I just got back from my trip to Florida with my high school band. It was incredibly fun, but I will killthe next person who asks me to ride a bus again for another thirty hours. Their death will be most… unpleasant. Threats of murder aside, I started this awhile ago and finished it on the bus on the way to Orlando. Short and sweet. More updates to my other fanfics will come soon, but please enjoy another of my Terrorsaur/Waspinator oneshot snippets in the meantime. Concrit is love! And, no, Beast Wars is not mine. Neither is Transformers in general, because I would have made a theme park for the fandom eons ago if I did. Disney World gone robots, anyone?

You're the answer to my prayers, and you're with me everywhere

You're my angel, miracle, you're all I need tonight

Angel - Lionel Richie

i

"Wazzpinator cannot believe Terror-bot…"

The later of the two, as fate would have it, was being hauled near unconscious down the halls of the Darkside by Waspinator himself. A switch to the usual roles mind you - it was usually Terrorsaur hauling Waspinator's sorry aft around - but it mattered very little in this case. Waspinator was not the one slagged for once. Given the circumstances, Waspinator would have preferred Terrorsaur to be able to walk on is own, although Megatron made sure that was not going to happen anytime soon. Not after Terrorsaur tried to kill him and took over the Predacons in his short lived victory via a floating mountain of raw Energon. It was a stupid stunt, true, and even Waspinator knew Terrorsaur usually was never this inexplicitly dumb.

The heaviness of his normally light weighted partner did not matter to Waspinator though. The fact his wingmate was helpless and hurt was.

Terrorsaur's entire body was deadweight in his beat-up state, the red pterosaur entirely out of his usual loop. His right optic was cracked with the pupil dilated and the left was entirely shattered and offline, a rather nasty bruise forming around it from where Megatron had punched him in the face. The dilatation in his 'good eye' however, was probably from having the entire right side of his head slammed into the ground with enough force to make even him wince. Given the fact Waspinator was blown up on a daily basis nowadays, it was rare for him to do so…

Terrorsaur's back and chest had several deep gouged gashes in them from when the purple tyrant had decided to attack him via his beast-mode and the red flier's left arm was broken in at least three places when Megatron stepped on it. It was impossible for Waspinator to assess the rest of the damage without the wasp worrying he'd accidentally hurt Terrorsaur further, but Terrorsaur's face was definitely the worst off. It was smeared with dirt and scrapes while a steady stream of Energon and other mech fluid flowed from his nose. His mouth was ajar - it dawned on Waspinator that his jaw was probably broken too - while energon and saliva dribbled from his mouth and down his chin.

"Damn, Maximals," Terrorsaur quietly ranted in disorientation. "They sole my power… but… I got rid of…" he shifted uncomfortably and whimpered in pain. Perhaps fear as well, but Waspinator was not sure. Nor would he ever be since Terrorsaur could not tell him which.

Waspinator made a razzing noise in the back of is throat and stopped halfway down the hall to readjust the red mech hanging off his shoulders like a bag of bricks. He glanced at his partner's face, and Waspinator had to suppress the urge to immediately take his scarlet wingmate to the CR Chambers. Megatron had already prohibited it until tomorrow to teach Terrorsaur a "lesson" but, ultimately, the fact remained Terrorsaur looked bad enough to the point Waspinator considered breaking that new set rule…

Megatron would be furious and Waspinator would be putting Terrorsaur into an even worse situation. He could not do it.

Waspinator sighed and dragged Terrorsaur along. The flier's scratched red boots scraped along the floor and Terrorsaur mumbled quietly for several more cycles before Waspinator reached his quarters. It would have been a much more logical thing to bring Terrorsaur to his own quarters, yes, but the fact Terrorsaur seemed entirely delusional rendered the idea rather absurd when it came to the fact only the red flier knew the pass-code into his quarters.

Waspinator entered the code to his room on the key pad and stepped back as the door hissed open to reveal his quarters. He had only seen Terrorsaur's once actually, but his were offered little of a comparison. While Terrorsaur was, for lack of a better term, a neat freak, Waspinator was a pack rat. No offense to Rattrap mind you, but it was true. While everything in Terrorsaur's quarters was organized and a tad bit bare - the red Predacon had very little belongings - Waspinator's room was littered with junk. Any offense regarding Rattrap can be brought in here.

Waspinator nearly tripped over a spare arm of his when he walked in. He buzzed in irritation and trekked in much more carefully. Several abandoned piles of junk - consisting of battle scarred limbs, battle debris, and shiny objects that he had found and had compulsively collected - littered the room and made getting to his recharge berth a hassle enough with having to drag Terrorsaur in. Still, Waspinator managed to get across the dark room with Terrorsaur in tow. He did not bother to turn on the lights, nervous that they would irritate Terrorsaur's damaged optics more than they already were.

Gently, the youngest of the Predacons laid Terrorsaur down on his recharge berth as tenderly as he could, setting the red Predacon down by his shoulders first. It was difficult really, seeing as the wasp was absolutely petrified about accidentally dropping his partner, but-

Terrorsaur shrieked.

And Waspinator, in fact, nearly did drop Terrorsaur then. The scream itself was weak and short, but it was loud enough to pierce the serene darkness of Waspinator's cluttered room to make the wasp jump. Waspinator immediately saw the problem, thankfully. The red flier had his bad arm caught up against the side of the birth. It was pitiful to watch for anyone else, true, but Waspinator felt a pang of horror if nothing else. He brought more pain on his partner.

Waspinator immediately scoped the mech up into his arms - in this sense, it was more or less bridal style - and set him down. Terrorsaur grimaced in delirium and squawked, but that was all. The Predacon ceased grumbling as well, although pain still lingered on his shabby face…

After a moment of watching his partner dumbly, Waspinator realized he was staring. It was embarrassing for him really, but he could not help it. Shaking his head, the wasp went around to the foot of the berth and clambered up onto it. It would be stupid if he stood in place all night, and it would probably be better if he stayed with his partner if anything happened.

More or less, if anything occurred regarding Terrorsaur's injuries began to risk his life. Hopefully nothing of that magnitude would happen but…

Waspinator shuddered in utter horror. Almost as much horror like when he watched Megatron maul his partner.

He never wanted to be that scared in his life ever again. Especially since it involved Terrorsaur.

Terrorsaur squawked meekly, trying to curl into a ball and only succeeding in making the gears in his back squeak in protest. Waspinator brushed his hand against Terrorsaur's wing again in an attempt to ease the mech, but he felt unease himself as Terrorsaur seemed to lean into the touch ever so slightly. He made a low grinding sound in his throat and tried to curl up again.

Waspinator buzzed in a low tone and felt something in his spark… almost flutter. Flutter perhaps was not the right word, but it would've been used nonetheless. Waspinator's vocabulary was not as advanced as he would've liked it.

Terrorsaur's breathing had evened out more and the Predacon wasp sighed in relief. There was no way Megatron would let Terrorsaur use the CR-tanks for another few megacycles, so Terrorsaur was still stuck in his recharge berth until then.

A part of Waspinator - a part that was the rarely used mature side of the happy go lucky wasp - burned with an aching sensation. Waspinator had to force the thoughts that followed out of his main core processor. Terrorsaur was only a wingmate; a partner in crime of sorts. Maybe a companion and friend, but never a lover. Terrorsaur could never be.

Then again…

The scarlet mech whimpered once more and shifted somewhat in discomfort, his injuries still bothering him consistently. Waspinator gently brushed his hand against the left side of Terrorsaur's head and almost choked on his own oxygen intakes when the pterodactyl tilted his head into the touch. Waspinator began to trace imaginary lines with his fingers, wanting to see another response from his prone wingmate, and Terrorsaur leaned into the touch more, tilting his head so far that he pressed his head firmly against Waspinator's hand.

He exhaled weakly and his breathing evened out and slowed. Terrorsaur was fully fast asleep.

Waspinator considered getting up and leaving - thinking perhaps deciding to stay had been a bad idea - but he risked the chance of waking Terrorsaur up and having him panic like he had earlier when he saw Megatron was still alive. Or risk Megatron deciding he wanted to finish what he had started. Waspinator would never allow that.

Dammit, he would protect Terrorsaur with his life.

Waspinator gently laid himself down next to Terrorsaur and readjusted his wings so they were in a more comfortable position. His berth was not exactly built for two and, with Terrorsaur taking up most of the entire bed, Waspinator had very little room to begin with. His back was pressed to the wall hard and he had meager space to move. He tried to get into a comfortable position and failed to find one. That was when Terrorsaur whimpered.

Waspinator looked at the red mech to see his face contorted in such a fashion that, Waspinator realized, he was having a pain lapse of a sort. Almost without even thinking, Waspinator reached across his wingmate's chest and brought himself against his partner.

He was nestled against Terrorsaur - then again, maybe Terrorsaur was nestled against him - but the fact remained that the were both full body in contact. Waspinator had his arm wrapped protectively around Terrorsaur's battered torso and Terrorsaur, immediately as the contact was made, nuzzled himself comfortably against Waspinator. The wasp buzzed low, unsure of what to do, until he realized the agonized look on Terrorsaur's face had been replaced with a much more peaceful one.

Waspinator found the only thing he could do was hold Terrorsaur close. Though not before he, finally getting over that Terrorsaur would not remember this particular incident anytime soon, gently kissed the top of Terrorsaur's head.

His face immediately grew hot and he thought he would die of embarrassed terror if Terrorsaur returned to reality. As it was, the red mech did not. Terrorsaur continued to sleep.

After sometime of sitting awake watching his partner, he kissed him again before slipping off into recharge himself. There was no possibility he could tell Terrorsaur about his actual feelings yet… that he might actually love the scarlet flier… but Waspinator figured he would save that confession for another day. One where Terrorsaur was not curled in his embrace in a fetal position.

Some few hours later, late a night, Terrorsaur found himself reaching a groggy and sore awareness. His body still aching from getting beat by Megatron, he glanced around the darkness of the room he was in to try to identify his surroundings. Unable to do so with his scrambled logic chip, all he could do was go back to sleep. Though not before glancing over at Waspinator.

For a brief second before being swept away into recharge, he swore he was in the arms of an angel.

Fin