#1 Naughty Bluestreak

Bluestreak is... strutting. The Lambo twins have never seen anything quite like it, and they can't keep their optics off him even when they're supposed to be bowing their heads. If this was any other session Bluestreak would be throwing excited glances over his shoulder at the corner where Prowl sits in involuntary exile, but now the young dominant only waves his shockstick in a graceful, warning gesture. Red and yellow Lambo heads hastily bow.

These boots were made for walkin'...

Bluestreak paces around them achingly slowly, shockstick tapping against his thigh. Sunstreaker's doing fine, but Sideswipe quivers with each tap, aching for Bluestreak's sweet-cruel touch. As Bluestreak passes him he leans in, head turning towards him and up slow and awkward.

Bluestreak pauses. The tip of the baton just barely misses the bridge of Sideswipe's nose. "Sides, you're not doing what you're supposed to do."

"I'm a bad boy," Sideswipe agrees, looking down again.

And that's just what they'll do...

That makes Bluestreak smile. "Yeah, you are." He touched the shockstick to that spot just under Sideswipe's throat that was always nice to kiss. The red twin choked and thrashed, throwing himself headlong into Bluestreak's leg in a desperate nuzzle.

Bluestreak smirked and poked him again, sending him prostrate to the floor, whimpering against his ankle in a twisted-up ecstasy.

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

#2 Happy Bluestreak

"You're on my berth, Blue."

"Uh-huh." Bluestreak grinned up at Sunstreaker with the kind of expression that made the Lambo wonder if maybe Bluestreak really did know how adorable he was and wasn't above milking that fact for all it was worth. "What's your point, Sunny?"

"My point is I'm tired and I want to go to bed, and I can't do that if you're on my berth." Sunstreaker leaned over him, his best "quit screwing with me now and I'll let you keep your structural integrity" look on his face. "Off."

Bluestreak put on his best "I'm just an innocent lil' Datsun" face in return. "You want me to get off?"

"Yeah, I want you to get off."

"I'm gonna need your help, then." Bluestreak grinned mischeviously.

Sunstreaker blinked. "Why, you little imp." He pounced, tickling Bluestreak mercilessly. The Datsun squealed in delight and squirmed like the world's most adorable electrocuted carp.

#3 Silly Bluestreak

You got the touch!

You got the power...

Yeah!

Bluestreak leaped in the air and came down in a split, still performing an impressive air guitar. His fingers danced through the opening solo, face contorted in ecstatic torment, then leapt to his feet and whirled to face his audience.

After all is said and done

You never walk, you never run

You're a winner!

Ratchet's jaw had dropped so far it was practically scraping his kneecaps. Hound was on the floor laughing hysterically. Red Alert was talking animatedly into his commlink, no doubt trying to convince whoever he was talking to that Bluestreak's behavior presented a clear and present danger to something. Most of the other assembled Autobots' reactions were along these lines.

Gloriously wild, Bluestreak did not care. He kicked out and whooped with joy as the chorus blared from the speakers. Let them stare. Bluestreak would give them something to stare at!

You know that when things get too tough

You got the touch!

#6 Horny Bluestreak

The Lambos stood a little apart from Bluestreak, huddled under their own spigot dispensing cleansing fluid over their bodies. They cast little furtive glances at Bluestreak as they washed the day's grime from themselves and each other; Bluestreak knew, as he hoped they did, that he desired them no matter what had passed between them.

But the morning's argument had built a wall between them that Bluestreak could neither cross nor approach. Looking away again, he arched his back as liquid flooded over his face, flooded down his chest and back, dripped in shining rivulets down his thighs. Are you watching? he thought. I want you to be watching. I want you to see me.

Strong, slippery yellow arms wrapped tightly around his middle; a pair of lips brushed his audial. "You are so hot, Blue."

Bluestreak purred.

#7 Transforming Bluestreak

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Bluestreak winced and hitched his wings up. "What we have here, Starscream, is a dope of an Autobot who wasn't watching where he was going and drove right over a cliff 'cause somebody-who-shall-remain-nameless was shooting at me. The only reason I'm not a splat on the ground right now is 'cause I transformed at the last second. And said dope of an Autobot would like you to go away so I can go back to figure out how to get out of this, please." His feet kicked uselessly, a self-conscious gesture.

Starscream laughed. "What, no appeals for rescue, Autobot?"

Bluestreak wriggled; he could feel the thrum of Starscream's antigravs against his wings and it was making him nervous. "I don't want you to rescue me. And I don't think you will. You'd probably just drop me."

"Oh, you wound me." Starscream drifted closer. "I would be happy to give you a lift down, little Bluestreak. For a price, of course."

"Go swim in a - " Bluestreak's voice cut off in a squeak as his fingers slipped free of the rock and he plummeted -

- six inches before his fall was arrested by Starscream's arms tight around his waist. Bluestreak squeaked again and looked nervously over his shoulder at Starscream's smiling-cobra face. "Er. So, um... what price?"

#9 Book-reading Bluestreak

"Sunnyyyy! Give it back!"

Smirking, Sunstreaker held the tiny book over Bluestreak's head. "Too short, Blue," he teased.

"I was reading that!" Bluestreak reached out for it, hopping up and down on his heels. "Gimme!"

"Okay, okay." Sunstreaker let the Datsun snatch the little thing out of his hands. "Here. What're you reading, anyway?"

Bluestreak clutched the book to his chest with a pout. "It's a romance manga. Carly loaned it to me." He scurried back to his berth and curled up on it, checking his prize over for damage. "You bent the pages," he lamented.

"Sorry," Sunstreaker answered, bemused. He peeked over Bluestreak's shoulder. "Those images actually make sense to you?"

"You have to read it right to left." Bluestreak relaxed now that Sunstreaker wasn't actively teasing him. "It's a good story."

"Huh." Sunstreaker clambered onto the berth and curled around Bluestreak, reading over his shoulder. The little Datsun sighed and leaned back against him, already absorbed in his reading.

#10 Dancing Bluestreak

Bluestreak had been almost quivering when he'd asked Jazz to dance, but now he was nice and relaxed, and Jazz was glad. It was impossible to enjoy oneself when one's partner was all nervous like that.

"You okay?" the Porsche murmured.

"Yeah." Bluestreak favored him with a grin. "Now I am." A pause, then... "This is nice."

Jazz smiled back. "Yeah." He pulled the little gunner just a little closer, resting his visor on the other's helm. "You're a good dancer."

"Who, me?" Bluestreak smiled bashfully. "No I'm not. Not like you."

"Hey, who'd know better than me?" Jazz tipped Bluestreak's head up gently. "Trust me."

Bluestreak smiled; as if in response, the music gentled and slowed. Jazz straightened, stepped back. "Wait!" Bluestreak yelped, clinging to his wrist. "Don't go yet."

"What is it?" Jazz asked, confused.

"One more dance," Bluestreak said quickly. "Just... one more dance."

"Aww, Blue." Jazz turned back, wrapped his arms around the gunner's waist. "Don't you know? We never stop dancin'."

#11 Jealous Bluestreak

Unnoticed, Bluestreak watched as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker fought.

It was terrifying, in a way - Bluestreak couldn't imagine being on the wrong end of those furious, crushing blows. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker fought hand-to-hand as they always did, the area in which they were exactly evenly matched. They'd told Bluestreak once that they'd been born fighting and they'd probably die the same way.

Bluestreak hadn't believed them then. He still didn't believe it now. It was hard to reconcile his gentle and attentive lovers and their devotion to him with these snarling, battle-dented warriors with bright optics that only saw their opponent and the fight.

"We came online fighting, Blue. Our factory was the battlefield."

"Yeah. And one day, probably, the battlefield will be our scrapyard."

Bluestreak found his wings shivering. He clung to the wall, optics glued to the twins as they did their best to kill one another. Absorbed, they did not see him.

Sides... Sunny... are you really going to leave me for your first love one day? Do you love war more than you love me?

#12 Turned-On Bluestreak

"Skid-sucking son of a scrubber!"

"Scruffy-looking slagbait scumlicker!"

Sideswipe gave a feral yell and gathered his legs up under him, throwing Sunstreaker off with all his strength. He scrambled to pounce his brother, wrapping an arm around his neck as the yellow twin snarled and scrabbled at his back. "Say it!" he hollered. "Say it or I'll slagging shove my foot so far up your-"

"Um."

It was impossibly quiet, barely more than a cough. The twins froze in an instant. "Er. Hey, Blue," Sideswipe grinned. "We were just discussing a grappling maneuver - awk!"

Sunstreaker took advantage of Sideswipe's distraction to shove him off. "Settle something for us, Blue," he demanded, rubbing his poor strained neck. "Who'd top, me or him?"

Bluestreak blinked, seemingly uncomprehending. "Sunny!" Sideswipe squawked, shoving his brother.

Sunstreaker shoved back. "What?" he mocked. "It's a perfectly legi-" Sunstreaker paused when Bluestreak stepped quietly into the room and knelt by the yellow twin.

"Kiss me," the Datsun demanded quietly, wings quivering; Sunstreaker obeyed. Clearly, he decided, Blue's on top.

#13 Caring Bluestreak

"There," Bluestreak said as he secured the blinder mask over his optics. "How's that?"

"Better," Breakdown admitted. Bluestreak waited, hands on his thighs, until he heard Breakdown move. Even then he stayed politely still as the Stunticon wrapped himself around him, laying his head on Bluestreak's hood.

Only after Breakdown settled down against him did Bluestreak dare a hand on the other's back. Deprived of sight, Bluestreak guided his hand across Breakdown's back by touch, stroking slowly up and down, up and down... He was rewarded by a sigh of contentment.

"Autobot," Breakdown muttered at length.

"Mmm?"

Breakdown's arms tightened around him. "You're not going anywhere 'til I'm done with you."

Bluestreak smiled. "I know."

#14 On-His-Knees Bluestreak

Sideswipe finally found Bluestreak trembling in a ravine, on his knees with his arms over his head. He flinched and trembled at the red twin's approach, no longer able to remember the difference between friend and foe. Sideswipe paused, hands out. "Come on, Blue. It's okay. It's over."

It's a lie, as long as Bluestreak keeps having these flashbacks it will always be a lie. Yet Bluestreak usually believes his lies. "Let's go home, Blue, everyone's waiting," Sideswipe tried, one hand extending to the Datsun's shoulder. "We can get buzzed and tell ghost stories. What do you think?"

Bluestreak flinched, scooted away on his knees with a whimper, his face still covered by his arms. "Aw, Blue," Sideswipe sighed. He dropped slowly, gracefully to his knees, bending so his head was lower than Bluestreak's. "Hey. Wanna piggyback ride?"

One optic peeked out cautiously at him. Sideswipe grinned, all fun and good cheer. "Come on, Blue. I'll carry you on my back. It'll be fun. I could even pretend to be a horse. You know how humans ride horses, right?"

Bluestreak made a noise that was half-laugh and half-sob and collapsed, forcing Sideswipe to lunge to catch him. "Shh, Blue, it's gonna be okay," he fibbed, drawing the crying Datsun close. The piggyback ride could wait.

#16 Dominant Bluestreak (with On-His-Knees Roddy)

"Say my name."

"Bluestreak," Rodimus moaned, letting his head fall back. "Primus. I. Please."

Bluestreak rested his palm on Rodimus's forehead and he quieted somewhat, still whimpering and shifting on his knees nervously. "Please, what?" the Datsun asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Rodimus squinted up at him, lips parting as he struggled to express himself in modes more sophisticated than drawn-out whines. "I - I want - oh, Bluestreak - sir - please - "

That hadn't been nearly the level of articulation Rodimus was aiming for; Bluestreak smirked and silenced the Prime with a finger to his lips. "This?" he asked.

Rodimus opened his mouth just enough to let Bluestreak slip his finger inside. The Datsun purred and probed his mouth, stroking his glossa; Rodimus licked and stroked in return. His optics dimmed to a near-mindless indigo.

Oh, yes sir. This.

#17 Naive Bluestreak

"Um... Prowl?"

Prowl cocked his head. "Yes, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak wriggled a little. "Prowl, please don't take this the wrong way, I mean, I know you know what you're doing, but are you sure you know what you're doing? This seems a little..."

"Scary?" Prowl guessed when Bluestreak trailed off.

"No!" Bluestreak fidgeted. "Well. Yeah. A little."

"You don't trust me, then."

"No, I do. I just..."

"Then hold still." The words were kind, gentle, but there was steel behind them - an order. Bluestreak shut off his optics and held as still as he could manage, enduring those fluttering, maddening touches on his wings.

"Prowl?"

"Yes, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak turned his head a little. "Where'd you learn paint job embellishment?"

Prowl chuckled. "It's a long story and it takes concentration to tell. Let me finish with your wings and then I will tell you everything."

"Okay, Prowl."

#18 Drinking-Energon Bluestreak

"Drinking alone today, Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak jerked in his seat. "Oh - Prowl. You startled me. Yeah, everyone else is on that mission, so I don't have anyone else to sit with today. Everyone else is either on shift or asleep."

Prowl knew this, of course - he was the one who devised schedules. "Well, my shift just ended. May I share your table?"

"Uh! Of course. It's not my table, anyway, I mean..." Bluestreak mumbled into his energon. "I'm sorry. I'm kinda tired too."

"It's all right." Prowl smiled reassuringly. "Please don't be nervous around me. I'm off shift, remember? We're no longer superior and subordinate - simply two mechs sharing a table."

Bluestreak visibly relaxed. "Yeah, I guess," he said with a quick smile. "So what d'you do when you're off shift? I mean, when you don't have to chase the Lambos around."

Prowl chuckled. "Let me finish my energon and I will show you."

"Okay."

#20 Daring Bluestreak

"How's it look?" Sideswipe whispered.

"Not good." Sunstreaker's whisper was grim. "It's heavily guarded. No chance for a frontal assault."

"Same around back," Sideswipe reported with a sigh. "Maybe we should go back and report."

Beside him, Bluestreak spoke for the first time. "We can't. We've come this far." He shifted up to his hands and knees.

The twins, still on their bellies in the dirt, blinked up at him. "Blue?" Sunstreaker queried.

Bluestreak grinned at him and pushed himself to a crouch. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Sideswipe whispered dubiously as Bluestreak scuttled into the trees and was lost from sight and scan.

Silence descended on the forest once again. The twins waited, patient as stone.

A yelp and a scatter of artillery fire broke the wood's peace, and the twins leaped to their feet as Bluestreak came barreling down at them, a scrap of red cloth tight in his fist. "Go," he shouted as ill-aimed paintballs whizzed around his head, "go! I got it! I got the flag!"

#21 Exploring Bluestreak

"What does this button do?"

"Ack! Bluestreak, stop that!" Red Alert flailed and grasped at Bluestreak's hands, trapping them. "Don't go around pushing strange buttons, you never know what might happen!"

Bluestreak grinned. "But that's the point, Red. How do you know what buttons do unless you push them?"

"It might have been a self-destruct button." Flustered, Red Alert kept a hold on Bluestreak's hands so they couldn't wander places they shouldn't. "Did you ever think of that?"

Bluestreak looked curious. "Do you have a self-destruct button?"

"Well - no! But-!"

"Then we're safe." With his hands no longer free, Bluestreak bent down and licked the button in question just under Red Alert's jaw. The security officer shivered in protest, sighed and let go of Bluestreak's hands to pull him closer.

#22 At-The-Beach Bluestreak

Sideswipe was in the brig again, and Sunstreaker categorically refused to go anywhere near a place where the grains of organic matter could strip his finish with the first strong wind; so it was that Hound was duly bribed to take Bluestreak to the beach. Not that he woudn’t have done it anyway, of course, but what the twins didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Nor would it hurt Bluestreak, for whom the vulgarities of bribery simply didn’t exist on this bright April morning. “Thanks for taking me out here, Hound,” he was chattering as they endeavored to use half the sand on the Oregon shoreline to build an Autobot-sized sand castle. “I know you like forests better, and I guess I can kind of understand that, ‘cause of the sand getting in your joints and all, but the beach is just fun.” He peered out at Hound from around their massive construction project, grinning. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Hound chuckled. “I think.”

Bluestreak grinned again and plopped another lump of sand on top of a tower just a wash of cold foamy water hit him in the ankles. He yelped, tried to shake out both of his feet at the same time - resulting in an odd tribal dance step - and wailed as their sand castle listed to one side. A second, stronger wave reduced it to a formless pile of mush.

“It’s ruined,” Bluestreak lamented.

“Aww, Blue.” Hound slung an arm over his shoulder. “That’s just how things are on Earth. Don’t be sad, we still had fun building it, right? That’s what’s important.”

Bluestreak sniffled and smiled bravely. “Yeah.”

#23 Bath-Time Bluestreak

Normally Bluestreak's job is to kneel by the edge of the tub and hold the cleanser, but Himself is feeling somewhat... frisky today, it seems. He sloshes over to Bluestreak with a teasing, enigmatic grin; Bluestreak offers the cleanser in both hands automatically, head bowed, but Master knocks it aside and yanks Bluestreak into the water by his collar.

Bluestreak yelps and falls forward, too surprised to consider resisting even if it had been an option. He winds up crushed to His chest, face-first in His sigil; the Master purrs and sets him upright. "Comfortable, little one?"

Not exactly. 'Comfortable' means 'at ease,' and Bluestreak could never feel at ease in the presence of this awesome creature. He shivers, his gaze dropping in deference. "Yes, Megatron."

#24 Disheveled Bluestreak

He’s late, Trailbreaker noted silently, without irritation or concern. Bluestreak was not late often enough for it to be a habit, nor punctual enough that being even a few minutes late was a cause for worry. He’d be along soon, bubbling over with excuses and stories that Trailbreaker would only half listen to, he was sure.

He turned back to his console and grew absorbed in his work, so much so that he barely noted the presence of another mech flopping into Bluestreak’s chair. The newcomer did not speak and did not move to jack into his console for a few minutes, just sat draped across the chair with his protruding chest softly moving.

Trailbreaker lifted his head. "Hey, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak turned his head toward him languidly. "Hey, ‘Breaker. Sorry I’m late."

Trailbreaker waited for the inevitable flood of unasked-for explanations, but it didn’t come. "That’s okay." He hesitated, then added, "Are you all right?"

Bluestreak’s optics dimmed; a contented smile graced his features. "Yeah."

"Uh huh." Trailbreaker noted for the first time the patches of red and yellow paint rubbed off on Bluestreak’s body. Abruptly he decided it wasn’t any of his business.

#25 Exhausted Bluestreak

An even, soothing vibration entered Bluestreak's awareness and he lit his optics groggily. At first the gunner couldn't tell where he was - all was dark and close and shaking around him. He tried to sit up, but a shooting pain in his head nixed that idea; he moaned and flung an arm over his face.

"Easy, Bluestreak." The voice echoed around him, seeming to come from the very walls. "Rest. You did well today."

"Mmn..." Bluestreak shifted. "Prime? Am I...?"

"In my trailer." Prime's voice was slow, lulling. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah..." Bluestreak's fuel pump quickened. "The humans in the tower...!"

"They'll be fine - I'm told they only suffered from mild heat exhaustion, whatever that is." A chuckle mixed with the vibrations of the moving trailer. "I may have to revise your endurance stat, Bluestreak. You fought for ten and a half hours to protect them, do you realize that?"

"Was it really that long?" Bluestreak shut his optics down with a smile. "Hey, Prime?"

"Yes, Bluestreak."

"D'you mind if I nap a little? I'm just... really tired."

"Not at all. I'll try to avoid the potholes." Prime sounded amused. "Rest well."

"Okay." Bluestreak spread his wings out and settled. "...Hey, Prime?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for coming after me."

Bluestreak thought he could hear a smile in Prime's voice. "Always, Bluestreak."

#26 Well-Shagged Bluestreak

Bluestreak sprawled atop Sunstreaker, sides heaving, condensation dripping from his body. "That was," he gasped weakly, "the longest... I've ever... interfaced. Ever."

"Yeah," Sideswipe huffed, also worn out and nearly flopping off the berth. A trickle of moisture tracked across his optic.

"I think my insides are all melted together," Bluestreak murmured.

Sunstreaker gently maneuvered Bluestreak off him to lay in between himself and his brother, his movements more languid than he liked. "Yeah."

"If someone could die from interface, that woulda done it."

Sideswipe caught Sunstreaker's optic and grinned. "Yeah."

Bluestreak dimmed his optics and lay still, his engine ticking softly as it cooled. He was silent so long that the brothers thought he'd fallen asleep until he turned his head with a quirked grin. "Wanna do it again?"

The brothers splorfled. "Yeah!"

#27 Kick-ass Bluestreak

It was quite possibly the easiest kill ever. So thought the nameless Seeker, approaching in an ever-tighter spiral with the two groundbound figures caught in his crosshairs. The red one would have been dangerous if he wasn't injured and sprawled out as if begging to be put out of his misery; the other could only be the Datsun he'd heard about, that panicked at the barest hint of a winged shadow and cowered until some kind soul either dragged him away or - as the nameless one meant to do - finish him off.

As he drew closer, the nameless one noted something strange - the red one was grinning. Watching him out of bright blue optics and grinning like he knew a secret. The Seeker thought about banking, but no, courage! What could these helpless groundlings do to him?

The Datsun lifted his head - his countenance calm, unruffled, shoulder missiles tracking. His lips moved, and though his voice was lost in the scream of the nameless Seeker's own engines, his message came loud and clear over open-air radio transmission. //Psych.//

Bluestreak fired, and so ensured that the Seeker would forever remain nameless.

#28 Playing With Kids Bluestreak

"This is an egg," the freckled human newling announced, placing a tiny, brown oblong orb in the center of Bluestreak's extended palm. "Baby birds are born from these."

"Wow." Bluestreak's face broke into a grin. "Do baby humans come from these too?"

The girl laughed. "No, silly! The stork brings baby humans." She peeked over Bluestreak's hand, poking at the egg idly. "A mama bird lays eggs, and the daddy bird protects them until they're ready to hatch."

"Hatch?" Bluestreak queried, then yelped when the egg abruptly quivered and cracked. "Oh, Primus, I'm sorry, I didn't do anything," he babbled, "I didn't mean to damage your egg!"

"It's not damaged," the girl breathed, eyes wide. "It's hatching!"