A/n: Since Bluestreak will change back to his mech self, this chapter will contain some mild slash. Read further at your discretion.

The operation went a lot more smoothly than Bluestreak had expected. Early the next day, she had gone to the medbay, where Ratchet and Perceptor had been already waiting for her. They had been quite tired, Bluestreak could tell. Even so, they had both been smiling and ready to start work. And so, a couple of hours later, Bluestreak had come online with a new face and a broad smile on his features.

The rest of the Autobots had been glad to see the gunner back to his former self. True, there had been those few who had seemed a bit disappointed at first, but they had soon joined in the general mood of joy and relief as well. More importantly, Bluestreak was able to converse and joke with his friends without the awkward tension of self-consciousness that had plagued him for so long. It was no wonder that, a few days later, Bluestreak had put his femme days well behind him and he recalled them as if they were part of a surreal dream.

Almost, that is. Though Bluestreak's friendship with the Twins had also been restored, the gunner had felt that there was also something different about the two frontliners. Sunstreaker had been quiet – well, quieter than usual – and with a strange look in his optics. If Bluestreak hadn't known any better, he'd say that the yellow Lamborghini had been contemplating on something. Every time he had asked Sideswipe about that, however, the red warrior had just grinned and dodged the question by blatantly changing the subject. In the end, Bluestreak had decided to just give up.

That brought Bluestreak to the now, almost ten days after he had returned to his mech self. He didn't have any work, since it was his monthly day off. So, he was sitting idly on the couch in the common room, changing the channels at random in a lazy manner.

"Bored, huh?"

Bluestreak turned around, startled at hearing the familiar voice practically out of nowhere.

"Uh… hey, Sunstreaker," he faltered, waving a bit at the yellow Lamborghini. "I figured there would be a movie on or something right about this time, but I guess I was wrong." Just then, he recalled something important and he regarded the frontliner curiously. "How come you're here? I thought it was Sideswipe's day off today."

"It was," Sunstreaker replied with a nod. "But my joints must have gathered some gravel from yesterday's patrol, 'cause it hurt when I tried to transform this morning. So, Bro offered to cover my shift for today."

"Oh," Bluestreak said in sympathy. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Nothing that a little oil couldn't fix," the frontliner said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Of course, now I'm stuck in the base with nothing to occupy myself with."

"Sounds like we're on the same boat then," Bluestreak noted.

"Guess so."

Silence followed and Bluestreak caught himself thinking hard to say something, anything. Finally, he got it.

"You know… If you like, I mean… We could… play some Mortal Kombat?" he asked.

Sunstreaker's lip components tugged to a small smile. "Sure. Let me bring the controls and you set up the game, okay?"

Bluestreak grinned, though he purposefully ignored the giddy feeling in his spark. "Got it!" he said. "You're so gonna get fried!"

"Is that a challenge?" Sunstreaker said, raising an optic ridge in an amused manner.

"Just stating a fact," Bluestreak replied cheekily.

"Really?" Sunstreaker placed both hands on his hips and stared at the gunner. "Tell you what. We play three rounds; winner takes it all. Deal?"

"Deal!" Bluestreak said. "Um… All of what?" he added, confused.

Sunstreaker shrugged, although Bluestreak thought that he detected something flashing in the yellow Lamborghini's optics. "We'll think of something."

With that, Sunstreaker walked out to retrieve the playstation controls.

Bluestreak had to admit that Sunstreaker put up a good fight. They had been playing for over an hour and, so far, the score was a tie. This final round would determine the winner and Bluestreak didn't intend to lose… even if the odds were currently against him.

"I'm creaming you," Sunstreaker said, pressing the controls rapidly.

"Nothing's over till the fat lady sings," Bluestreak said, clenching his jaw. "Or till Princess Kitana rips Subzero's heart out!" Sure enough, Bluestreak snatched his chance and managed to kill off Subzero with a swift blow. "Oh yeah! I win!"

"You sure do," Sunstreaker conceded.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bluestreak registered that the frontliner didn't sound upset in the least. Under other circumstances, he would have thought that was strange, but he was too excited to think about it presently.

"That felt good!" he said, all but punching the air. "It's a shame we didn't play while I was a femme. It would feel ten times better if I had the chance to say that you lost to a…"

He wanted to say 'girl', but Bluestreak never managed it. A pair of hands cupped his face confidently, while soft lips locked on his in a definite kiss. His first kiss. Bluestreak's breath was stolen in a heartbeat and his spark practically did a backflip as all coherent thought abandoned him. All he could feel was that smooth mouth and those gentle hands and, Primus, it was everything he had imagined and more. He closed his optics, taking in the sensation of Sunstreaker kissing him and sighing contentedly.

Wait a minute.

Sunstreaker… was kissing him?!

As reality hit home, he drew back and stared at Sunstreaker incredulously.

"What…? What was that…?"

Sunstreaker just smiled warmly, as if nothing was wrong with what was happening. "I already told you. Winner takes it all."

Only then did everything fall into place, and Bluestreak gasped.

"You… You set me up! You planned this!"

Sunstreaker seemed quite unabashed as he nodded.

"But… I thought that you liked me as a femme!" he exclaimed, still trying to register what was currently happening.

"I did," the frontliner said.

"Now you've lost me again," Bluestreak groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You really like messing with my head, don't you?"

"Just listen to what I have to say," Sunstreaker declared, prodding Bluestreak to look back at him with a kind of tenderness that Bluestreak didn't think the yellow Lamborghini was capable of. "I admit it; I could have you as a femme if I wanted to. Pit, there were times that I wanted it so bad I could almost taste it." His fingers stroked Bluestreak's face. "But I meant what I said. You're one of my few real friends, and I didn't want to lose that."

So close… Bluestreak felt his breathing quickening again, and unnatural heat washed through him. "And now?" he whispered.

"Now?" Sunstreaker chuckled, and he pulled Bluestreak forward. "Now everything's just perfect," he said huskily, moments before their lips sealed together in another kiss.

Well, if Sunstreaker put it that way, Bluestreak wasn't going to argue.

"Jazz?"

Jazz turned down the music he was playing and looked back at Prowl. They had been walking together towards the tactician's office but, apparently, something had caught the Datsun's attention. He was standing in the middle of the corridor, his optics slightly wide as he looked to his left, into the common room. Of course, Jazz knew from previous experience that this was never a good sign, so he retraced his steps and walked up at Prowl's side.

"What is it?" he asked.

Prowl lifted his hand and pointed at the interior of the common room. "Is that Sunstreaker?"

Jazz frowned; nevertheless he decided to indulge his friend. And, sure enough, Sunstreaker was in the room and… Oh.

"Uh… yeah," the saboteur answered, wincing.

"And is he kissing Bluestreak?"

"Pretty much," Jazz replied, waiting for the familiar bzzt sound that signalled Prowl's imminent computer crash.

Surprisingly, the tactician merely seemed the epitome of calmness as he said two words only.

"I see."

And then Jazz heard the familiar cocking sound of Prowl's acid-pellet rifle.

THE END