Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

(Hi everybody long time no see! I've been away for a while as I lost my writing mojo but it has slowly been returning lately so I will hopefully have more stuff wing updated soon. This was looked over by the lovely Ice Fata, though some minor mistakes may have fallen through the cracks. Enjoy!)

===Sunstreaker===

Sideswipe was smiling at him.

It wasn't a nice, content smile. It was one of those, 'I've fool proofed my blackmail, so bow down to me puny Sunstreaker,' smiles that he had perfected when they were but sparklings tumbling around in a playpen.

"Don't." He tried, valiantly, but in vain, scrolling down on his datpad to reveal the next paragraph, soaking in the aura of excitement and danger the author had brought about with their colourfully diverse words and phrases.

"Sunny." Sideswipe purred, engine growling like a pleased tiger.

"No," he repeated, his optic ridge twitching as the suspense began to build, flicking his optics worriedly to the scroll bar where he saw that he had only a fraction of the page left. The last flick of his black painted finger brought the bar bouncing to a stop at the end of the page, where the worlds worst cliffhanger left him figuratively sweating and darting his optics from side to side in search of the non-existent next chapter. "Primus frag it. I hate fanfiction." He scowled, angrily slamming down his favourite datapad onto the side table with a huff, optics narrowing at his smug looking brother who had already read the latest instalment of the ninety chapter, four million word epic that had gained an underground following in the ARK.

It had popped up one afternoon in the rec-room, an unassuming datapad that had innocently been left behind after its owner had darted for his shift, the screen left on and unlocked, text filling the screen. Mirage, insatiable curiosity tying in neatly with his wary Special Operations coding, had picked it up and was almost instantly hooked. It had then spread to various other members of the ARK, the story of a group of transforming metallic humanoids engaged in a war against invaders on their planet while a young soldier mech tried to gain the affections of a childhood sweetheart that seemed to barely notice him. The idea for the story had been based on the Transformers themselves, which the humans had created a fan site for, to store the vast amounts of theories, art and anything Transformer related the Earthlings could cook up.

Thanks to the Story, the site had a small following on the ARK, that grew larger with each bot that found the fiction through his friends. The following was lead by Mirage who had found the text in the first place and conducted theorising debates every other week after the newest Chapter was released.

"I'm not drawing anymore fan art for you." He grunted sourly, even as his thought matrix devised a way to make several new images happen, "It's bad enough you went into a small depression when Invisique and Moon Bright split up in the story. I'm not adding fuel to the fire."

"But Invisique only has amnesia! They are so totally still a thing!" Sideswipe protested defensively, almost hissing his distaste at the very idea, adamant that he was going down with his ship come hell or high water. "Anyway, what about you mister Bright Grace shipper!"

"What about me? At least the pairing I like still exists, or will... Eventually," he snapped with a growl, "Anyway, it is the main pairing you fool, of course I like Star Bright and Crystal Grace together."

"Yeah, yeah." The red twin snorted, dismissing his brother's temper with a casual flick of his hand, "So what did you think?"

"I found Rhythm and Monochrome being Crystal Grace's parents oddly fitting." Sunstreaker pondered aloud reviewing the new information he had absorbed with a piranha like frenzy. "It explains their odd relationship and the fact that Rhythm seems less like an aft when Grace is chatting with him."

"Bet the Crystal Dancer Shippers feel epically stupid right now." Sideswipe cackled with glee at the teasing he could bombard Cliffjumper with tomorrow at the 'Secret Meeting' to discuss the latest chapter. "Jazz will be happy though, he shipped Rhythm and Monochrome since Chapter Four when Monochrome gave Rhythm a flower for his desk. Chess Shipping isn't it?"

Sunstreaker grunted in a noncommittal fashion not willing to be dragged into an impromptu shipping war, rolling to his pedes and stretching languidly, his chronometer buzzing at him like an irritated wasp that his short range patrol shift with Bluestreak would be starting in ten earthen minutes. "I might sketch some Invisible Moon stuff later," he muttered ignoring his brother's squeal of happiness, grabbing his data-pad, placing it into his subspace as he wandered to the door and into the bright orange of the ARK's hallways, his steps light at the thought of spending time with the grey gunner who made his spark flicker with warmth.

To his surprise, he found Bluestreak sulking at the front doors of the ARK standing debating heatedly with a frowning Prowl. The little gunner's doorwings were down and swishing agitatedly from side to side as he gestured worriedly to the icy Second In Command. "...not like anybody could figure it out anyway, I've done like fifty and not one mech has realised it."

"Realised what?" He broke in, making the silver and red mech squeak and jump like he had just been shot, Prowl's doorwings shooting up an extra inch in surprise as he stomped up to them, trademark scowl crossing his faceplate.

"Nothing!" Bluestreak chirped innocently, finally getting his fritzing vocaliser under control and managing to blurt out a sentence. "Just some grammar in my reports that Prowl was correcting me on!" The gunner lied horribly, scratching the back of his neck cabling like he did whenever he fibbed.

"Really?" He snorted skeptically, a little hurt that Bluestreak was being so secretive with him, they had been friends for milleni-vorns after all, he and his brother wild little orphans when he had encountered a sweet Praxian youngling sitting on Jazz's knee in the rec-room.

"Just a few sentences that needed adjusting before I sent it to Red Alert so he did not have a cosmic breakdown over errors again." Prowl cut in smoothly, both younger mecha turning to stare at the no nonsense Second In Command as he scanned his ever present lists of 'To Do' and 'Must Be Done' on his data pad.

Bluestreak nodded his helm like a bobble-head doll, with Sunstreaker narrowing his optics suspiciously. "Alright then." He rumbled as Prowl cast him a blank icy stare in return, forcing him to submit and cast his optics away. "Let's get going Blue."

"Uh, sure." The grey Praxian fidgeted, folding down into his alternate mode and revving his engine playfully, "Last to the beacon gets Report duty!"

"You that eager to lose again?" The melee fighter grinned down at the silver-grey Datsun, swivelling its wheels to and fro in the dust coyly.

"You might be surprised," his partner sing-songed, delighted that his previous suspicions seemed to have been forgotten. "I've been chatting with Smokecreen about racing tactics."

"We'll see." Sunstreaker rumbled, dropping down into his Lamborghini alt and revving his engine to match his excited patrol buddy's, before they both shot off in a cloud of orange dust.

===Prowl===

Prowl, who had been wise enough to step away from both younger mechs as they showed off, beat away the smog of settling dirt with a harsh huff of his vents, rolling his optics at the theatrics. He shook his helm in exasperation as he saw the dust trail fade into the haze and turned to return to his office, jumping slightly when Jazz leered out of the ARK entrance, caught between the shadow of natural light and the lights of the ship.

"Back already Jazz?" He asked politely, doorwings flicking with mild interest. "I assumed you would be gone until Thursday."

"Mission completed and OP has all the info he needs." His black and white, visor sporting, mirror grinned, keeping in step with him as he went on his way. "He'll send it down to tactical once he's read it."

"Let me guess, you came back early for the story?" Prowl sighed, snatching his servo away from the saboteur's grasp as it swung towards his data-pad, lifting the rectangular object up and away from his questing mate and smacked him over the helm with it, earning a whining yelp. "You're such a sparkling."

"Hey! It's a slagging good story!" Jazz protested, rubbing at his scrambled sensory horns, shaking the fuzzy static Prowl had whitewashed him with from his processor as the tactician let them into his office. "Plus, I get to know what happens before anybody else, because I know the editor."

"I believe Blue called me a Beta." Prowl shrugged, his wings stretching out with a shimmer of pride, "At least that's what he called me while he was rambling on about the writing forum he had joined on that fan site."

Jazz grinned, already in the loop, having watched Prowl chat with their youngling about certain paragraphs that needed less ramble and more flow. "So, any news on the possibilities of Sunny and Blue hooking up yet? I know Sunny reads the story."

"I'm more impressed that nobody else has put two and two together yet," The Second in Command shook his helm in mild wonder, "Some of the references are hard to miss."

"Yeah, like Moon Bright and Star Bright being twins that came from a rough background, or, my personal favourite, the impeccably clear implications that your gambling obsessed brother and Sideswipe are getting down and dirty, as shown with Invisique and Moon Bright. Though Blue seems to be going for a tragic love on that angle as he wiped Invisique's memories in chapter eighty four with no real conclusion in sight." Jazz babbled, getting more and more animated as he talked about his favourite reading material.

His black and white mate shook his helm in amusement, "And people wonder where Bluestreak gets his chatter from."

"He got it from you Prowler." Jazz denied, sticking out his glossa childishly. "Or was I imagining that rambling, though very enthusiastic talk you gave to the rookie enforcers in Iacon Central way back when?"

"Clearly you were imagining it." The Praxian sniffed imperiously, though his icy optic glimmered with mirth. "Besides, when Smokescreen suggested Bluestreak start writing down his thoughts and babble instead of speaking it in their last session, I don't think he had writing Fanfiction about Cybertronians in mind."

"Or that he would accidentally leave his spare pad in the rec-room and get 'Raj hooked." Jazz smiled, "Remind me to buy Smokey a drink from the petrol pumps the next time we are on patrol together, he's made my youngling famous."

"Secretly famous, I needn't remind you that Bluestreak writes under a false name?" Prowl warned, only to be waved off by his bondmate. "Now if you don't mind Jazz, I have editing to do and reports to write."

"Any idea on when the next chapter will be out?" The saboteur asked, sly and sultry, "I should get Carrier's rights or something so I can read it first."

"But alas. Where would that tender hook excitement go every second Friday while waiting for an 'updated' email?" Prowl replied blandly, slapping his mate's questing servo away from the first draft of Chapter Ninety One, "No, Jazz, no previews."

===Bluestreak===

Becoming secretly famous hadn't really been on his list of ambitions when he had awoken on Earth. His list was mostly comprised of what most Autobots wanted, an end to the war, a chance to actually experience peace that wasn't always overshadowed by the potential next attack, maybe even work a different job.

So it was to his absolute horror that his secret desires and fictions were suddenly all over the ARK in the form of his 'Therapy Exercise' that Smokescreen had talked him into to try and curb his incessant babble.

He had been so careful too, up until that forgotten Medical Appointment that had prompted him to cut and run to the Medical Bay as fast as his legs could carry him without locking his data-pad that Prowl had given him from the new shipment.

Now, the whole ARK it seemed, read his Story, his private desires and imaginings all rolled into one giant literary confession originally intended for the world of humans that wouldn't be able to put two and two together. But here he was, an ironically silent observer as his best friend chatted and theorised about the next chapter of Dancing in Stars.

"I'm surprised you don't read it Blue." Sunstreaker frowned as they paused for a break in the shade of some desert rock formations for a few minutes between checkpoint windows, the shiny yellow mech frowning down at his paint job that was covered in sandy dust and microscopic scratches. "It seems right up your street, lots of action, bit of romance, there's even some convincing world building."

"Oh, I enjoy human history factoid novels more. Did you know that Egypt had these three dimensional triangles called pyramids and that they buried their dead Kings and their gold in them thousands of years ago?!" The grey gunner waved off with a squeal of nerdy excitement, kicking his legs as he sat high on the desert stone while Sunstreaker couldn't help but smirk at his enthusiasm.

"I know what a pyramid is Blue." The warrior replied, rolling his optics with what appeared to be a long suffering patience. "So you are focusing on Ancient Egypt this week huh?"

"You were interested in the Aztecs last week too!" The sniper pouted, sticking out his glossa at his companion that stretched out a few muscle cables, the sun glinting off patches of his dusty armour sending his engine into a soft stutter, "Though to be honest I was glad when Prowl, albeit reluctantly, put a stop to your attempts to sacrifice Sideswipe to the sun and war God."

"Hey whatever keeps Huitzilopocht happy and my idiot Twin out of my polish supply." Sunstreaker snorted with temper fuelled annoyance, shrugging nonchalantly, "The glitch deserved it after he used it to make the corridors into an ice rink."

Bluestreak threw back his helm and laughed at the reminder of the chaos the corridor had caused to any mech who unwittingly turned down it, including an oblivious Sunstreaker who had just come back from the wash racks.

The taller mech half smirked back at his friend, admiring the silvery flash of his paint work that glimmered under the baking desert sun.

The grey mech beamed at his grumpy friend and nudged him gently with a fluttering doorwing as he jumped down, "Come on, we'd better get back to the patrol or else Red Alert might send out a search party again."

"We were only late by five minutes because we stopped to watch some local fair." The bright Lamborghini sulked copying his companion and folding back down into his alternate mode, gently pulling back onto the deserted tarmac and slotting in behind the grey Datsun, both quickly accelerating up to speed, "Five days we were on grunt duty, Sideswipe just wouldn't quit rubbing it in."

"That's why you and Sides got a three week extension." His companion teased with a squeak when Sunstreaker nudged his backend in playful warning. "So tell me more about this Dancing in Stars, it must be interesting if it has held you from that sculpting project you wanted to try."

"Sideswipe got me into it." The yellow warrior replied almost sheepishly, gunning his engine to pull alongside his partner and overtake for the drive to the second checkpoint, "the glitch came running up to me while I was in the middle of polishing in the wash racks twittering about love stories and drama all while waving a data-pad in my face."

"Peer pressure?" Bluestreak giggled slyly, "why Sunny, you would be the last person I expected to give into your brother's needling."

Sunstreaker snorted and revved his engine, "I enjoy a good book, it helps me relax."

The sniper laughed in delight, swerving to and fro on the empty road, internally dying of embarrassment even as he pleaded ignorance. "Don't tell me you go to those nerdy book club meetings Mirage holds?"

"Alright, I don't." The front liner said simply, clearly lying through his denta as they skidded to a sliding stop at their next checkpoint.

"Liar!" Bluestreak gasped shooting into his root mode to hold a servo over his chest plates like a distressed femme, snickering while Sunstreaker grunted, rolling his optics at his antics, transforming into root mode to shove the Praxian gunner playfully off balance as he raised his other servo his external communications array to check in.

"Red, we've hit the second mark, we are turning for home." He rumbled in disinterest, scowling at the clipped automated reply ping, casually dodging with a smooth, battle tried spin as Bluestreak attempted to shove him back, stumbling by with a squeak. "You'll have to do better than that Blue."

The gunner sighed as he stopped himself from face planting into the red dust, placing his servos on his hips while his patrol partner finished their check in report and reset the beacon for the long range patrol that would be coming in that evening. "I'll have to read this novel, I think." He pondered with a contemplative frown, internally apologising to the golden warrior that smirked with smug victory at his admission.

"Hey, once you catch up, I'm dragging you to Mirage's weekly chapter debate. We can both be nerds together." The larger mech proposed, his voice wavering slightly with uncertainty, raising a servo into his subspace, dragging out his personal data pad and offering it to the surprised gunner while he tried to gaze resolutely into the horizon rather than possibly face Bluestreak's rejection. "I expect this back in one piece you know."

Bluestreak smiled broadly at his childhood friend, his spark fluttering warmly even as he giddily hugged his embarrassed patrol partner that coughed through his vents awkwardly at being so suddenly accosted.

"I'll take care of it, I promise!" He swore, clutching the personalised pad close sharing a soft affectionate smile with the pleased warrior.

===Smokescreen===

==Early Evening==

With a weary sigh, Smokescreen was alerted to his forgotten early evening appointment by the insistently shrill proximity ping his confidential files were emitting as he returned from a rather stressful Medical Team meeting.

His dear little nephew really needed to stop letting himself into his uncle's office using Jazz's bad habits.

Taking a centring vent, mentally prepping himself for his last appointment of the orn, Smokescreen punched in his access codes, privately fantasising about his poker game with Sideswipe later, only to stop short in surprise.

Bluestreak was pacing across the floor with the look of a caged animal, one servo clutching a personalised data-pad while the other gestured and waved as the grey gunner's vocaliser kick started the moment his optics identified his Uncle, talking a million words a second about data-pads and crushes that surety knew they were being crushed on by now, which all somehow connected to one notoriously grumpy frontliner.

The tired Psychologist tracked the young Praxian's trek to and fro across his floor with a sigh, avoiding the silvery mech's flailing limbs on a sweeping pass to slump into his office chair, tossing his paperwork and appointment timetable into his desk drawer until he had time to sort it out.

"Someone is in a mood." He commented blandly, well aware of his nephew's rather spectacular crush on Sunstreaker, in a brief lull when his dear little nephew had to reset his vocaliser that fizzled into static as his words began to run together in his building anxiety. "I usually have to drag you kicking and screaming by the doorwing into our sessions."

"Sunstreaker gave me his data-pad to read this story that is going around the ARK." The sniper said glowering at his uncle reproachfully, faceplate shyly turned away in mortification, holding his best friend's rather treasured item up to view before squirrelling it into his subspace.

"Ah yes, your Carrier made me read a bit of it a few earthen weeks ago while we were rather overcharged one evening in the Special Operations training room." The older blue Praxian hummed thoughtfully, frowning, tapping his chin plating with his forefinger as he recalled the incident, "Something about a mech losing their memory? I remember he was quite distraught about it, kept accusing me of breaking Sideswipe's spark for some reason."

Bluestreak squeaked back a shaky laugh as his sire's brother dismissed the notion with a shrug of his doorwings, bringing up his files and focusing fully on his nephew.

"So tell me, before we delve into the possibilities of your crush being uncovered, how is that writing exercise we started coming along?"