Author's Note: "Aventador", according to what very little I could find on the internet, is apparently a colloquial term for "kicking ass," as well as the name of a famous, relentless bull that became a legend among bullfighters. It also, more reliably, is the name of Lamborghini's newest car. The kick-ass promotional video for the new Lambo is the inspiration for this fic. The video can be found here ( vimeo 22884674 - remove the spaces). The music, the cinematography, the special effects – this video really does kick ass! And it begs a story . . . so I'm writing one. Also . . . this is an AU set early in Season 1, before the creation of the Dinobots. Nothing against them or anyone from later times – I just needed to keep the cast list down. "Paid in Full" is taxing enough, heh.
Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.
"It's starting! Hey, come on, guys! You're gonna miss it!"
Spike's excited cries over the intercom echoed throughout the base. Those not already with him or inescapably on duty hurried outside, either to the top of the volcano or out from under the Ark at the foot of the mount. Sideswipe was no exception.
The view was incredible. Streaks of light filled the late night sky as they fell to the earth somewhere southeast of the Ark. It reminded Sideswipe a little of the fluid that drizzled – or poured – onto this planet from on high occasionally, harmless drops of water as opposed to the acid that rained infrequently back on Cybertron.
Optimus Prime was the first to break the silence, his voice quiet. "It's beautiful."
"What is it that you call this again?" Unabashed awe colored Hound's tone.
Sideswipe heard Spike snicker, but the red Lamborghini-based warrior could hardly blame him. The Autobots were still new to this planet and its experiences. The ship's mainframe, Teletraan I, had done an admirable job of researching and learning what it could of the society most closely surrounding their ship, but that knowledge – especially the language patches everyone had received – still revealed holes as often as not.
The human teen gazed up at the Army green Jeep-based scout, amusement dancing in brown eyes. "It's called a meteor shower, Hound." Spike's brow furrowed in a mild frown of confusion. "You guys don't get meteors back on Cybertron?"
"Oh, we do." Hound looked as sheepish as he sounded. "I just didn't know what the English word for them was."
"Also called shootin' stars, aren't they?" Jazz asked with a grin. "Or is that somethin' else?"
Sideswipe laughed, teasing the Special Ops officer. "Trust you to know something like that." The Autobots' third-in-command made no secret of his fascination with all facets of human culture, language included.
At the same time, Spike's father Sparkplug chuckled. "Nope, you're right, Jazz. Any meteor or meteorite – especially a meteorite – that comes burning down through the atmosphere can qualify as a shooting star, or falling star, since it looks kind of like a star falling right out of the heavens."
"That's actually what people used to think they were," Spike put in.
"An' don't people make wishes on them or somethin'?" Jazz pressed.
Cliffjumper's face smacked into the palm of one hand. "You've been listening to those dizzy . . . whatever songs again, haven't you?"
"Disney," Jazz corrected by way of confirmation, his grin widening. "What, don't like upliftin' music, CJ?"
The red Minibot warrior just crossed his arms and stared back, his expression deadpan.
"So what would you wish for, Optimus?" Spike asked.
The Autobot commander drew a deep cycle of air through his intakes, thinking about that.
"I know what I'd wish for," Sideswipe commented flippantly.
"No!" The collective response was unanimous and without hesitation.
/Hey, sounds good to me!/ Sideswipe's brother, Sunstreaker, chimed in over their spark-bond. The Lambo twins had been sentenced to clean up the chaos left by their latest prank on Wheeljack, which had left the frazzled engineer's workshop a mess. Sideswipe had finished nearly an hour ago, but Sunstreaker had spent too long complaining about what the cleaners might do to his polish, so he was stuck inside finishing his portion of the work. /We were built for speed! What's wrong with wanting to let go and live a little once in a while?/
/Yeah, tell me about it./
Prowl, the Autobots' primary strategist and second-in-command, spoke up then, frowning at Sideswipe with his arms folded. "The last thing we need, Sideswipe, is you – or your brother – getting any more speeding tickets. The humans have traffic laws for a reason, and while we're on their planet, we're bound to abide by them. For everyone's sakes."
Sideswipe thought, not for the first time, that it had been perfect how Teletraan I had reformatted the uptight, by-the-book SIC with an alt-mode of a human police cruiser.
By that point, the meteor shower was over, the moonless night dark once more save for the canopy of stars, the real ones that remained high above. Optimus Prime shifted to head back inside. "Come on, everyone."
No one argued. It was always the same story – get their recharge when they could, as they never knew when the Decepticons would attack next. Sideswipe trudged back into the base with the rest, staying up just long enough to greet his brother when Sunstreaker finally arrived back in the quarters they shared. Then he dropped into his berth, his recharge filled with dreams of unfettered racing down an open highway.