Work Text:
You’re running the perimeter today. Picking up some supplies for the base when you stumble upon an unusual scene. Two mer wrestling in the water, kicking up sand. They thrash and claw and try to bite. You’ve seen one of them — the yellow one — around these parts before. Never too close. And if he noticed you, he made sure you knew you were the reason he swam away. Like a cat walking out of the room, pointedly looking at you, because it’s all your fault. You don’t know the other mer. Must be not his usual haunt.
Mixmaster’s claws get a good hold of Sunstreaker’s gills and he overpowers him, pins him down, wraps his tail around as a way to keep him from struggling. Mixmaster reaches into his own mouth, twitches, and pulls out a small, perfectly round pearl. He shoves it into Sunstreaker’s maw when he tries to bite him and holds it closed. Makes sure it gets swallowed. And in a move that stuns Sunstreaker completely, uncoils himself and swims away before he can recover.
You watch as Sunstreaker tries to throw it up, but his movements are odd. Uncomfortable. Like they lost all the underwater grace they had, like this was his first swim. His bioluminescent patches flare unnaturally bright. He shudders.
You try to stay still and invisible, but you don’t exactly blend in with the scenery. The gentle movement of the water jostles you just enough for Sunstreaker to notice you. You expect him to get out at top speed, given his distress and possible injury, but instead he darts closer. You jerk back, too slow, surprised and unsure of what he’s going to do. This behavior is completely out of the norm, and for one awful moment you think about rabid animals on land.
He grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you closer, his optics wide, mouth open. You half expect him to say something, but the sound he produces isn’t even close to something you can understand. He wails and screeches and clicks and you don’t understand any of it, except that he’s scared and probably hurt. And you can’t do anything to help.
He shudders again, a whole-body tremor that’s strong enough to disturb the water around him. His tail twitches and twists like he’s in pain. Your hands are between you as a weak barrier, but as Sunstreaker panics and his claws poke into your suit, you grab onto him, too. Out of sheer instinct. Scared.
His skin is too slippery to get a good grip. Without gloves or claws like his, your hands slide off his sides a couple of times until you find purchase over the shoulder joint. Sunstreaker gestures at his mouth, then in the vague direction the other mer swam off. Shakes you when you don’t respond. You curl inward and try to pull away. He holds on tight.
He’s making a lot of noise now. It’s right in your face and it’s unbearably loud and it mixes with your panicked breathing. It’s like having your head inside a ringing tower bell. His grip on you starts to hurt. Tail flapping and twisting, it jostles you both around.
His head tilts forward in anguish, pressing into your shoulder. So close, too close, closer than any mer you’ve ever been near. This should be exciting, but it’s fear that has your heart hammering at full throttle.
Over his back, you get a clear view of his tail as it moves and shifts, bends in ways it shouldn’t. The biolights pulse and flash so quickly it’s disorienting.
His tail swells and tears at the seams, energon seeping into the water and dyeing it a vibrant pink.
All you can do is stare. You’re no longer actively pushing him away, so he clings even closer, clawing at your suit, your tank, anywhere he can reach. His face is pressed firmly against you, but it doesn’t muffle any of his screaming. You wish it did.
The plating of his tail splits further. New limbs writhe underneath it. Longer, boneless, coiling around each other rapidly. Like a grotesque baby bird the limbs burst out of their shell and into bloodied water. Much to your horror, they wrap around your legs. You have to force yourself to sit still. At this distance, Sunstreaker could rip your throat out with his teeth if he thinks you’re attacking him.
His screaming dies down, but he’s still motionless aside from his new tentacles. They wrap and unwrap and wrap around you again and again. Restless. Undecided. Surprisingly gentle in their hold. Sunstreaker is shaking. Your hand rubs mindlessly over his back in a pitiful attempt to be soothing. You doubt it’s going to do any good, any comfort now feels hollow. But he’s not thrashing anymore, his claws ease out of your skin a little. You don’t try to move. The mer may not be wild animals like previously thought, but it’s safer to think of him as one for now.
Sunstreaker shudders, composes himself, and pulls away slightly. He looks up at you with wide, unfocused eyes. You watch as his panic morphs into disgust, then loathing. An unmistakably angry sound leaves his throat. He pushes you away, stronger than you expected. His tentacles release you a moment later while you’re still trying to right yourself and keep him in your sight. He turns — clumsy in his new limbs — and swims away, his top and bottom halves moving out of sync, leaving a cloud of energon mist in his wake.