dragonofdispair

More of an alternate POV than a true prelude/continuation...

Original here: http://fhc-lynn.livejournal.com/3398.html

They weren’t safe. They were warriors and often just as likely to turn on their own side as they were the enemy. They were weapons, the desire — the need — to attack encoded right down to the spark. Sometimes there was really nothing to do but get out of their way.

Sunstreaker was the one who opened the door, the growl deep in his chassis vibrating across their bond and resonating into Sideswipe’s. They didn’t want company. The reason was irrelevant, even stupid, but war made for a lot of bad days and unless they were being called up so that their recklessness and viciousness could be exorcized in a manner that wouldn’t get them thrown in the brig again they did not want visitors.

The scathing greeting built in their vocalizers as the door slid open, hovering in the air between them, accumulating insult from them both. Sideswipe’s cutting sarcasm and Sunstreaker’s savage precision clung to the greeting until it took on a life of its own. Pressure built. It wanted to be said as much as they wanted to see the intruder flee from it. Weapon and creation.

Killing it once the door opened fully and they saw whom they were going to attack was one of the most difficult things Sideswipe-and-Sunstreaker had ever done. It didn’t go down easily. It fought its creators, biting and scratching and clawing at their spark, howling with the effort of escaping to attack its target. Kill it they did. This was the one — the only one — they would not attack or turn away.

Instead their mood opened up, that humming desire for battle yielded, making room for another and the need to attack coiled in on this new component and became just as strong a need to defend and they settled into a comfortable heap of metal and plating. Gentle were their hands; needy were his. Need and needed, Sideswipe-and-Sunstreaker became something safe.