Title: New Leaf
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.
Warning(s): Implied slash, implied prostitution, references to P&P and sparksex, extreme angst-wankage.
Author's Note: Another Kink Meme prompt. Written pre-RotF, and Skywarp wasn't in either film anyway, so consider it an AU.
Backstory: Following the battle at Mission City, Starscream left Earth to gather reinforcements, then returned to get revenge against the Autobots and their human allies for destroying Megatron and the Allspark. Predictably, he blew it. All the Decepticons were either destroyed or fled the Earth...save one.
Skywarp onlined slowly, and immediately wished he hadn't. It was bad. Really bad. Consciousness was utter agony. It felt like every sensory circuit he possessed had been stripped raw, dipped in acid, and left exposed and screaming. When he initiated an internal diagnostic cycle to assess his status, the onslaught of red, flashing glyphs that appeared on his HUD removed all doubt that he was anything other than completely and thoroughly slagged.
For several breems he stared uncomprehendingly at the display, CPU struggling to assimilate the information contained in those endlessly scrolling lines of text, but it useless. Hampered by pain and functioning at less-than-optimal capacity, he couldn't focus on any one glyph in the unceasing tide long enough to absorb its meaning. It was almost hypnotic, the way they glided by, flickering an-
He onlined again several joors later, unaware that he'd slipped offline or how long he'd been out. His CPU was clearer; the pain intense but bearable. His internal diagnostics informed him that his regenerative systems were operating at only thirty-two percent, but they were functioning, and had already begun repair on his most critical injuries.
Of course there was a bigger problem. His energon reserves were almost tapped. Had they been at full or even half capacity, he could have waited out the repairs. There'd have been a chance that the Autobots would discover him before he was functional enough to defend himself, but a roughly equal chance of being found by his fellow Decepticons. He could have lived with that.
But it was a moot point, because as things stood he was scrap either way. He couldn't raid one of the human insects' energy stockpiles in his current operational status, and allowing his regenerative systems to repair him to a point where he could would consume the remainder of his dwindling energy reserves. He'd slip into stasis before he ever got off the ground.
Actually, stasis lock and the faint hope of being found and repaired by friendly forces was pretty much the end result of every scenario he calculated. Completing the repairs would do it. Lying here doing nothing would do it, too. The only thing that wouldn't definitely do it was permitting his regenerative systems to perform a partial repair, just enough to restore him to minimal function. He'd be grounded and crippled, an easy target even for the squishies, but at least he wouldn't be completely helpless.
That part appealed to him. Thundercracker had gone down fighting, and so would he.
The tricky part would be figuring out what came after that. The fact that he hadn't been found or commed suggested that the Decepticons had been routed from the planet. Odds were good they weren't coming back. Starscream was stubborn enough to try, but after the devastating losses they'd suffered in his attempt to pick up where Megatron left off, the former second-in-command would have a hard time finding anyone still willing to follow him. Even Skywarp, arguably one of the more loyal 'Cons under Megatron, was forced to conclude that maybe it just wasn't worth it anymore.
The thought forced an involuntary keen from his vocalizer. The Allspark was gone. The Decepticon cause, the cause for Cybertron, might have withstood the loss of Megatron, but not the Allspark. Nothing could save their planet now. The mechs that had fallen in the last battle had died for nothing, given up their sparks for a hopeless cause.
He wondered if that wasn't why so many had agreed to fight Starscream's battle in the first place.
A black mood enveloped him. Suddenly lying here and letting himself slip into stasis sounded downright appealing. Why struggle to remain operational when everything was hopeless anyway?
If Thundercracker had still been online, he'd have gotten up. TC's waiting for me would have been all the reason he needed to keep going. Of course if Thundercracker were still online, Skywarp wouldn't be lying here, alone and abandoned. He keened again, brokenly.
He couldn't give up. He literally couldn't. His core program, the program of a warrior, wouldn't allow it. Warriors fell in battle or lived to fight the next one. They didn't give up. Not even if they wanted to.
He initiated the command to his regenerative systems, ordering them to halt repairs at forty percent, and then powered down into a modified recharge cycle, intent on conserving as much of his remaining energon as possible.
He onlined feeling a lot better than forty percent of optimal. That alone was enough to make him suspicious. The lack of flashing crimson glyphs spamming his HUD only confirmed it. He'd been repaired.
A quick diagnostic revealed the rest of the story. Armor, circuitry, vital systems, CPU, all at one hundred percent of optimal. Energon reserves stable at eighty percent. Comms, weapons, navigation – none of which had been critically damaged when he'd crashed – all offline.
The conclusion was obvious. He'd been taken prisoner by the Autobots.
And for some insane reason, they'd fixed him.
He sensed movement nearby, followed by the faint tingle of a scan.
"You're online," a voice commented.
Frag. "I don't know anything."
The Autobot clicked dubiously. "We'll see."
He didn't say anything more, and Skywarp took the opportunity to unshutter his optics and assess his surroundings. He was lying on his back, inside some sort of elongated structure that didn't resemble anything built on Cybertron.
Still on Earth, then. That made sense. He hadn't been offline that long. Given its shoddy construction, the structure had to have been made by those puny organics. The Autobots were probably just using it as a temporary base of operations.
In a way, that was a good thing. Back on Cybertron he'd have been put in a cell, behind energon bars. Here, there might be a chance to escape…
His spirits sank almost as quickly as they'd risen. What was the point? Where would he go? They'd disabled his weapons, his comms, his warp capability, they'd even taken his ability to fly – which meant even if he did manage to get away, he'd still be stuck on this mudball of a planet, grounded, defenseless, with no way to call for help.
Not that anyone would answer, he thought grimly.
He understood now why they hadn't bothered to restrain him. They didn't need to.
But why bother repairing him at all? Why not just deactivate him?
"Why am I online?" he asked hesitantly. What did he have to lose? "Why repair me? Why not just finish it?"
"Prime's orders," came the curt reply. "Believe me, I was against it."
"I don't know anything," Skywarp said again. It was actually true. He didn't know where the other Decepticons had gone, or what, if anything, Starscream might be planning. If the Autobots were keeping him online so that they could interrogate him, they were in for a major disappointment.
He sat up cautiously, keeping his movements slow and innocuous. The Autobot – he presumed it was the medic, given the earlier scan and the few statements he'd offered – eyed him distrustfully but made no objection.
He startled rather badly when a large section of what he'd initially taken for part of the wall rolled back on noisy casters, revealing a large opening that was almost immediately blocked by an even larger Autobot.
Skywarp regarded the new arrival warily. He recognized this one. Ironhide. Prime's bodyguard and weapons specialist. Not a mech he'd want to tangle with one-on-one, especially not with most of his combat systems disabled.
The hulking black mech glared back at him, making no effort to conceal his hostility. He spoke to the medic without taking his optics off Skywarp. "He functional?"
"As good as he's going to get," the medic replied tartly.
"Weapons?"
"Deactivated. I know my job."
"Optimus wants me to bring him."
"I know," the medic retorted churlishly. "I commed him, he commed you."
Ironhide muttered irritably, then addressed the wary Seeker. "On your feet, Decepticon. Follow me."
Not wanting to get himself slagged, Skywarp complied.
Prime had insisted on meeting with him alone. Ironhide wasn't happy about that. Frankly neither was Skywarp, but for entirely different reasons. In the end, the Autobot leader placated his soldier with a compromise: Ironhide took up a guard position outside the door of the second structure – a twin to the one Skywarp had onlined in – while the Seeker stepped inside to face the music.
He'd forgotten how slagging big the Prime was.
He stared up at the towering mech with what he hoped was a defiant expression. He already had his suspicions about the nature of this little meeting, but he'd be fragged if he'd give Prime any indication that he cared one iota either way.
"You were found offline not far from the site of the last battle," the Autobot leader informed him. "Ratchet reports that you were severely damaged, and that your energon levels were near depletion."
Skywarp remained sullenly silent. Prime wasn't telling him anything he didn't know already, or couldn't have guessed on his own.
"I ordered my medic to perform the necessary repairs to bring you back to optimal function – minus your combat systems, of course. I would be willing to consider restoring those as well, but for that I would first require some assurances from you."
I knew it. Skywarp shuttered his optics briefly in resignation. Slagslagslagsl–
With more confidence than he felt, he replied, "What kind of assurances?"
"Your cooperation," was the reply.
Skywarp gritted his denta. Well, Pit, it wasn't like he hadn't done it before. Of course the thought of engaging in that particular form of negotiation with an Autobot – with Optimus-fragging-Prime, no less – was enough to make his fuel tank churn, but it wasn't like he had anything else to barter. No information, no energon – ha, if he'd had any energon he wouldn't be in this Primus-forsaken situation – and nothing else of value beyond what lay under his plating.
"Understood," he ground out. He took a moment to steel himself, and then lunged.
He felt Prime tense under his claws as he dug them into the gaps in the Autobot's armor, searching for sensitive circuitry. He heard the Autobot gasp as he groped impatiently, hoping he could bring the semi to a quick overload and be done with it.
After a startled moment, he was shoved roughly back. He reached for the Autobot again, but Prime seized him by the shoulders, holding him at arm's length, out of reach of his chassis.
"Skywarp," he intoned solemnly, "This behavior is not appropriate."
The Seeker stared at him in shock, scarcely believing his audials. Then he understood. "Right," he replied bitterly. "You're the Prime," He spat the title from his vocalizer like an obscenity.
Naturally the Autobot leader wouldn't stoop to taking the submissive role. Megatron never had, either. And it figured he'd insist on an uplink rather than settling for a simple overload. That way, he could collect his payment and confirm Skywarp's claim of ignorance, all at the same time. Say what you would about the Autobots, it was clear Optimus Prime was no fool.
Skywarp slowly lowered his arms, relaxing his posture, and the Autobot leader released him. He backed away a few steps, keeping his optics lowered, his manner unthreatening – submissive, keep it submissive, Skywarp, remember you're the supplicant here – and hoped Prime didn't notice the way his claws were trembling as he reached for the panel concealing his interface circuitry and pried it open.
He could feel Prime's optics on him, but the Autobot made no move to accept his offering. Skywarp cycled his vents uneasily and said, "Go on. Plug in."
"I think you've misunderstood my intentions, Skywarp," Prime informed him calmly.
The Seeker stiffened as if he'd been struck, his optics wide with shock. He wasn't suggesting – Prime couldn't seriously be expecting him to offer up his spark–!?
He couldn't quite keep the crackle of static from his vocalizer as he replied cautiously, "Have I?"
"Yes," Prime replied. "I'm not interested in uplinking with you."
Sweet Primus. His claws curled into fists. He wanted to scream at the larger mech, tell him he had no right to demand that Skywarp bare his fragging spark for him. But the Seeker knew he could hardly refuse, not when his life, his future existence was on the table. He was obviously in no position to haggle over the price.
A bitter, caustic blend of terror and outrage surged in his spark, threatening to overwhelm him. That coupled with the effort it took to try and conceal it left the Seeker visibly shaking as he transmitted the command to reveal his spark chamber, willing his chest plates to part.
They opened a bare inch, and then halted.
Primus, as if this situation wasn't humiliating enough! Spark merging was rarely engaged in among Decepticons – most wouldn't allow another to get that close – and Skywarp himself had only done it on a handful of occasions. The first time had been a lot like this. It'd taken a lot of coaxing, a lot of reassurance and gentle touches to finally get those plates to part fully. TC had always been the patient one.
A low, desperate keen escaped his vocalizer as he tugged stubbornly at the gap, trying to force it wider. Stupid, don't think about that, don't think about him, just get it open, get it over with, you can do this–
Large hands closed over his, firm but gentle.
The Seeker started, optics jerking upward to meet the Prime's. Panic flared in his spark at seeing the Autobot so close, especially when his core was exposed and vulnerable. Another keening whine slipped from him as he began to struggle against the other's grip. Oh, Primus, I can't do this, I can't do this, I can–
"Skywarp."
The sound of his own designation jolted him out of his panic-induced stupor. He stared into the Autobot leader's azure optics, and actually saw them this time. They held neither anger nor lust, but instead a strange expression he couldn't quite interpret. Sorrow? Pity?
"I apologize for giving you the wrong impression, Skywarp," the Prime said. "I didn't realize the Deceptions still adhered to that particular…tradition. If I had, I would have chosen my words more carefully."
The Autobot leader lifted the Seeker's claws carefully, guiding them to urge his chest plates closed rather than forcing them apart.
"You don't have to demonstrate your sincerity, or repay me for ordering Ratchet to repair you. At least, not in the way you were thinking. All I require from you is the willingness to coexist with us and our human allies peacefully."
Skywarp stared up at him, too stunned to respond.
Prime smiled. "If you can do that, you are welcome to stay with us. We will provide you with whatever you require – energon, repairs – and we will treat you as one of our own. Regardless of which faction we fought for in the war, we are all Cybertronians, and with the Allspark gone, we are all that's left. The war is over, and I refuse to sacrifice any more lives to it."