Prompt 15-Blue

A/N: So I conveniently forgot they could probably turn down the volume on their audios. Focus instead on the Bluestreak/Sunstreaker interaction?

"If you'd just take a minute and listen to me you boorish..." Their room was on the completely opposite end of the hallway, but Mirage and Sideswipe still heard every single interaction between Sunstreaker and Tracks. They were forced to listen to every fight, every conversation, and every make up.

"They could at least turn down the volume on their vocalizers," Mirage complained. His hand tucked behind his head, and he stared at the ceiling in frustration.

"Egotistical son of a glitch," Sunstreaker growled from down the hallway.

"Focusing on yourself again I see." Their argument seemed to reverberate through the entire dwelling.

Sideswipe let out an exasperated sigh. "Four fragging Groons." He shifted against his lover resting his head on Mirage's chest plate. "And they still won't shut the frag up," he murmured reaching up to caress the exposed cables in his lover's neck. "Since neither of us can recharge, maybe we could make some noise of our own?" His hand trailed down the other's body.

"Sideswipe I'm tired. Maybe you could tell them to..."

"No way. I'm not getting anywhere near that."

"He's your brother...Wait do you hear that?" The argument had ceased for a moment.

But it was interrupted by a sudden cry of, "Uhhhn. Sun-streaker. You're going leave scratches," and the sharp steady clang of metal against metal.

"Primus! They can't be serious," Mirage complained.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll knock themselves offline the first time 'round," Sideswipe chuckled.

"So, this is home..." Mirage stepped through the door and into their dwelling. "And yours too now." He smiled painfully at the mech who followed him into the room. Only a few Orns ago Bluestreak's hometown was attacked. His little village outside Iacon was obliterated, and Bluestreak was rumored to be the only survivor.

He was a merchant like Sideswipe. The pair had worked together on many business deals, and eventually a close friendship emerged. When he had nowhere to go naturally, Sideswipe insisted he stay with them.

Mirage didn't mind. Bluestreak was laid back, and he was sure to be a gracious houseguest. He only wished he knew how to address the poor little mech. He didn't want to seem cold and pretend like nothing happened. He'd lost everything. But he didn't want to drown him in pity either.

Upon entering the dwelling they could hear the muffled sound of arguing. Tracks and Sunstreaker were at it again. "I'll let you get settled in before I show you around. Your room is at the end of the hall let me show you." Mirage directed the young merchant away from the sounds of the argument and towards the room they'd prepared for him.

"Okay...Thanks for letting me stay with you Mirage."

"It's no problem Bluestreak."

The next few Orns passed with little incident. Sunstreaker and Tracks fought and forgave one another at an alarming rate. Mirage and Sideswipe tried to keep the vain mechs from killing one another while simultaneously trying to keep a cautious optic on Bluestreak. Bluestreak however, remained almost completely silent through the ordeal. He never complained of Tracks and Sunstreaker's constant fighting. He didn't mention what happened to him, or speak unless it was absolutely necessary.

"We've been together for over one hundred vorn Sunstreaker. I'm not one of your little models you paint with their interface ports exposed. I'm not going to take whatever ravishing you're willing to give and be grateful," Tracks yelled with frustration in his voice.

"I'm not looking for a bond mate Tracks," Sunstreaker replied in an irritated tone.

"You're not looking to bond with me you mean. You want someone who's absolutely enthralled with you. Someone who worships you! You want-"

"I don't want to be with anyone who thinks they can control me using interface." His rattling voice seemed to pierce the walls of his room and shake the entire dwelling. Physical attraction had been their downfall from the beginning. Outside of the berth they barely functioned as a couple. They could never agree, and they could never seem to communicate with one another. Somehow all of that seemed to disappear when gold lips met blue, or the wanton mech posed minus his armor in Sunstreaker's studio.

"You're impossible. I'm not trying to control you. I want to be closer to you. Primus if you don't get that by now...then I can't do this anymore."

It was too quiet once everyone went offline. Gone were the sounds of Sideswipe and Mirage's playful banter and soft conversations. Ever since Sunstreaker and his lover separated the sound of arguing was gone. Whenever Sideswipe asked him if he wanted to talk he felt he had no choice but refuse. It simply wasn't his problem. He felt he had to hold his glossa lest he drown his hosts in his every thought.

He stared blankly at the ceiling or the walls desperately trying to recharge. The soft blue glow of his online optics was the only light in the dark room. The silence was deafening. The silence forced him to think about what happened the ambush, and the carnage left in its wake. It forced him to remember the charred burnt hulls of his friends. Images of the leveled city played through his processor over and over. The silence threatened to consume him.

Bluestreak tossed and turned on his berth. Nothing felt comfortable. Whatever position he lay in hurt his door wings, or he just had to move because he felt restless. "I've got to get out of here," he thought to himself.

Sunstreaker lay on his berth wide-awake. Usually Tracks was there to act as a carnal sleep aid to wear him down and knock him offline. Tonight like the past few nights, he lay in the berth alone waiting for his systems to finally power down and drift online.

While he waited for sleep his processors replayed every argument with Tracks in his mind. Tracks wanted to share his life with him, and he did nothing but scorn him. Maybe Tracks was right. Maybe he was nothing more than an unloving monster.

But Tracks wanted absolute control of their relationship. He was beautiful, and he fully intended to use that as a weapon against anyone he was with. "Frag this," he growled pounding his fist into the berth.

Bluestreak stood on the dwelling's balcony that overlooked Iacon. He leaned on the railing, rested his chin in his palm, and stared at the city's brilliant lights. "Can't recharge either?" Bluestreak's flitted in surprise. He turned and noticed Sunstreaker had joined him on the balcony. He shook his head from side to side nodding, "No,"

"Is your vocalizer on the fritz or something?"

He nodded another, "No,"

"Then why don't you say something?"

Sunstreaker was asking him to talk? He seemed so irritable, almost violent. Not the type to invite conversation. "If I start talking I'm afraid I won't be able to stop. I'm afraid I'll get on your nerves, and then Sideswipe won't want me here anymore and..."

"Sideswipe wouldn't put you out for talking." The gray mech nodded acknowledging Sunstreaker.

"It's too quiet here. You'd think there would be more noise from the city. I really, really hate the quiet."

"Makes you think about all the slag you don't wanna think about doesn't it?" Sunstreaker replied.

"Yeah. It feels like I have the weight of Cybertron on my chest plate. If I talk about it I'm annoying, and I have to deal with it. If I hold it in it drives me crazy. I hate that feeling. I hate the silence." The gray mech's voice cracked. "I'm sorry. It's not your problem."

"It's fine. It kind of puts all my slagging issues in perspective."

"I hate the Decepticons. I hate what they did to my friends and my town. What gives them the right to decide who lives and who dies?" He grasped the metal railing of the balcony, and it crumpled in his grasp.

Bluestreak hated the silence. He hated the silence that settled between himself and Sunstreaker when he'd finished speaking. But the golden arm that awkwardly draped over his door wings almost made the silence tolerable.

"I know everybody just thinks high-grade is delicious, but the low grade stuff...I mean I know it clogs up your engine and is really bad for you, but it tastes so good! It's not my favorite though. Oil cake is my favorite. I don't mean to brag, but I can make a really good oil cake. Maybe I could make it for you sometime?"

"Sounds good."

"Good maybe you can drive with me to the bazaar tomorrow so I can get all the stuff I need? I'll need a bunch of oil, some rust, a bit of lithium for flavor..."

"Oh Primus! Are they ever going to shut up?" Mirage thumped his head on the metal surface of the berth in frustration. Sunstreaker, oddly enough, tolerated Bluestreak's company. They'd spent the spent the past few Orns doing nothing but talk constantly. Well, Bluestreak babbled, and Sunstreaker tired to listen best he could. Even in the late hours of the night Bluestreak prattled on, and Sunstreaker didn't seem to mind.

"Heh no rest for the wicked huh?" Sideswipe jeered.

"I want a good recharge. You wore me out." The blue mech rested his helm in the crook of Sideswipe's shoulder and nuzzled him.

"They're good for each other Raji. Blue's got someone to help him deal with his problems, and Sunny has who makes him happy. I think. He hasn't threatened or snapped at him yet. That's a good sign."

"Hmmmph," Mirage replied drowsily.

"You know what else sounds good?"

There was a brief moment of silence from the living room followed by a muffled moan. "Are you sure Sunstreaker? I mean you just ended things with your lover. But I'm not saying I don't want to..."

"Sides are we ever going to get to recharge again?"