Exhausted was definitely an understatement. If the droop of the inventor's small 'wings' didn't show his fatigue, then it was the glowing cube of high-grade he was consuming - Wheeljack definitely wasn't a drinker, though tonight rather qualified for a cube of the 'good' stuff as he heard the others saying. The Lancia was rather sitting off in the back of the rec. room by himself as the few others in the room 'celebrated' their victory...though Wheeljack hardly thought it as such. They had won and defeated the Decepticons, though it hadn't been an easy victory and for every 'con they had taken down, one of their own went down as well.

Ratchet had been elbow deep in mech internals since noon and he himself had stepped in to assist the CMO along with First Aid...though it had been rather stressing to watch his friends on the brink of life and death quite a few times. Yet Ratchet wasn't CMO for nothing - and he definitely showed why he was chief medical officer material once again as he kept their comrades alive.

He rather wished he had worked harder to try and get the stubborn ambulance to come get some energon, though, then again, that was like trying to milk a rock for energon. It didn't work despite the strange imagery that came to his processor from the thought.

Wheeljack gave a sigh, optics dim as he took a deep drink through his mask, coughing faintly at the strength of the high-grade, though it definitely helped his systems perk up from their dragging rate and that was all he really needed right now.

There was a trail of dents along the sides of the Ark wall, particularly around the repair bay where Sideswipe was deep in stasis with a nasty injury on his chassis. One of the cluster bomb dropped by one of the seekers hit too close and nearly offlined Sunstreaker's twin. He was lucky that the blast didn't destroy his spark casing, but Sunstreaker felt the jolt of pain the moment the blast hit through their bond. Sunstreaker tackled, tore and reaped at any mech he could get his hands on, not even caring if he had injured other Autobots. All the yellow Lamborghini could think of was his injured brother and he was going to offline every single mech he could reach. Sunstreaker couldn't remember who had stopped him, or how he had made it back to base.

His hands, face and chassis were covered in energon and oil. His circuits were dangerously overheated and worst of he found some tears and dents on his structure. He'd have to wait until Ratchet took his sweet time fixing the others. For several cycles he stood around the repair bay wondering what the condition of his brother. Sunstreaker could still feel the other's existence, though weak.

It wasn't until the blaring signal alerted him that he was low on fuel, the yellow mech rose to his aching feet and treaded to the rec. room, glaring at everyone that passed, by alerting that he was in no mood to even spare them a greeting. He immediately headed for the high grade, downing three cube fulls like it was the smoothest energon. His processors grew numb as did the pain in parts of his injuries. Welcoming the temporary painkillers, he refilled another cube, but this time drank slowly to savor the taste.

Wheeljack's cube was almost empty, the pleasant buzz of high-grade sparking through his systems, though he was sure the boost of energy would fade off soon - or so he hoped anyway. The volume of the rec. room was increasing and he frowned faintly, finishing his cube and standing slowly to rather keep out of sight of the other's attention for the moment as he walked to the door, throwing the cube away.

Recharge was sounding rather good right now...besides, he really wasn't in the mood to be hanging out with his polished friends at the moment - spending the whole day in the medbay could rather wear down on a mech's stamina.

A Sunstreaker finished his fourth cube of high grade, he was hit by a discarded cube against his torn ankle. He coughed, hissing at the surge of pain. Looking down at the empty cube then at the one mech leaving the rec. room. Grabbing the empty energon cube, he caught up to Wheeljack and smashed the glass against the back of Wheeljack's head.

A surprised and startled shout left the inventor, his steps faltering as he stumbled and a hand quickly went to the back of his helm, ear panels flashing red as the pain registered in his processor. Wheeljack spun around - and his optics widened in surprise to see Sunstreaker - and a rather fragged Sunstreaker at that.

"S-Sunstreaker?! What the frag was that for?!"

Fists clenched, breaking the shattered cube in his fingers, embedding shards into his own hands. He couldn't think properly, or even reason why he thought of beating the living slag out of the scientist, but a part of his processors deemed that it would make him feel better. So he reared a fist back and punched Wheeljack, denting his face mask hard. "Shut up! Why are you even here? You should be in the repair bay saving my brother!"

Wheeljack stumbled back, cringing to feel the metal of his mask dent and he fell back to the ground after a failed attempt to rebalance himself. "What are you talking about?! Sideswipe is stable - Ratchet is keeping an optic on him!" he exclaimed, rather fearful that he would find himself in the medbay if Sunstreaker continued his actions.

"Stable my aft!" Grabbing the inventor's shoulder he picked him up and slammed him against the wall, his fingers left marks on the metal structure, energon still wet on his hands stained against the white paintjob. Sunstreaker's blaring drunken optics glared with disgust. "Can't even keep up with the rest of us during battle, even that mini-con Bumblebee did more damage to the Decepticons than you!" His optics dimmed as the rush of high grade began processing through his fuel line. His grip weakened, but he kept his gaze on Wheeljack, "Can't do anything, but...blow slag up...."

He gave a pained sound when he was slammed against the wall, his wings being pinched painfully and he grimaced when he felt the tight grip the frontliner had on him. Wheeljack glowered at Sunstreaker, "Back off Sunstreaker! Taking your anger out on me isn't going to help Sideswipe!" the inventor snapped, his usual optimistic attitude having faded rather quickly with his exhaustion and in the current situation.

"Don't even!" The Lamborghini slammed against the inventor again, but this time he felt and heard screeching sounds from the torn metal on his ankle. He let go of Wheeljack and slipped into a half kneeling position. When his optics looked down he saw he was bleeding more than he had thought. The sharp edges of the metal were severing over sensitive circuits and fuel lines.

Wheeljack had flinched after being slammed against once more - though he was rather relieved when the Lamborghini had backed off, watching him with a frown...Sunstreaker was hurt, polished from what he could tell, and his twin was in the medbay still in stasis from what he remembered. Even if Sides was stable, he was sure the yellow warrior was worried sick about him...he sighed inwardly before hesitantly moving off the wall, wings twitching. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe will be out of the medbay tomorrow, I can promise you that...but right now, I think it would be best if I repaired you and you got some recharge..."

Instinctively, the warrior was about to bark back that he was fine, but the he knew by the looks of the injury that he would never be able to repair himself properly. He looked at Wheeljack suspiciously at Sideswipe's condition, wondering if he was just saying that to make him calm down. Sunstreaker could only nod though. He shouldn't have downed those high grades so fast. His processors spun and he couldn't see straight anymore--the bleeding didn't help any.

Seeing the nod, he relaxed a bit, wings perking faintly to their normal height and he slowly held his hand out to help Sunstreaker up, "Ratchet will bite my head off if he sees me in the medbay, but I have some tools in my subspace. I'll help you back to your quarters if you need it."

"Whatever..." Sunstreaker mumbled as he took Wheeljack's hand embarrassingly and pushed off the ground until he was standing again. Walking properly was now a problem though, so he limped. He refused to hold onto anything as he made slowly made his way to his and Sideswipe's quarters. Even when injured and partially drunk he held his head high. Bloody fingers punched in the code and the doors opened to the twin's room.

He had frowned softly at the reply, though at least he wasn't being beaten to a pulp...Wheeljack tagged along after Sunstreaker, optics dimming when they eventually got to the mech's quarters. The inventor walked in hesitantly after the Lamborghini, already pulling a couple tools he would need to repair Sunstreaker from his subspace.

It was obvious Sunstreaker's side of the room was the one with the full adult mech sized mirror and expensive brands of polish wax and brushes. He plopped onto his berth, an empty feeling filling him when he realized how quiet the quarter was. Blue optics studied the empty berth of his brother and sighed heavily. It wasn't the first time he had to spend the night without his sibling, but it wasn't a moment he missed--especially knowing that 'Sides was in the med bay. Sunstreaker had forgotten about the scientist until he heard the clanks of various tools.

Wheeljack had been busy finding which tools he would need, not really noticing Sunstreaker's movement to his berth until he looked up, optics brightening softly. "Alright, I should be able to fix your ankle without too much difficulty Sunstreaker...though I'm going to need you to lie back onto your berth, kay?"

Sunstreaker did as told, hauling his legs carefully onto the berth before laying himself down onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, watching Wheeljack approach from the corner of his optics. The dent on the other's mask didn't escape him, neither the fingerprints on his shoulders. Sunstreaker never apologized to anyone, but he did feel a little bad. It was bad enough that Wheeljack had to hide his face with a mask. Unlike Optimus, whom everyone debated hid something handsome underneath, Sunstreaker could only imagine the most deranged scars on the scientist.

The inventor moved over, sitting on the edge of the berth to be beside the damaged ankle and he frowned at the damage, shaking his helm a little...though he wasn't going to scold Sunstreaker - he'd rather like to keep himself in functioning order and not rolled in to the medbay slagged...getting his tools, the inventor was quick to numb the area but cutting off the signals being sent to Sunstreaker's processor from the damaged wiring and circuitry around the torn up ankle before he began working quietly.

The Lamborghini showed no signs of discomfort during the process. The high-grade was definitely taking effect now. His entire body felt limp and numb, his processors buzzing in a high trance as he watched Wheeljack. As he stared at the mech he grew more curious as to how he looked underneath that mask. He never cared too much before to pay attention or notice. "What happened to your face?"

He was torn from his concentration when he heard the question, blinking a bit as he paused. "Hm? Oh..." Wheeljack faintly touched his mask, frowning at the feel of the dent in it before looking to Sunstreaker's ankle once more as he continued working. "Accident when I was younger...I was an apprentice and was working for someone who was working on something rather secretive - couple mechs broke in while he was out on break and I tried to stop them." he shrugged faintly, "They messed with the equipment and it blew sky high...killed everyone but me somehow, though they didn't have the right tools to fix the damage done to my face..."

He shrugged faintly, "So I wear this mask to hide the scars."

Sunstreaker watched the hypnotizing lights flicker as Wheeljack spoke. He figured that an accident in a lab had something to do with it, but was slightly surprised that it was someone else who had caused the injury. "Why don't you get Ratchet to fix it. He's such a "miracle" worker a few scars wouldn't be so hard to get rid of."

Wheeljack shook his head a little, "I've grown used to them...besides, its not priority. I'd rather not waste supplies on fixing facial scars when they could be used instead to repair someone who actually needs it."

There was a pause as the Lamborghini warrior struggled with the thought. His face, his outer appearance, his beauty was extremely important. He spent hours of everyday to make sure he was at his best before leaving his quarters. Leaving scars on his body was unfathomable. The generosity and kindness didn't go unnoticed though. Wheeljack would continue wearing a mask to hide his face for other's benefits. Sunstreaker's expression softened.

He was quiet once more, ear panels glowing softly every now and then as he worked on Sunstreaker's ankle before pulling back. "There. I don't think I have to tell you to be careful...my repairs aren't Ratchet material, but your own self-repair system should fix everything overnight." the inventor said, wings perking up faintly as he looked up to Sunstreaker, wiping his hands free of any energon.

"Do you have any other damages that need tended to?"

Leaning up onto his elbow, the yellow mech moved his ankle up and down then sideways carefully. The joint was stiff and numb, but at least repaired. He'll need to repaint and wax parts of his armor too. Sunstreaker did a quick self scan. His head was buzzing, but he found nothing out of the ordinary. The Lamborghini looked up and down the build of Wheeljack. His paint was dusty and dull, filled with scratches and smaller dents, obviously he hasn't been taking care of his hygiene. A though crossed Sunstreaker. "Yeah, when was the last time you had a good polish? You look like a mess."

His optics brightened in confusion for a moment before he glanced at himself and gave a small, humorless chuckle. "I don't even remember the last time I had a polish let alone a good one...with the battles of late, that's been the last thing on my processor."

A look of horrified and disgust struck Sunstreaker. He let this mech touch him without knowing when he had been cleaned? The yellow mech got up from the berth and dragged Wheeljack into the personal wash rack, pushing him into the shower stall and turning on the water. He wasn't sure why he was doing this. He reasoned that it was partly guilt for attacking him earlier--and since the warrior refused to apologize, this was the next best thing.

Wheeljack had squeaked when Sunstreaker had gotten off the berth and literally dragged him into the wash rack area, having rather feared he had said something wrong and was going to get pummeled - though a faint yelp left him to feel the water on his armor. "W-What are you doing?" Wheeljack asked, confused as he looked to the larger mech.

"Cleaning you. Primus forbid I'm going to let a filthy mech like you in my quarters." Sunstreaker continued on about proper hygiene and getting dirt in his joints and the pain it was to get sand out of joints, especially when they were in the middle of a desert. He let the water wash off the dust as he lathered a wash rag. He started at Wheeljack's chest, wiping off chunks of dirt, mud, odd colored chemicals and whatnot from the hood and windows. A hand rested on the scientist's waist to keep him still.

A faint blush crossed his masked features, more focused on the rag on his armor than Sunstreaker's words as he let the mech clean him - though it wasn't like he had a choice.

Sunstreaker smirked as he saw the light heated face as he scrubbed, cleaning every curve, crevice and space he could find. The soapy rag made it's way to his right arm and fingers. Sunstreaker loved the thought of being able to seduce any mech he met. He had the looks and confidence to do anything. He stepped closer and turned Wheeljack around so he could work on his back. The rag stroked along the wing gently his hands still held onto the dark waist.

Wheeljack felt rather humiliated to be cleaned like this, though he kept still for Sunstreaker, even when his wings shivered when the rag stroked along the surface of one. Hopefully Sunstreaker was almost done...

Gradually the Lamborghini knelt onto his knee, brushing over Wheeljack's aft and down his thighs. His hand slipped from the waist and held onto the thighs as the rag scrubbed at the feet. They were the worst, covered by both mud and dried energon. The inventor was visibly cleaner, but the scratches and dents were now more visible and hard not to miss. Sunstreaker shook his head wondering how a mech could forget to keep his hygiene so low.

He couldn't help the shiver when he felt the yellow hand move from his waist to his thighs, dimming his optics off as he tried to keep himself still while the frontliner cleaned him. "I...I appreciate this Sunstreaker...t-thank you." Wheeljack said after a moment, optics faintly coming on as he glanced at the yellow mech.

A chuckle escaped as Sunstreaker despite the frustration of cleaning the filth off. Hearing the timid voice of the inventor seemed to be worth it. He finished wiping off the last of the dried energon from his feet, but his hand rose to wipe the headlights on the sides of his head. "Don't thank me yet. I'm not done with you."

Wheeljack moved back almost instinctively when the hand rose towards his ear panels, wings twitching a bit...his wings and ear panels were easily the most sensitive adornments on his frame and he was rather wary of letting anyone touch them... "Sorry, it was a reaction...I-I don't usually let anyone touch them..."

Sunstreaker didn't show any signs of disappointment. He should have known, his own head pieces were similar to its sensitivity. There'll be a next time, Sunstreaker can be patient. Instead, his hand traced over the mask, letting the water from the shower rinse off the lingering soap suds.

The mech was surprised he hadn't gotten an angry retort, optics dimming faintly to feel the fingers tracing over his mask and his optics dimmed faintly when they came close to the dent that now deformed the usual curve of his mask plating.

The yellow mech leaned down, face drawing closer to Wheeljack until they were a breath away. Sunstreaker only leaned in so close to tease him as he just turned the shower off, pulling himself away. He dropped the rag and stepped out, tossing Wheeljack a dry towel and one for himself. "Much better." He commented as he gazed at the glow of the other's metallic skin.

A shiver went through Wheeljack at how close they had been, his ear panels flashing faintly when he caught the dry towel handed to him. He paused a moment before he began to dry himself, though he rather had to agree with Sunstreaker - he hadn't felt this clean in a long while.

The Lamborghini looked proud at himself at what a simply shower could do. If only Wheeljack had always been this clean Sunstreaker might've considered stealing him away for a night or two. "If it weren't for those dents and scratches, I'd say you look like a new mech".

"Thanks." Wheeljack said, carefully bringing the towel over his helm to dry off his ear panels before bringing the towel over his chest. That had been the only thing close to a compliment he had ever gotten from Sunstreaker and he was rather surprised the mech had even spent such time on cleaning him...

Waiting for the other to finish drying off, Sunstreaker slowly walked on his healing ankle to lay on the berth the buzz in his head was gone, but now his circuits were whining from being overworked throughout the day and warned him to recharge. He lay down on his side, looking at the empty berth across from his.

Leaving the wash racks after drying, Wheeljack's wings twitched faintly as he saw Sunstreaker lying on his berth and his optics dimmed a little. "Well...I'll leave you alone now - thank you again for cleaning me up." the inventor said, rubbing his helm faintly as he took a couple steps towards the door.

"Stay..." Sunstreaker quietly spoke as he drifted into recharge. It wasn't a question at all, but rather a demand. He did get his hands dirty just washing the scientist up, the least he could do was spend the night. Only Sideswipe knew though that Sunstreaker hated spending the nights alone. Ever since they were sparklings, he was afraid of recharging without someone beside him.

Wheeljack had stiffened faintly to hear Sunstreaker, stopping and looking at the yellow twin...and noticing he was basically recharging already. He hesitated, wings drooping as he glanced at the door once more before looking back at Sunstreaker. A small sigh left his vocalizer, Wheeljack staying in place for a moment and slowly moving over towards the available berth, sitting on it as he looked at Sunstreaker.

He felt...rather awkward to be on Sideswipe's berth as he laid down, his wings folding against his back to prevent being pinched at all between himself and the berth.

Sunstreaker's frame relaxed when he saw the silhouette of Wheeljack appear in his vision. A sigh left his air vents as he settled more into his berth. Optics slowly dimmed until they offlined, his head lulled against his folded arm.

He picked up how Sunstreaker relaxed, watching the twin quietly for a moment before he allowed himself to relax, shifting to get into a better position on the berth. Wheeljack frowned, usually taking off his mask to recharge...though he wasn't really to up for Sunstreaker seeing what was left of his face if the yellow mech woke before him, deciding to leave it on was probably a better choice.

Optics shuttering off, the inventor softly slid into the recharge his systems were clawing towards, his form stilling as he fell into recharge on the unfamiliar berth.