[G1] Gamer

Sideswipe didn’t get three steps into their shared quarters before Sunstreaker slammed into his back.

“Hey!” he snapped as a bright red scratch appeared on his chestplate. “What the frag is your malfunction!”

“It’s Ratchet,” Sideswipe said, sounding confused.

Sunstreaker shoved him, forcing Sideswipe into the room. He rolled his optics. Ratchet showing up before them was nothing to gawk at. Idiot. Given their conflicting schedules, it was often a surprise who managed to get in the quarters first.

Except once Sunstreaker got inside, his mouth dropped. Because there was Ratchet, kicked back in one of their chairs. He had a game controller in his hands, empty cubes of high grade on a tray to his right, and a plate of energon jellies next to them. On the large screen, Ratchet was in the middle of a heated round of Halo.

“Ratchet plays?” Sideswipe whispered.

“Ratchet wins,” Sunstreaker said, elbowing Sideswipe in his lateral seam.

“Ow. Stop it!”

“Both of you stop it,” Ratchet snarled as his fingers flew across the controller. “I need to concentrate, slag it.”

Sideswipe inched closer to Ratchet. “Uh, since when have you played video games, Ratchet?”

“Since I found out it was a great stress relief.”

Sunstreaker’s optics tracked across the screen, willing to admit that he was impressed. Ratchet was good if the stats were anything to go by. And then he spotted Ratchet’s user name and gasped.

He batted at Sideswipe’s arm to get his brother’s attention. “Sunny? What are you…?”

Sunstreaker pointed, and Sideswipe followed his line of sight. His optics widened and his jaw dropped, just as Sunstreaker’s had.

“No way!” Sideswipe whirled toward Ratchet. “You’re BurytheHatchet? But– But–”

“You whip his aft at least three times a month,” Sunstreaker finished for Sideswipe who couldn’t stop stammering. “How?”

“Wheeljack has a console, too. Who do you think built yours?” Ratchet never once took his optics off the screen. “He’s JackofallTrades on here, you know.”

“But–But–” Sideswipe stuttered.

Ratchet grinned. “What? You think you have the monopoly on fun?” His optics gleamed, full of energy and pride.

Sunstreaker’s spark skipped an oscillation. Surprise or not, this was welcome.

On screen, Ratchet’s victory was declared. He smirked, and set down the controller, dusting off his hands.

“So,” Ratchet said, “Which of you wants to challenge me first?”

Sunstreaker exchanged a glance with his brother.

“That depends,” Sideswipe finally said with a swagger and a swing of his hips. “What’re the stakes?”

Ratchet barked a laugh. “Loser does whatever the winner wants?”

“Deal!” Sideswipe vaulted into the chair, squeezing in beside Ratchet. “C’mon, Sunny. You can be the judge.”

“What do I get then?” Sunstreaker demanded, but he took the other chair anyway. He also stole a handful of Ratchet’s treats.

“The winner,” Ratchet drawled with a playful wink. “Fair is fair.”

Ooo. Sunstreaker rather liked those odds. Either way, he’d win.

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