For those of you who crave it, a little OptimusXElita goodness…rated T cuz no kid needs to read this until 'the talk.' Don't worry, it's not too messy. Frankly, compared to what it could've been, it's pretty innocent. A little OrionPaxXAriel mixed in there, too. For those of you who are interested.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any related logos or titles. Transformers is the property of Hasbro and Dreamwave and whoever made the TV show. Please don't sue me.
Plenoptic. B E G I N . T R A N S M I S S I O N .
He didn't want to recharge. There wasn't enough time. He wanted to soak in the night. The thought of leaving this place behind, the thought of turning his back on the planet he so loved, the planet that loved him back…no, it was too painful. He wasn't going to dwell on it. He couldn't.
It hurt too much.
Especially because Cybertron wasn't the only thing Optimus Prime was leaving behind. His possible eternal happiness was going to be waving good-bye the very next morning. Their fingers would pull apart as he walked onto that bridge, as the latch sealed behind him. And there was nothing that could be done about it.
He felt a small body press in upon him in the dark. Her fingers crept over his face; with a deft twist they pulled away his mask.
"You're late," Optimus murmured, lifting a hand to caress his lover's cheek. "I was wondering if you would ever come."
She snorted. "You're an awfully pathetic excuse for a mech, you know that? I always thought the hero was supposed to come to the side of the damsel, not the other way around."
He smiled, though he knew she couldn't see it in the dark. "Well, you thought wrong."
Her fingers traced small circles over his broad chest; he shuddered and rested back against his pillow, his optics flickering offline. His systems released a gentle hum; his CPU was already preparing for interface. He told it to kiss his aft. He wasn't ruining this like that. This was no time for passion; he didn't want to leave her with only that to remember him by. If she was going to remember him by anything, it would be the night he gave her his love through words, not lustful action.
"Optimus," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Don't go."
"Elita. This is for the good of everyone. I'll be back. I'll come back to you."
"Then let me go with you."
"No. I'm sorry, Elita, I can't. It's dangerous."
She snorted dryly. "Yeah, I'm sure I'll be much safer here with the entire Decepticon army."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't," she said seriously. He said nothing, and she sighed heavily. "Optimus, how do you think this makes me feel? You're leaving without a clear explanation, you're leaving me behind with no explanation at all."
He brought his optics online and tilted his head to look at her; he could just barely make her out in the darkness. "I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt, Elita. I can't."
"I'm losing you," she whispered, her fingers tracing his jaw line. "I'm going to be hurting for a long time."
He sat up and drew her into his arms, rocking her gently. "I love you," he murmured, nuzzling the side of her face. "I love you, Elita…"
She lifted her head and kissed him. He seemed to hesitate before leaning in and returning it, but she wasn't fooled; she'd felt the hum of his interface systems. She wondered if there would be any of that tonight; but as he deepened their kiss she found she didn't really care. Her tongue caressed his lips gently; he groaned and lay back, bringing her down with him. Her interface system purred as his kisses came harder and faster, dragging her into his warmth. Her coolant programming came on, and she would've noticed had it not been for his hands wandering across her hips and sending her frame into violent shudders. She knew nothing but the sweet, metallic taste of his lips, the warmth of his chest as his mighty Spark pulsed beneath her.
Optimus drew away gently, much to her disgruntlement. His fingers stroked the length of her back, and his optics clouded over momentarily before he smiled. "Sorry. I got carried away, didn't I?"
"You'll get no complaints from me," she replied, planting a short, tender kiss upon his lips. "I'm the only femme on Cybertron who knows what a sucky kisser you are."
He chuckled. "You love it and you know it just as well as I."
"I never said I didn't like how you kiss," she replied defensively. "I just said you're terrible at it."
"Mm-hm," he agreed sarcastically, cocking an optic ridge. "When you're shaking and groaning in my arms it's definitely because I'm such a terrible romantic."
"I said terrible kisser, love. Terrible kisser. As a romantic you're pretty slaggin' good. No femme would stand a chance."
"Should I be recording this? Such praise from you is so rare."
"You're not getting this kind of praise from anyone else," she said, and he detected the small threat in her tone. "So yeah, maybe you should be recording."
He smiled and leaned back against his pillow, his hands slipping from her waist. She stroked his handsome face thoughtfully, smiling. He looked calm, peaceful even. For once his expression was not drawn in anger or frustration, for once his lips rested upon one another lightly, not pressed into a hard line as was usual. His chassis was relaxed beneath her, his systems humming gently. Primus, he was a thing of beauty.
"Hey," she said quietly, stroking his face. "I love you."
"…Yeah, I know."
"Just making sure," she sighed, resting her head against his broad chest. "You know what?"
"Hm?"
"I still remember the day we met."
He laughed; she shivered as the tremors shook her frame. "Primus forbid you recall that. Made a complete idiot of myself, didn't I?"
"You bet your cute aft you did," she said affectionately, smiling. "But if you hadn't you would've been just another mech. If you hadn't tripped over that computer console I wouldn't have given you a second thought."
Okay, so Orion Pax had been a klutz. But he was the smoothest slagging klutz Cybertron had ever seen. While there was nothing masculine about working a docking bay, off duty he was a regular femme magnet. He'd always been the type to play the field; he'd lead a fem on for hours then drop her like a rusty piece of shrapnel. He'd never had a steady girl and he'd never tried to kiss one either. He was proud of it. His lips had never been touched, and he was determined that they would remain that way for all of his teenage years. Pax was a heart breaker and he liked it.
And then he'd met Ariel.
She was different. She was purely, genuinely different. He'd never in his wildest fantasies imagined a femme like her. Aside from being the slagging cutest thing he'd ever seen she was simply fantastic. No one laughed like her; no one smiled like she did. And for the first time, as he clapped optics on her, he'd been too afraid to make a move. She was at the docking bay often, visiting friends who picked up jobs there. And the whole time he admired her from afar, trying to still the frantic pulsing of his own Spark. Dion had given him so much grief over it…
"Just ask the fem out," he'd said in exasperation as Orion once again veered away from the idea of talking to her. "You didn't have trouble with the other one hundred forty-two! Or with the ninety-seven you got for me!"
It had taken weeks and weeks of something just short of stalking for the poor mech to work up the courage. He suspected this was punishment from Primus; here was one femme he was actually interested in, and all of his years as a player were coming back to bite his aft. But he'd walked across that docking bay all the same, trying to play it cool, trying to woo her before saying even one word just as he had done all the others—he'd been so close—
Whose idea was it to leave a slagging computer monitor in the middle of the floor?
One second meeting her optics for the first time, the next staring at the floor. She had laughed, but not at him. She'd helped him up, she'd extended her hand down to him, smiling.
"You sure know how to make an entrance," she'd giggled. "What can I do ya for?"
And so ended his girlfriend-less existence. Only Primus knew how many times he cut work to take his fem out, only Primus knew how much of his salary he blew on her. Orion Pax only fell for one girl; and when he did, it was head over heels, aft and all.
It had been more than a cute crush. Ariel was a ditz, yes, but she was a deep thinker at the same time. She seemed to understand him, she got what he was all about. She could tell instinctively what he was thinking, she could feel his pain and his hurts. If ever something was on his mind, no matter how normally he acted, she would always take his hand and say to him, in the Spark-breaking beautiful way only she could, "Talk to me, Orion."
He did. He talked to her more than he'd ever talked to anyone else. He spoke to her like he'd never spoken to Dion. She'd listened often, talked little. She'd pushed him away never, held him all the time. And from then on, Orion understood; when he'd seen Ariel, Primus hadn't been punishing him.
He'd been saving him before he was beyond saving.
And then, on that night, something magical had happened. On the bridge, enjoying the brightness of the moons, enjoying the warmth of the other's hand, they'd kissed. Orion had paused, and she'd turned, anticipating whatever was to come. Orion Pax had pulled Ariel close and kissed her…
Much in the same way Optimus Prime now kissed Elita One.
"You'll be okay," Optimus told his sparkmate softly, pressing his forehead to hers. "I know you will. Even if I'm not here, you'll be okay."
"I'm glad you think so," she whispered, intertwining her fingers with his. "Because I'm not so sure."
He kissed her gently, the passion fading from his embrace. He loved her. He had long loved her. She had long been the one point of light, the one point of hope in his bleak, aching Spark. She had never questioned him, she had never intentionally hurt him. She had always been there, her arms open wide, her smile sincere and genuine. Not once had she turned him away when he needed her. When the pain became too much she held him; when he needed to break down she shielded him from prying, critical eyes. When he'd been tired she'd sung him to sleep in her arms. And when he'd loved her most, when he'd wanted most badly to let her know, she'd never resisted his kiss.
It went both ways. They were there, living as one. Someday they would die as one. There were no half measures. They fought often, that much was true. They were polar opposites, they couldn't truly agree on anything but that one innocent, simple fact:
They were made to be together.
For whatever reason it was in Primus's grand design. He'd put them on his planet to love each other, to understand each other. They existed to be there for one another when no one else would listen. Optimus and Elita trusted that. They'd never doubted it, not for a moment. Which only made this one night all the crueler. If they were so meant for each other, so destined for one another, why…?
Why was fate pulling them apart?
They didn't know. But as they kissed that night, as their bonded Sparks pulsed in unison, as the words tumbled out, as each admitted to whispered "I love you"s, they discovered that they didn't want to.
. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .
Just a little OptimusXElita fluffiness for those of you who were craving it…if any of you. Please enjoy, please review, in that order.