Title: Magic and Loss
Author: Mirage Shinkiro

Rating: M
Warnings: mech/mech plug 'n' play and spark bonding, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and asexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.

Pairings, major: BluestreakxSunstreaker, WheeljackxBluestreak
Parings, minor: SideswipexSmokescreen, SideswipexRatchet, ProwlxJazz, and Sunstreakerx?

Disclaimer: Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

Summary: G1. After awakening on Earth, Bluestreak finds himself still plagued with nightmares and grief over his lost family and home. He tries to drown his pain in another's arms, but love is more complicated than he realizes. It also has consequences. BluexSunny, BluexWheeljack

A/N, notes: :: :: will indicate comm. link or inter-bond talking.

Edit: Inspired by Ryagelle's "Unexpectedly Blue." Give it a read!

A/N, units of time (source, TFwiki): nanoklik=1 second; klik=1.2minutes; breem=8.3 minutes; joor=roughly an hour; orn=a day; and vorn=83 years.


"There's a bit of magic in everything and some loss to even things out."-Lou Reed, "Magic and Loss"

Chapter 1: All the Wrong Places

Peering into the rec room, Bluestreak scanned the mechs present for his lover. When the second shift retired for the night, they always did it with a bang: mid- or high-grade energon, video games, practical jokes, battle tales, raucous laughter, and sometimes Decepticon-mimicking. The final game seemed to be the one of choice tonight, and Bluestreak spied his lover strutting around the room wearing a fake pair of scrap-metal wings. With a tentative smile, Bluestreak stepped through the doorway as Sunstreaker pointed a finger at Sideswipe, who was wearing a grey bucket on his head, and began talking in a raspy voice.

"If you'd listened to me, we wouldn't be in this mess!" Sunstreaker shrieked, doing a decent impression of Starscream. A wave of laughter washed through the room.

Sideswipe pushed out his chest, the grey bucket shifting as he moved. "You fool, Starscream! It was your own erroneous information that started this fiasco, but we'll 'discuss' your idiocy later."

Every mech in the room suddenly chimed in: "Decepticons! Retreat! Reeeeetreat!" The resulting laughter was so loud Bluestreak wondered why they didn't get in trouble. He smiled at the twins, though, as they removed their "helmet" and "wings" and bowed to thunderous applause.

"Score another one for the Autobots!" Sunstreaker tossed aside his wings, clearly exultant over their latest battle.

"Nothing like some Jet Judo!" Sideswipe added, tossing his Megatron helmet to the makeshift audience. He high-fived his yellow twin, having picked up the gesture from watching Spike, and then joined Tracks and Smokescreen, who were vying to see who could drum up the best Decepticon insult.

Bluestreak hovered just inside the doorway, leaning against the wall. He liked watching his comrades having fun, but he still felt apart from them, on the outside of an invisible barrier created by their misconceptions of him. He knew he could win more friends if he could tame his quirk, but the problem was he couldn't. He found himself babbling to anyone and everyone who would lend him half an audio because if he let himself stop and think, he was immediately assaulted by memories of his home city, Praxus, being annihilated by Decepticons. In fact, staying silent this long was beginning to make him twitchy, and it was with relief that he realized Sunstreaker had noticed his presence and was wandering over.

"Hey, Blue," Sunstreaker said, his tone sultry. "I was wondering when you'd return from your mission. My berth felt awfully cold last night." He grinned.

Bluestreak returned the smile, always warmed by the realization that someone as tough as Sunstreaker had asked him out. "Well, we were supposed to return this morning but the Coneheads found us and probably about the same time you all were fighting Megatron and the others we were fighting and Mirage really put himself in the line of fire to get that intel and there was no way we were going to leave his side after he got so injured and—"

Sunstreaker held up a hand. "I'm just teasing!" He grabbed the gunner's elbow and pulled him into the room. "You had dinner yet? Let's get some high-grade and head back to my quarters."

"No I haven't had supper." Bluestreak allowed himself to be led. "But you know high-grade doesn't sit quite well in my tank and with nothing else in my system it's likely to make me sick and what about Sideswipe? He's probably tired after all that fighting and I don't want him to miss out on recharge because — "

"Sides is trying to seduce Smokescreen." Sunstreaker snorted. "Take a closer look at them and Tracks. Sides is totally moving in for the kill. Don't worry. We'll have the room to ourselves tonight." He had pulled Bluestreak over to the energon dispenser and proceeded to get two high-grades.

Bluestreak smiled uncertainly and accepted the cube, knowing he had a hard time saying no to Sunstreaker. "Okay then if you're sure and it would be nice to have some time alone with you unless you'd like to stay and party more first."

Sunstreaker was already shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good. Let's go." He never released his elbow and halfway dragged him from the room and down the hall.

Even though they hadn't officially spark bonded, they'd casually spark merged a few times, and Bluestreak was getting feedback across the faint connection between them. He could tell Sunstreaker was feeling deprived, so he knew he wouldn't get much recharge that night. He couldn't complain, though, when Sunstreaker made him momentarily forget every nightmare and bad memory he possessed. In fact, he made him feel attractive, wanted, and loved.

"Congratulations by the way," Bluestreak said as they traversed the hallways, heading for the twins' quarters. "I heard you really gave Thundercracker a pounding and Sideswipe got Skywarp pretty good too. I also heard you dealt Starscream a good one when he came to their defense and I assume that little play you all were putting on was exactly what happened at the end of the battle and — "

"You bet," Sunstreaker interrupted. He grinned as they stopped at his cabin door. "We've got our Jet Judo perfected, I tell you." He punched in his access code and hauled Bluestreak inside. "Now, let me do something else I've perfected." His grin widened as he wrapped one arm around his waist.

Bluestreak ducked his head, still overwhelmed by Sunstreaker's advances even after two hundred orns of being with him. Everyone had been teasing them lately, saying Bluestreak had finally tamed the Ark's biggest player, and Sunstreaker had been replying with saucy remarks about the alluring qualities of doorwings and chevrons. Bluestreak wasn't sure what to make of it, but he could attest to Sunstreaker's skills having been perfected.

"I love it when you get all shy on me," Sunstreaker said, laughing. "Now drink your supper! You're tense even for you." He held up his own energon cube, pressing it against Bluestreak's lips. "Come on, babe. As much as I like your shyness, I also like it when you loosen up and just give yourself to me."

"Mm," was all Bluestreak managed as a reply and then he was dutifully sipping the bitter high-grade. The energon had been distilled too quickly to develop either a sweet or dry tang, and those who drank it didn't do so for the taste.

Sunstreaker pulled away the cube when some energon escaped Bluestreak's lips and raced down his chin. With a 'Con-eating grin, he licked Bluestreak's chin, catching the spilled liquid, then gulped the rest of the cube himself. "Good enough," he said, tossing both their cubes onto the desk, and then he was crushing Bluestreak's frame against his own, capturing his mouth in a kiss and running his hands up the sensitive transformation seams along Bluestreak's back.

Bluestreak moaned, used to the assaults of sudden passion and knowing that a deprived Sunstreaker tended to go in rounds, the first one always intense and quick. Sure enough, Sunstreaker pushed him against the desk, lifting him onto the edge, and nibbled down his throat. At the same time, his hands ran across the expanse of Bluestreak's doorwings, massaging the metal with his fingertips and triggering sensory nodes. Bluestreak gasped and arched into the touch, his racing thoughts stopped completely as all his systems focused on the pleasure.

He dared to hope he wouldn't be having any nightmares about dying friends and family members that night.


Wheeljack hummed an aimless tune as he wandered through medbay, storing various tools used the previous day to treat the wounded. He enjoyed being on first shift because it usually meant he had about a joor of peace and quiet to ponder whatever his current project was.

However, when the medbay doors hissed open to reveal Sunstreaker, Wheeljack remembered the one distinct drawback to first shift: buffing out the paint marks caused by overly boisterous lovers during the course of the night.

"Hey, 'Jack," Sunstreaker said, hopping onto a berth. "I managed to add some unsightly grey patches to myself, so could you lend me a hand?" He touched one patch gingerly. "And this was a new wax job, too!"

Wheeljack found himself empathizing with Ratchet's most famous quirk. If he could have reformatted Sunstreaker into a toaster, he would have gladly done it. "If you're that concerned about it, tone down your activities." Irritated by the reminder of which mech was on the receiving end of Sunstreaker's excess energy, Wheeljack found he couldn't rouse his usual laidback attitude.

"Whoa!" Sunstreaker frowned at him while he grabbed the buffer. "What's up with you? And why have you been so surly with me lately? You're not this cross with Sides when he comes in."

Feeling glad his blast mask hid most of his face, Wheeljack turned toward Sunstreaker and pretended to tease him. He couldn't let anyone know about his secret crush on Bluestreak, least of all Sunstreaker. "That's because Sideswipe isn't in here every other morning whining about the horrible scratches to his lovely paint."

Sunstreaker shrugged. "Hey, I can't help it if the rest of you are lax about your appearances. Then again, none of you are as beautiful as I am, so maybe you have no reason to be this motivated."

And the sad part is he really believes that, Wheeljack thought, shaking his head. "Is that a wise thing to say to the mech holding the buffer over you?"

"You wouldn't dare!" Sunstreaker scooted away.

Wheeljack had to laugh. "Relax. You know I'm a professional. Besides, if you fuss too much, I'll get Ratchet, and I might add that he fell into recharge at his desk again."

Clearly understanding both the threat and the impending doom, Sunstreaker held still while Wheeljack buffed the grey patches off. When the job was finished, he looked over his yellow paint carefully, examining the work.

"Not bad," he said. "I'll just have to apply more wax later."

"You're welcome," Wheeljack quipped.

Sunstreaker hopped off the berth and frowned at him again. "Hey, is Ratch rubbing off on you or something? 'Cause you really have been grumpy with me for awhile now."

Knowing he had to dismiss Sunstreaker's concerns or he'd get harassed for being jealous, Wheeljack waved him off. "Just take it easy, will you? You and Blue get enough damage in battle without giving Ratchet and me extra work thanks to your extracurricular activities."

Sunstreaker snorted. "You wouldn't be complaining if you were on the receiving end, I bet." He sauntered toward the door. "Besides, we're warriors. We can take it."

Holding back a sigh, Wheeljack shook his head as Sunstreaker left. "What an idiot."

"You just now figured that out?" came a grouchy voice from behind him.

Wheeljack chuckled as he turned to face a stiff-looking Ratchet. "Good morning, sunshine! Do you need me to work on your neck cables?"

"Ah, shut up! It's not like you don't fall into recharge at your desk, too."

Wheeljack laughed again and gestured at the berth. "Let me rephrase that: I'm going to adjust your neck cables before you kill your first patient for the day."

Ratchet smirked but complied.


Bombs. More bombs. Seeker fire. Bluestreak cowered in the cellar of his creators' store, where he worked. Trapped a darkness pierced only by firefight, he tried to ignore the glimpses of his creators' battered, smoking bodies when the cellar window admitted flashes of light.

Twenty joors. Twenty endless joors of shattering booms, flying metal, and the nauseating smell of oil burning. Bluestreak had only been an adult for less than a vorn, and despite all the horror stories, he'd been too naïve to think the Decepticons would breach his city. Now all he could hear was the shriek of bending metal and the whiz of missiles. In the corner where he'd curled in a ball, he jumped at the nearest explosions, certain he'd die, and cringed at the sound of distant screams and cries. They were all going to die, he knew it. Nothing but rubble and scrap metal would remain . . .

Bluestreak snapped out of recharge, gasping through his intakes, and bolted upright on Sunstreaker's berth. Staring around the small, silent room, he searched for a sign of his lover, but Sunstreaker had clearly already left. The shadows in the corners seemed to expand, making him twitch as he remembered those endless joors being trapped in the cellar. The nightmares just wouldn't leave him alone.

Forcing himself to not glitch, he focused on his other two immediate problems: one, he was stiff and sore; two, he was alone. Discomforted, he climbed off the berth and stretched, easing the tension in his frame's various springs and cables, and headed straight for the washracks. He had no idea where Sunstreaker had gone, but fortunately, the washracks were busy, with several second shift mechs razzing each other over the sound of hissing water. Bluestreak scanned the room as he entered.

"Hey, Tracks," Smokescreen yelled, tossing an empty bottle at his target, "you've been in here for three breems! You're already squeaky clean, so leave some water for the rest of us."

Sideswipe, who Bluestreak noticed was stranding right beside Smokescreen, laughed as Tracks protested. "Yeah," the red twin said. "You're the only mech in the base as vain as my brother."

"I'll tell Sunny you said that," Tracks sniffed.

"He'll just agree," Sideswipe replied, grinning. The other mechs present — the Aerialbots minus Silverbolt — laughed.

Bluestreak finally slipped into the cavernous room, inhaling the warm steam through his intakes and relaxing. Laughter. Voices. Life. They made him calm down, at least until Sides saw him.

"Hey, Blue, nice yellow patches you're sporting there!" Sideswipe called across the room.

Bluestreak froze midstride as seven pairs of optics focused on him. "Oh?" he said, horrified. He glanced at his chassis and saw yellow streaks on his grey and red paint. "I see you're right. I guess I'll have to stop and see Wheeljack or Ratchet before I go on duty or Prowl's not going to be very happy with me and that wouldn't — "

The entire room of mechs burst into peels of laughter, with Sideswipe imitating a human's cat call.

"Go, Blue!" Sides walked over and slapped his back. "Glad to know you're still keeping up with Sunny."

"Yeah," Smokescreen said, dropping his voice and aiming his words more at the Aerialbots, "and we all know Blue could use some unwinding."

Snickers followed that statement, but Sideswipe glared at the mech who was apparently his new lover. "Smokescreen."

Smokescreen held up both hands in a sign of surrender, and Bluestreak turned his stare upon the tile floor, reminded once again that most of his fellow Autobots thought he was vapid and quite possibly lacking in the processor department. He suspected his sharpshooting was the only thing that had drawn the twins' attention.

"Uh, Sides," he asked, wanting the topic changed quickly, "have you seen your brother this morning or did Sunny get an early mission or something? Because if he's on a mission or undercover or something I don't want to use my comm. link and possibly cause trouble." Bluestreak grabbed a bottle of cleaner and twisted his hands around it slowly.

"Nah, he's still on base," Sideswipe replied as the other mechs returned to their baths. "He was in the rec room a breem ago. I asked where you were, and he said you were still recharging."

Bluestreak managed to smile. "I was. Thanks Sides." He scooted over to a water nozzle, suddenly uncomfortable around the hyper mechs. He wanted to finish his bath quickly, find Sunstreaker, and get the yellow streaks off his paint.

Once he'd escaped the washracks, Bluestreak activated his comm. link as he headed toward the medbay. ::Bluestreak to Sunny.::

::Sunstreaker here,:: came the languid reply. ::What's up, Blue?::

Bluestreak felt a bit hurt to have awakened alone since Sunstreaker knew his quirks. Still, he didn't want to seem accusatory or clingy. ::You can wake me up you know. I'm okay with that.::

::Nah, I gave you a good working-over last night. You needed some extra recharge.:: A laugh filtered through the connection.

Bluestreak paused at the intersection between the crew's quarters and the Ark's main section. ::No, really,:: he insisted, feeling like Sunstreaker was missing the point. ::I'd prefer it if you did wake me up.:: He hesitated, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. ::I like seeing you first thing.::

A long pause followed, and Bluestreak worried that he'd said something stupid. ::Sure thing, Blue,:: Sunstreaker finally replied. ::Hey, a group of us are going to play some video games after our shift tonight. You up for it?::

Bluestreak heard approaching footsteps in the corridor beyond and hid in the shadows, afraid of being teased again over his yellow marks. ::Uh, sure Sunny.:: He waited tensely as Optimus Prime and Prowl passed by and felt relieved to have been spared. Prowl had taken an almost genitor-like interest in him, which Bluestreak appreciated. In fact, he sometimes imagined what it would be like to call him "Genitor" or even the human word "Father." However, the tactician didn't approve of his being involved with Sunstreaker and would not be amused to see paint patches on his chassis, also like a genitor.

::Okay, Blue. See ya then.:: Sunstreaker cut the connection.

Bluestreak cringed. Sunstreaker did have his moods, but even knowing that, Bluestreak often found himself wondering if he'd done something wrong. Sideswipe had told him long ago to ignore it and let it pass when it happened, but despite his best efforts, Bluestreak still wondered if he'd done something to make Sunstreaker angry.

Checking to make sure the hallway was clear, he headed toward the medbay, stowing his disturbing thoughts and hoping Ratchet wasn't in a bad mood. When he entered the medbay, however, he found no one. The orangey-gold room presented him with nothing but empty berths and the quiet whirl of computer fans. Bluestreak rubbed his hands against his thighs, uneasy. He hated medbays. After being rescued by the Autobots, he'd spent twenty orns in a medbay as half his systems and parts had been replaced or repaired. Even now he sometimes imagined he heard the endless beeps of the monitors tracking his spark energy and cerebral processor.

Maybe he should risk Prowl's displeasure, he thought, stepping back toward the doorway. It wasn't as though Prowl ever yelled at him or chewed him out. He was generally a calm, logical individual of longsuffering patience. Surely if he just —

Unable to bear the relative silence and smell of oil and lubricants, Bluestreak turned for the door, ready to make his escape.

"Blue?" a curious voice asked from behind him.

He halted, taking a nanoklik to process the voice. "Wheeljack!" He turned toward the engineer. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you! I mean I like Ratchet but I didn't want to bother him, not that I want to bother you, but sometimes when Ratchet's had a long shift he can get rather put out with me especially when I come in just because — "

"Because Sunstreaker got too feisty with you?" Wheeljack interrupted, looking over his frame. "Yellow usually goes fine with red and grey, but not on you."

Bluestreak self-consciously ran his hand over the large yellow patch on his hip. "Um, yeah probably not. I'm sorry 'Jack I know you have better things to do than buff out spots on some mech's paint but it was an accident really and I don't want Prowl to be upset with me so — "

Wheeljack held up a hand for silence. "It's okay, Blue." He walked over, gently taking his elbow and pulling him to a berth. "And I know you hate medbays, so let's just get to work, all right?"

With a smile, Bluestreak sat down. "Thanks, 'Jack. You have always been so patient with me and don't ever tell me to shut up even though I know I can be really annoying, but I don't mean to be, and I really appreciate it because, you know, I still can't quite get the memories out of my databank and sometimes I still think I hear screaming or bombs or something but I'm in the base and it's just someone's movie or something and I flip out and it exasperates everyone but you're nice and I appreciate it."

Wheeljack had pulled out the buffer and set to work, carefully removing the yellow without damaging the paint below. "You're welcome." His audio indicators flashed bright blue as he spoke. "And it's okay. I've seen your condition in other 'bots, so I have a general understanding of what you're doing and why."

Bluestreak stared at the engineer and wondered, not for the first time, why he wore a blast mask constantly. Prowl said it was simply to protect himself during his experiments, but Sunstreaker had told him rumors that Wheeljack had been badly damaged in a battle. No one really knew. Bluestreak sometimes imagined it was the latter because it helped to think he wasn't the only one carrying scars, but he genuinely hoped Wheeljack was just being cautious. "Well," he replied after a pause, "I guess you and also Ratchet would understand it, yeah, and sometimes I think Optimus gets it too but I'm a bit afraid to ask. I think I can wear on Prowl and Jazz at times although they never — "

"Hey," Wheeljack said, stopping his work and looking up. "Prowl and Jazz really care about you. I think they consider you their 'adopted' youngling. Prowl may not be very, uh, demonstrative, but both him and Jazz would be crushed if something happened to you."

Bluestreak found himself smiling again. The thought warmed him. "I hope so. I may not like to fight but I really do want to be an asset to the Autobots and not a detriment, so — " He paused abruptly as a pain shot through his spark chamber. Taken off guard, he clutched at his chest. "What was that?"

Wheeljack straightened and set aside the buffer. "What was what?" His tone betrayed concern.

A strange tingling moved through Bluestreak's chassis, and he shuddered. "It feels strange! 'Jack, what's going on? I'm not injured, I swear I didn't take a single injury on my mission and Sunny's not that rough."

Frowning, Wheeljack headed to the tool banks and retrieved a scanner. "I don't know. Let's take a look." He returned and ran the scanner over his spark chamber. "Surely not," he muttered to himself, his vocal indicators flashing red.

"Surely not what? What did you see?" Bluestreak began to feel panicked, unable to fathom what could be wrong.

Wheeljack ran the scanner over his chest again, then set it down. "Okay, let's do a visual confirmation. I need you to open your spark chamber so I can investigate."

The words were spoken in calm, soothing tones, but Bluestreak suddenly felt like he couldn't get any air through his intakes. "'J-J-Jack?"

Wheeljack stepped closer and put one arm around his shoulders. "You're not injured, Blue," he said quietly. "I'm just trying to verify what's happening."

He nodded numbly, finding himself wordless for once, and opened his spark chamber, mentally activating the transformation cog that would fold back the layers of metal. Wheeljack released him and stepped back, examining his spark. Bluestreak was afraid to look down.

"You've been dating Sunny exclusively, right?" Wheeljack asked, his tone suddenly clinical.

"Y-Yeah." Bluestreak felt his doorwings tremble with his tension. "Why?"

Wheeljack gently grasped both his arms. "Because you're carrying a sparkling. It looks like you and Sunstreaker are genitors."

Bluestreak thought he'd fall into stasis lock from the shock. "A sparkling! No I can't there's no way I mean there is a way because we have spark-merged but we're both fitted with SMERs so there's no way — "

"It only takes once," Wheeljack interrupted calmly, "especially if your SMER has malfunctioned or been damaged in battle. And obviously one or both of you have a damaged one."

"He's going to be mad," Bluestreak said, his thoughts jumping tracks. "He's not in a good mood today. How am I supposed to tell him? And Prowl's going to be so disappointed in me! Prowl will still talk to me right?" He couldn't seem to gather his thoughts, and suddenly he felt coolant burning in his optics. "You don't think Prowl would be so disappointed that he wouldn't look out for me anymore do you because he never approved of me and Sunny and said I shouldn't be with him and Jazz agreed and now this is happening and — oh, Primus! — I guess this means Sunny and I should be talking about a permanent spark bonding."

Wheeljack reached out and triggered the transformation of Bluestreak's spark chamber, causing his chest plates to close. Then he stepped forward and gently hugged him. "Shhh. Prowl would do no such thing, I promise, and neither would Jazz, for that matter. I don't know how Sunny will react, but we'll find out soon enough. You just need to stay calm for now."

Bluestreak did grow quiet, but it had nothing to do with Wheeljack's words. Since the death of his family and friends, the only 'bots who had hugged him had been Jazz and Sunstreaker. Even the other mechs or femmes he'd lost himself in had not been interested in affection. Just a quick interface. The feel of a kind touch anchored Bluestreak, allowing him to get his thoughts partially under control. He pressed against Wheeljack, trying to feel safer somehow. Still, as soon as his thoughts slowed, they immediately jumped tracks again. "I'm so scared," he whispered, his doorwings trembling with excess emotion. "I'm barely an adult myself so how am I supposed to care for a sparkling and what if Sunny doesn't want a sparkling because then I'll be taking care of a sparkling all alone and, Primus, I don't even know anything about sparklings! What do you even do, I mean what if I hurt it or — "

"You're not going to be abandoned," Wheeljack interrupted him gently. "Prowl and Jazz will stand by you, so you'll never be alone. I'm sure others, like me, will stand by you and help you as well. Don't be afraid."

Bluestreak was still scared that Prowl and Jazz would be disappointed or angry, but part of him insisted that what Wheeljack said was true. He wished he could believe it without question, but the universe had been a terrifying place since the orn Praxus was destroyed and his creators were killed. "But still," he said after a few kliks, his thoughts returning to a previous concern. "I can't tell Sunny today. He's in a bad mood, so I need to wait."

"You can't tell Sunny what?" came an irritated voice.

Wheeljack released Bluestreak as Ratchet entered the medbay. "We seem to have something unprecedented for our time here on Earth," the engineer replied.

Ratchet frowned as he approached them. "Don't tell me you're going to say what I think you're going to say."

Handing him the scanner, Wheeljack said nothing at all.

Bracing himself, Bluestreak tried to prepare himself for Ratchet's reaction. He also hoped Ratchet wouldn't suggest termination as an option. Bluestreak had been reared in a family who was against both sparkling termination and the death penalty, and having lived through the destruction of his home city had only made Bluestreak's anti-death feelings stronger. As scared as he was, he could never consider extinguishing the sparkling.

"Slaggit," Ratchet sighed, running the scanner over Bluestreak's chest. "I really am going to turn Sunstreaker into a toaster this time." He thunked down the scanner. "This is the whole reason I insist that all mechs be equipped with a SMER. I swear, if Sunny disabled his for the extra energy rush, I'm going to kill him! I didn't nickname the device the 'Stupidity Stopper' for nothing."

Bluestreak cringed and sincerely hoped Ratchet's reaction would be the worst of the day. However, he was terrified of everyone's responses, especially Sunstreaker's. He had no idea how Sunstreaker would handle the news of being a genitor.

At that moment, though, Sideswipe popped into the room calling for Ratchet, and Bluestreak knew he was doomed. What one twin knew, the other would also.

Postscript: Yes, you read that right. The Spark Merging Energy Regulator (SMER), or so-called "Stupidity Stopper," is a device I dreamt up to fill the role of TF birth control. I actually introduced it in my Jazz/Prowl story "No Quiet to Find."

And just for the record, I don't hate Sunstreaker's character! He just happened to have the right personality to fit the role I needed in this story. I apologize to any Sunny fans. It's purely just creative license here, nothing personal.

Thanks to those of you who take the time to leave feedback.

Edit: Story re-proofed on Oct. 31, 2010.