Ratchet stopped dead just inside the door to his quarters and stared at the scene before him.

"What are you doing?" he asked Sunstreaker, mouth agape. The yellow Lamborghini barely glanced up at him from where he sat, cross-legged, on the floor, carefully applying clear-coat to a freshly-painted Bumblebee.

"I am socializing," he replied absently, completely focused on his work, "and also doing a favor for a friend." Bee nodded agreeably with an amiable smile at Ratchet, and Sunstreaker irritably told him to be still. With a helplessly amused look, the little Volkswagen obeyed.

"You're what?" Ratchet asked, startled. The question earned him an annoyed look from his yellow bondmate, and he could feel wisps of the same emotion beginning to thread their way through the bond.

"Socializing," the Lamborghini said in a sardonic voice. "You know, 'to associate or mingle sociably with others'; socializing."

"I know what it means," Ratchet said dryly, but Sunstreaker ignored him.

The yellow twin set aside his airbrush and examined his work critically before nodding to himself in satisfaction. He told Bumblebee, "There—good as new. It'll be soft for a few more hours, though, so be careful. I don't want you to ruin all that work I just did."

Bee nodded. "Sure thing, Sunstreaker—thanks!" he replied, grinning cheerfully. "I really appreciate it. Everyone will be jealous, I think."

To Ratchet's shock, Sunstreaker actually laughed. "Yeah," he said, "either that, or they'll pass out in shock that I didn't eat you or something." Bumblebee snorted with laughter at the quip, and the medic just stared in wonder at his normally sociopathic lover.

::Who are you, and what have you done with Sunstreaker?:: he sent over the bond, and Sunstreaker just replied with a wordless wave of amusement.

"I should probably be getting back—I promised Spike I'd spend some time with him this evening," Bumblebee said mildly, pulling Ratchet's attention back away from his mental link to Sunny. "I'll catch you later?" he made it a question, and Sunstreaker nodded affirmation.

"Sure," he said, and watched thoughtfully as the minibot strode out and shut the door behind himself. "You can pick your jaw up off of the floor, now," he told his lover, snickering. Ratchet gave him an evil look.

"You do slag like this just to keep me off-balance, don't you?" the medic grumbled halfheartedly, flopping down on their berth and eyeing the yellow twin warily.

Sunstreaker snorted. "No, I did it because I like Bumblebee. Everyone else can go rot in the Pit, but 'Bee's alright—for a minibot," he retorted, though there was still an undercurrent of amusement in his voice.

Ratchet sighed. "I don't think I'll ever understand you," he said teasingly. "One minute I think I've got a good handle on you, and the next, you're making friends with minibots."

"Yeah, well, frag you," Sunstreaker mumbled, slipping into the berth beside his lover and snuggling up to him. Ratchet put his arms around him, marveling, as always, that Sunny felt so at ease with him. Comfortable silence fell between them, both of them content, for the moment, to simply lie together.

"You know," Sunstreaker spoke up suddenly, sounding drowsy, "Your paint needs to be touched up, too. Think I'll do that tomorrow."

Ratchet smiled. "I think I'd like that," he murmured.