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your face looks like you're trying to suppress your EGO
transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 330 / warnings: NA / notes: part of a silly au me and some friends came up with. they're in art club :)
Tarn was extremely focused on his painting, and Sunstreaker was extremely focused on Tarn.
Tarn’s palette was entirely monochrome, except for the extremely, extremely small amount of purple-gray, which he’d barely touched. He was using a plastic water bottle to clean his dirty brushes, of which he had several sizes. The edges of the canvas were splattered, dripping down, and Sunstreaker had half a mind to warn him before it inevitably dripped down onto the table.
Sideswipe, (who had previously been drawing the two of them mutilating Prowl in various comedic ways,) nudged his twin with his elbow. “You’re staring again.”
Sunstreaker snapped his head back down, to his own canvas. He hadn’t even touched it. He grit his teeth; coming to Art Club was his idea, why is Sideswipe drawing more than him. He was doing this because he wanted to, because it was his passion, and he was getting distracted by fucking Tarn.
Tarn, who single-handedly got the no full-facial coverings rule revoked. Tarn, who was constantly bragging about his grade in philosophy, as though it mattered. Tarn, who would go on ten-to-fifteen minute rants about what his art meant to him (and to society, and the world, and so on, so forth.) Tarn, who writes really bad poetry.
Tarn, who Sunstreaker is unfortunately crushing on.
Sunstreaker taps his pencil against his canvas, uncertain what to draw. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Normally, even if he didn’t like how it turned out, it still turned out. He glanced around the room, really trying to avoid looking at Tarn.
Swerve is doodling. Tailgate is doodling. Cyclonus is painting, actually, which he normally doesn’t do. Magnus was outlining something with a ruler, and Drfit was… whittling? Sideswipe was still drawing Prowl in various degrees of distress and injury. Boring, boring, slightly less boring, boring, potentially interesting. Inevitably, he landed back on Tarn, whose paint had managed to successfully drip onto the table.
Sideswipe, again, nudges him. “Staring.”
“Shut up.”
#🧃 i wrote something!#;; transformers#;; art club au#;; tarnstreaker#;; tarn / damus#;; sunstreaker#;; sideswipe
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bob is here now
transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 1042 / warnings: minor gore / notes: also reposted from my ao3!
Sunstreaker planted his helm into his servos. “This is a waste of time.”
Vos hissed something, and Kaon rubbed it’s back in comfort, like he was petting it, almost. “It isn’t a waste,” Kaon assured, “if we’re working together, it’s important for us to understand each other, isn’t it?”
“Why can’t Vos learn Neocybex.”
Kaon groaned. “It does know Neocybex! It understands us perfectly, it’s vocalizer just struggles to pronounce the glyphs. It’s trying.” Kaon frowned, and Sunstreaker only noticed that because that sentence was so ridiculous it caused him to look up. “It’s trying harder than you are, anyway.”
The yellow-gold mech groaned, going back to looking at his hands. “Okay, well, my vocalizer really struggles with ancient Cybertronian.”
“That’s impossible,” Kaon stated simply, “Tarn can speak it fine.”
“Well I’m not Tarn.”
Kaon was clearly willing to argue this for as long as it took Sunstreaker to just shut up and agree to learn the language, which was a form of torture in it’s own right. They should try it on the next traitor they find. Thankfully- thankfully?- The Peaceful Tyranny’s alarms began to blare, signifying that something was wrong. Something had boarded. The argument was blessedly dropped as Tarn’s voice rang out over the ship’s intercoms- something’s on board, we don’t know what, split up, find it, kill it. Kaon and Vos sprinted in the direction of the medbay, leaving Sunstreaker to search the back half of the ship. Primus knows what everyone else is doing.
He’d started with the doors that were closest, steadily making his way to the back-right storage room. Each room was just as empty as they had been last time I checked- the Peaceful Tyranny was a shockingly big ship, for having only six consistent passengers (seven, now that Sunstreaker was here.) After a while, he began to assume that someone must have found the intruder, but a quick check-in with Tarn revealed that no, no sign of them yet. So Sunstreaker sighed, continuing his search, before eventually making it to the storage room.
Storage was dark- it wasn’t always needed, so it likely saved on fuel to keep it unlit. Sunstreaker had also, notably, only been in it once. Upon finding Helex’s stash of casually decaying brains, which he was “saving for later,” Sunstreaker vowed to never enter it again. But, well. Intruder. He turned on his high-beams, kept a tight hold on his blaster, and started slowly maneuvering through the room. He was careful to mind the multiple crates that were definitely stacked far too high, the old, rusted grating, and brains, dear Primus do not forget the brains. For a mech so obsessed with regulations and everything being in proper order, Tarn sure didn’t seem to care about the absolute state the storage roo-
Shuffling.
Torn from his thoughts by the sudden noise, Sunstreaker turned in the direction it came from, only to find… nothing. Hesitantly, he stepped closer, noting that a significant section of the room was blocked off by a good amount of crates. A moment later, he heard that same shuffling. Something was in here with him.
Carefully, very carefully, Sunstreaker moved one of the crates blocking him from the noise, and-
It jumped at him.
He yelped, falling backwards. The crate fell to the floor, and he managed to not only take out a few others on his way down, but to land directly on that old metal grating, absolutely scratching his paint terribly in the process. Of course, he wasn’t actually thinking about any of that in the moment. He was far too concerned with the intruder- licking him.
Craning himself to finally get a look at the intruder, Sunstreaker realized it was not a mech, like he had originally anticipated. It was a small insecticon, likely separated from the rest of it’s swarm. And also it was licking him, a glossa poking out of it’s strange intake, chirring happily.
Sunstreaker lifted it from his chassis, finding little resistance to the act. It actually seemed perfectly happy to let Sunstreaker hold it. “Hi?” Sunstreaker greeted simply, and it made a few clicking noises in response. He felt his lip-plates twitch upwards into a small smile. “Far from home, hm?” Another few clicks, and a chirr.
At that moment, Sunstreaker’s comms came to life. “Have you found anything?” Tarn asked, and Sunstreaker squinted down at the little creature.
“Yeah,” he decided on, “but it’s complicated.”
~~~~
“There’s no way you can actually train that thing,” Kaon grumbled. “It’s going to end up eating half the ship.”
Sunstreaker felt some level of elated, watching Bob chow down on the old rusted grating- the same grating Sunstreaker had fallen onto, hours prior. “You get your pets,” he told Kaon, smirking, “and I get mine.”
“The Pet is different.”
“What about Vos?”
“Vos isn’t a pet,” Kaon hissed, and Sunstreaker couldn’t help himself, straight-up laughing at the other. “Even if it was, at least I can actually teach it things. I repeat that there is no way you can actually teach… Bob.”
Sunstreaker shrugged. “Tarn has faith in me.”
“Far too much faith, I fear,” Kaon sighed under his breath. Sunstreaker’s eyes widened as he looked from Bob to the electric chair. He then smiled probably the widest smile he had since joining the D.J.D.
“Kaon,” he started, “you wouldn’t be doubting Tarn’s judgement, would you?”
Said mech ground his dentae, optical ridges furrowing. “Of course not.”
Again, Sunstreaker just laughed at him. “Of course not.”
~~~~
Tarn and Sunstreaker both stared down at the insecticon- Sunstreaker with downright glee, and Tarn with some trepidation. It- Bob- was currently busying itself with some of Nickel’s tools, which she would undoubtedly need to replace. Still, neither of the mechs made move to stop the bug, sort of enraptured with watching it eat.
After a moment, Tarn turned to Sunstreaker. “Why Bob? As a name.”
The lamborghini shrugged. “It’s a popular name on Earth. Sort of has a certain charm to it, I think.”
Tarn squinted behind his mask. “You named him that as a fashion statement.”
“Maybe,” Sunstreaker grinned, shrugging again.
“You could’ve named him something powerful,” Tarn clarified. “All the names in the universe. But no. Bob.”
Sunstreaker nodded. “Bob.”
#🧃 i wrote something!#;; transformers#;; djd sunstreaker au#;; tarnstreaker#;; tarn / damus#;; sunstreaker#;; kaon#;; vos#;; bob
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all i think about is karma
transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 2297 / warnings: references torture, minor manipulation / notes: the beggining of my djdstreaker au! reposted from my ao3 :3
“That’s another one done,” Kaon smirked, making a note of something on his datapad. “This one wasn’t very fun,” Tesarus complained. “He didn’t fight all too much.” Helex nodded along with him. Vos, next to him, made a comment in ancient Cybertronian, prompting Tarn to step forward.
“A traitor doesn’t really repent until they’ve died,” he explained, in that way where every word he said sounded like it’s own little speech. “Even so, they still know what their fate will be. That’s good in it’s own right, it means our message is spreading further.” He turned to Kaon. “Who’s next?”
The two began to converse as the Peaceful Tyranny approached, and Sunstreaker stared up at it, feeling… sort of bored. Tesarus was right, that one wasn’t very fulfilling. Sunstreaker felt hollow as he watched the traitor just accept what was happening, that he was going to die. They hardly had to do anything at all before he accepted his fate and gave in to whatever torture the division had planned- not nearly as much as usual, once they realized he clearly wasn’t fighting back. He, in Sunstreaker’s opinion, obviously didn’t care about whatever life he’d managed to garner separate from the Decepticons. Sunstreaker couldn’t imagine that this fate was better than sticking with the failed faction for the sake of it, but he didn’t know.
The Peaceful Tyranny landed, its doors opening to the mechs below. As soon as they did, a turbofox burst from the inside, running at Kaon. And then jumping at Kaon. And then mauling Kaon a bit. The electric chair merely laughed, though the laugh itself sounded like the laugh of a madman as he greeted his pet. Perhaps if The Pet was an actual turbofox, Sunstreaker wouldn’t mind the display, but knowing what he did, he just cringed away from it in disgust. They should get an actual pet, he found himself thinking, one that isn’t just a braindead mech who can’t transform.
Sunstreaker turned to get back on the ship, when Tarn suddenly called out to him. “A word?” He asked, and Sunstreaker let Kaon pass him with his trotting freak. “You don’t seem very happy.”
The yellow-gold mech scoffed. “Am I supposed to?”
Tarn seemed to consider him for a moment, which Sunstreaker had come to figure was a generally very bad thing, but eventually he began making his way to his ship. Sunstreaker trailed behind him, optics to the ground. “Everyone else gets some sort of fulfillment from this,” he explains, “be it by helping The Cause, or in another way. Everyone else is also a dedicated Decepticon, brought on by Lord Megatron himself.” Tarn paused, sparing another glance at Sunstreaker. “You are clearly an exception to that, but here you are anyway, having insisted on working with us.” Another pause. “I suppose I’m just curious what you stand to gain from being here. What, exactly, you’re getting out of it.”
Optics still to the ground, Sunstreaker replied, “Same thing as you are, probably.”
“This is a tentative alliance at best,” Tarn clarifies, which Sunstreaker knows. He’s known that since the beginning. “Any day now, this could change.” I could kill you. It goes unsaid, but the intention is there. The meaning of every word is clear.
“I know.”
Tarn lets out a vent, heavier than his others.
They board the ship.
~~~~
“Alright, you look fine,” Nickel tells him. Of course, Sunstreaker always looks fine- compared to the dirt and grime and energon constantly coating the rest of the D.J.D., he’s still up to par, consistently keeping up with being the best-looking mech in any given room. “How are you feeling, though?”
“Fine,” Sunstreaker tells her, referring to his physical health.
“Emotionally,” she clarifies.
“You aren’t a therapist.”
“No, I’m not,” Nickel agrees, gritting her dentae. “But I’m your doctor, and Tarn refuses to put any of our grave-robbed funding into getting a fragging therapist on the basis that no one here has expressed the need for one, which is absolutely ridiculous coming from him of all mechs-” She shakes her head, dialing back. “So I’m both, actually. Besides, if you start malfunctioning ‘cause you got too sad and didn’t wanna talk about it like a grown mech, that won’t exactly be helpful.”
Sunstreaker wasn’t certain that could actually happen, but he also didn’t know enough to call her out on it. “Fine,” he repeats.
Nickel sighs. “Really? Totally perfectly fine?” She squints at him. “The torture and maiming isn’t too much for your precious little Autobot sensibilities? You want me to believe that?”
He shrugs.
Again, Nickel sighs. “Alright, sure, fine. I’ll just go ahead and ask. What the pit are you doing here?” She sits down the datapad she’d been making notes on, and is now looking at him directly. It’s uncomfortable. “You practically begged to come with us and help. I was there. So why.”
Sunstreaker turns his head downwards, noticing the paint near his knee-joint has started to crack. He’ll need to repaint it later. “Same as everyone else.”
Nickel scoffs. “Wow, really? Didn’t know Autobots suddenly got complexes about defending the Decepticon cause. Oughta call the Prime too, ask how he feels about it.” Sunstreaker chances a glance back at her, and she looks some flavour of incredulous. “I’m not gonna tell Tarn, if that’s why you’re flipping out.” (Sunstreaker, in his own opinion, was not “flipping out.”) “I won’t tell Kaon either. Or Vos. Or anyone. They’d take away my license if I did that.”
Sunstreaker picks at the paint chipping on his knees. “Can you actually understand Vos?”
“No,” Nickel chuckles. “Normally Tarn will come in with him. Sometimes Kaon will, but usually Tarn. There’s some exceptions made to the confidentiality rule when the mech needs a translator present 90% of the time,” she explains, and Sunstreaker nods along.
A bit of the paint falls to the floor. “I don’t think it’s bad to want people to get what’s coming to them.”
Nickel raises an optical ridge. “Do you actually think all those ex-cons deserved it?” This prompts a shrug from Sunstreaker. “So you just like watching them die.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” he tries to explain, but Nickel just waves him off.
“Well, you’ll need to tell me just how complicated next time,” she resolved, “since you spent all the allotted time avoiding it, and I actually do follow some schedule here.” As she says this, a knock shakes the door from the outside. “Speak of the unmaker. I gotta take my next appointment now, get out.”
Sunstreaker is actually quite glad to do just that. As soon as the door opens, he’s met with Tarn on the other side.
He pushes past his boss- boss? Business partner?- nodding a curt greeting as he retreats from the medbay.
~~~~
The next stop is distinctly farther away, on the planet of Messatine. It acts as something of a base of operations, Kaon had explained to him, and Tarn had business to take care of on the snow planet before they could continue onto their real next destination. Business which he’d decided, for no apparent reason, to shove onto Sunstreaker.”It’ll be easy,” Kaon had assured him, “just walk in and ask to see Pharma. He knows it’s due.”
Sunstreaker was not entirely certain what Kaon was talking about, but he also knew better than to question it.
When he walked into Delphi medical facility, he first noticed just how run-down it had seemed. He also noticed that the person greeting him was distinctly not Pharma. Pharma was almost-kinda-half-famous as a surgeon, mostly for the fact he had studied under Ratchet, and the fact that he managed to be a jet and a doctor. The mech at the counter, exhaustedly filling out paperwork, Sunstreaker had never seen before. “I need to see Pharma,” he told the desk mech, who only glanced up for a second.
“He’s kinda busy.”
“Okay,” Sunstreaker started, “well I kinda really need to see him.”
Again, the desk mech glanced up at Sunstreaker, holding his gaze a bit longer. “You don’t look like the usual. You look like an Autobot.” He paused. “You are an Autobot.”
Sunstreaker isn’t arguing with a nobody.
He’s sort of saved when the mech he’s actually looking for walks through two swinging doors. Sunstreaker turns to him, and they both give each other a bit of a look-over before Pharma speaks. “We aren’t accepting any new patients at the moment.”
“Tarn sent me,” Sunstreaker replies simply, and the surgeon scoffs at him.
“You can’t expect me to believe that, Sunstreaker.”
Of course, because he’s also almost-kinda-half-famous. He readies his blaster, aiming nebulously for Pharma’s chassis, ending up pointing it close to his Autobrand. “I don’t give a slag if you believe me, he’s gonna be angry at both of us if I go back to that ship empty-handed.” Pharma is staring down at the gun, but the desk mech still just looks exhausted. Like this happens a lot. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume you don’t want that.”
Pharma clicked his glossa, turning to the desk mech. “When First Aid gets back, tell him to check room 36R,” he says simply, and then disappears behind the swinging doors again. This time, Sunstreaker follows him.
The walls of the hallway are just as bad as the walls of the entryway. They look like they’re actively decaying. It’s lined with doors, and Sunstreaker can hear a cacophony of mechs coughing and hacking behind each. Some are sobbing. The lights flicker overhead. This seems a lot less like a place to heal and recover, and a lot more like a place you could go when you’re just waiting to die. It was unnerving. It was worse here than on the Peaceful Tyranny.
At some point, Pharma stopped in front of a door that didn’t look any different than the rest. The only noticeable difference was a sign that read “STORAGE.” Unceremoniously, the surgeon lifted a metal crate out of the room, and then dropped it in front of Sunstreaker. “Take them and get out.”
The desk mech stared at Sunstreaker as he left. ~~~~ Sunstreaker never looked in the crate. Tarn seemed happy with it, and that was what mattered.
They could finally get on with their lives to their actual destination. Kaon had briefed them on who the traitor was, and what he’d done- generally, it was something along the lines of “ran away from battle” or “was enjoying life after the war ended” (though, of course, none of the D.J.D. really thought the war was over at all.) Sunstreaker wasn’t exactly paying attention, he didn’t care. Nickel wasn’t wrong- “defending the Decepticon cause” wasn’t why he was here. He himself wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. Why he needed to be here.
He still hadn’t gotten around to repainting his knee-joint. That bothered him.
Autobot traitors weren’t treated the same way Decepticons were. You were always allowed to come back if you were really really sorry, but not everyone believed you were sorry, and that was made worse when you weren’t really sorry. Almost no one would forgive, and no one ever forgot. Even if you swore up and down to not do it again, they’d never forget that you had done it at all. You were included technically, but in actuality you were ostracized. When you were an Autobot, you suffered, and when you were a Decepticon, you were killed. One felt so much more merciful than the other.
It felt wrong. To ally with the D.J.D. while being a traitor himself felt so wrong, but he needed to. Because the truth was that those Decepticon traitors had it so much easier than being an Autobot traitor- and still, people would look at the D.J.D. and think that they were the worst beings in the galaxy. Sunstreaker had seen worse. He’s been through worse. And all those stupid ex-cons, maybe they didn’t have it coming, but they sure had something good going for them. They sure didn’t appreciate it. Maybe that’s why he’s here. He’s so jealous. They all had it so much easier than him. When Helex shoves your brain module down your throat, you’re usually far too dead to notice.
From somewhere in the Peaceful Tyranny, music resounded. Sunstreaker felt himself carried towards it. He’s so jealous.
He’d already, even during his time still serving the Autobots, resigned himself to being hated for the rest of his existence, as long as his spark burned. He had accepted that his betrayal would follow him to his far-too-late grave, and the mechs he’d once considered his friends- his family- would never speak to him again. Of course he left. Of course he left. What was there for him, with the Autobots? He’d been through enough. He’d been through more than enough. Those idiotic Autobots and nobody ex-cons all had lives he could never have again, and they didn’t even appreciate it. Maybe they did deserve it.
The music got closer. It was so unfair. Sunstreaker could name a hundred Autobots who had done worse than him. It was so unfair. Optimus himself wasn’t perfect, but people followed him without a second thought, hinging on every word he said. It was so unfair.
Right on the other side of this door. The music was coming from here.
A traitor doesn’t really repent until they’ve died, a voice called, in the back of Sunstreaker’s helm. Tarn’s voice.
The same mech who was looking down at Sunstreaker now.
Sure feels like it.
“Sunstreaker,” Tarn began, reaching out to him. He just barely grasped the former Autobot’s servos, pulling him gently into the hab. “Do you want to come in?”
#🧃 i wrote something!#;; transformers#;; djd sunstreaker au#;; tarnstreaker#;; tarn / damus#;; sunstreaker#;; kaon#;; helex#;; vos#;; tesarus#;; ambulon#;; pharma#;; nickel
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this empty husk's been consumed by love
transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 265 / warnings: NSFT / notes: part of my au where sunstreaker (idw) is a member of the djd . i do have other fics with more context for this au which i will likely post at some point
Tarn looked good like this.
Sunstreaker ran a servo over his helm, fingers dipping lightly into the creases, a gentle, encouraging gesture. Tarn leaned into it, bright red optics glancing up at the ex-Autobot. Sunstreaker smiled down at him, keeping his knees spread, one on each side of Tarn’s helm. Tarn’s intake was wrapped around the gold mech’s spike, energon dusting his faceplates aa light pink. Even his scar had taken on a nice hue.
“You’re doing so good,” Sunstreaker praised, leaning his helm against his fist. “Not everyday you get to serve another mech like this, right?”
Tarn hummed a vague agreement around Sunstreaker’s spike, causing the gold mech to shudder. His arms were bound behind him, keeping him from any attempt he might make to take control. Sunstreaker let out an appreciative sigh.
“You don’t do this for just anyone, do you?” The mech asked, and again, Tarn hummed an affirmative. “Well, aren’t I special.”
Tarn attempted to pull back, only for Sunstreaker’s grip on his helm to tighten, keeping the larger in place. Tarn struggled lightly, though only for a moment, soon relaxing once again into Sunstreaker’s touch. “No stopping now,” Sunstreaker told him, “We agreed on a full hour. You wouldn’t want to give up now, would you?”
Tarn huffed, unable to reply.
“Can the fearsome leader of the D.J.D. not handle it?”
Another huff, followed by Tarn’s glossa licking along the underside of Sunstreaker’s spike. The ex-Autobot jumped at the feeling, letting out a moan.
“So you can handle it,” Sunstreaker smirked. “Good mech. Only 26 minutes left.”
#🧃 i wrote something!#;; nsft#;; transformers#;; djd sunstreaker au#;; tarnstreaker#;; tarn / damus#;; sunstreaker
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i wanna feel like i can finally find a way to be free
transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 864 / warnings: NA / notes: written a while ago at the request of a friend, i just never posted it. i'm back on my tarnstreaker bullshit. / consider commissioning me!
The Peaceful Tyranny is not a small ship. Don’t get Sunstreaker wrong– it’s not the biggest ship he’s ever been on, certainly smaller than the ARK, but it’s still not small. In his opinion, it’s a bit overly large for the amount of crew on it– not counting him, 6 people and 2 pets, and sometimes Nickel isn’t even around.
So he isn’t sure how he keeps getting fucking lost.
It’s not ridiculously large! He was able to navigate the ARK distinctly easier than this. It shouldn’t be so hard to find his way around. But alas, Kaon says please give these datapads to Tesarus and suddenly Sunstreaker looks like an idiot trouncing around the halls looking for a room he’s probably been to a hundred times, and just can’t remember the exact location of. At this point, it’s getting frustrating– maybe if the halls didn’t all look the same, or maybe if there were more labels on the doors, or maybe if Kaon said something other than “to Tesarus” and gave him actual direction–
“Sunstreaker?” A voice calls, and Sunstreaker snaps out of his internal ranting, turning to face the source. “Are you alright?” Tarn. Tarn is steadily approaching him, and despite the mask covering the majority of his face, what Sunstreaker can see of his optics and hear of his voice conveys a concerned feeling.
Sunstreaker sighs, shoulders slumping, almost dropping the datapads down onto the grating beneath him. “I’m fine,” he tells his– boss? Boyfriend? Both?– not attempting to conceal his exhaustion. “I’m just…”
“You’re lost,” Tarn infers, and Sunstreaker’s optic glitches a bit, agitated at how quickly he was able to guess.
“Yes, I am,” Sunstreaker confesses. “Kaon just asked me to give these datapads to Tesarus, but I don’t know where the fuck Tesarus is.”
Tarn taps the bottom of his mask, as though in thought. “Tesarus isn’t very sociable, so he’s likely off by himself,” he explains. “Recently, he’s been spending time in the data storage, if I recall correctly.”
Sunstreaker nods. Right, data storage. He’s been there, and if he remembers right, then Tesarus actually was there the last time he’d been to that room. Of course, that was probably a stellar cycle ago, at least. (He doesn’t fucking know what Tesarus is up to, he’s not Tesarus’ keeper.) It reminded him distinctly of a library, on Earth. “Right, that would make sense.”
Tarn nods, looking down at him. “So you can find your way there.”
Sunstreaker glances away, then back. “Yes. Obviously.” He then turns his back to the larger, and starts to walk in the direction he vaguely recalls it being in, then–
“Wrong way.”
Sunstreaker halts right in his tracks. This is so frustrating. “I’ll find it.”
“You’ll end up lost,” Tarn sighs, “more lost than you already are.” He approaches the former Autobot, extending a servo to him. “Here, I’ll take you there.”
Sunstreaker, ignoring how absolutely mortifyingly embarrassing it is (or trying to, at least,) takes Tarn’s servo, and begins to walk alongside him. “You’re not too busy, oh powerful leader?”
Tarn exvents, in what might be a laugh. “No, not at the moment. I just finished helping Vos with something, and he’s probably off to go find Helex now.” Sunstreaker can practically hear the smirk behind Tarn’s mask. “I’m sure he’ll get there without issue.”
Sunstreaker bristles, and considers, briefly, shoving the datapads to Tarn and telling him that if he knows his way around then he can deliver the damn things himself, but he also recognizes that would not only be rude, it might lose him a lot of privileges he currently has. Instead, he grits his dentae, before letting out, “I don’t understand how you all can get around.”
“Well, we have been on board longer than you,” Tarn figures, which is reasonable, but it’s not enough.
“What about Kaon? He’s literally blind.” “Oh, the Pet,” Tarn gesticulates, and Sunstreaker starts connecting dots. The Pet could reasonably just lead him around. Tarn confirms this, and adds on, “Vos also helps him sometimes. Beyond that, once you’re used to the layout of a place, you can find your way without seeing rather easily.”
Sunstreaker huffs. “Well.” Again, logical, reasonable. That makes sense. “That makes sense.”
“It does,” Tarn chuckles. “You’ll get used to this all soon enough.”
“I’ve been here long enough,” Sunstreaker counters, “I ought to know already.”
“Everyone learns in their own time,” Tarn counter-counters. He’s being weirdly nice about this. Getting lost seems very inefficient, so Sunstreaker had gotten this idea that Tarn would be angry with him for not knowing his way around, but he’s being very patient regarding it. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but when Helex first came on board, he was still getting lost after three solar cycles. Not very attentive.”
Sunstreaker chuckles. “No, he doesn’t seem so.”
It’s comfortable, in a way, walking with Tarn like this. Embarrassing, sure, to hold onto his servo like a lost sparkling, but it’s comfortable. On some level, he hopes this can keep happening, he and Tarn can keep walking like this. Maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t know his way around just yet.
#🧃 i wrote something!#;; transformers#;; tarnstreaker#;; tarn / damus#;; sunstreaker#the rest of the djd is mentioned but not present#;; djd sunstreaker au
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