Written because I like Bluestreak and I felt like diving into his head. Also I'm using this as a break from brainstorming for other fics. This will be very short.

Don't own. Plot is mine.

On with the fic.

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Bluestreak talked a lot.

It was one of those things that was always associated with the young, not-actually-painted-blue gunner just as much as one would make the connection between Jazz and his visor, Mirage and invisibility or even Cliffjumper and his innate ability at pulling huge, honking guns out of absolutely nowhere.

It was a personality quirk they guessed. Everyone had them. Ironhide had his accent, Sideswipe had his cheeky charisma, and Ratchet had his weird personality flip thing from laidback party bot to scarier-then-the-wrath-of-hell medic depending whether or not he was on his work shift.

Blue's talking could be pleasant at times, especially when you wanted to just forget things. You could just sit back and listen to his mouth going 100 miles per hour, and in his constant chatting you could get swept away and forget whatever it was you wanted to forget.

He talked about almost everything: Earth, Cybertron, fuzzy animals, something he saw on TV, but never anything about their battles or the fighting. It was refreshing to hear someone who didn't sound like they were jaded from the War. At times like that Bluestreak's "quirk" could be quite relaxing and much appreciated.

However there were times where it seemed like Bluestreak's mouth couldn't keep up and relay all of his thoughts, and there were times where it seemed like his CPU was being dragged behind the speed of his vocalizer.

It was times like those where his constant babble was considered irritating and it was even more so when you were trying to get some work done that required concentration.

Like in Trailbreaker's case, actually.

"So we were just cruising along the highway, right? It was only like 4 AM so there wasn't really anyone on the road. And then we hit traffic, a line of freightliners, some of them kind of looked like Optimus actually, stretching for miles! Hound and me- err, Hound and I were stuck for like an hour before we even got two miles down the road!" Bluestreak complained.

Trailbreaker made an exasperated noise and lowered his reamer and tiny flathead screwdriver for the umpteenth time. "That's real nice, Blue, but I don't really-"

"And then somehow we got stuck next to tankard carrying liquid nitrogen. Talk about unsettling, right? I mean I know that human transporters are supposed to be safe and all but I don't trust those human truckers for a minute. Did you know that they drive long after their energy levels are dangerously low, absorb some of that caffeinated liquid booster they call coffee I think, and just keep on going? And I sure as heck wasn't in the mood for cryotherapy if that trucker accidentally crashed into me." Bluestreak shivered at the thought of being frozen solid.

Trailbreaker poked the small box that would be the main power source of the field generator he was making forlornly and answered, "I'm sure it was bothersome, Bluestreak, but-"

Bluestreak cut him off. "And you know what caused the backup? One of the trucks in the front spontaneously caught on fire. See? Humans are really neat little macrobiotic creatures, but they need some help on their transportation vehicles. So anyway Hound and me, I, decided to go off road so we could get to the factory thingy in Sonora, Mexico faster but we sort of… ran over some cactuses. I'm not really sure how since they were all probably well over 18 meters tall. Wow, are some organics big. And ya know those spiny things on them hurt a lot if they get into your tires. We hit some Hudson pears too. Those had some needles that were even nastier fraggers to pull out then the tall cactuses'."

That last statement actually distracted Trailbreaker for a moment. "Wow. 18 meters?" That was almost twice as tall as Optimus Prime. "Still, as fascinating as that is, I really need to get this done."

Bluestreak apparently wasn't paying him much attention and went on with his tale. "Poor Hound was really upset about it, too. He really cares a lot about the biological beings on this planet so when he snapped one of the cactuses (or are they cacti? I can never remember how English pluralizes things) clear in half he freaked. We managed to sort of put it back together using some rubber cement around the wound but it was still bent weird. Then, we tried calling a plant doctor; I think they're called veterinarians or something like that…"

"Actually, for plants that would be a botanist, but that's besides the-"

"Huh, really? Thanks for clearing that up. So we were trying to call someone to help the plant Hound ran over but every frequency we hit was Spanish, and we never got around to downloading that language file. We couldn't understand them. Why does Earth have so many languages? I've already downloaded English, Finnish and Swahili but the language assimilation process is always so long and dull and I keep getting all the languages confused with each other anyway. Why can't Earth just have one language?"

Trailbreaker moaned. "Bluestreak, please."

"But back to the plant. I think the cactus was fine. Was it Beachcomber who told us this? I'm not sure but I think someone once said that if the roots, the extended sensory nets plants use to absorb their energy in the ground, survive the plant should be okay. That's pretty impressive. This organic planet has some sturdy species on it."

"Bluestreak." Trailbreaker was getting increasingly agitated.

"But hey, wait minute. The planet itself isn't really organic is it? It's made out of rock, magma and metal! It just happens to have organic stuff growing on it. So I guess that makes it an inorganic planet that just happens to have a bionetwork attached to its surface."

"Bluestreak! STOP IT!" Trailbreaker screamed at the gunner causing Bluestreak to jerk and stare at him with wide light-blue optics.

Trailbreaker felt a tiny wave of guilt for losing his temper (It was so unlike him) but he had been trying to get the younger Bot to leave for the past hour. However Bluestreak just would not shut up.

"I'm sorry for yelling," Trailbreaker quickly said with a tinge of guilt in his voice. "However Ratchet asked me to fix this miniature defense field for him and if I don't get it done by the time he's done upgrading Gear's conflict circuit's software he'll have my head." The black mech smiled weakly.

"Oh." Bluestreak's optics flickered in understanding. "Oh! Ok then. Aww, sorry Trailbreaker! You should've just told me!"

'I have been. For the past 72 minutes,' that's what Trailbreaker wanted to but refrained from saying. Instead he went with, "Sorry. I should have been clearer."

"Naw, it's ok. I didn't mean to distract you or anything. I'll just go find someone else to talk to. You should get back to work on your energy field what's-it. I'm sure it'll turn out cool like the rest of your defense systems."

Trailbreaker smiled lightly, partly in relief and partly at the airy joy in Bluestreak's voice. Even if he didn't seem like he used his head sometimes Bluestreak was still a sweet kid.

By hearing him you never would've guessed what he'd been through.

"Thanks, Blue." Trailbreaker picked his reamer up and began drilling a tiny hole he was going to feed a small, delicate wire through.

"Yup. I think all of you force shields, fields are cool." He grinned brightly, Dodger Blue optics sparkling. "No matter what Hound says."

The reamer in Trailbreaker's grip jolted creating a massive scratch along one of the delicate metal components in the generator casing. "What?" he asked chillingly. "What did Hound say about my force fields?"

"Huh? Oh nothing really important. Just that your alt mode is already enough of gas guzzler as it is and that your force fields only make you suck up more oil then necessary which is causing more pollution and more damage to the fragility of Earth's increasingly contaminated ecosystem." Bluestreak said offhandedly. He had a good memory for things like that.

Trailbreaker's jaw dropped and he felt his already low self esteem take a drastic nosedive.

"Hound? Hound said that?" Hound, one of his best friends saying such things about him? Sure Trailbreaker may have had a less then energy efficient vehicle mode then most mechs, and Hound was an avid lover of Earth's environment, but still!

He was starting feel self-conscious.

"It's no big deal though. I know you'll just let that roll off you like oil off a cyber-duck's back, ya know you with your upbeat laidback personality and all. See you around 'Breaker! It was nice talking to you." Bluestreak zipped out the door.

Trailbreaker just stared after him, Bluestreak's words still stabbing at his core.

Bluestreak really was a sweet kid. But there were times where he just didn't think before he spoke.

"A closed mouth gathers no feet." With his confidence basically crushed by a few careless words, Trailbreaker frowned and dejectedly went back to fixing the field generator.

He would just have to shrug it off and not worry.

After a few moments of moping over his fuel-consumption Trailbreaker slammed the reamer down on the table and activated his Comline. "Hound." He said coldly into the receiver.

"Trailbreaker? Are you done with Ratchet's field generator?"

"That doesn't matter. I have a few questions about something you said."

0000000000

Bluestreak wandered aimlessly in the direction of the rec room in search of company.

He had liked talking to Trailbreaker. The large black mech was always so funny, cheerful and nice, but still he didn't want to keep the defense strategist away from his work especially if Ratchet was involved. That medic was one of the most awesome, social mechs in the Ark if you got to know him, but knowing him didn't necessarily stave off his horrifying and legendary temper if you got him angry.

It wasn't just Sunstreaker and Sideswipe that had been subjected to the Medic's wrath. Everyone in the Ark had had a taste of Ratchet's special brand of medicine (flavored with rage). Even Prime had a healthy fear of Ratchet just as any sane mech would.

So Bluestreak would just have to find someone else to talk to or listen to pass the time until either recharge time or their next battle with the Decepticons. If that didn't work then he could just play videogames on the modified Super Nintendo they had.

Though he preferred conversation he just really needed something to keep his mind occupied.

Luckily as he rounded the corner of the hall and entered the lounge room he instantly saw three mechs standing there.

Air Raid was standing with his arms crossed and a bored scowl across his face, Blades stood equally still by his side and Hoist, who had just walked in, was staring at them both with curiosity.

"What in the blue blazes are you two doing?" Hoist finally asked the two. Blades shushed him loudly and Air Raid continued to look bored and pissed off.

Bluestreak decided it was time to interject himself into the action (or lack there of). "Hi guys!" he plodded in the others' direction.

"Hello there, Bluestreak!" Hoist cheerily greeted. Bluestreak smiled. He liked Hoist's voice. When the mech assimilated the English language into his processor he had picked up a Southern English accent, sort of how Ironhide ended up with a southern drawl.

The other two ignored him. That didn't stop Blue though. "So what are you guys doing?"

"If you must know the other day Sludge ran through the T.V. trying to 'rescue the people trapped inside the box' so it's broke and now I'm Lambo watching for entertainment." Blades shrugged.

"Silver Bolt 'grounded' me," Air Raid made quote marks with his fingers angrily, "for kamikaze-ing that Stunticon Wildrider the other day and he meant it literally. I can't fly anywhere for the next 24 hours. I'm here because I honestly have nothing else better to do."

Recollection flooded Hoist's mind. "Ah yes. I do recall something like that happening in yesterday's battle."

Bluestreak gave the flyer a look. "How come I remember the fact that the car you crashed into wasn't Wildrider?"

Blades snickered. "That's cuz it wasn't. He crashed into some 86 year old lady's Ferrari 308 GTB."

"Shut up. What the hell would a human that old and shriveled up be doing with a Ferrari anyway?" Air Raid snapped.

"Well, now that human with the wrinkled, fleshy tissue has a Ferrari 208 GTB/GTS Turbo thanks to all the insurance we had to pay in damages," Blades scoffed.

"That geezer's car looked just like that psychopathic Decepticon!"

"It wasn't though," Blue interjected.

"Bluestreak. Shut up," Air Raid growled.

"Wait; did I hear you clearly when you said Lambo watching?" Hoist asked with mild concern laced in his posh voice.

"Huh? Yeah. Why?" Blades questioned.

"We are speaking of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, correct?" Hoist questioned nervously.

"They're pretty entertaining to watch actually. See?" Blades pointed.

Lambo watching was sort of how humans watched wild animals interact at zoos or on safaris. It was pleasant to see how they interacted, charming even, but you still wanted to give them a relatively wide berth just incase natural instincts kicked in and the animals decided to go for your jugular.

Bluestreak looked up from where he was standing and noticed for the first time that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were both in the room. Neither appeared to be doing anything exciting, but then Sideswipe, who had been playing cat's cradle by himself with a piece of extension cord, got up from his chair.

Sunstreaker was sitting on the couch doing something none of the other bots were sure they had ever seen him doing.

He was reading. He seemed rather content with it too. A sort of thoughtful relaxed expression graced his pretty face.

All the tranquility was broken as Sideswipe sauntered across the room and leaned heavily against the back of the couch. He dropped the extension cord he'd been playing with on his brother's head. Sunstreaker swatted it off.

"Is this seat empty?" Sideswipe asked his brother jokingly.

"Yes, and this one will be too, if you sit down." Sunstreaker responded with out missing a beat or looking at his sibling.

"You're no fun." Sideswipe pouted and leaned against the back of the couch peering down at his brother.

"Nope. None at all. Now go away. I'm having Sunstreaker time." Sunstreaker stretched exaggeratingly and flopped back taking up most of the couch's mass with his body. Sideswipe looked at him sourly.

"That's not very nice." Sideswipe jabbed his supine brother in the chest plate. "Now move over you big clunker, or I'll sit on you."

"Frag you, you stupid toaster," was the instant reply.

"Toaster is Blaster's brother, remember?(1)" Sideswipe responded just as quickly.

"Well at least he makes less noise then you. And he makes toast."

"Jeez. I'm feeling the love you big ray of cynical sunshine. Now move over, Sunstreaker."

"No."

"Alright then. I gave you a fair warning though." Sideswipe shrugged, leaned and tipped himself over the back of the couch landing heavily on top of his brother with a clank. Sunstreaker jerked slightly and began shoving his sibling.

"Sideswipe, get the frag off!" Sunstreaker shouted angrily.

"Make m-" one violent throw later the red Lamborghini found himself on the ground, "You suck." He mumbled from the floor.

"Yup." Sunstreaker replied airily as he went back to his data pad.

That apparently was the highlight of the Lamborghini's antics because Sideswipe just mumbled something unintelligible and went back to his chair, extension cord in tow.

"That was lame," Air Raid finally said.

"So what are we doing over here?" an additional voice came from behind the group of Bots.

Bluestreak looked over behind him to see Grapple standing there.

"Oh Grapple!" Hoist said in surprise. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I just finished the final sketching of my Blueprints."

"Oh," Hoist had a slight strain in his voice. "Did you now?"

"Yes. I wanted you to be the first to see the final copy!" There was unbridled glee in Grapples' voice as he pulled out his lead blueprints container.

"So soon? Are you sure you don't want to look over it once more before finalizing the draft?" Hoist asked with unease. Bluestreak gave him an odd look.

"Nonsense! This design is perfect!"

"Hey!" Bluestreak piped up. "Is that the building design you were talking about yesterday, Hoist?" Bluestreak had been on the same shift with the builder mech the previous day had had heard things about a new building in passing. It was for charity. The two mechs were going to make designs for a concert hall in one of the inner city areas nearby.

"Hoist! Now can't you keep a secret?" Grapple asked jokingly, nudging his friend with his elbow. A pleased grin split across his face from audio to audio. He liked when others bragged about his work.

Hoist wasn't as enthused. "I may have mentioned it briefly, yes." He paused. "Are you positive you don't wish to look over it one more time? Just for closure?"

"What's with you, Hoist? The design is perfect now."

"If you say so…" Hoist whispered softly.

"Wow," Bluestreak beamed up at them. The two builders looked in his direction. "You two are such great friends. You're both really lucky you know that? I mean to be such good of buddy's that you two can harshly criticize each other's work and just take in stride. That just shows how much you guys respect each other's opinions and such."

Hoist stiffened and Grapple's smile fell. "Wait what? Criticize?" he asked confusedly.

"Yeah like Hoist could tell you your building is crap and you would just take it in stride. I mean, it's great knowing someone who can be completely honest with you. Just the other day he was talking about how horrible the blueprints you showed him were. I guess you must've taken his advice and fixed them right?" There was absolutely no ill intent or malice in Bluestreak's voice but damage had been done.

Hoist blanched. "Excuse me, Bluestreak. I didn't exactly-"

"Hold up! Hoist? You… You said that about my work?" Grapple turned his head slowly in the other's direction.

"Oh wait." Bluestreak looked between the two, realization dawning on him. "Ohhhh. So you didn't actually tell him that yet. Whoops. You mean that draft is the print you were…whoops."

"Finally!" Air Raid let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. "Some real entertainment!"

"Yet? Hoist did you really insult my artwork in such a callous way?" Grapple screeched.

"No! Certainly not!" Hoist waved his hands frantically. "I wasn't insulting your work. I just made some passing commentary on the framework of your building." Hoist trailed off ambiguously.

"No you're right." Bluestreak said thoughtfully. Hoist sighed in relief.

"I think your exact words were, 'a deck of cards would hold up better then that slapped-together conglomeration of matter'." Once again, zero ill intent, yet tons of damage.

If it had been possible Hoist would have paled. "Bluestreak, where did you hear that?"

"Yesterday at 1700 hours I think. We had monitor duty together."

"Hoist." Grapple's voice was filled with malice. His fingers twitched slightly, itching to get around the other's throat. "I can not believe you! My infrastructure design is perfect! Flawless! How dare you insult my ideas!"

Hoist sprang backwards to create some distance and tried pleading with the other mech. "I didn't mean any harm! But the plans could use a little revision. I was going to bring it up sooner but… Well as a fellow architect it's my humble opinion that the substructure of your design is a tad bit unsound and-"

"So you admit to it!"

"Please, be reasonable Grapple. The infrastructure of your design is just not plausible! The stability would end up being compromised if you…"

"He's saying yer work is crap, Buddy," Blades supplied.

"Shut it, blender-butt! Nobody asked you!" Grapple yelled.

"What? I was clarifying!" The helicopter bot snarled back.

"Hey, Blades. This is their fight. Stay out of it." Brawn grumbled over the noise of bickering mechs. He had just walked in to see if the TV was fixed yet and instead was unintentionally getting his daily dose of ARK drama.

"And which dwarf are you supposed to be?" Blades snarled. "The Idiot? Go away you Slagger."

Brawn was speechless for only a moment "…You aft! What's with the insult? What the hell is your problem?"

"My Problems is slag sucking midgets getting into my business."

"You say that to my face again you Fragger and I kick you clear across to the East coast," Brawn threatened, getting riled.

"If you can reach me, shorty," Blades taunted.

Distracted briefly by the repartee between Blades and Brawn Hoist didn't notice that Grapple, in a completely uncharacteristic moment, launched at him with a primeval cry. The two crashed spectacularly into the ground and began to swing their fists blindly at each other.

Blades took the act as the "go ahead" and fired off a low punch, hitting an unsuspecting Brawn square in the face. Before Blades' could retract his fist Brawn instinctively grabbed his arm in a vain attempt to regain his failing balance from the hit and ended up dragging both of them on top of the squabbling builder and draftsmech.

Airraid, who had been watching everything from the sidelines forgotten, screeched in frustration, "Don't ignore me!" and dove into the clash.

Bluestreak, seemingly mesmerized by the fighting mechs, didn't realize that two different arms shot out from the mess and latched onto his ankles. It wasn't clear on who said it but after a "This is your fault!" Bluestreak, barely registering what was going on, was dragged into the violent pileup. He scrabbled vainly to get away but was quickly dragged under.

Soon there was an all out brawl taking place in the middle of the common room to which Sideswipe, who had gone back to cat's cradle after his brothers blatant rejection, happily added himself to just for the heck of it.

Sunstreaker simply stared at the violent tangle of mechs rolling around on the floor at his feet.

"I want no part of this." Sunstreaker stood from the couch. "I'm still trying to figure out what exactly I did to piss off Prowl last time. I don't need this on my résumé, too."

"I think it was when you broke the control panel last Tuesday!" Sideswipe supplied happily from the bottom of the pile before getting punched in the fuel tank area by an angered Brawn. It was completely accidental since Brawn was trying to claw his way to Blades. The Lamborghini simply got in the way.

Sunstreaker ignored them and left.

Several bumps, scratches and a broken nasal plate later, Ironhide and Fireflight finally entered the scene to break apart the chaos. It would've ended sooner had Fireflight not been kicked in the back of the knee causing the poor Aerialbot to be dragged into the tangle of violent limbs.

Ironhide finally trudged through the mess of brawlers, ripped two mechs off of a fetal positioned Bluestreak, gave a swift kick to Sideswipe's side and clocked Brawn once over the head afterwards so he'd stop strangling Blades (who had been, incidentally enough, trying to gut Brawn with one of his rotary blades). With an intimidating figure in his presence seemingly on his side Blades was about to begin jeering at an aching Brawn but that thought was nipped in the bud by Ironhide's stony glare. He quickly and quietly backed off.

And so Ironhide single handedly stopped the chaos.

But it didn't end completely until after Grapple slugged Hoist with his lead plated blueprints container.

00000000

Prowl had barely been given any warning. All there had been was a strange stab of foreboding when he heard his Com crackle to life.

'Prowl.' Ironhide's distinctive twang carried through the link.

"Ironhide." Prowl replied with only the slightest hesitation.

'Yer the head of disciplinary whatnots. You deal with it.'

"What do you-"

Prowl's office door slid open to reveal Ironhide with a scowl across his face and his arms crossed. Prowl tilted his body ever so slightly to the side and made out not one, not two, but seven mechs all looking like they had seen better days standing behind the old 'Bot. Brawn was pinching the bridge of his nose. It was bent at a slightly awkward angle.

"I'm getting' me some high grade." And just like that Ironhide was gone.

Prowl just stared at the seven for a moment before his gaze habitually snapped to Sideswipe first. "What did you do now?"

Sideswipe gave a mock hurt look and held his hands up defensively. "I had absolutely nothing to do with this one. I was just an innocent bystander this time."

"An innocent bystander that knocked me in the jaw," Air Raid grumbled bitterly, rubbing the aforementioned spot tenderly.

"I don't believe you for some reason," Prowl said icily.

"I'm being completely honest, Prowl. Cross my fuel pump and hope to rust. I did not start this. You can ask the others. They'll vouch for me."

Prowl stared at him directly in the optics. Sideswipe may have been a cheater not below using underhanded tactics to get things to go his way, but it was not in his character to actually lie outright to a superior officer. But just to make sure… "Is this true?"

The others shrugged and grumbled but Prowl was able to make out a 'yeah' or two and an 'It's true' out of the verbal mush.

"Alright. So you didn't start something- for once. However, you were still part of it. You are not off the hook."

"But I still have my good name!" Sideswipe answered cheekily.

Prowl let out an inaudible sigh. "If he didn't start the fight then who did?"

"It was him!" All occupants in the room, save Prowl, pointed toward Bluestreak. The gunner instinctively shrank back.

"Wait, what?" Bluestreak squeaked. "What did I do?"

Prowl's system probably stalled for a split second as he stared down at the other Datsun. Off the top of his mind the only offences he could recall the young gunner committing were bad attempts at humor. He couldn't see the ditzy warrior starting a fight. "Please explain the situation."

"He can't keep that jabbering orifice of his closed for more then five seconds!" Hoist yelled in frustration.

Bluestreak came to his own defense. "I can too!"

"No you can't! Your freaking CPU travels at half the speed your trap does!" Blades fired back. "You always say crap before you think about it. This happens all the time. You say something that makes people mad at each other."

"Like someone else," Brawn growled. Blades shot him an evil look.

"What, that's not true!" Bluestreak huffed. He didn't talk all the time! "I think before I say things. I think all the time! I think about all kinds of things! All kinds of thoughtful things! I can too be quiet! Silent. Hushed. Noiseless. You name it I can be it. I am completely unthoughtless. I can-"

"You're doing it now," Sideswipe stated offhandedly. Bluestreak gave him a kicked puppy look. "Sorry, Blue. I call it as I see it and you do talk enough to burn a mech's audio off. Just saying..."

"Yeah! I bet that you couldn't stay quiet for 5 minutes," Grapple accused.

"Yes I could! I am perfectly capable of not talking that long!" Bluestreak cried. Why was everyone ganging up on him? Sometimes he said stupid things but it didn't happen all the time…did it?

"I hate to break it to you Blue but you staying silent would be like Sideswipe liking Cliffjumper." Air Raid snickered.

"I have no problems with Cliffjumper."

There was a stunned silence as everyone starred at Sideswipe with flabergasted expressions. Even Prowl was gaping at the red Melee warrior's response.

"What? Why are you all looking at me that way?" Sideswipe blinked and scanned his gaze across the baffled expressions of his comrades.

"I thought you hated Cliffjumper." It was Blades that spoke.

"Nope. that's Sunny." Sideswipe waved his hand dismissivly. "Why would I hate Cliffjumper? Sure he's an irritating little prick sometimes but who do you think supplies me with big-ass guns during battle when I slag my own?"

"I was wondering about that," Brawn said softly.

"Wait but all this time… The insults! The fights!" Blades tried making sense of the situation.

"'Tis but friendly banter," Sideswipe relayed with a mock British accent. "Otherwise I have no problems with the tomato dwarf. Sunny hates him, yeah, but Sunny hates everyone."

"I heard that," everyone jumped slightly as Sideswipe's comline activated. Sideswipe, unsurprised, just lifted his arm and stared at the blinking red light as his brother's voice flitted through again. "And no, I don't," Sunstreaker stated flatly.

"You have a funny way of showing it then," Air Raid grumbled. Not that he was one to talk, really.

"I dislike and can't stand most of you. You are all irritating and there have been times where I've wanted to ship the lot of you into the sun. Still, if I hated any of you, as in actual hate, do you really think any of you would still be alive?" The golden warrior questioned calmly.

An icy silence passed over the room as the mechs, minus Sideswipe, mulled that thought over.

"So what can I do for you, Bro?" Sideswipe asked, shattering the uneasy quiet.

"The hazardous wasteland you call your side of the room seemed to have swallowed my stuff again. I can't find my book file."

"You don't like my redecorating?"

"Put it this way. I'm thinking of giving Wheeljack one of your scrap piles so he can test for sentient life."

"Leave my piles alone ya neat freak."

"Then help me find my book file!" Sunstreaker roared in frustration.

"Can't," Sideswipe answered simply.

"Why not?"

"I'm in Prowl's office."

Silence.

"Because of the fight, I'm assuming."

"Yup."

"…..You are a complete idiot."

"So you've told me in the past. Anyway could you call later? I don't want to be in here any longer then I have to and you're holding Prowl up."

"After you tell me where the hell my book file is!"

"Well which one are you looking for? Was it Arrowsmith, Faust? It wasn't Ishmael was it because I lent that to Skyfire, you know. I thought I told you that."

"None of those. I can't find all is Quiet on the Western Front." At that phrase it was Blades head that snapped up. An idea was beginning to blossom.

"Oh," Sideswipe said with understanding. "I was using that one. It's under the short leg of my desk."

Silence.

"You what!"

Click.

"Sorry about that. Carry on Prowl." The red melee waved his fingers in a shushing motion.

Once again Sideswipe was on the receiving end of strange looks.

"That was an interesting interlude," Prowl stated rather insipidly. Who knew that Sunstreaker had such a refined taste in Earth literature? "However I still need to deal with you all."

"I think I just got an idea," Blades all but cackled evilly. Brawn shot him a nasty glare.

"What?" Sideswipe's violet-blue optics sparkled with mischief.

Prowl wasn't sure he liked where any of this was going but against better judgment asked, "And what is your idea, Blades?"

"The humans call it the quiet game. Bluestreak."

The gunner jolted in hearing his name and turned to face the helicopter transformer.

"Quiet…game?" Bluestreak tried the words out and decided he didn't like the feel they left in his mouth.

"You say that you can shut up if you felt like it, but I bet that you wouldn't be able to stay quiet for at least three days."

Bluestreak sensed a challenge. "Yes I could."

"So it's on then. If you win I'll give you my best aged Valvoluux High-grade. And you get to keep your Pride and bragging rights."

Sideswipe gave a low whistle, obviously impressed. "In my days as a trader I only came across that stuff once. Where'd a walking wreck like you get a hold of that?"

Blades grinned mischievously. "I won it off Mirage."

Bluestreak was tempted but the whole quiet issue still felt like a problem to him. He should've ignored it but for some reason he felt the need to defend himself. "What if I lose?"

"If you lose it just proves we're right."

Bluestreak thought about it. That didn't sound that bad.

But then an evil glint lit up Blade's optics. "That and you'll have to get your vocalizer shut off for two weeks."

Red flags went up in Bluestreak's mind and his subconscious was basically beating him over the head with a sign that said 'BAD IDEA!'

Not talking for three days? That alone sounded iffy. But two weeks? The whole situation seemed dubious. He wasn't sure why but the prospect of not talking scared him.

"Why would I want too?" he asked cautiously.

"To prove to us you can."

There was silence. You could almost see the tension saturating the air.

Bluestreak wouldn't agree. It was stupid. He didn't have anything to prove.

Finally…

"Fine. I'll take you up on that. Quiet for three days."

Damn it. Why did he agree?

Bluestreak held his hand out reluctantly. Blades grinned and they shook.

"We'll go over the rules and guidelines. You start officially tomorrow. Good luck. This is your chance to prove to everyone that you aren't always a jabbering idiot who completely leaks off every secret you hear to everyone," Blades mocked.

"Hey. I can keep secrets!" Bluestreak retorted.

"You keep secrets as good as the gossip columns," Hoist interjected sourly. Grapple sent him a malevolent look in response.

"Hey, no one told me that was a secret! And I can keep secrets! Like the time that Spike tried to get Carly under the mistletoe at that Christmas party and instead Prowl got stuck under it with Grimlock, I never told any one about tha-" the second the words left his lips, Bluestreak slapped his hands over his mouth as if trying to shove the words back into his mouth.

Okay. So maybe there were times he let things slip that he shouldn't have.

"…"

Well, awkward silence.

The room went quiet and had it been possible, Sideswipe's jaw would have been scraping the floor. Suddenly Prowl found himself being stared at by everyone.

Prowl, keeping a dignified look, straightened the pile of data pads on his desk before setting them aside with an ominous clink. "I fully approve and consent to this contest. I'm letting you all off of punishment this one time. I think you all get the point. You may proceed with your endeavors." He turned his attention to the top pad on his desk and began scrolling through it like nothing happened. "Now if you would all leave me to my work."

No one moved.

Sideswipe shattered the ice. "Prowl, you and-"

"I said OUT!"

All the Autobots scattered.

Except for Bluestreak who sluggishly lolled out of Prowl's office.

This was a bad idea. He didn't know why but his subconscious was screaming at him for agreeing.

This was going to end badly for him. He just knew it.

But how hard could staying quiet be?

Prowl watched the gray mech exit the room, optics down cast and door wings drooping miserably. Prowl couldn't help feel guilty watching the mech's demeanor.

Just what had he let them do?

Meanwhile, Bluestreak was questioning himself; just what had he agreed to?

In his case, talking was more important then you would think because it kept his mind busy.

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(1) In canon Blaster has a brother who transforms into a toaster named… toaster. Look him up on the transformers wiki.

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