Prompt 11-Red

"What the frag is that?" He noticed the red mark on his lover's chest plate instantly. The tattoo stared at him in an indifferent, almost mocking way.

When his bond mate offered no reply, he sprang up from the recharge berth and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is," his voice full of panic and rage.

"Sideswipe," The red mech's grip tightened causing the metal to crumple beneath his touch. For a moment he thought of Perceptor's diagnosis. "We didn't have a choice. You would've died if you didn't get help. They wouldn't treat neutrals. We had to."

"Frag Mirage!" He released the blue mech pushing him away. "Why? Do you realize..."

"I'm fully aware of the consequences, and I know that if the roles were reversed you'd do the same thing," he replied calmly.

"We had options. We could've left Cybertron, or you could have bribed them, or-"

"What if we didn't do it Sideswipe?" Mirage's voice rose slightly. "What if we'd just let the Decepticons override you systems? You wouldn't be yourself anymore." He took a step towards Sideswipe and caressed his cheek. Sideswipe stared back at him with indifferent optics. "I'd rather die then let something like that happen. Bluestreak didn't want that to happen. And your brother would never let that happen."

---

The paint was sprayed onto his chassis with an unexpected evenness and finesse. It was cold when it hit the bare metal of his chassis. Cold, like the feeling in his spark. This mark meant everything. It meant alliance, an alliance he didn't want to make. It symbolized allegiance and loyalty to a cause he didn't give damn about. This mark tied him to a side in this war, and it was final. He'd be answering to someone else, and he wouldn't be in charge of his own fate. He hated that feeling.

---

In the still darkness of the recharge cycle the barrack was anything but silent. Every little noise was audible from the soft whoosh of air entering the other soldier's intakes to the sound of tossing and turning on the bunks. Occasionally a sleep talker's words pierced the noise.

Sideswipe climbed into the strange berth he'd been assigned to, and found his bond mate already occupying the space. He wrapped his arms around Mirage, and the blue mech stiffened against his touch. Above them Sunstreaker and Bluestreak shared a bunk. On either side of them the barrack was filled with bunk after bunk of strange mechs.

Sideswipe turned his bond mate over so they lay face to face. The only light in the barrack came from his dimly lit optics, and they cast an eerie glow on Mirage's chassis. He stared at the patch of red on Mirage's dermal plating. It scarred him, marred his lithe and perfect form. He could survive in this war, but Mirage...

He slowly traced the mark on Mirage's chest. Then he cautiously touched his lips to it. "Sorry," he whispered against his bond mate's chest plate. The only thing he hated more than the red mark on his chassis, was the mark that adorned his lover's.