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the-odd-job · 4 years ago

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Ashes of Icarus chapter 6 - Deceit and Lies

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet, Prowl, Optimus Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2272

A thoughtful chapter.

( Previous )

“Why he slag didn’t you call for backup?!”

Sunstreaker snarled. “The fragging comms were jammed! How the pit were we supposed to do that?!”

“Back out of the jammed area, report the disturbance, and see what orders you’re given,” Ratchet snarled right back, clanging him on the helm with the butt of his welder.

And okay, that was one way to handle the situation, with just the one minor complication that they hadn’t wanted to.

Or Sunstreaker hadn’t. Sideswipe didn’t bother himself with too many opinions as long as Sunstreaker remained satisfied with the whole situation.

And oh, he was very satisfied.

But no one else needed to know it was about anything more than a battle well won—and not one gloriously lost.

“We could handle it,” Sunstreaker still argued with a roll of his optics. And according to their lie, they had. So what was the problem?

He didn’t get to hear Ratchet’s opinion on that because the medbay doors opened then to admit Prowl and Optimus, interrupting Ratchet. The medic, along with the twins, glanced at the arrivees, before Ratchet dismissed them with a hmph and set back to work on Sunstreaker.

Ratchet never did like to be interrupted when he was busy yelling at his patients. Especially if those patients were the twins. They deserved all the yelling they could get.

Sunstreaker took it as the short lived reprieve it was, though. “Did Grapple find anything?” Sideswipe asked, doubling down on their lie with his natural curiosity. “Or is that classified?”

“No, Grapple did not find anything to suggest why the Decepticons were interested in that area,” Prowl responded with an irritable flick of his wings, although for once it likely wasn’t aimed at them and instead at just the entire situation. Not having all the variables didn’t suit him. “It could be they were simply scouting for something that wasn’t there after all.”

“No matter their reasons, good work on hindering their efforts,” Optimus said with a nod at the brothers. Sideswipe nodded back, Sunstreaker just huffed.

“Did you expect anything less?” he sneered. Ratchet whacked him again, probably for disrespecting their mighty leader this time.

Sunstreaker’s digits twitched, but he knew better than to whack Ratchet back. That was a surefire way to get welded to the berth.

He had to content himself to just some offended growling that Ratchet paid absolutely no mind to.

Optimus didn’t take the bait, though, only gave Sunstreaker a look that would never ever accomplish a damn thing.

“Regardless, I would like your reports as soon as possible,” said Prowl, and right there was a third mech who didn’t appreciate his attitude with Optimus. Well, tough luck, because the Prime wasn’t exactly demanding better treatment. He’d just have to deal. “Will you be able to compose them during your repairs and return them to my office after Ratchet releases you?”

“Sure,” Sideswipe agreed. Would this mean less abuse from Ratchet? See, they’d need to be able to focus on writing their reports, it wouldn’t do if they were constantly distracted by one irascible medic. Right?

He could hope. “Good,” Prowl nodded, and after get well soon wishes from Optimus, the two headed out of the medbay.

“We will need to run patrols with increased frequency in the area, just to be–“ Sunstreaker could hear Prowl continue to Optimus.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said, sitting up straight. Optimus and Prowl paused on their exit and looked back at him, Optimus with some level of surprise, Prowl with exasperation.

No doubt the tactician already had an inkling of what Sunstreaker wanted to complain about. He proceeded to do that without delays. “I am not driving any more patrols on those god forsaken excuses for roads,” he snarled, jabbing a digit at Prowl. “Two more patrols, then we’re done with our punishment duty, right? I’ll go on a fucking strike if we’re scheduled on any more patrols there after that!”

Sideswipe was snickering, but his brother wasn’t in too much of a disagreement with him. Let the likes of Hound take those routes, they had the fragging alt-modes for it!

“Your preference has been noted,” Prowl said dryly, and Sunstreaker didn’t hold out for hope that Prowl wouldn’t schedule them there if he saw it necessary. That was the downside of being some of the best the Autobots had to offer. If their skills were needed somewhere, there weren’t too many who could fill in for them.

And then they’d just end up doing shit they’d rather not have, like driving on dirt roads that all but wrecked their frames.

Now Prowl and Optimus left for real, leaving Sunstreaker to brood and Sideswipe to kick his legs while he waited for his turn to be fixed. They’d need to make their reports convincing, somehow. Choreograph an entire fight that didn’t happen, between mecha that had never been present—make it hold together with the scene left behind and their own injuries.

They had their work cut out for them. At least they wouldn’t have trouble keeping their reports matching up, a small mercy. Twins and all that.

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They’d been in a few battles during the course of their lives. That came in handy when fabricating the details of their story. Ratchet left them to it, mostly, fixing them in the relative silence of just the medic’s aggravated grumbling and the occasional order to move this way or that or do this or do that.

On their way from the medbay they delivered their reports—one from each frame’s perspective—to Prowl’s office. The SIC nodded his thanks before sending them back on their way. They fetched their ratios and sat in the rec room while they drank them, where Sideswipe shared some words and laughter with Bumblebee and Windcharger.

Sunstreaker let it all wash over him, struggling to keep his thoughts from traveling down paths that would have damned him if anyone became privy to them.

Thank Primus the Autobots had no telepaths in their ranks. He’d be doomed otherwise.

But he was rarely particularly involved in social situations. It was doubtful anyone noticed he was more distracted than usual.

They didn’t linger in the rec room very long after finishing their cubes. It wasn’t just Sunstreaker that was suffering from the state of his processors—Sideswipe felt the same need to sort their goddamn thoughts out. They slipped through the halls and into the quarters without interruptions, out of sight, hopefully out of mind, too, for long enough that they could work all of this out in peace.

Together they sat down on the bottom bunk of their berth, then… Silence.

They didn’t dare say a thing out loud. This was one secret they did not want getting out, not even—especially not—by accident. There was no one to overhear them, but that didn’t matter.

Say not a thing.

Not like they needed to, anyway. They functioned on the same wavelength, spark bound as they were. His thoughts were Sideswipe’s, Sideswipe’s thoughts were his. The transition was smooth, seamless—silent and untraceable.

Just what they needed.

Sunstreaker was the driving force behind all of this, though. It wasn’t his life, it was their life, but it was a give and take, push and pull. This time, Sideswipe gave, letting Sunstreaker direct the course of their actions according to his… Conclusions.

Whatever those might turn out to be.

‘Think about what I said.’

Which part? Megatron had said more than a few things, from recounting their ill fated fight a long time ago, to making fun of his frame’s reactions that absolutely had nothing to do with Sunstreaker’s genuine desires, absolutely not.

Ugh.

Sideswipe shifted, and offered a thought.

‘I’ve gotten better.’

‘Is it something to get better from?’

...Was that it?

If it was, what the pit did Megatron want him to do with that thought? He had been a berserker—still was, technically. The damage had gone nowhere, but… He hadn’t snapped in a long time.

Wasn’t that the goal? Oh, they had valued the likes of him in the Pits thanks to the unhinged violence they could unleash, but was that anything to actually desire? The Autobots had gone out of their way to give him back control over his own frame and mind, to reduce the instances where he lost it and… Became a danger to anything and everything.

How could something like that be desirable?

What did Megatron think?

Why was he thinking about what Megatron thought? So the mech had beat him in a fight again, wow, and decided to frag him afterwards, wow, but what did that change? They were on the opposite sides of the war for Primus’ sake, that little fact had gone absolutely nowhere. He shouldn’t give a frag about any of Megatron’s thoughts, especially not after the tyrant had decidedly not asked his permission to fuck him. He’d just swooped along, turned him the slag on, and done the deed.

And… Sunstreaker found himself decidedly not opposed to that. He should be! Not only because Megatron had technically forced him, but because he had technically gotten forced by the enemy leader that he should, under all circumstances, want to kill in the name of putting an end to the war in favor of the side he belonged to.

But here he was, post-fuck… Still enjoying the afterglow of some fragging awesome overloads, and… Not opposed to the idea of next time.

As Megatron had threatened.

Promised.

Oh by the Thirteen he was screwed. Literally as well as figuratively. What were his options? Even if he swallowed his pride and reported the r-word—which he was never going to be able to do, he had too much of it—all they’d need was to have a look at his memory files and see how… He couldn’t even say he was conflicted. If he had been, then good, but no.

If he was honest with himself, the part of him that wasn’t anticipating the next time with much eagerness was pathetic. He was a bad, bad Autobot, remember? He didn’t give too many fucks about the fact he was obliterating the Autobot code even more thoroughly than he had so far in his career as a soldier. He didn’t care. Why would he have? He wouldn’t have gained a whole lot by following the damn thing to the letter, even if he’d been so inclined.

So it didn’t particularly matter to him, on a personal, emotional level, that he was getting fragged by the enemy and fucking enjoying it.

And if they had a look into his head… They’d see that.

But if he didn’t care about the whole thing on a personal level, he did care about the consequences he would have faced if his comrades found out about this whole thing. It would end badly for him. Very badly. He didn’t even know how badly, but how the hell were you supposed to interface with Megatron, like it, want for the next time, and not end up too deep in trouble with your own side to ever surface again?

No. No, he couldn’t afford this to ever come to light. Even on the off chance they’d somehow ignore his own excitement over it to focus just on what Megatron had done… No.

How the pit were they supposed to keep it a secret if it was just going to repeat, though? This time had been difficult enough. They’d done their best, given a story as believable as they could, made no mention of Megatron, not even a suggestion that he had been present to do what he had–

But because they’d lied, no matter how good they were at it, you could shoot holes into their story. The environment wouldn’t necessarily entirely agree with what they had said, if someone went to have a real good look at it.

And what of their injuries? Sword marks. Those weren’t that usual here on Earth. They’d added their fair share of gunshot marks—and frankly, that had hurt—but Ratchet wasn’t dumb. He’d fixed those sword marks, the cuts of a sharp blade. He knew where they’d come from.

He hadn’t questioned it, why any of the Constructicons or a Seeker would have had a sword with them and the skill to wield it efficiently enough to be a match to Sunstreaker, but had he wondered about it? Sunstreaker didn’t doubt that very much.

What had he come up with as an explanation for it, in the absence of anything the twins would have directly told him?

Primus, what a mess. But as long as he didn’t ask, they didn’t need to answer. Besides, what were the odds Ratchet would start to suspect that? They’d fixed the area around his cover before anyone else had gotten to the scene, removed the traces of interface from him—the evidence of who he had interfaced with.

But if he grew suspicious… The future times would become even more problematic.

What could they do but worry about that when the time came, though?

Was that his conclusion? It was.

Sideswipe nodded at him before he stretched from having sat in the same position for who knew how long by now.

Then he got one of his brother’s trademark grins, bright and full of mischief. “Want my help touchin’ up your paint before I go see if ‘Hide or Jazz would be down for a tumble?”

Yeah, him and Megatron had been something to look at, hadn’t they? Not too much of a surprise Sideswipe would have some charge to burn.

Sunstreaker gave a wry smile of his own. “You bet.”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #ratchet #optimus prime #prowl #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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