmares for Bluestreak that got worse instead of healing. War meant sitting alone while everyone avoided him as Sunstreaker waited in agony to find out if this would be the cycle he would lose a brother, a friend, a lover, and need to learn to live with a broken bond.
“Hey there, Sunstreaker.” Wheeljack sat down a prudent distance from the golden warrior, aware that Sunstreaker was unpredictable in even the best of moods but his kind nature overcame his caution and prompted Wheeljack to offer some form of comfort to his fellow Autobot, “How are you holding up? I know it must be tough for you with Sideswipe hurt.”
Sunstreaker shrugged listlessly, not looking up, but Wheeljack did not take it personally. Truth be told, it was usually Bluestreak who sat with the twins when one was uninjured while the other was in the medbay. Only this time simple bad luck had led to the Decepticons pinpointing the Autobot snipers position and had landed Bluestreak in Ratchet’s tender care with injuries nearly as bad as the red twin’s.
“Well, you just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Wheeljack said, headfins pulsing soothingly, “I don’t know how much use I’ll be, but I’ll do my best.”
“Ratchet will fix them.” Sunstreaker said dully, not particularly caring how much he was giving away with that one statement - Wheeljack was Ratchet’s bondmate and what one knew the other would find out about eventually - and really who cared about seducing an impossible crush (or keeping that crush a secret) when two thirds of yourself might lie dying.
“Ratchet won’t let ‘em go without a fight, that’s for sure.” Wheeljack said reassuringly. Daring to move close enough to pat the golden twins limp hand in empathy. The enamel was scuffed and dull, Wheeljack noted, Sunstreaker was really taking this hard and the engineer wished he knew how to help. If it were one of the Dinobots, all Wheeljack would have to do is give the mech in question a hug, but Sunstreaker was an entirely different creature.
Sunstreaker lifted his head to stare at Wheeljack in surprise and a single thought broke through his dark mood like a ray of light through storm clouds - if Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were a package deal with Bluestreak, did it not stand to reason that Ratchet was a package deal with Wheeljack? - As if in a dream, Sunstreaker recalled his own voice calling Wheeljack and “easier mark” than Ratchet. The idea made perfect sense, and Sunstreaker was far too drained to fight the insane Sideswipe-esque impulse that came over him.
“Uh, Sunstreaker?” Wheeljack froze and stared down at his lap, which had been commandeered by Sunstreaker’s head and shoulders, “Are you… feeling okay?”
“Shut up.” Sunstreaker mumbled, grabbing one of Wheeljack’s hands and examining it critically. The engineer could only watch in wary bemusement as the golden warrior finally nodded once in seeming satisfaction and pushed Wheeljack’s hand to rest on top of Sunstreaker’s own helm, “You may comfort me now.”
“Uh, like this?” Wheeljack was too surprised to deny the harmless request, petting Sunstreaker’s head as if he were one of the Dinobots. Wheeljack quickly saw the humour in his situation as Sunstreaker purred and shuttered his optics, relaxing at last and sprawling over Wheeljack’s lap like the biggest, shiniest housecat in history. Chuckling, Wheeljack relaxed into his seat, continuing the gentle movements of his hands down over Sunstreaker’s neck and shoulders. Staring down at the satisfied looking warrior, Wheeljack felt very much amused by this strange turn of events, “When I offered to lend you a hand I didn’t expect you to take me literally.”
“Humph.” Sunstreaker snorted, but was starting to think that he kind of understood where Bluestreak was coming from on the whole Wheeljack thing. The engineer’s energy was soothing, his voice was not unpleasant to listen to, and - Sunstreaker cycled a quiet sigh as battle-tense systems finally started leaving full alert levels, “You’ve got nice hands.”
“Thank you?” Wheeljack kept petting, hearing the volume of Sunstreaker’s smooth purr increase and resigned himself to the role of pillow for the foreseeable future. At least his current occupation provided its own entertainment; Wheeljack snickered quietly to himself at the reactions of the various Autobots also in the rec room as they began noticing his new lap blanket. Wheeljack waved cheerfully at a boggled looking Tracks, who had to be dragged away by an equally confused looking Blaster when the vain mech’s processors threatened to lock up at the sight of Sunstreaker cuddling Wheeljack - when Ratchet wearily trudged in and headed straight for the energon dispenser.
Wheeljack’s optics blinked in surprise as he checked his chronometer. Exactly how long had Sunstreaker had him pinned down for? Wheeljack shrugged off his distraction as he watched his mate down a full cube in one go, then Ratchet turned towards Sunstreaker’s usual brooding spot with a fearsomely determined look and another cube of energon. Only to falter in confusion when instead of a scowling Sunstreaker, the medic was faced with a cheerfully twinkling Wheeljack. Ratchet’s optics blinked once, twice, then flickered when the medic rebooted them in disbelief. Ratchet looked from a peacefully recharging Sunstreaker - sprawled out facedown over Wheeljack’s lap with both arms curled around the inventor’s waist - to Wheeljack - who was calmly petting Sunstreaker’s helm as if he was cuddled by sociopathic front line fighters every cycle (which was almost true. The Dinobot’s were very fond of their creators after all) - and then Ratchet quietly closed the distance left between them with a curious look on his face.
“Do I want to know how this came about?” Ratchet asked softly, not wanting to disturb Sunstreaker - the gold mech had a hard enough time recharging properly as it was - as he stood over his mate with crossed arms and an arch look, “I usually feel like I have to sedate them when I only have one twin in my medbay.”
“I don’t rightly understand it myself, Ratch’.” Wheeljack said with a helpless shrug, then his headfins flashed merrily, “But maybe next time you should just try petting them.”
“Petting them?” Ratchet repeated incredulously, watching his mate tickle the underside of Sunstreaker’s helm vents. The golden warrior whined, burying his face in Wheeljack’s lap. Without thinking too much about it Ratchet smacked Wheeljack’s teasing hand away and rubbed the back seam of Sunstreaker’s vent soothingly. Sunstreaker’s purr resumed and he sleepily pushed his head into Ratchet’s touch.
“See? Petting them works wonders.” Wheeljack sounded like he was fighting back giggles.
“So I see.” Ratchet murmured, taking a seat next to Wheeljack and gratefully decompressing with a hiss of cycled air, “Mysteriously disappearing Seekers, cuddly violent maniacs… life has been passing strange of late, Jack.”
“A bit.” Wheeljack admitted, then asked mildly, “Repairs go well?”
“Well enough, but damn if Megatron isn’t taking his frustrations out on us.” Ratchet grumbled, leaning into his mate and watching with ill-concealed affection as Sunstreaker’s arm flopped over Ratchet’s own lap as well. Ratchet snorted and pet Sunstreaker again, “He’s disturbingly cute like this. Slag Jack, I hope we find out where the Seekers have gotten to soon, otherwise Megatron’s going to do something extreme during his temper tantrums.”
“Aw Ratch’, don’t worry so much. Megatron’ll get distracted by something else soon.” Wheeljack flashed a cheeky look at his mate, “And it’s okay to admit that you like the twins, you know. I promise not to tell.”
Ratchet growled and slapped his mate upside the head, grumbling but silently admitting to himself that Sunstreaker really was adorable when he was mostly unconscious and purring.
(Word Count: 1347)
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Sorry, sorry! *smiles disarmingly at readers* I know I've been MIA, and that I promised you all quick updates, so very sorry for dissappearing on you all. But I only have until next week to have the house ready for showing and on top of that my creative writing program started two weeks ago. (Which is awsome-sauce by the way. It's an online program so no commute! And most of my homework is worldbuilding stuff! ♥)
My dad, uncle, grandfather and great-uncle were in a golf tournament last week. They won, and they did it in kilts. Oh yes, my grandfather actually forgot his sporran at home so I had to run it up to him and when I get there my dad jumps out of the van and goes; "I don't know why you girls don't wear skirts all the time! This is amazingly comfortable. *swishes kilt* I could dress like this every day!" Me: *dies*
There is a bruise on my chin. I have no idea how I got it. I just woke up this morning and my face was discoloured. *ponders the mystery* And now I have two weeks worth of fic-backlog to read and comment. By the time I'm done with that the paint should be dry enough for me to put the next coat on. Oi vey. *trudges off*
Dragons! I got me a Red Dorsal! Finally!
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A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: The world is a much better place when Sunstreaker gets his required amount of pandering.
Timeline: More of this fic found here.
=/=
(In which Sunstreaker cuddles.)
As he sat alone in the rec room, feeling utterly miserable, it occurred to Sunstreaker that as much as he loved the rush and excitement of battle he really, really hated war. War was an ugly, greedy thing. War meant the worried flux of Ratchet’s emissions field and the harsh snap in the medics otherwise soothing voice. War meant the blank feeling of stasis from his bond to Sideswipe. War meant nightmares for Bluestreak that got worse instead of healing. War meant sitting alone while everyone avoided him as Sunstreaker waited in agony to find out if this would be the cycle he would lose a brother, a friend, a lover, and need to learn to live with a broken bond.
“Hey there, Sunstreaker.” Wheeljack sat down a prudent distance from the golden warrior, aware that Sunstreaker was unpredictable in even the best of moods but his kind nature overcame his caution and prompted Wheeljack to offer some form of comfort to his fellow Autobot, “How are you holding up? I know it must be tough for you with Sideswipe hurt.”
Sunstreaker shrugged listlessly, not looking up, but Wheeljack did not take it personally. Truth be told, it was usually Bluestreak who sat with the twins when one was uninjured while the other was in the medbay. Only this time simple bad luck had led to the Decepticons pinpointing the Autobot snipers position and had landed Bluestreak in Ratchet’s tender care with injuries nearly as bad as the red twin’s.
“Well, you just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Wheeljack said, headfins pulsing soothingly, “I don’t know how much use I’ll be, but I’ll do my best.”
“Ratchet will fix them.” Sunstreaker said dully, not particularly caring how much he was giving away with that one statement - Wheeljack was Ratchet’s bondmate and what one knew the other would find out about eventually - and really who cared about seducing an impossible crush (or keeping that crush a secret) when two thirds of yourself might lie dying.
“Ratchet won’t let ‘em go without a fight, that’s for sure.” Wheeljack said reassuringly. Daring to move close enough to pat the golden twins limp hand in empathy. The enamel was scuffed and dull, Wheeljack noted, Sunstreaker was really taking this hard and the engineer wished he knew how to help. If it were one of the Dinobots, all Wheeljack would have to do is give the mech in question a hug, but Sunstreaker was an entirely different creature.
Sunstreaker lifted his head to stare at Wheeljack in surprise and a single thought broke through his dark mood like a ray of light through storm clouds - if Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were a package deal with Bluestreak, did it not stand to reason that Ratchet was a package deal with Wheeljack? - As if in a dream, Sunstreaker recalled his own voice calling Wheeljack and “easier mark” than Ratchet. The idea made perfect sense, and Sunstreaker was far too drained to fight the insane Sideswipe-esque impulse that came over him.
“Uh, Sunstreaker?” Wheeljack froze and stared down at his lap, which had been commandeered by Sunstreaker’s head and shoulders, “Are you… feeling okay?”
“Shut up.” Sunstreaker mumbled, grabbing one of Wheeljack’s hands and examining it critically. The engineer could only watch in wary bemusement as the golden warrior finally nodded once in seeming satisfaction and pushed Wheeljack’s hand to rest on top of Sunstreaker’s own helm, “You may comfort me now.”
“Uh, like this?” Wheeljack was too surprised to deny the harmless request, petting Sunstreaker’s head as if he were one of the Dinobots. Wheeljack quickly saw the humour in his situation as Sunstreaker purred and shuttered his optics, relaxing at last and sprawling over Wheeljack’s lap like the biggest, shiniest housecat in history. Chuckling, Wheeljack relaxed into his seat, continuing the gentle movements of his hands down over Sunstreaker’s neck and shoulders. Staring down at the satisfied looking warrior, Wheeljack felt very much amused by this strange turn of events, “When I offered to lend you a hand I didn’t expect you to take me literally.”
“Humph.” Sunstreaker snorted, but was starting to think that he kind of understood where Bluestreak was coming from on the whole Wheeljack thing. The engineer’s energy was soothing, his voice was not unpleasant to listen to, and - Sunstreaker cycled a quiet sigh as battle-tense systems finally started leaving full alert levels, “You’ve got nice hands.”
“Thank you?” Wheeljack kept petting, hearing the volume of Sunstreaker’s smooth purr increase and resigned himself to the role of pillow for the foreseeable future. At least his current occupation provided its own entertainment; Wheeljack snickered quietly to himself at the reactions of the various Autobots also in the rec room as they began noticing his new lap blanket. Wheeljack waved cheerfully at a boggled looking Tracks, who had to be dragged away by an equally confused looking Blaster when the vain mech’s processors threatened to lock up at the sight of Sunstreaker cuddling Wheeljack - when Ratchet wearily trudged in and headed straight for the energon dispenser.
Wheeljack’s optics blinked in surprise as he checked his chronometer. Exactly how long had Sunstreaker had him pinned down for? Wheeljack shrugged off his distraction as he watched his mate down a full cube in one go, then Ratchet turned towards Sunstreaker’s usual brooding spot with a fearsomely determined look and another cube of energon. Only to falter in confusion when instead of a scowling Sunstreaker, the medic was faced with a cheerfully twinkling Wheeljack. Ratchet’s optics blinked once, twice, then flickered when the medic rebooted them in disbelief. Ratchet looked from a peacefully recharging Sunstreaker - sprawled out facedown over Wheeljack’s lap with both arms curled around the inventor’s waist - to Wheeljack - who was calmly petting Sunstreaker’s helm as if he was cuddled by sociopathic front line fighters every cycle (which was almost true. The Dinobot’s were very fond of their creators after all) - and then Ratchet quietly closed the distance left between them with a curious look on his face.
“Do I want to know how this came about?” Ratchet asked softly, not wanting to disturb Sunstreaker - the gold mech had a hard enough time recharging properly as it was - as he stood over his mate with crossed arms and an arch look, “I usually feel like I have to sedate them when I only have one twin in my medbay.”
“I don’t rightly understand it myself, Ratch’.” Wheeljack said with a helpless shrug, then his headfins flashed merrily, “But maybe next time you should just try petting them.”
“Petting them?” Ratchet repeated incredulously, watching his mate tickle the underside of Sunstreaker’s helm vents. The golden warrior whined, burying his face in Wheeljack’s lap. Without thinking too much about it Ratchet smacked Wheeljack’s teasing hand away and rubbed the back seam of Sunstreaker’s vent soothingly. Sunstreaker’s purr resumed and he sleepily pushed his head into Ratchet’s touch.
“See? Petting them works wonders.” Wheeljack sounded like he was fighting back giggles.
“So I see.” Ratchet murmured, taking a seat next to Wheeljack and gratefully decompressing with a hiss of cycled air, “Mysteriously disappearing Seekers, cuddly violent maniacs… life has been passing strange of late, Jack.”
“A bit.” Wheeljack admitted, then asked mildly, “Repairs go well?”
“Well enough, but damn if Megatron isn’t taking his frustrations out on us.” Ratchet grumbled, leaning into his mate and watching with ill-concealed affection as Sunstreaker’s arm flopped over Ratchet’s own lap as well. Ratchet snorted and pet Sunstreaker again, “He’s disturbingly cute like this. Slag Jack, I hope we find out where the Seekers have gotten to soon, otherwise Megatron’s going to do something extreme during his temper tantrums.”
“Aw Ratch’, don’t worry so much. Megatron’ll get distracted by something else soon.” Wheeljack flashed a cheeky look at his mate, “And it’s okay to admit that you like the twins, you know. I promise not to tell.”
Ratchet growled and slapped his mate upside the head, grumbling but silently admitting to himself that Sunstreaker really was adorable when he was mostly unconscious and purring.
(Word Count: 1347)
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Sorry, sorry! *smiles disarmingly at readers* I know I've been MIA, and that I promised you all quick updates, so very sorry for dissappearing on you all. But I only have until next week to have the house ready for showing and on top of that my creative writing program started two weeks ago. (Which is awsome-sauce by the way. It's an online program so no commute! And most of my homework is worldbuilding stuff! ♥)
My dad, uncle, grandfather and great-uncle were in a golf tournament last week. They won, and they did it in kilts. Oh yes, my grandfather actually forgot his sporran at home so I had to run it up to him and when I get there my dad jumps out of the van and goes; "I don't know why you girls don't wear skirts all the time! This is amazingly comfortable. *swishes kilt* I could dress like this every day!" Me: *dies*
There is a bruise on my chin. I have no idea how I got it. I just woke up this morning and my face was discoloured. *ponders the mystery* And now I have two weeks worth of fic-backlog to read and comment. By the time I'm done with that the paint should be dry enough for me to put the next coat on. Oi vey. *trudges off*
Dragons! I got me a Red Dorsal! Finally!
♠
♣
♠
♣
♠
♣
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