Log in
Title: Settling In
Universe: TF, The Prime’s Consorts, Consortium AU
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Rated: K+
Description: Sideswipe gets his first look at the room suite he and Sunstreaker now share.
Sideswipe isn’t sure what has him more excited.
The recent merge with his twin, the way Sunstreaker had escorted him here with their hands intertwined, or the massive manor that his brother now calls home. They’re warm and comfortable here, safe behind the walls of the Prime residence, with guaranteed meals, guaranteed medical care, and a roof over their heads.
“This place is ridiculous,” Sideswipe says. He’s lost track of the many hallways, the priceless works of art, the servants going about their business with nary a whiff of stress. “How the frag do you find your way around here?”
Sunstreaker chuckles -- chuckles! -- and says, “You get used to it.” He pauses in front of a door and puts pulls Sideswipe’s hand to the scanner. “This is our room.”
“Our?” Sideswipe echoes, mouth agape.
Sunstreaker winks at him – winks – and presses Sideswipe’s hand against the scanning plate. It beeps cheerily and the door slides open.
“Yep. Ours,” Sunstreaker says and tugs him inside.
Sideswipe stumbles along, shocked and amazed. The first thing he sees is the massive window on the opposite side, letting in streams of external light. They all filter through a dozen hanging strands of reflective material. Little rainbows spin and dance in the air.
Sideswipe counts four doors from where he’s standing, and the main room itself is larger than the entire apartment he and Sunstreaker shared in Tarn.
“Optimus made sure my quarters were big enough for you to join me,” Sunstreaker says, squeezing Sideswipe’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Not that I knew about it. He can be sneaky sometimes.”
“Sneaky,” Sideswipe repeats.
“In a good way,” Sunstreaker reassures him. He gestures to each door in turn. “That’s our washrack, that’s my studio, that’s my room, and that’s your room.”
Sideswipe works his jaw a few times. “We don’t share?”
“I mean, we can. The berths are big enough.” Sunstreaker’s field nudges up against his, warm and affectionate. “But you know we fight a lot less when we have some space for ourselves, too.”
Sideswipe chuckles. “How would I know that? It’s not like we’ve ever had personal space.” His head spins. It’s more than a little unbelievable.
Sunstreaker squeezes his hand. “Go take a look around. I’m going to get some supplies.” He looks Sideswipe up and down, wrinkling his nose. “No offense, but you look terrible.”
“Gee thanks.”
Sunstreaker steals a kiss, and leaves Sideswipe to poke around their quarters. It’s tastefully furnished, a bit impersonal in some places, but Sideswipe can see where Sunstreaker has put his own touches.
Sideswipe has no idea what to do with so much space. He doesn’t go near the window. His armor twitches just thinking about it. Any one with a sniper rifle could see right into the apartment. It’s open and bright and clean and--
Sideswipe peeks into the washrack, and it’s more than big enough to accommodate him and Sunstreaker at the same time, with room to spare. Special washes and scrubbing brushes line one wall, and Sideswipe would bet all the creds in his pocket the tank never runs out of cleanser.
Sunstreaker’s studio -- which used to be a corner of their shared apartment cluttered with paints and plates of transteel -- is now a space even brighter than the main room. There’s a skylight with a retractable shade, massive shelving with labeled rows of paints and variously sized transteel plating. He can’t see anything Sunstreaker has finished, but Sideswipe knows his brother.
He won’t share his projects until he’s absolutely sure they’re perfect.
Sunstreaker’s room is warm and inviting, and it smells like his brother’s fancy wax, with shelves packed to the brim with novelpads and decorative figurines. A small spray of crystals takes point of pride on the berthside table.
“Those are from Prowl,” Sunstreaker says from the doorway. “He spends a lot of time in the garden.”
“Prowl, huh?” Sideswipe says with a grin.
Sunstreaker shakes his head. “It’s not like that.” He’s got a tray, loaded down with energon and treats and coolant and other things Sideswipe can’t identify. He sets it down on the desk, nudging the console into onlining from its active state. “What do you think?”
Sideswipe sits on the berth, at once grateful that the shades in this room are drawn over the window. “It’s a lot.” He smiles at his twin and pats the berth. “I’ll get used to it.”
“Better than Tarn?” Sunstreaker asks as he perches next to him, their frames aligning at hip, thigh and shoulder.
Sideswipe tilts over, resting his head on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, and threading their hands together. “Anywhere with you is better.”
Sunstreaker snorts. “Sap.”
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.” Sideswipe manages a smile.
This place is huge and unsettling and unreal, but he’s got Sunstreaker and well, he supposes he can get used to the rest.
Universe: TF, The Prime’s Consorts, Consortium AU
Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Rated: K+
Description: Sideswipe gets his first look at the room suite he and Sunstreaker now share.
Sideswipe isn’t sure what has him more excited.
The recent merge with his twin, the way Sunstreaker had escorted him here with their hands intertwined, or the massive manor that his brother now calls home. They’re warm and comfortable here, safe behind the walls of the Prime residence, with guaranteed meals, guaranteed medical care, and a roof over their heads.
“This place is ridiculous,” Sideswipe says. He’s lost track of the many hallways, the priceless works of art, the servants going about their business with nary a whiff of stress. “How the frag do you find your way around here?”
Sunstreaker chuckles -- chuckles! -- and says, “You get used to it.” He pauses in front of a door and puts pulls Sideswipe’s hand to the scanner. “This is our room.”
“Our?” Sideswipe echoes, mouth agape.
Sunstreaker winks at him – winks – and presses Sideswipe’s hand against the scanning plate. It beeps cheerily and the door slides open.
“Yep. Ours,” Sunstreaker says and tugs him inside.
Sideswipe stumbles along, shocked and amazed. The first thing he sees is the massive window on the opposite side, letting in streams of external light. They all filter through a dozen hanging strands of reflective material. Little rainbows spin and dance in the air.
Sideswipe counts four doors from where he’s standing, and the main room itself is larger than the entire apartment he and Sunstreaker shared in Tarn.
“Optimus made sure my quarters were big enough for you to join me,” Sunstreaker says, squeezing Sideswipe’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Not that I knew about it. He can be sneaky sometimes.”
“Sneaky,” Sideswipe repeats.
“In a good way,” Sunstreaker reassures him. He gestures to each door in turn. “That’s our washrack, that’s my studio, that’s my room, and that’s your room.”
Sideswipe works his jaw a few times. “We don’t share?”
“I mean, we can. The berths are big enough.” Sunstreaker’s field nudges up against his, warm and affectionate. “But you know we fight a lot less when we have some space for ourselves, too.”
Sideswipe chuckles. “How would I know that? It’s not like we’ve ever had personal space.” His head spins. It’s more than a little unbelievable.
Sunstreaker squeezes his hand. “Go take a look around. I’m going to get some supplies.” He looks Sideswipe up and down, wrinkling his nose. “No offense, but you look terrible.”
“Gee thanks.”
Sunstreaker steals a kiss, and leaves Sideswipe to poke around their quarters. It’s tastefully furnished, a bit impersonal in some places, but Sideswipe can see where Sunstreaker has put his own touches.
Sideswipe has no idea what to do with so much space. He doesn’t go near the window. His armor twitches just thinking about it. Any one with a sniper rifle could see right into the apartment. It’s open and bright and clean and--
Sideswipe peeks into the washrack, and it’s more than big enough to accommodate him and Sunstreaker at the same time, with room to spare. Special washes and scrubbing brushes line one wall, and Sideswipe would bet all the creds in his pocket the tank never runs out of cleanser.
Sunstreaker’s studio -- which used to be a corner of their shared apartment cluttered with paints and plates of transteel -- is now a space even brighter than the main room. There’s a skylight with a retractable shade, massive shelving with labeled rows of paints and variously sized transteel plating. He can’t see anything Sunstreaker has finished, but Sideswipe knows his brother.
He won’t share his projects until he’s absolutely sure they’re perfect.
Sunstreaker’s room is warm and inviting, and it smells like his brother’s fancy wax, with shelves packed to the brim with novelpads and decorative figurines. A small spray of crystals takes point of pride on the berthside table.
“Those are from Prowl,” Sunstreaker says from the doorway. “He spends a lot of time in the garden.”
“Prowl, huh?” Sideswipe says with a grin.
Sunstreaker shakes his head. “It’s not like that.” He’s got a tray, loaded down with energon and treats and coolant and other things Sideswipe can’t identify. He sets it down on the desk, nudging the console into onlining from its active state. “What do you think?”
Sideswipe sits on the berth, at once grateful that the shades in this room are drawn over the window. “It’s a lot.” He smiles at his twin and pats the berth. “I’ll get used to it.”
“Better than Tarn?” Sunstreaker asks as he perches next to him, their frames aligning at hip, thigh and shoulder.
Sideswipe tilts over, resting his head on Sunstreaker’s shoulder, and threading their hands together. “Anywhere with you is better.”
Sunstreaker snorts. “Sap.”
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.” Sideswipe manages a smile.
This place is huge and unsettling and unreal, but he’s got Sunstreaker and well, he supposes he can get used to the rest.
***
