TFG1 - Sun and Storm

Title: Sun and Storm
Rating: G
Relationships: Prowl/Bluestreak (Familial)
Summary: To love is to risk rejection, so Prowl neglects to love. Somehow rejection still manages to catch him off guard, but (un)fortunately for him, Bluestreak is well-acquainted with that bitter taste.

“I can’t believe we actually found all this energon out in the middle of nowhere, can you, Prowl? I mean, it’s not like we actually went looking for it—this was just a regular old, ah, what do the humans call it? Field trip, that’s it! This was just a regular field trip—I mean, wasn’t it? Of course you would know; you were the one who told me to come with you in the first place, so you know whatever it was you were planning. It was just a field trip, wasn’t it? If it wasn’t, can you tell me what it was supposed to be? Or is it top secret?”

“A scouting mission,” Prowl answered absently, tuning Bluestreak out so he could focus on the wet road. If Bluestreak’s chatter distracted him in this rainy weather, he might skid out and lose some of the energon they had found.

Bluestreak revved to catch up to Prowl and continued, “Oh, okay, a scouting mission. So why’d you ask me to come with you instead of, say, Bumblebee? He’s the scout, right? But you chose me. You never choose me! Why this time?”

Prowl wished he could roll his optics in his alt. mode but it was impossible, so he weighed the pros and cons of responding. His answer could either set off a whole new storm of conversation or stun Bluestreak into silence. Praying for the latter, he said at last, “Maybe…I just wanted to spend a little time with my brother.”

There was a beautiful moment where the only sounds Prowl could hear were the pitter-patter of the rain and their tread on the gravel road.

~:That’s really sweet of you.:~

Prowl lurched, losing purchase on the road and fishtailing into a set of thick bushes off to the side. Transforming to bipedal mode, he bent down to inspect the energon canisters for damage, clenching his teeth and trying not to look up at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak was going to make that difficult, leaping to his feet. “Prowl, are you okay? I didn’t mean for that to happen! I’m sorry, w-was that a bad thing I did? I thought it’d be alright since you said what you said, but I guess it wasn’t? Really, I’m sorry—”

“Bluestreak.” Prowl was frankly shocked that he managed to silence his twin with one word. Tucking the surprise away, he announced in level tones, “I would prefer you don’t use our spark bond to communicate without telling me you’re going to first. It’s thoughtless to use something like that on a whim and makes it a stumbling block rather than an advantage!”

Bluestreak’s throat cables worked as he swallowed uneasily. “Okay, yeah, I’ll let you know next time.” Fidgeting, he asked, “Are the energon containers okay?”

“They seem to be,” Prowl replied, but his relief was minimal. He could now feel tightness in his chest that could be only one thing: Bluestreak cautiously setting up a wall in their bond—a thin wall, but a wall nonetheless.

“Let’s get back to base, then,” Bluestreak suggested, taking off before Prowl could tell him to wait. Gathering up the energon, Prowl followed, driving in silence a few paces behind Bluestreak until the Ark was in sight. When they were at the entrance to the ship, Bluestreak stopped suddenly and transformed, turning to face him.

“Hey, Prowl, I really am sorry about back there, I didn’t know it bothered you that much. I know now though, so I guess that’s a good thing, but I kinda wanted to ask before we go in if you could keep it…secret, y’know?”

Prowl stood, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want anyone else knowing that we’re not talking through our bond at all,” Bluestreak said in a rush. “Especially not Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, y’know, because they’re twins too and everything and they’re really close and use their bond to talk to each other all the time and they might think it’s weird or whatever that we don’t do it like they do even though we’re twins too and technically twins are supposed to do that stuff, even though I think it’s fine that we don’t since it’s what you want, okay?”

Prowl felt his disbelief and dismay pushing against the wall Bluestreak had set up between them. That was how Bluestreak had understood his words? All he had asked was that Bluestreak tell him first before he used their bond, but Bluestreak had obviously escalated what he’d said. He opened his mouth to protest, to explain himself, to apologize.

“I’ll keep it between us.”

Idiot. Nothing will be ‘between us’ now.

“Good, thanks,” Bluestreak concluded with a smile that didn’t reach his optics by a long shot. Fishing out one of the energon containers, he opened it and asked, “Wanna get the good stuff before everyone else does?”

Prowl didn’t want to, but he took the proffered canister anyway, watching raindrops hit the surface of the drink before he downed half of it and returned the other half to his brother. Bluestreak finished it off, gave him another weak smile and commented, “We’re gonna get rusty.”

Nodding silently, Prowl took his leave, hoping to bury himself in his report to Prime.

—

Prowl bolted from his berth the next morning, lunging toward his adjoining washroom to bury his face in the drain and retch. He knelt there for several minutes, hugging the rim of the drain, ventilations long and rattling. His insides felt like the walls of a trash compactor, pressing in on each other quite painfully.

What in the Allspark had brought this on? Whatever it was, he had to shake it off, Prowl decided. Wiping his mouth, he set about going through the agony of preparing for work. There was a meeting to attend and he wasn’t going to miss it and risk being seen as unprofessional. What kind of officer would do that?

And yet as soon as he entered the meeting room, Jazz glanced at him, did a double take and declared, “Man, you look like something Ravage dragged in.”

Prowl stared at him dully, unable to muster the energy to be insulted, and startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t even want to know what happened, Prowl, but take the day off,” Optimus said from behind him, his tone firm but kind. “And before you protest, this isn’t a request. Have Ratchet take a look at you and then go back to your quarters.”

“Yes, sir,” Prowl mumbled, allowing himself to be defeated far too easily. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect it to be a request and at the moment I hope you don’t expect me to argue. I’ll gladly obey that order. Just send me the particulars when I’m recovering, would you? It would give me something to read so I can keep myself occupied…if I manage not to purge on the data pads.”

“We’ll be sure to send them to you,” Optimus promised hastily. “Go to Ratchet.”

Ratchet had the same reaction Jazz had, but with a few more colorful terms and a lecture about self-care that gave Prowl a helm-ache, one which Ratchet said he deserved for being so careless.

“You have what the humans call ‘food poisoning’,” Ratchet announced, startlingly gifted in making even the diagnosis sound like a scolding. “Hot plating, purging, pain in the chassis… Really all you can do is rest until the bad energon filters out of your system. Try to retain fluids or your tank will burn out.”

“Thank you, doctor. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Maybe while you’re on the job, you could ask some of the other officers to send me get-well emails as the humans do? Or perhaps they would be willing to give up some of their energon rations. If not, you could convince them. After all, I’m supposed to retain fluids, aren’t I?” Prowl ground out.

Ratchet blinked. “Definitely,” he said at last, taking Prowl by the elbow and helping him toward the door.

Groaning, Prowl stumbled down the hall toward his room, keeping himself upright with one hand on the wall. He could hear the rest of the Autobots going about their day, the noise making him dizzy. Each voice seemed to pound against his audials, sharp and finely-tuned.

“…don’t think the Decepticons are going to stay idle for long, do you?”

“Of course not. Do they ever?”

“…So when will the next one blow up?”

“It’s not going to!”

“…need that buffer!”

“Give it a rest, Sunny.”

Prowl paused, the argument erupting between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker reminding him of yesterday’s conversation with Bluestreak. He’d passed Bluestreak’s quarters just a few moments ago, Prowl realized, a wave of guilt giving him a disgusting sensation in his throat. He took a few steps back, processing, trying to find his reason for unconsciously quickening his pace. He released his vents harshly, frustrated. The other conversations were unimaginably distracting. Shuttering his optics, he let the voices wash over him, focusing on the silence.

The…silence?

There was no noise emanating from Bluestreak’s door. None whatsoever.

Bluestreak was always talking—if there was no one else to talk to, he would have an entire conversation with himself. The utter hush could only mean that either Bluestreak was gone or…

Prowl knocked on the door, calling, “Bluestreak! It’s me, Prowl. Are you in there?” He paused, knocked again, and still nothing, so he spun around, biting back nausea, and headed for the computer room. “Teletraan, I need to know where my brother is,” Prowl ordered, planting his hands on the console to steady himself.

The computer voice activated. Please specify the designation of the Autobot you would like to—

“Locate,” Prowl finished hurriedly. “Bluestreak, locate him now, right now. I need to know, so where is he?”

Bluestreak is in his quarters.

Prowl stared at the screen offering him a map, the indicator insisting he had been in the right place. So if Bluestreak was in there…but he wasn’t answering…

It was as Prowl had feared. Something was very wrong. A surge of panicked energy made him forget his pain and sickness as he fast-walked back to his place in front of the resolutely sealed door.

“I know you’re in there, Bluestreak, Teletraan 1 told me you’re in there, so why aren’t you answering?” Prowl demanded anxiously, pressing an audial against the door and receiving nothing. “Are you alright? Listen, tell me you are so I’ll be able to go recharge in peace. I’ll take even a one-word response if you’ll give it.”

Silence.

—

“Bluestreak!” Prowl’s voice rose as he banged a fist on the thick metal surface. “I can force my way in there if you want to be stubborn this way, but I’d prefer not to do that.” A noiseless pause, so Prowl banged again, demanding angrily, “What’s wrong with you?! Are you doing this to spite me for something? Is this about yesterday? It is, isn’t it! I wasn’t the one at fault, you were the one who distracted me and nearly threw me off the road. Are you punishing yourself for that? It seems like you’re punishing me—not that I’m saying you should punish yourself, but you shouldn’t punish me either! I didn’t even hold you at fault for that because it was an accident but now I’m starting to reconsider!”

Prowl contracted his vents, his brief anger washing away into the bottom of his fluid-deprived tank, replaced by a steady supply of dread. Leaning his forehelm against the door, he pleaded, “Tell me! It’s about what caused the accident, isn’t it? The accident itself wasn’t that bad, but I still got angry with you. I tried to hide it, but you could tell, couldn’t you? I didn’t mean to overreact, really, I didn’t, but I was just annoyed because you had been talking and talking the entire mission and I kind of regretted asking you to come in the first place. Then you used the bond, which I’ve always considered to be ultimately personal, and it just threw me off guard. I didn’t think before I spoke and I know I hurt you when I said what I did. But you’re really worrying me now and I know you think I deserve being hurt in return and maybe I do. You’ve succeeded; this is hurting me. I’m the vulnerable one, I’m the one opening myself for rejection. Has it gone on long enough?”

His vents kicked into high-drive for lack of decent pausing between sentences. Prowl tried to be patient while his brother considered, staring intensely at the door, wishing he could drill a hole through it by willpower alone. The silence stretched on and on and Prowl took a few steps back, doorwings drooping. There was no doubt about it—he was being rejected.

Or what if Bluestreak couldn’t answer? What if he had been hurt somehow in the night and was sprawled out somewhere in there, leaking energon, out cold and unable to call for help?

~: Blue, please! OPEN THE DOOR!!:~ Prowl’s symbiotic wail had caught Bluestreak unprepared; the wall between them collapsed in an instant, sending Prowl’s emotions coursing through their bond like a tsunami.

Almost immediately the door slid back, revealing Bluestreak with a thermal tarp hanging over his shoulders. Prowl charged, knocking Bluestreak back a few steps with the force of his hug, the door closing behind him.

“Wh—Prowl, what’s the matter?” Bluestreak asked, his vocalizer sputtering. “You used the bond—You sounded so…scared! What’s going on?”

“You didn’t answer,” Prowl hissed against his audial, his relief bringing back his exhaustion until he was almost dragging Bluestreak down. He straightened forcefully, continuing, “I was banging and banging and you weren’t answering! What was I supposed to think?! You could have been held hostage somehow—Primus, you could have been offline in here and I wouldn’t have been any the wiser! I called for you for ages, I was about to get Ironhide to shoot down the door! What on earth were you doing in here? Couldn’t you even hear me?!”

“No,” Bluestreak muttered miserably.

Disbelieving, Prowl pushed him out to arms’ length and looked him up and down. “Blue, you’re soaking wet.”

“I was in the wash racks,” Bluestreak said, his tone abruptly vague.

“And you’re burning up,” Prowl added worriedly as he ran his hands down Bluestreak’s arms, flinging water away.

“No, you are,” Bluestreak countered, hugging the wet thermal tarp closer around him. “Me, I’m freezing.”

Prowl studied him suspiciously. “What were you doing in the wash racks? Purging?”

Bluestreak’s brave face fell, his following sigh edged in drained static. “…Yeah, but I don’t even know why. I just woke up this morning with a chassis ache.”

“Back to the washroom,” Prowl ordered softly, guiding his brother by the arm.

—

When he entered Bluestreak’s washroom, Prowl coughed at the thick steam, almost thick enough to be smoke as it fogged his optics. Stumbling blindly into the racks, Prowl caught the temperature knob and cooled the scalding water.

When his optics cleared, Prowl found Bluestreak curled up by his feet, the stream of water rolling down his thermal tarp. His voice shook a little when he spoke again.

“Th-Thought about going to Ratchet, but I could barely make it in here.”

“You…could have called me,” Prowl said weakly, leaning against the wall of the racks, resisting the urge to sink down too. “I could have asked Ratchet to come and examine you so you wouldn’t have needed to go anywhere. After all, you need to take care of yourself. What if Prime had asked you to go on a mission and you couldn’t because you hadn’t recovered properly from this illness? Worse, what if you put yourself in danger or failed the mission because you hadn’t been diagnosed in the first place? You should have called me.”

“I thought you were going to a meeting,” Bluestreak protested, but beneath ‘going to a meeting’ Prowl heard ‘not talking to me’. Before he could bring that up, Bluestreak added sullenly, “Why are you talking so much?”

“Why are you talking so little?” Prowl shot back, even as he thought back to his words at the door—his many, many words. He had been talking a lot all morning, he decided in surprise, far more than usual.

“I’m just not in the mood to talk,” Bluestreak muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. Prowl stared at him for a long moment and then felt—of all things!—a laugh burst from his chest.

“It’s just as our Carrier said.”

“What is?” Bluestreak sighed, glancing up at him.

“Don’t you remember?” Prowl urged, sinking down across from his twin. “Whenever we were sick, she always used to mix up our names because we swapped personalities. I was talkative and needy and you were silent and sullen.”

Bluestreak raised an eyebrow and said flatly, “So I’m needy? I know I’m talkative, but am I needy?”

Prowl winced inwardly and amended feebly, “In a good way.” He would have gone on to explain that but forced the words back, trying to consider them first as he usually did. Every time he opened his mouth to say them, they sounded wrong as they started to surface. If he spoke aloud, it would come out badly. That just left one line of communication.

~: Don’t startle, alright?:~ Despite his first words, Prowl saw Bluestreak stiffen a little. ~:Is it uncomfortable for me to do this? Please don’t leave me hanging or I might start shouting like I did outside.:~

~:It’s fine, I guess,:~ Bluestreak answered with some hesitation.

~:Thank you. About yesterday, I want you to know that I regret what I said. I didn’t mean it at all. I don’t even really know why I said it, but I regret it. I’ve never really minded it when you’ve spoken this way.:~

~:I think I know why you said it. You have to keep up appearances so the other Autobots will respect you. You’re insecure,:~ Bluestreak declared, his bluntness only confirming that their personalities were altered by their shared misery.

~:Maybe that’s true, but I shouldn’t have let my insecurity blind me to your feelings.:~ Prowl steeled himself, hoping his next words would be taken gently. ~:The problem is, brother, you speak so often but explain very little. Emotions have always been confusing to me, you know that, but those closest to me are the ones I understand the least.:~

Bluestreak blinked a few times. ~:So you’re close to me?:~

Prowl slumped and shook his helm. ~:Apparently not. You shouldn’t even need to ask that question. But what you said about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, about their closeness and how they use their bond to talk and how all twins are supposed to do those things, it’s convicting. I’ve been neglecting you and I want to make it right.:~ He stopped, letting Bluestreak digest the words, before concluding, ~:Is there anything I can do?:~

Bluestreak ducked his gaze to the floor and then dove out of the wash racks, his wet knees skidding on the floor as he hid his face in the drain. Prowl turned off the water and picked himself up with a groan, clutching at his pained tanks.

~:Stay,:~ Bluestreak begged in one word, though his helm remained lodged in the drain. Prowl seized two fresh tarps from a shelf and gladly went back onto the floor, throwing one around himself and drying his twin down gently with the other as he suffered through another purging cycle. After Bluestreak finished, Prowl took an unexpected turn and then rose shakily, retrieving two canisters of the lowest grade of energon available and returned, dumping one in Bluestreak’s hands.

“I don’t want it,” Bluestreak complained, speaking aloud for the first time in several minutes.

“You have to drink some,” Prowl muttered, his grouchy tone betraying similar feelings. “Hydration and replenishment and all that scrap.” He sipped at it and then set it down, barely a dent in it. “You know what I just realized? It was us drinking that energon that caused all this tricursed trouble in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bluestreak agreed, pushing his own aside after a few tastes. “Wouldn’t that figure?” His words ended in a yawn, one of the human habits he must have picked up during their time here on Earth.

Prowl detested the thought of moving, but he did so nonetheless. “C’mon, you need to recharge.” It was a long walk between the washroom and the berth; Prowl was surprised that Bluestreak wasn’t out cold already when they got there. His twin curled in on himself but didn’t offline his optics, staring at him instead.

“Is there something else I can do?” Prowl asked with a patient smile.

Bluestreak’s returning smile was unexpectedly shy. “…Talk to me?”

Perhaps that was the one advantage of being both sick and withdrawn from his brother, Prowl mused as he nodded and settled down next to Bluestreak, pulling their tarps in close. He would have a lot to say.