Ok before anything else I want everyone to know that the idea of a picture of the twins welded to the ceiling by their afts is not my idea, it is someone else's. I just don't remember whose or even what story is was in, but I know someone else did it, so not my idea and if anyone knows whose it is I would really appreciate them telling me.
So one last time so I don't get yelled at, the idea about the picture of welded twin's afts to ceiling with a happy Ratchet is NOT my idea. It belongs to someone else. (An interesting fact, this is the same person who wrote a Christmas story where Sunstreaker drew a bunch of pictures for different mechs and it in turned helped inspire this story. So that writer gets a lot of credit for this story. My beloved beta reader Lament of Meow remembers it being on livejournal by the author vericus, but I remember seeing it somewhere else so at least we have an idea of who wrote it.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and look above for other disclaimer.
Storming down the halls of the ark, fury seemed to billow around him like an angry storm clouds. Rage flowed though him, making him tense, his feet clunking on the floor. No one was in the hallway, which was good. If anyone had been they'd just see that Sunstreaker was angry – he didn't remember why he was angry or at whom, he just was. He wasn't looking where he was going and he didn't caring, either. He just had to get away from it all. But to where? Everyone was everywhere. Walking down the hall he was headed towards the outdoors – the outdoors where he could drive and race. Now with direction, he walked as fast as he could when itcaught his eye. There in the rec room was a Cybertronian drawing pad. What in the world would a Cybertronian drawing pad being doing, abandoned, in the rec room? Sunstreaker had no idea whose it was; maybe there was a name on the inside. Without even really thinking about it, he walked to pick the drawing pad up - he wanted to know who else was an artist and where they got their material from. There was no name inside and the entire thing was blank. Looking around Sunstreaker found drawing pencils and color pencils, Cybertronian size. Well he was not about to let a good drawing pad go to waste. So without a care to who the drawing pad belonged to, Sunstreaker sat down and began to draw.
The first thing he drew was a simple picture, one of Jazz glaring at Prowl and most likely because of Prowl not recharging when he need to. The next was of Ratchet looking up at Sides and Sunny welded to the ceiling by their afts. The next was of Tracks and Raoul breakdancing and then another was Cliffjumper, Brawns, Huffer, and Gears all sitting on a log looking as if they were old men complaining. There was one of Hound and Bluestreak playing video games, another of Wheeljack blowing something up, and another of Ironhide taking a nap in the sun.
With each drawing something inside Sunstreaker began to stir and it was something that he had not felt in vorns, not since before the War.
Before the War, Sunstreak had been an artist, a famous artist. His works sold for millions, and yet he didn't do it for wealth (though it was nice to have credits to spend), instead he did it for a Look.This Look was as important to Sunstreaker back then as looking his most beautiful was now. This Look was the look of someone who had seen a picture that made them feel. It was the Sign, to Sunstreak, that that picture was a masterpiece.
When the war had started, many artists gave up their trade and became warriors, Sunstreaker among them. Along with his brother Sideswipe, he became one of the best warriors in the Autobot army, but at a cost. He gave up his painting and became the grouchy mech that everyone knew now. He lost his temper more often, became extremely vain about his appearance, and even started to fight with his brother. Sure Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had had arguments before the war, but they never brawled.
During war there was no longer the time nor the supplies to paint a masterpiece anymore and by now Sunstreaker doubted that there was any of the old artist left in him to paint the masterpieces he once did. But maybe there was just enough to do some doodles in this pad.
As Sunstreaker continued to draw details became clear and lines more sure. He even started to color a few of them and put backgrounds on many of them. Some of the drawings were simple line art, some black and white, others colored, but each was beautiful. Each told a story and would have captured the eyes of anyone who looked at them. And as he drew, the anger left him. Without him even noticing he began to calm down, a sense of peace washing over him. It appeared that Sunstreaker finally remembered why before the war he rarely lost his temper; art was his way of managing his temper.
Sunstreaker continued to draw, not caring about time or how he looked. After hours of drawing he was covered in different markings from the drawing materials, but he didn't care about that. Nor did he seem to care about the mess he was making. By the time he had reached the last five sheets of drawing paper the floor around him was covered in piles of drawings. But Sunstreaker didn't care; he was having fun and for the first time felt truly relaxed.
Sunstreaker kept drawing until the sound of a gasp caught his attention. Turning around he saw Prowl standing there looking at one of his drawings. Apparently Prowl had been worried when Sunstreaker didn't show up for his shift and when Prowl remembered how angry he had been earlier, it had seemed like a logical idea to go find the yellow twin and make sure he hadn't offlined anyone. But Prowl had not expected to find him sitting in the middle of the rec room floor surrounding by drawings and looking as messy as if he had just walked off of a battlefield.
Holding the drawing out for Sunstreaker to see, Prowl asked, "Did you draw this?"
Sunstreaker looked at Prowl and then at the drawing and, seeing no harm in telling the truth, nodded.
The look of surprise was a rare sight and one that Sunstreaker wanted to get down so, without even thinking about it, Sunny started to draw the rarely seen sight. Prowl watched in amazement at the speed and ability that Sunstreaker began to draw with and was shocked to see that it was Prowl himself that he was drawing.
Not long after Jazz came in and, like Prowl before him, was shocked and amazed by what he saw. And soon almost the entire Ark crew was in the rec room admiring Sunstreaker's work and laughing at some of the scense that he had drawn.
Sunstreaker watched all of this and was glad he did, because else he might have missed the look on Bluestreak's face when he held up one of the pictures.
The picture was one of the fancier one, displaying a Christmas party that had happened just a few months ago. All of the Autobots were in it and all looked to be having the time of their lives. Watching Bluestreak's face as he studied the drawing, Sunstreaker made a decision.
"If you want it, it is yours."
Bluestreak stared at him for a moment before saying, "You sure? Because I would understand if you wanted to keep it, it is a…"
"No, I want you to have it. It should go to someone who would appreciate it," said Sunstreaker expertly interrupting Bluestreak's babble.
The look of pure joy on the gunner's face was proof enough for anyone that Bluestreak was overjoyed at the offer. Without a moments hesitation he hugged the normally unhugable Lamborghini and babbled out a long thank you.
Looking around Sunny saw the looks on the other Autobots's faces and said, "If you want it, it's yours."
Within moments every single picture was claimed and amazingly there were no arguments over who got which picture. There were more than enough for each person to have three or four each.
Bluestreak, of course, claimed the one of the entire crew of the Ark at the Christmas party, the one of Prowl and him talking, and the picture of the Dinobots sitting around him as he read to them.
Optimus took the one of him and Elita under the moonlight on Cybertron cuddling together in a romantic embrace, him at his desk working on reports – to send to Elita – and another picture Sunstreaker had done of the entire Autobot crew at a party back on Cybertron celebrating a victory against the Decepitcons.
Ironhide happily walked in somewhere in the middle of all of this and snagged the picture of him and Chromia in the firing range, him cleaning his gun collection, and one of Sunny and Sides hanging upside down from the rafters by duck tape.
As the pictures were claimed, Sunstreaker watched and could not believe what he was seeing, it was the Look. The look of someone who loved the piece, it was the proof that these doodles were masterpieces.
In that moment Sunstreaker realized that he may be a warrior now but inside was still the spark of an artist. Even after all these vorns of neglect the artist in him still knew what to do with a pad of paper and drawing material.
A hand landed on his shoulder and Sunstreaker looked up to see Sideswipe with a grin on his face. Sunstreaker grinned back and went back to watching the faces of his fellow Autobots. Absently, Sideswipe wondered, as he watched with his brother, what the others would say if they saw one of Sunstreaker's drawings that he had put some real effort into and then wondered if he would have as hard of a time getting Wheeljack and Hoist to make drawing pads after this. All the while in his hand he clasped a picture of Sunstreaker and him sitting together laughing like they used to do before the war.
Please review!! PLEASE!!