Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers
Damn this was fun to write.
*must have, at the very least, slightly above average knowledge of Transformers to understand this.
There is one who had been more irritable than normal, he himself knew it as well as the ones he lead. A glint of fear was seen in their optics, for the first time this level of fear was directed at him. A femme was foolish to show false sympathy, the resulting snapping remark one she should have foreseen, for she and the others will never understand. No one can understand the dance of such forces, the betrayal of one loved, the anger that masks it, the blindness that captures both.
Indeed, it was the anniversary of a great betrayal, one of the greatest in history. A tale of two mechs and a Council that has been twisted so many times the two themselves do not remember correctly. Two sparked the war that had brewed for eons, the strongest of a race being placed as leaders of opposite sides. Neither being extraordinary enough on there own to be so great, but enough to draw those that would allow them the chance. Both have been influenced by these others, believing they loved illusions, see the others true personality now, that no matter what occurred they would have been hurt by the other. This is the truth of anger, knowing you were powerless, though never acknowledging the fact.
This one, this one here had taken a step too far in his grief. The femme deserved such language and tone, the others had not. One comrade became fed up, pushing this one through the ground bridge, a comical sight the other's faceplates were .
So now he is here, ranting and raving at the darkness, destroying everything within reach. Screaming at anyone he could blame for what took place so many life cycles ago. Keening from his very Spark in a way few would ever hear. Coolant streaming in such great amounts he could not see from his optics and instead used sensors that had for so long laid untouched. This mech was caught in a sphere of anger and pain he had made around himself, until a sound he had not expected to hear brought his actions to a startling halt.
At first, he could not place it, had to listen carefully to hear it again. Oh how his core shook when he realized what it was, such depth is so rarely felt, his emotions being mirrored perfectly. He heard his cries, his screams, his ragged vents. Heard his thrashing widely and cursing every Deity they could ever know. The other not yet aware of this one.
Slowly, quietly, he crept forward, towards the noises, taking great care to not make a single sound. A new anger built within him as he moved, quickly stored away to focus on his movements. There was no possible way to hold back such anger when the other came into view.
A roar and a crash. Both were now fighting. Not the fight of the ancient dance they showed to so many, this was a dance of passion and suppression both had learned equally but would not acknowledge the fact the other knew every step. Wind and rain, lightning and Thunder, all quickly came alive as if Unicron himself was affected by this great clash of forces, adding music to their dance.
Their shouts of anger were now drowned out by the music, forcing both to judge by a visual display of emotions. Both were the Masters of Masks and initially fooled the other, causing anger to spark anew yet again. They slipped down a slope, crashing at the bottom in surprise. One over the other now, struggling for control but unable to get a strong hold due to the slickness of wet armour.
Suddenly the thunder and lightning stopped, leaving behind only the wind and the rain. Two mechs ceased struggling, actually looking, really looking, at the other for the first time in vorns. After so much noise this stillness was louder than any shout or scream. Immeasurable time followed. Both whispered pleas, begging to know the thoughts of the other. The one on top lowered his head in rage. Both glared before speaking at the same time, speaking of the fear that caused them both to hold back.
Vents of shock. Once more a timeless moment of stillness, and a realization. This one nestled to the other, snuggled comfortably in between two thighs while bracing himself on either side of the other's head, brushing intake against intake. Both frames heated, venting harshly, anger turned to love now turns to lust.
Shifting. Pleading for a different reason now. Growing warmth and heat, an act of love that spoke of all the emotions they could not voice. Cries of completion, not even a pause is allowed before blue and red light fights against the night rain.
They will be found tomorrow, one still nestled inside the other. A spark of hope in both, a physical representation growing in one. Protests and screams will be directed at them, criticism will never cease for the dance they no longer perform, even more so for the one they are creating now. The dance of forces is not one many can comprehend, but we can all take peace, for this dance is now filled with happiness and hope.