Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: SoulMate!AU. Sam is Optimus' Sparkmate.
Pairing: Optimus/Sam.
A/N: This idea has been stuck in my head for a while, but i figured it was ready for other people's eyes.
Warning: I took a lot of liberties with this.
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The first time his sparkmate's name appeared, Optimus Prime felt nothing but joy.
Across time and all of eternity, he swore it on his spark to love and care and protect his sparkmate over anything else. He would protect his feelings of hope and an eagerness that never seemed to leave.
Then the questions began to sink into him. Would he be good enough for his sparkmate? What was his sparkmate like? Were they taller than him? What colors did they life? What did they prefer to transform into? Why did they have such a strange name? He couldn't even read the name. Was his sparkmate smarter than him? Would they be disappointed in him? What would Optimus do if is sparkmate didn't like him?
He could see the progression between joy to very annoyed but patiently listening to the young Prime on Megatron's and Jazz's faceplates as time progressed and no answers were found. He knew that he should probably stop talking about it so often, since they looked like they were sick of listening to him question the same things again and again.
(But he couldn't help it. He never had a sparkmate before, and unlike everyone else here, he couldn't find them.)
Jazz almost sighed, but he braced himself to hear it just because it was nice enough to listen to amidst the growing concerns of factions forming around them. But even his cool smile and a teasing grin was reaching the limit.
Megatron just grunted along because he got yelled at earlier for not working well with the others. He really didn't want Sentinel on his hide about hurting Optimus' feelings again. So he tried and almost patiently listened to the way Optimus would share his unease and uncertainties about his sparkmate.
"How do you think I should introduce myself? I don't want to make a fool of myself, unless they prefer fools-"
"Optimus, what will you do if your sparkmate's useless and not perfect?"
The young prime stared at his brother in all ways but one before he came to a quick conclusion.
"I think they will be perfect no matter what."
"Even if they are useless?"
Optimus frowned, because there was no way his sparkmate could be useless. Or maybe they could be useless in a fight, and that wasn't a bad thing either, was it? It just meant that his sparkmate wasn't made for battle and that alone opened more possibilities.
"Then I'll take care of them. Isn't that the point of having a sparkmate? To be able to find a balance between our sparks?"
Megatron stared from his hands to Optimus before huffing a sigh.
"There you go, then."
Optimus' processors gleamed at the implication of his words and the young mech gave a small huff of laughter.
"Now, if you were that nice all the time, maybe you'll get some friends," Optimus couldn't help but tease out.
The High Lord Protector-in-training stiffened as his optics glinted in fury and Optimus was already running away.
"Get back here, Optimus!"
In that moment, they were sparklings again. With nothing but the horizon and the future to look forward to, they laughed and wrestled the ways that they always had.
When Megatron turned his back on him and took half their race with him, Optimus just stared back. Blank as he tried to pull it together while Sentinel pulled him out of the incoming blast with a heavy heart.
"This is why we didn't," Sentinel whispered very, very softly. "Look at me, Optimus. You are a Prime now. You must survive."
Feeling his spark violently tear at itself, Optimus retreated to the only thing that could calm him down.
The sparkmate of his dreams.
Somewhere, between both of them and it would never break the silence they held, they hoped that Optimus' Sparkmate remained safe and away from war.
(And that, they would forgive Optimus for participating in a war against his own brother.)
-
Then, before he knew it, the name disappeared.
During a battle that they won with relative ease and few casualties for once, the young Optimus fell to the ground. After fighting for such a long time, day in and day out, desperately trying to not die, everyone expected the fatigue underlying a mourning victory.
But not this.
Torn out of his spark, Optimus felt a crippling pain as fear, worry, and loss began to overtake his entire being. A sudden emptiness caved his entire being from the inside out.
The excruciating painful feeling as something pulled and tore at the very essence of his existence made him drop to his knees with a pained gasp.
His comrades called his name, but his processors were already shutting down.
Later, when he woke in medbay, he would realize that the name was gone. He wouldn't understand until Ratchet's quiet words about what he had lost in this battle rang through his processors.
His sparkmate was dead and he never got to meet him.
(They won a battle, but Optimus couldn't help but think that he had lost so much more.)
Optimus closed his optics, willing himself to not feel and mourn the vacancy within him. He tried to not think as a wave of worthlessness and agony covered him. As though a supernova exploded in his chest, Optimus hated the idea of waking up to this kind of pulsating pain for the rest of his life.
He didn't get to even say hello.
He never got a chance to even disappoint him. He never had a chance to introduce himself. He knew what happened to people who lost their sparkmates, and he never thought he would join their ranks so soon when he had never even met his sparkmate.
He didn't even know the name of his sparkmate to actually mourn a loss.
(He cried for three devivorns, but was smart enough to make sure that no one else saw it.)
It drove Ironhide insane though.
"Slag it all, Optimus! Emote, will ya?" he shouted at him in a late night conversation that went terribly wrong. "It's okay to mourn, alright? Sometimes, the only thing that ever proved that someone lived is the fact that someone cared when they died!" he snapped at him.
Optimus looked out towards what Cybertron used to be, where his dreams used to be built to space and a little further.
Instead, he saw desolation.
"You can't be young and on the battlefield at the same time. It causes more casualties."
(It wasn't until his soldiers and brothers reminded him of the war outside that he finally snapped out of it. He finally buried it deep and far away. He knew that everyone else probably already knew, but he did appreciate that no one would say anything about it.)
-
By the time he started to get used to the empty feeling in his chest, another name appeared. First filled with awe and sudden warmth and happiness, he then felt darker and bitter.
(The war has changed him. And he never realized exactly how much had changed until now.)
Was he shallow? Was his love not pure? What if this one died too? What if he was just doomed to be constantly hurt by someone who he would never meet? Could never meet?
Then at that point, what was even the point of being alive and having a sparkmate?
Sentinal sat him down at that point, calmly explaining other possibilities that made much more sense to the Optimus back in that day.
"Perhaps your sparkmate is being reborn. And your love is truly eternal,"
Sentinel told him, a fond look crossing his faceplates that made Optimus straighten a little more, as it always did when his teacher explained something to him.
And then, a sudden realization dawned on his face and he quickly shook his head.
"Do you think they know that?" he asked Sentinel quietly. "Do you think that they know that there is someone in this universe who loves them more than anything else? Or that there is someone out in the universe who wants them to be safe and happy over everything else?"
Sentinel gave him a small smile and shook his head as Optimus became a little more brighter and as innocent as he should be given his age. But this was an age of war.
There was no time for those kinds of feelings. There was no time to help and heal. There was nothing but to battle and hurt and not heal fully and fight again.
Optimus learns this the hard way.
The second time his sparkmate died, he didn't cry as hard. Even though there was a constant fear that pressed in his processors that perhaps this was the actual last time he would ever have a chance to even met his sparkmate.
But then his sparkmate was born again, under a different name and different characters. But this time, his sparkmate name changed during his lifetime. Then he died.
He filed that knowledge for another time and prayed that he would find him this time to meet him.
Optimus would travel. Across time and all of space and do his best to find his sparkmate. While Optimus was still so young and so innocent, he swore to find the other half of his spark.
(He thought of all the ways he could pamper and appreciate his love. He tried not to think about how or why his sparkmate's life spanned so shortly, but didn't count his blessings because at least he had a sparkmate that returned back to him because Ironhide looked haunted.)
Optimus searched. High and low and when they had downtime. It didn't really amount to much, and by the 28th time his sparkmate died without knowing how much Optimus was willing to do for him almost made him lose a little more hope.
(And lose his mind, but the Autobots didn't like thinking about that.)
The times between the death and rebirth pulled and tried to rust his spark. By the time he tried to heal and cope and live on, it backfired miserably upon the realization that his sparkmate was born again.
(And again, Optimus searched frantically.)
"Your sparkmate... came back?"
Optimus nodded, a little gratefully, to his old-time friend who grinned back.
"That's good. We can definitely use more good news around here," she said. "You... definitely look the most serene when you have someone. I guess even if you don't know who they are, the fact that your sparkmate is alive is enough for your spark to be in balance."
Her hand came up to her chest, where her spark pulsed. Quietly, Optimus wanted to try and encourage her by saying that her love might be eternal too. But Optimus and Elita have both been on the battlefield for far too long to ever think about giving that kind of false and empty hope.
"Thanks for the update. I can't wait to meet your sparkmate."
"Me too," he replied back fondly.
Elita giggled, just the tiniest bit, before she stopped to check her coms. A deep breath escaped her and she nodded at her friend.
"Maybe when you guys meet, we won't be fighting anymore. You know, we have a pair of twins among the hatchlings. I'm sure they want to experience peace in their lives too."
"Yes, we should do our best to ensure that no one's youth will be cut short and stolen away anymore."
Like ours, the unsaid echoed between them but they didn't acknowledge it.
They couldn't just focus on the past. They had to continue looking forward. They had to. There was nothing else they had anymore.
"Well. They're calling my team. I better get going before Arcee is sent to find me again."
The prime smiled fondly at the memory of the high-spirited and strong-willed femme. Like everyone else who was still alive, just remembering them seemed to bolster his current mood. "I look forward to seeing you again. Good luck on your new assignment with the sparklings."
"See you around Optimus. Take care of yourself, alright?"
He waved back, and never saw her again.
(Later, he would hear that a small number of hatchlings survived. That a very small number of Autobots had escaped with them. That Elita was not among those numbers because she was the reason why they could escape in the first place. This information would be given in a cold casefile before he was told to get up because their base was under attack again-)
38th.
This marked the shortest one.
Optimus stared as the name faded as quick as it came and wondered if his sparkmate just died without ever living. Without ever getting a chance to live. It was a brief thought before he was shot and was forced to focus if he wanted to see his sparkmate live ever again.
He fought harder than usual. He got hurt more than usual.
The others frowned, worried, but no one could say anything. Not when they have just been losing and losing and then losing some more. The extent of their lives relied on the fact that the memory of the dead wasn't forgiving.
Morale was at an all time low, but Optimus was far too numb. He barely processed the casualty damage given to him, and even more so that other autobots were taken away during the scuffle.
Given all this time being stuck in this vicious cycle that he had no choice or say in, he had truly hoped that he would just be spared already. That a spark could only be torn so many times, and that this time is truly the last.
For once, Ratchet didn't scold him as much as he usually did.
(Ratchet's sparkmate offlined a while back though again. He had only returned to do his job and Optimus related too much to his mech.)
"What would you understand, Optimus!? Your sparkmate comes back!"
There was a crippling noise, and Optimus watched as Mirage broke. With the screeching sound of metal crumpling in his hands, the Prime vaguely wondered if this was the closest Mirage would get to crying aloud in anguish.
(Sparkmates, they do the strangest things to you. Optimus knows because Ratchet used to tell him this. He told him that they can make you believe that they created the entire universe for you, and in the same breath remind you that you are painfully alone.)
I never got a chance to say goodbye! There is no hope for me! There is no hope for him! I don't even have the luxury to ever see him again because this war will be the end of us!"
Mirage crumpled down to a shaking mess of metal and heartbreak while Optimus looked around to the group of Autobots that have (seemingly) suddenly began to attach themselves to him. That followed him with hope in their optics and a just a bit of guilty.
Autobots (and several Decepticons, Optimus vaguely remembered), were prone to act unlike themselves when they lost everything. It was how some cope, with anger and frustration before they broke and completely lost themselves.
Retreating back to the lessons and the logic he was taught, Optimus pretended that Mirage was the only one who lost something from this battle.
(Bit by bit, this battle was beginning to take much more from them than anything else.)
-
Later, Mirage would come and apologize to him. As though he was in the wrong for mourning his loss when it was clear that he never had a chance in the first place.
"No, Mirage. I… I understand."
The look on Mirage's faceplates said anything but, and the leader shook his head.
"Not your position, not your feelings, but I understand that I must have sounded like an ignorant fool. However, I do hope that you will continue to trust me in the future. We need you here, Mirage."
They were all ignorant fools after all. This war was just solid proof of that, but it wasn't like Optimus would never be able to show and explain that properly to Megatron. Their best bet was to just keep going and keep trying.
Mirage looked as though he wanted to say something else, that there was more to add. To be completely and fully honest, there probably was. Unfortunately, the commander wasn't in the mood to hear about what it was like to know and lose a sparkmate. Optimus figured that he probably had much more to say to his sparkmate, but if they had anything in common it was that.
Neither of them could talk to their sparkmate.
(But Optimus had hope, and perhaps that was why he was collecting soldiers who had nothing but his beliefs to follow.)
The autobot leader never talked about his sparkmate after that. He knew better now, but he never lost his focus towards the stars above and who he wanted to share this view with.
(It was hard to when their name was soldered into their spark.)
Occasionally, there was nothing.
Long periods without anything but the other Autobots as company as they tried and tried to fend off the Decepticons.
This wasn't a war anymore though. It was a one-sided slaughter, but it would never end until all the Autobots are dead. It was a sport for the hunters and a purgatory of fear for the hunted.
On these days, Optimus' only saving grace was the warmth in his spark because his sparkmate was waiting for him out there. He had a sparkmate to find and he needed to find him, even if he wasn't born yet or never got a chance to see his first vorn.
He needed to.
There had to be a reason why he was fighting so hard to survive. And he needed to have a reason other than The Cause because he didn't even know who he was anymore. Sometimes, the battles bled in between each other too much for him to be able to process it properly.
(But his sparkmate's name changed shape but the feelings associated with it never did.)
Sentinel's ship was shot down.
Optimus didn't lose hope because he didn't think he could bear to lose something else.
His soldiers look to him now, whatever remained of their forces, and he was a leader because there was no one else. He was the only Prime left.
Sometimes, he wondered if there was anything left worth fighting for.
(Then, his spark will spike in pain and he would remember his sparkmate and hate himself a little for being so inspired by nothing.)
He almost felt terrible, because they didn't fight for what was right. They didn't just fight for the side that are oppressed. They didn't fight for justice.
No, they were cowards that hid behind pretty words or blind fools that thought it was possible.
In reality, Optimus was just manipulating them for a chance that he'll finally meet his sparkmate again.
"Optimus. Go get some rest."
The leader (but it honestly felt like he was new to everything. He didn't know what to do or if he was even doing it correctly) looked at his second in command.
Both of them climbed the ranks too fast.
(But Jazz looked like a natural like this. He was very calm and very relaxed in almost all aspects of his life and Optimus never understood how he kept it together like that.)
"I'll take care of the rest of these reports. But you should go get some rest."
"It's fine, Jazz," Optimus replied back as easily as he always did.
"Oh no you don't. Come on, Optimus. Go out and relax a little."
"Jazz-"
"The war is still going to be there tomorrow. You working until Ratchet chases you out of your office isn't going to magically end the war. But right now, the sky is beautiful and not plagued with seekers. Go enjoy what little peaceful moments we have."
Optimus frowned, but couldn't come with a reason to not leave. Not when the closest he feels to his other half is when the stars are in view.
He stepped out to where the black skies speckled with stars in the distant laid across the world they were hiding in. He stared and watched. He looked and he wondered.
On which of those stars did his sparkmate lie?
(Somehow, he felt more motivated than he did before that following morning. And the knowing look on Jazz's and Ratchet's face made him feel a little tricked, but he didn't mind it so much either. Not when they found something new to find.)
What a strange thought, to think he would true hope to hold onto. To have a true objective, a true goal, felt surreal and nostalgic all in the same thought.
-
Some of them are so young.
"I'm Sunstreaker!"
"I'm S-Sideways!"
Sunstreaker turned to his twin in shock as he whispered out, as though none of the older autobots were there.
"Why'd you stutter in front of Optimus! Now he's not going to accept either of us!"
"H-He's a prime! I can't help it!"
A sharp pain penetrated him again. A darker void next to his spark grew and swelled as he stared at the (too young) recruits in front of him. So he calmly composed himself and pretended.
"He's the leader of the Autobots! Sunstreaker, what if we're not good enough?"
"Then we'll just become better! But this is the cause we said we'd pledge ourselves too! This is the only mech I want to follow for the rest of my life!"
They were painfully young and trapped into a war they never caused. A war that was being fought for a better future and a better place to live, at the cost of everything alive at the moment. They were going to fight a war that made monsters of them all.
Hopeless monsters that have nothing.
"Welcome aboard," Optimus said instead, a slow smile because they needed all the help they can get.
The twin looks of glee would haunt him.
(Please, please forgive me, my sparkmate.)
Bumblebee chirped at him, unable to speak properly anymore. And probably never would again. They were lucky that Bumblebee was even able to last that long against three seekers, even doing more than his fair share and took one down.
(Thank primus that Jazz got there in time. Starscream and Thundercracker had lost themselves in a crazed rage before they were buried into that landslide. With luck, they would never see any of the trinity again. )
As ashamed as he felt, this was the closest thing to a victory that they had gotten in a long, long time.
He saw it on Ratchet's face, after all. There wasn't enough resources nor time to heal. They needed the scout to just keep going, since they didn't have anything else. The scout didn't have time to rest when there were other places to go and visit.
"It's fine," Bumblebee commed him later, simple and easy as his bright blue optics shined brightly in front of him.
Optimus stared back, carefully maintaining the stoic face that he had finally perfected to a fault. He stared back at the youthful innocence with a careful practice.
"It was worth it," the scout said proudly.
Disgust was what filled the void this time. Disgust because this was unforgivable and of course his sparkmate would never want him and never love him. If they even existed. If they ever met.
(Somehow, Optimus couldn't shake the feeling that the best thing that would ever happen to his Sparkmate was that he never met Optimus.)
Optimus didn't know what there was to love. If there was even anything left to love.
"Alright then. Will you take another mission towards this small blue planet then?"
And he didn't even know why he asked. It wasn't like Bumblebee would ever turn him down. None of them ever did.
As it turned out, 217 was the magical time.
The first time Optimus met his sparkmate, he learned that the words formed in his spark and that haunted his processor read as Sam.
He watched four more blades enter the small, fleshy body on a platform in front of a crowd to cheer and entertain. He watched as the, he couldn't have even been an actual adult, Optimus counted this time and it seemed as though his sparkmate was about 26 of these solar cycles.
He was a tiny sparkling. Tiny, as he was barely the size of Optimus' index finger.
(He was a dead sparkling.)
And Optimus, in a fit of rage because how dare someone else try to harm his sparkmate. And how dare these fleshlings ever try to hurt his sparkmate. How dare the entire universe seem to play against him to orchestrate the death in a mockery of everything that he had been fighting for?
And how dare Optimus continue to be a failure.
(This time, Optimus mourned violently. He figured that his brother would be proud.)
But killing fleshlings wasn't enough and he brought his path of carnage to the stars as he ruined Deceptacon after Decepticon with a ferocity that frightened some of his comrades.
"We're leaving," he snarled out.
No one questioned him, as no one ever did. They calmly packed and left and tried their hardest to pretend that nothing was wrong or different as before.
(But Optimus walked taller and shined a bit brighter when his sparkmate was alive and he was so much more of a vortex of agony when his sparkmate wasn't. They weren't his for such a long time without picking something like that up.)
"Optimus, you are covered in strange liquid-"
"It's fine. We have other places to be."
It would be a hundred years and a couple of months before he tried again.
(He had hoped that this time, he was a little bit stronger and better prepared than what he was before.)
He found Sam's body (because he's a Sam this time too, and he was getting better at finding him now that he had the right planet) as he gasped his last breaths.
This was also probably the longest time his sparkmate was even alive, and Optimus stared at the tiny organism in front of him.
He found him on the side of a mountain, with a large puncture wound from an accident on a stagecoach above him. He stared and studied these figures, the figure with white hair cells on the side of his shiny and wrinkly head. He stared and committed this moment deep into his processor because here he was.
"Hello, my name is Optimus Prime."
He had met his sparkmate. Despite the fact that he was essentially led Megaton here (and they had come to check that out), he would have never thought that he would ever have this opportunity.
"H-Hello... I'm Sam..."
The quiet voice introduced the human like Optimus didn't know who it was. The sound of the raspy and husky human somehow was the most pleasant thing Optimus had ever heard.
The feeling within his spark wasn't something that he could truly explain in words.
So instead, he watched with steady optics as the (as he would later learn) old and frail male simply smiled at him. He nodded slowly and then closed his foggy eyes.
And Sam was an 83 year old human man when Optimus first laid eyes on him.
(and he was beautiful. But his spark was breaking in the same second he was elated.)
In a fit of disbelief that his sparkmate died on site, Optimus left this planet called Earth until his spark became a little stronger. Until he could become someone that wouldn't just fail his sparkmate.
He wouldn't come back for a couple of centuries later.
Then, they learned that the cube must be here.
Here, on this planet that Optimus had been haunting like an eternal curse. Here, where Optimus was just a rusting piece of metal, truly a sight that matched his insides as much as his outsides.
(He couldn't. He just couldn't handle this anymore. He didn't understand how his spark was chosen for this fate and destiny. He almost hated Primus for making this his life. He almost hated his sparkmate for being so weak and so delicate. He hated himself for being who he was, for not being a better prime and not being a better Optimus and a sparkmate and a mech. He hated and he hated and he-)
But then his sparkmate was born again and Optimus felt doomed to continue and repeat this cycle until his spark finally gave up as well. He was born again and Optimus thought this was the closest he would ever get to his sparkmate. A couple thousands of miles away in the atmosphere, Optimus used his fellow Autobots as an excuse to run and hide.
Bumblebee went back alone this time.
Jazz said it would be better if they send the scout ahead while they check for some other areas for resources and supplies before they head out. It was smarter that Optimus' plans, and Optimus was guiltily happy that his second-in-command understood his cowardice and helped him justify it.
Optimus was a coward and he hated it. And did his best to hide it because his soldiers and his friends and comrades didn't deserve to deal and know the true incompetence of the leader they swore to follow. Not when he was all they had left.
(But he would never give up for as long as the possibility of his sparkmate being alive kept him going too sometimes.)
I have found the glasses.
Optimus touched down to the painfully similar area that he never wanted to see and visit again. It was nothing like what he remembered it to be. The faster they did this and get the All Spark, the faster they can all just leave. He didn't want to see his sparkmate again. He didn't want to watch him die ever again.
(It was worse since he could read and understand these words now. He'll understand without ever comprehending it.)
But the last thing he expected was to be introduced to a young boy who was far more interested in another female of his own species and not the giant alien robot who had failed him time and time again.
(But he didn't know that and Optimus so sorely wanted to keep it that way.)
So tired of everything, and so emotionally drained a large variety of conflicting feelings, Optimus wondered and hoped and got endlessly lost in a torrential flood of instincts and processing logic.
By this point, more than anything, he wanted it all to end.
With one move, he would kill Megatron. He would end this unforgiving battle. He would stand in the tattered remains of this city, and after effectively destroying the only hope his race had of surviving, he'd give a lop-sided and tired laugh.
And like a moth honing into a light, Optimus would always be watching him whenever he had a chance.
"Uh, thanks, I guess. For trusting me and everything. And I'm… I'm sorry about what I did with the All Spark."
Optimus couldn't keep the warmth out of his optics or his voice, even if he wanted to.
"...What is done is done," he said. Years and years and years of battlefield taught him how to say and explain things without being just cruel. "Do not fret about the past, Sam, for the future can be very, very long."
It wasn't the kind and nice words that they wanted. It was the truth, and it gave them hope for the moment.
"...As bad as it sounds," Sam said after a pregnant pause, "I'm glad you're alive. I just. I couldn't shake this feeling that I couldn't let you die. Is...Is that strange?"
Optimus couldn't stop the amusement pumping out of him in quiet chuckles and his shoulders shook the slightest bits.
What a bizarre feeling, to have your feelings reciprocated. The feeling of elated happiness had been so far and few in between that Optimus actually needed a moment to process the emotion for what it was.
(He must have looked like he had lost himself, that his processors didn't work anymore, but he supposed that's how he knew that it was true. That perhaps this Sparkmate business wasn't as bad as he thought after all.)
His eyes were bright though. He was easily frazzled and very snarky. He was thin and he was human. He was bothered by the smallest of things and always ran his hands through his hair. He can trip over air and he can also run for miles and miles on end. He slept with his mouth open and usually drooled a little too.
Optimus would catalogue how he laughs, uncomfortably and genuinely. He would keep careful notes and record all of their conversations so that he could soothe the aching in his spark to remain by his side until the dawn of time.
With the voice of the man who put an end to his entire race and everything they had ever fought for, Optimus couldn't help the feelings bubbling inside of him. He couldn't help but rewatch recordings and listen to that voice on repeat. His sparkmate finally had a voice and a face and a life that they could experience together.
His sparkmate doomed his entire race and all Optimus count think about was that Sam was endearing.
Rejection is a feeling that is foreign to Optimus, if only because he had never pursued someone before. It's a lonely feeling, and the last thing he ever thought was that he would be more alone after meeting an entire species just like them.
Rejection is cold, feels a little like betrayal, and just makes him feel a little more empty. After being filled with the warmth of a smile and a laugh like the fluffy clouds floating by, this was a despairing turn of events that he didn't want.
"Look, I get what you're trying to do. And I… I really appreciate what you're doing for the Earth but I can't. I don't want to be a part of this anymore. I just want to be normal."
But Sam, Optimus almost said, you are cursed.
Because this Sam Witwicky was cursed from the moment he was born and the universe thought it would be absolutely hilarious if he was Optimus' Sparkmate.
When Optimus off-lined, he would relish in the single fact that he was finally dying. He would, although a little upset, be so incredibly content to leave this horrid lifetime. He would feel this vindictive glee in the furthest corners of his spark at the look of despair in Sam's eyes.
What a familiar look, he would think while he eagerly anticipated an eternal rest from all of this. When death embraced him, he wondered if it was supposed to feel so lonely.
Somehow, when he did come back, he never thought that he would feel content. Shoved into battle, this one was not lost.
(Later, when he learns that Sam ran across the world to save him, he wonders if their bond was what was strong enough for him to come back. The thought made him warm in ways he wasn't anticipating, and wondered how his spark still remained so pure.)
His hair was short-cropped, and he was easily embarrassed when complimented. Optimus would later learn of loyalty and the approval that the original Primes have blessed them with (the Matrix). He would watch and watch and trust and believe and hope.
According to Optimus Prime's spark, he was perfect. And with the way Sam ducked his head and admitted once under a beautiful starry night, Optimus was perfect to him too.
In that moment, the entire universe could have been vaporized, but Optimus was far to entranced by the human in front of him to even care. These feelings that Sam quietly and carefully draw out of him without even trying made him drown a little more in this world.
In this reality, Optimus is sinking in these feelings of comfort and pure beauty. A large part of him sorely hoped to lose himself without ever thinking about the future ever again. Another was paralyzed in fear.
(Weak. Optimus was weak. Weak to his words and so quick to elevate the emptiness harboring in his spark.)
"You have to wake up really early to see sunrises," Sam told him, "Well, early for me, I guess, since I prefer to wake up by noon."
As the sun sank further and further into the horizon, Optimus watched with Sam sitting in his driver's seat. Mesmerized about the way the vibrant colors reflected off of Sam's features, the Autobot leader relished in these moment.
"It's beautiful," Optimus' observed, his voice rumbling out through the speakers and Sam chuckled.
The sound alone made his engines rumble before he had chance to stop it.
"Yeah, I guess it is."
Sam's hands came to rest on the steering wheel, as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on it as well.
"When I was younger, I… I didn't really want to be alive. Like, I wasn't suicidal or anything, but I just didn't know what I would be if I had been alive. I don't know what school I'll go to, or what career to get."
The thought, a very painful thought, of losing the young man in his seat was far too familiar.
"But I'm glad," Sam said instead, oblivious to how his words were making
Optimus remember things he didn't want to, and continued on. "I'm so glad I'm alive."
Ah, Optimus thought to himself. He had forgotten that feeling.
"...I am too, Sam. I am… truly grateful that I had a chance to meet you."
Sam's smile was blinding, much too pure than Optimus would have ever deserved, and much too innocent for everything that Optimus was subjected to.
Across time and all of space, Optimus had finally had a chance to meet his sparkmate. He finally had a chance to spend long nights waiting for the sunrise the next day and exchange short glances that could share conversations. He finally had a chance to smile and laugh and learn about a boy in a culture much similar to his. He finally had a chance to truly heal as if Sam was the source of all energon in the universe.
(He had a chance to disappoint but somehow, for some strange reason, Sam wasn't disappointed at all. In fact, Sam thought that Optimus was the one disappointed in Sam but how could Optimus ever be disappointed is such a perfect person? His sparkmate was so strange, but all Optimus couldn't help but be so enchanted by it.)
But the onslaught, for 600 times was too many times to die and Optimus didn't know if he could handle a loss now they they know each other and they have connected with each other. Not when he knew the true despair of losing a sparkmate that loves you as much as you love them, and not while the battle outside continues to rage.
It was the way he hesitated on the topic of Sparkmates and the way Sam never pushed.
(Across time, nothing changed the fact that Optimus was weak.)
(but a bond with a sparkmate is a strange one. they can either make you believe that they created the entire universe for you, and in the same breath remind you that you are painfully alone. they can change you to be so much more or they can let you hide as a shallowed mess. regardless, however, a sparkmate will be with you forever...)