Going back and reading all my Terrorsaur/Waspinator stories, I've noticed an annoying trend that I've been sticking with… happy endings and fluff. Fluff is nice, but I wanted to challenge myself by writing a not-so-nice Valentine's fanfic about my two favorite Pred fliers. For my first real shot at angst and not so much romance, I think I did a relatively decent job. I couldn't get it up for Valentine's Day because I was working on another massive school project, so my schedule and sleep hours have been completely out of whack because of it. As a warning, this fic is rated M for a fairly good reason. Don't read if you're squeamish about domestic violence. Emotional and physical abuse in a relationship is not fun, and should never go unreported. Also, Blackarachnia is a slut and there's only one line of dialogue. Whoo. Transformers is not mine and never will be. Concrit is loved.

Faceless and so busted up inside

Everyday you hold on to your lonely broken heart

Only love can change your life

You Decide - Fireflight

i

It was the first time Terrorsaur rolled onto his side to face Waspinator. That night however, it was also the first that Waspinator was not facing his scarlet counterpart.

Soft thunder rumbled from beyond the room outside the Darkside and the rain pattered against the fallen ship's hull with enough lightness to just barley be heard. Terrorsaur presumed the light tapping had been louder when the rain came down harder earlier in the evening, but the pterodactyl had not been in his quarters when the light drizzle turned into a torrential downpour. He had been outside. Whether or not the loud rain had been loud enough to wake up Waspinator was unknown to the crimson flier but, in all honesty, Terrorsaur's gut screamed at him that the wasp had found out he left regardless. If the fact the green Predacon had had rolled away from facing the place Terrorsaur usually slept closest to the wall did not give it away, the very indistinct but still present tear stains on the green mech's face did. He had been curled up in a ball and did not awake when Terrorsaur settled back on the berth beside him partially soaked. Waspinator was lying away from the place Terrorsaur usually slept and was facing the desk across the room. Too torn to sleep facing away from the green mech like he habitually had for the past eight or so months, Terrorsaur settled for doing what Waspinator usually did. The red flier collapsed back on his side and faced Waspinator's turned back. Terrorsaur felt ready to bawl.

Things had not always been tense like that, of course. And to think it started all with a Primus damn weed.

Maybe ten hours less than a whole year prior, Waspinator had walked up to him with a dandelion that wilted from exposure to the Darkside's lava pit fumes. Though very much lifeless, Waspinator shyly handed off the dead flower to Terrorsaur in a ridiculous ritual that the obsessive compulsive wasp had read about in the computer's history files. Valentines Day, the younger of the two fliers called it, and the green mech explained with an embarrassed vigor that giving things such a flowers to loved ones was customary. Terrorsaur had not been greatly surprised that Waspinator pulled a dumb enough of a stunt to bring a living organic plant into a base reeking of toxic fumes, but he had been surprised that the wasp would give anything to him. Terrorsaur did retrieve his busted parts at the ends of battles, true, but the red flier never expected to be appreciated for it.

Then again, Terrorsaur knew Waspinator was going to approach him under some sort of circumstance sooner or later. It was no secret the younger flier had a head over heels crush on Terrorsaur.

There had been subtle signs that the youngest of the Predacon crew liked Terrorsaur far more than the wasp's wingmate would have liked, though those same signs became more and more noticeable over time. Waspinator would stare, nervously try to start up friendly conversation, and would even follow Terrorsaur around like a lost puppy if they were both off duty. The signs had even become obvious enough that Blackarachnia and Tarantulas noticed. While Tarantulas would tease Terrorsaur in a manner that was just as mocking as generally annoying, Blackarachnia had gone ahead and openly flirted with Waspinator on a regular basis to see if she could get the wasp to acknowledge her in the way he acknowledged his red wingmate. She would puff out her chest in his face, try to seduce him with occasionally gritty whispering that Terrorsaur was glad he was out of earshot to listen to, and she even went as far as to touch the wasp's wings and rake her claws down his chest when she was close enough to. Waspinator ignored her at first, but then it was obvious that he increasingly became more and more uncomfortable with the widow's advances. One day the wasp had enough.

Terrorsaur had been on monitor duty when he heard Waspinator shove Blackarachnia off him. While Terrorsaur had his back turned, Blackarachnia touched the base of Waspinator's wing and the wasp panicked with the vigor that easily mirrored a fly finding itself flying straight for a spider's web. He had whipped around to face Blackarachnia, raised his arms, and he slapped her hard enough on the shoulders to send her staggering backwards into another console. Hearing the sharp sound of metal hitting metal, all the eyes in the room snapped in the direction of the noise. Terrorsaur's crimson optics were included among Tarantulas' and Scorponok's - Megatron was in his quarters while Inferno was running a patrol down south from the base - and Terrorsaur was admittedly shocked to see Waspinator trembling like he had seen a ghost. He razzed in a shaky tone about warning Blackarachnia to never speak to him again. He transformed and darted down the quarters hall and out of the command center to lock himself in his room.

Terrorsaur felt bad, though it was not in his programming to care for very long. Waspinator was the least aggressive and the most passive out of all of Megatron's assorted, mismatched crew. Being younger, the wasp's experience as a Pred was low and it was for that reason that he was not as keen in regards to standing up for himself. He would either learn to be antagonistic like the rest of his faction or die trying, so Terrorsaur could only hope that his wingmate could get his act in gear and start being more hostile so he would not be harassed and no doubt someday destroyed.

Blackarachnia approached him and said something about Waspinator that downright made Terrorsaur mad. He could not explain why, but it happened so fast for that he could not keep track of what it was that his body was doing. Terrorsaur slugged her hard.

He was barley able to get a firm hold on reality when he realized his arm was fully extended and Blackarachnia was staggering away from him. She tripped over her own two feet and, like a drunken ballet dancer, she fell on her aft in a graceless heap with a clatter. Scorponok and Tarantulas whipped around in their seats to face the new commotion and their optics darted to Terrorsaur a moment later. Terrorsaur's arm and his closed fist were still extended and trembling just barley as they stayed suspended in the air by invisible threads. He was sure those threads were made of an almost unbreakable alloy. The red flier's insides felt like coils - knotted - and he found his mind racing for an answer as to why he did what he did. He could not come up with an answer. All he knew was that he was downright angry at her for saying what she had.

It was an insult to Waspinator.

He had broken Blackarachnia's jaw and had given her a rather fine shiner on what partially organic features were on her face. Her CR chamber round lasted four megacycles. Terrorsaur was punished by Megatron for assaulting another Predacon and he was put under house arrest for three days with no chance to go outside. It was like keeping him in a cage and Terrorsaur hated every moment of it. Still, he found the fact that Blackarachnia stopped irking Waspinator all that much more worth it.

It was sometime after that when Waspinator gave him the dandelion. The wasp pretty much more or less came out to Terrorsaur in that sense, so it was for that reason that Terrorsaur pecked him on the front of his mandibles after he took the dandelion offer from the wasp. It was meant to be a playful gesture, made mostly for the intent that it would hopefully help Waspinator get out of his shy shell around the other Predacons, but Terrorsaur in no way expected Waspinator to be so shocked that he would actually faint… Looking back on it now, it was somewhat amusing.

Before Terrorsaur knew it though, a relationship had begun. Deep down, a part of him was too scared of what was unfolding to call it amusing.

Waspinator asked him frequently to go on late night flights with him and Terrorsaur, to the red flier's own surprise, found himself agreeing. They had even once stayed out late enough that the sun had been coming up from the east when they finally made it back to the Darkside exhausted from flying high enough to occasionally touch low nighttime clouds. After sometime, it was Terrorsaur who would occasionally ask Waspinator to go on outings with him. He was not sure exactly why he was inclined to ask the younger out, but Terrorsaur felt awkward enough as it was with the fact it was always Waspinator asking and never him. The outings eventually turned into the two fliers just hanging around in the quarters randomly conversing. When it was raining one evening, they spent time in Terrorsaur's room to make up for it. Since then though, they started staying inside their rooms with one another more and more often. Even after that happened though, their conversations became more and more personal. Waspinator easily opened up to Terrorsaur without hesitation in regards to his past life on Cybertron but Terrorsaur was incredibly surprised - and somewhat horrified - to realize he was coming out to Waspinator too. He told Waspinator just about as much of his past as the wasp babbled about his own. Terrorsaur had never felt trusting towards another being in his entire life, so the fact he was feeling it now with Waspinator frightened him greatly. Waspinator could see his worry and promised not to repeat anything to anyone. Even if his own life depended on it. That was not what bothered Terrorsaur. What bothered him was that he was sharing secrets with Waspinator at all.

It was one night that something about Waspinator was different. That was when their relationship took a deeper dive into the unknown void that Terrorsaur could not make heads or tails of. Terrorsaur accidentally bumped into him when he was crossing to room to place something on the desk and the wasp was unnaturally warm to the touch. The younger of the two was tense as well. Terrorsaur pointed out that he had a fever and would probably be better off running a round in the CR and going to bed early. Waspinator hastily covered by saying that he probably just had a few ounces of bad sugarcane earlier in the day. By the way the wasp's face had taken on an indistinct blush however, Terrorsaur was able to conclude several things without doubting himself even once. For one, Waspinator was still pure. Virgin. For another, the way he was sitting on the berth with his knees drawn to his chest was an indication that he was trying to hide that he was somehow turned on. Terrorsaur still could not be for sure what he did was the right thing or not, but he reached forward and let his hand find purchase so it was pressed between Waspinator's legs. The wasp tried to shy away at first, but four hard rubs were enough to make Waspinator completely give in to Terrorsaur's ministrations. He lied back, spread his thighs, and moaned like he was dying until he overloaded with a razzed cry.

Waspinator slept in his room that night. Embarrassed with the realization of what he did, Terrorsaur slept facing the wall and away from Waspinator. Not surprisingly, Waspinator slept facing him. The wasp buzzed dreamily in his sleep.

It was during this point in time that they started having sex. Frequently.

It started the next night when Waspinator and Terrorsaur retired to the latter's room once they finished with their respective duties. That was when things first started to happen differently. Instead of kicking back and just aimlessly conversing like they usually did, something in the air changed and they accidentally locked optics. Not two clicks afterward, they were groping and trying to find purchase on any part of the other's body that they could grasp. That was when their mouths met in an open mouthed kiss. Their first real kiss since Terrorsaur's friendly peck on Valentine's Day a few months earlier did not feel right to count. Rough, violent, teeth gnashed against one another and Terrorsaur almost bit Waspinator's tongue by accident. While romance was probably the first thing that was coming to Waspinator's mind, Terrorsaur could not remember what he was thinking. All he knew at the moment was that he wanted to top. It was then that Terrorsaur shoved Waspinator onto his back and took him. Pinned under the mech he had crushed on for so long, Waspinator could only moan Terrorsaur's name and plea - beg - for him not to stop. Terrorsaur overloaded first after locking ports with Waspinator, but he accidentally pulled away before Waspinator could reach his own peak. Whimpering and tense, Terrorsaur had to finish him by hand. The wasp had been disappointed with their first time and Terrorsaur was downright mortified. The red flier slept facing away from Waspinator again in oily hot humiliation, but the wasp still slept facing Terrorsaur's turned back.

Now it was during this time that Terrorsaur learned more things about Waspinator than the wasp probably even knew about himself. He was sure Waspinator was learning things about Terrorsaur that he himself could never know, but that did not matter to the pterodactyl.

Waspinator did not snore like he did. Terrorsaur knew he snored because he would sometimes wake himself up from all the noise he would make. Dissimilar to him, Waspinator buzzed in his sleep. Unlike the way he razzed in a somewhat irritating style during the day though, Waspinator's gentle sleeping buzzes were calming to listen to. Many times Terrorsaur found himself being lulled into recharge listening to the wasp sleeping behind him. He also learned that Waspinator was brilliantly inclined in his own right. Though Waspinator would never truly understand and know it, Terrorsaur learned that he was probably the best reader out of all of them living in the Darkside. Once Waspinator had dragged Terrorsaur down to the storage bay to drag a huge box of datapads he found to their seemingly now shared quarters and, when Terrorsaur asked what the wasp was planning on doing with all the digital books, he was honestly surprised when Waspinator replied saying he was going to read them. Whereas Terrorsaur's ability to read was programmed, Waspinator had obtained the skill by practice instead of programming. Learning the ability to process words not produced by vocals was a skill that took just as much time patience. It left Terrorsaur impressed. Even though he could not speak like he knew as well, he had a remarkable understanding in regards to grammar and anything else literally inclined. There would be times that Waspinator could point out of someone said something in the wrong tense or if there was a grammatical error in a datapad he was reading. Waspinator would tap his fingers against his upper thigh if he was nervous, he would razz in a low tone if he was frustrated, he knew more about literature than Terrorsaur could ever hope to understand… the list went on. It was nearly endless.

Things were running almost smoothly and would have been perfect if Terrorsaur did not ruin it. A part of him deep down wanted to pin the blame on Blackarachnia or perhaps Waspinator himself, but he knew it was his entire fault completely.

Blackarachnia, still sour from the punch to the face that she received from Terrorsaur, started hitting on him instead of Waspinator. Terrorsaur brushed it off as her being a nuisance at first, but then it dawned on him that she was more than likely trying to get back at him and Waspinator. The flirts were casual and playful at first, just barley noticeable really, but then they took on a new level of frightening intimacy. The widow would lean close to Terrorsaur's audio and whisper seductively to him and would even go as far as to touch him with her dangerously tipped claws. Continuing to ignore her was becoming more and more taxing, but the tense atmosphere that was steadily building with her taunts reached a breaking point one afternoon while Terrorsaur and Waspinator were running a joint monitor duty.

Blackarachnia had approached and insulted Terrorsaur suddenly. She told him that he was no different than Waspinator and she explained that he was just as much of a malfunction as the wasp. She accused him of being perverted for following along with Waspinator's misguided attraction and that angered Terrorsaur. The red flier told her that he was not the glitch that she accused him of and she demanded that he prove it. His pride too hurt to leave him control of his own actions, he turned to Waspinator with fury making his spark twitch angrily. Waspinator turned to face him with a confused look and he had no time to react when Terrorsaur hit him. Closed fist to the side of the face. Right hook.

Waspinator received a cracked left optic and a mangled, dented mandible. The force of the blow sent him whipping around and sprawling to the floor in an undignified heap. He accidentally bit his tongue hard enough that he bled, and the processed energon dribbled out at a steady rate that was quick enough so there would be nothing anyone could do about it. Trembling with the ache of betrayal, Waspinator sat up in a hunched position on the floor and he turned his head to look at Terrorsaur with misted, pain ridden optics. Energon dribbled down his jaw and onto his chest at a frightening pace. With a pang of horror, Terrorsaur realized what he had done and that was when Waspinator turned away from him. The green mech bowed his head and silently cried. Blackarachnia cackled that he was weak and she returned to her own post laughing. Terrorsaur was too horrorstricken to do anything else but go back to work. After ten or so cycles, Waspinator finally got up and left the control center to retire to his quarters. When Terrorsaur returned to his quarters that night, Waspinator was not in there to sleep with him. Terrorsaur slept on his back uncomfortably and stared at the ceiling deep in his own disturbed thoughts until he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. The next morning though, to even his surprise, he awoke finding Waspinator sleeping on the floor beside the berth. He had come in during the night probably not being able to take being alone. Despite the fact Terrorsaur hit him, he was still facing Terrorsaur's general direction.

Things did not get better though. There was no forgiveness and they were only seven months into their affair.

The sex was good at first - decent with the consideration that Waspinator was new at it - but it took a turn for the worse just like rest of their relationship did. With Terrorsaur's torn emotions towards Waspinator, if he was frustrated with the younger mech enough and on top, he would sometimes purposely pull away before Waspinator could finish with his own overload. Feeling angry towards Waspinator and himself, he would refuse to finish the other mech off and he would leave him to his own devices. Waspinator would get off without Terrorsaur's help and say nothing to the red mech afterward, but it was still discerning to Terrorsaur that Waspinator still slept facing him. The wasp always finished Terrorsaur if he topped but, per say if Terrorsaur overloaded first, he would force Waspinator off him and leave the wasp tense and in need of release. Again, Waspinator would finish himself off alone. He still always faced Terrorsaur when they slept though.

Then there were the arguments. They started at ten months and got steadily worse.

Terrorsaur noticed after awhile that he was the one who nearly always started them. If Waspinator screwed up during a battle or managed to get scrapped bad enough that he needed assistance getting himself back to the base and into a CR, Terrorsaur would turn on him snarling and yelling without control over himself. Being as docile and quiet as he was, Waspinator would only stand there like a kicked puppy with downcast optics. The fact he never fought back against Terrorsaur on anything irked the red flier greatly. One day though, just days before the one year anniversary that Terrorsaur received the dandelion from Waspinator, he screeched angrily at the green mech to at least stand up for himself. He demanded Waspinator yell at him, hit him for all he cared, and it was when Waspinator openly refused in a teary tone that Terrorsaur snapped. He grabbed Waspinator's wrist and twisted it in an attempt to garner a violent reaction from the wasp. The metal gave a loud, unnatural crunch under the pressure and Terrorsaur effectively broke it in four places. The wasp's optics bulged and misted from the agony, but he kept himself from crying until Terrorsaur told him in an angered tone that he hated him.

His hand hanging at an angle that would not had been possible if it was not broken, Waspinator backed into a corner and held his mangled appendage to his chest. He bawled. Slipping to the floor and nearly curled in a fetal position, he cried. Absolutely horrified at himself, Terrorsaur hastily left the room to go to the wash racks. When he got there, he stood under the hot spray for an entire megacycle in an attempt to wipe the horrid images of Waspinator sobbing away. When that did not work, he walked to the nearest mirror and stared long and hard into it. Smashed from the impact of the Darkside crashing into the lava fields, the mirror was fractured and it made Terrorsaur look hideous against the otherwise perfect surface.

All he saw was a monster. How Waspinator still loved him, Terrorsaur had no idea. His face turning hot from a self aimed hatred, Terrorsaur grabbed his head, fell to his knees, and sobbed. When he returned to his room to sleep for the night, Waspinator was still there. He had long since crawled onto the recharge plate and was dead unconscious. His wrist was still broken and he looked like he was in pain, but Terrorsaur could not bring it upon himself to carry Waspinator to a CR. He slid up next to Waspinator on the berth and faced the wall away from him instead. Waspinator was facing his back. After that and for the nights that followed, they never spoke once. Waspinator would sill go into his room to sleep though, and he would still always sleep facing Terrorsaur.

That was when it sank in that Waspinator really did love him. The realization plagued Terrorsaur with so much guilt and self-hatred that he was not sure if he could look in a mirror without wanting to shoot at his reflection. He knew that all he would see was a monster. That was why he left Waspinator alone in the bedroom that night when he was sure the younger was asleep. Waspinator had gotten him a valentine the year before, the most he could do was repay him for the living Pitt of a nightmare his partner had to endure.

It was twelve miles from the Darkside and their stems were tougher than nails from the energon rich environment they had adapted to. By the time Terrorsaur reached the meadow, the light rain turned to a pounding downpour and the ground was already a churned mud. It took Terrorsaur a whole megacycle to cut the ridiculously strong and stubbornly thorny stems with just a cutting laser and even then he only had a handful or so of flowers. Maybe ten or so. When the rain finally shorted out the energy knife, it took him two more hours to get them with his bare hands. Drenched, covered in mud, and sporting stinging scratches from the thorny plants, he finally had something moderately resembling a bouquet. Waspinator had an almost unreal obsession with flowers and Terrorsaur hoped with an almost alien vigor that his emerald counterpart would approve. For his sake. For both their sakes. For the sake of the battered and bloody relationship Terrorsaur hoped they could recover.

Before Terrorsaur left the field though, he caught sight of something yellow and out of place against the gorgeous assortment of wildflowers. There was no way in the Pitt he would not have recognized it. Just as the rain finally started to let up, Terrorsaur shakily strode over the dandelion and plucked it to add to the bouquet. It was the ugly duckling of the bunch, but the sentimental meaning behind it was so much more beautiful than hideous. Waspinator gave him one just a year earlier when he asked him to be his valentine.

The flight back to the Darkside was rough. Freezing from the rain and the altitude of flying, Terrorsaur had to resist to the best of his power to keep from wanting to chatter his beak. Flying in his beast-mode, if he chose to twitch his beak even in the slightest way, he would risk dropping the bouquet. It was several cycles after the equivalent of the planet's midnight and it took every ounce of Terrorsaur's willpower to not drop out of the sky from his exhaustion. The quarters hall was thankfully away from the deadly lava fumes, so he did not have to worry about the bouquet's flowers dying and wilting like the dandelion Waspinator had given him a year earlier. He entered the base through a secret passage that he discovered and he transformed to his robot-mode. Taking the flowers in hand, he slowly staggered up to his quarters. He nearly panicked when he looked at the bouquet to check it for aesthetic appeal and saw the dandelion seemingly missing, though he calmed himself when he saw that it was still there. Entering the codec on the keypad and entering his room though, a part of Terrorsaur died right there and then seeing Waspinator facing away from where he usually slept.

Placing the bouquet on the desk where he was sure Waspinator would see when he woke up, Terrorsaur crawled onto the berth and collapsed on his side. This time, it was his time to face Waspinator. Because that was when he knew that he loved Waspinator just as much as Waspinator loved him. An unbearably hot lump formed in the back of his throat and, unable to control himself, Terrorsaur gingerly pressed his face into the back of Waspinator's neck. Casting an arm around the other mech's waist, he barley clung to reality by keeping himself from bawling.

In the far back of his mind, he prayed that the younger would see the flowers and forgive him. See the dandelion sitting on top of the assorted flowers and lilacs. Terrorsaur hoped Waspinator would turn over to meet his face by the time he woke up again. His voice was above a whisper when murmured with a rasped, tired voice against the nape of Waspinator's neck. "Happy Valentines Day."

When Terrorsaur woke up the next morning, he found that was exactly what happened.

Fin