A/N: To get myself over my little writing slump, I had to do some hurt/comfort. I hope you all like this. Although I must WARN you, the characters may be a little bit OOC.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers…I'm just messing with canon.

Healing the Hurt

A drone.

A shot from a blaster.

It never had a chance.

Smoke filled the weapons range as the drone exploded from the plasma round, fired from the gun of one seriously upset frontliner. The mech grunted in satisfaction at the hit, but was not truly satisfied at all. Still, he got into position and lined up his blaster as the next drone came forward, blasting another one to smithereens.

Too bad all his problems plagued him instead of letting him enjoy blasting the slag out of the drones.

As the particles from the blasted drone drifted down from the ceiling, a soft tenor said smoothly, "Sunstreaker. Place your gun in subspace please."

The golden mech huffed, placing the weapon in subspace but not turning around, stubbornly staring at the wreckage of five…six? Or had it been seven drones? He decided it didn't matter and continued to gaze upon the destruction he had caused.

The presence of the mech behind him refused to go away.

Typical.

The Praxian was just as, if not more so, stubborn than he was.

"Ratchet's not happy with you," Prowl murmured to the tense yellow back.

"When is he not?" retorted the Lamborghini.

A bare hint of a smirk passed over the doorwinger's lips. "Well, I think this time it's for a more substantial reason than for a prank. In addition to your twin being in critical condition, he now has to deal with a complaining Huffer, and whining Tracks, and a put out Hound. Something tells me that Sideswipe's condition worries you…more so than-"

"Excuse me, I didn't ask for you to be my Dr. Phil," Sunstreaker spat, finally whirling around and locking, optic to optic with the tactician, who didn't flinch, but who merely looked at him, appraising him.

"No. But I recall times in the past when I have done it unbidden," replied Prowl, a more tender note creeping into his tone.

Sunstreaker growled.

Prowl sighed in exasperation. They had done this so many times before. Once he cracked the shell that was the yellow twin, however, it was worth it. He would be less sociopathic, he would be more open, even if it was just for a little while. And until Sideswipe was fully functioning, that was all the tactician wanted to achieve. "Sunstreaker, you know where this will eventually end."

"Yeah, me acting like a sparkling. No Prowl, not this time. I…I can't." The slightly taller mechs voice wavered for the briefest moment at the end of the sentence, alerting to the chevroned mech that something more was wrong than Sideswipe being critical. Flicking through his processor, running his systems to look for anything that would be important about this week. Optics widened and dawned with understanding, and the mech opposite him saw it, huffing and tearing his face away.

"Sunny…"

"No!" yelled Sunstreaker, turning away fully, hugging himself. "Don't make me feel like this again! Not now, not at this time. You remembered it's the anniversary."

"Yes. Five million years ago I found you and Sideswipe, abandoned outside the walls of Iacon," Prowl said softly, knowing it needed to said.

"I said DON'T!" roared Sunstreaker.

Prowl walked around the tense frame, finally catching the storm whirling in those light blue optics. Light, like his own, in comparison to Sideswipe's ever so slightly darker hue. "Why, Sunstreaker? Why does this bring you so much pain?" he asked – he did feel a little hurt by this. Not many knew that he had been the primary caretaker of the Twins since their younglinghood. He thought they had cared for him as he did them, but it was times like this that he doubted it.

"I don't want to break down. I hate being weak. You know this, Prowl," Sunstreaker murmured. He gritted his teeth and pointedly averted his optics from the tactician's once more.

He wanted to slap the hand away that came and cupped his cheek, like it had when he was much younger, on the cusp of maturity, and he had nightmares about his time in the gladiator rings. But he let it, glaring sulkily into his mentor's optics.

"Do you want to go into my quarters instead? Less of a public arena," the Praxian offered tentatively. His youngling was hurting. His spark ached. Try as he might, he couldn't be the calculating tactician in this time. He needed to be the carer – a role he would gladly wear for his charges.

The golden mech sighed, letting his defences down and leaning into Prowl's hand. "Fine. Just…fine. Just don't tell Siders if I…y'know…"

"Break down," Prowl supplied knowingly, retracting the hand and leaving the room, his adopted creation following behind him.

"Jazz is slowly moving his things in," Sunstreaker remarked to Prowl as they entered the tactician's berthroom in his quarters.

"You disapprove?" Prowl asked mildly.

"Not really. At his presumptuousness in that action maybe, but you guys are good together and he makes you happy," the younger mech replied with a shrug, sitting, unbidden, onto the berth before looking down at it and remarking, "Should I even be on this?"

Rolling his optics, Prowl replied, "I clean my sheets Sunstreaker. Now…start talking please."

"Demanding creator."

"Only because I know you don't like to draw the emotional talks out," reasoned the black and white, sitting next to the warrior and crossing one leg over the other and arranging his doorwings comfortably.

Sunstreaker relaxed. Prowl was right. Here, he could be uncommonly vulnerable, he could break down. This, he hid from the world apart from the mech beside him and his Twin. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he murmured, "I don't. So here's the thing. Sideswipe's in critical. It's an anniversary of a time that was…happiest for me. And we are in the middle of war. I have never felt my mortality more keenly in my life. Sides is barely on the bond…ya know? It's…it's killing me, Prowl."

The yellow mech paused, leaning into the older mechs shoulder and slumping and saying mournfully, "It really is. I…damn, creator, I just want to cry. He's hurting so, so much. It's hard for him to just be conscious sometimes. And I can't…I can't deal with it now…not with Huffer whispering that maybe it'd be a good thing, not with the pitying looks and just….everything!"

He sighed shakily as a comforting arm wrapped around him and pulled him tight against a warm body. "Let it out, Sunny," Prowl whispered.

"We were gonna surprise you. We were planning this big getaway for a few days, just you and us, doing the stuff we used to do on Cybertron, as a celebration for the mech who gave us a second chance, who looked after us, who believed in us and couldn't care that we played every prank on him because at the end of the day you'd tuck us into our berths and read to us," Sunstreaker blurted, a few quiet, frustrated tears spilling from his optics as he went on emphatically, "It's part of the reason I'm…we're upset. But then the stupid Con's went and put Sides in the medbay and all our plans are ruined."

Prowl felt pure surprise wash through him and he muttered, "I can certainly see how."

"We were gonna take you to Austria. Fresh mountain air, that opera and classical music you like so much. The terrain. And then we'd figure to have a race with you down the Monte Carlo race track, driving through Europe. We arranged everything…" The yellow twin trailed off, leaning into the embrace and whispering, "It's not fair. Just one thing after another. I wish the war was over."

"So do I, Sunny, so do I. But for now, we have our little family, hmm?" the chevroned mech murmured soothingly, rocking back and forth and pressing his lips to the obsidian forehelm.

Sunstreaker sighed again. Life was sucking majorly right now, but he felt a little better at least. He got it out. And he got a little down time with his creator-figure, even if his inner vanity and pride were rebelling heavily against showing his vulnerability. He was glad that Prowl didn't take it personal when he went back into 'growly mode' as Sideswipe so eloquently put it, and allowed him to do this again and again. Circling his arms around his mentors waist and hugging tightly, he murmured, "Is Jazz going to be part of that family?"

Prowl was a little taken aback, but detected the hidden uncertainty. "I don't know. Yet. If he does, yes, he accepts you both, and yes, we can continue these cuddle sessions, for lack of better words."

Sighing, Sunstreaker replied, "Good. Might be nice, you know. When the war's over to live near you and Jazz…and a little sparkling of your own."

Chuckling, Prowl said, "Better mood now, I see."

Snuggling in, Sunstreaker whispered, "Don't want to go just yet."

Understanding completely, Prowl leaned back, letting his youngling snuggle in to him and fall into recharge. He reflected, glad that Sunstreaker was feeling more like himself, and also letting warmth curl around his spark from the information that his adoptive sons had wanted to take him somewhere, be the family they had been.

Sunstreaker's spark was not the only one who had been lightened.

Pressing another kiss to the younger mech's forehelm, Prowl whispered, "Recharge well, my youngling."

A/N: Review, please. I want to see if this worked as a substitute-creator/creation relationship. Constructive criticism will be appreciated and flames will be used to burn my high school maths books.