November Valentines
Most (ok, all) my TF fanfics are about Starscream/Megatron, so I wanted to try writing some drabbles for a few of my other favourite TF couples as well. These are all set in G1. Warnings for slash and slight twincest.
The title is because I'm writing this in September, so it's not really near Valentines Day at all, but I like the word "November" better than September or October XD
With a tinge of regret Megatron looked down at his battered lover, gasping and bruised, choking from his air vents. Starscream lay beside the silver tyrant, back still arched and legs tensed, optics flickering in bliss. Megatron's pulled Starscream firmly towards his own overheated frame, wrapping his arms in a vice-like grip around the air commander. The embrace was eagerly returned, the sky blue hands snaking shakily around the larger Decepticon.
It started as a low rumble, from deep within the silver body, and Starscream would have laughed if he wasn't so used to it. The growl soon escaped Megatron's vocal components, rolling out from his mouth threateningly. The flier sleepily looked up at Megatron's face to see the harsh, cruel eyes darting from side to side, lost in post-overload paranoia. Starscream's lips curled up in a smile absently, wondering why the commander always became so possessive and protective after making love.
Megatron snarled at nothing in particular, and in an odd moment of clarity Starscream realized how peaceful and safe these moments made him feel.
When Wheeljack finally onlined his optics, he found himself in the med-bay. Again.
The engineer groaned, wiggling his fingers and joints around, finding that he'd already been repaired to near optimum levels. He began to sit up, taking a look around the almost empty room (save for Bluestreak, asleep in the corner and missing a leg) - until suddenly, he realized there was a white arm draped over his midsection. The arm led to the sleeping form of Ratchet, lying next to him on the berth, deep in recharge. The CMO's face was scrunched up in a worried frown. Wheeljack felt a pang of guilt in his spark, and lay back down beside his bondmate. Quietly, he removed his battlemask and placed a light, apologetic kiss on the medic's chevron.
Ratchet onlined an optic wearily. Embracing the groggy medic gently, Wheeljack whispered over their bondlink. "I'm so sorry…I was sure it wouldn't blow up this time…"
The CMO merely snorted, kissing Wheeljack, his relief at seeing the engineer online seeping over the bond. "Go back to sleep, you stupid slagger. Doctor's orders," he replied playfully, offlining his optics and nestling his head against Wheeljack's neck.
There were times when Soundwave was infinitely thankful for his communication skills. Before crash-landing on Earth, these moments appeared often enough during the war; his gift for transmission signals allowed him to amplify the link with his bondmate to a point that they may well have been standing in the same room, even when he was posted to Cybertron's moons. Tonight was another one of those times. Soundwave lay in his berth, deep in the heart of the Nemesis, still lodged in the Earth's sea. While his cassettes slumbered peacefully inside his chest, he found himself very much awake, mind on only one thing.
Shockwave.
More than four million years had passed since he'd last seen his lover. The bond was still there, just like the constant link to his - no, their creations, but now, so far away from home, it was weak. With some effort, Soundwave connected himself mentally to the communication systems of the base, pulsing out tentative waves over their bond.
A ripple of happiness and delight bounced back to him almost immediately, flooding over his spark and causing the cassettes to stir a little, muttering contented little squawks, purrs and sighs. Behind his facemask, Soundwave smiled, blasting Shockwave with all the usually-hidden love and affection he could muster.
Inferno's spark swelled with pride. It had taken him two weeks, three days, nine hours, forty-five minutes and a hell of a lot of struggling, but finally, finally he'd gotten Red Alert to leave the security centre. The paranoid security director had twitched and shivered all the way to Inferno's room from the shock of leaving his precious monitors, leaving curved dents where he had held onto Inferno's wrist. Now, Red Alert sat on Inferno's berth, looking for all the world like a sparkling about to receive a particularly painful booster shot.
The fire truck turned back towards his berth-mate, holding out a cube of energon that Ratchet had helped him concoct. "Here," he said warmly, "it'll help you relax." It was obvious to Inferno from the flickering blue optics staring up at him that Red Alert's mind was racing with fears and superstitions convincing the smaller mech that the energon was poisoned and out to kill him - but abruptly, Red Alert jerked his hand out, grabbed the cube and downed it in one gulp.
"There," Inferno smiled, moving to sit next to the security director and wrapping an arm around him gently. Red Alert beamed up at him for a moment as the energon seeped into his systems, finally feeling those elusive emotions: trust, contentment, love…
…before collapsing into Inferno's arms, snoring loudly from his vents. Inferno chuckled to himself, glad that Red Alert was safe from dying of exhaustion for the next two weeks. Holding his lover closer, Inferno shook his head sleepily - the things mechs do for love.
Once, Skywarp and Thundercracker had painted themselves in the other's colours, partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity. Starscream knew immediately, having known them since the three were younglings, fixing them with a knowing smirk. Soundwave stared at them for a while, wondering why the wrong energy signatures were emitting from the wrong bodies, before nodding to himself in understanding.
The rest of the Decepticons never even knew.
Sometimes, Skywarp didn't mind that he and Thundercracker looked so similar. It was comforting, knowing every nook and cranny of his bondmate, knowing just where to touch - because it was the same on his own body. Sometimes, Skywarp loved that only he knew where Thundercracker differed from him; the blue jet's air vents were so ticklish, while his purple turbines were infinitely more sensitive than his lover's white ones. Sometimes, Skywarp liked to count the ways their personalities varied inside of them, in stark contrast to their identical builds - where Skywarp was excitable, Thundercracker was calm; where one was optimistic, the other was pessimistic.
But most of all, Skywarp loved that he and Thundercracker were so inextricably linked, so much a part of one another, that to the rest of the world, they were each other.
Happily, Jazz lifted the tactician delicately into his lap, and Prowl shuttered his optics with a long, satisfied sigh. The saboteur smiled up at him, beginning to hum some Earth love song or other, running a finger along the Datsun's door-wings. Prowl squirmed a little in response, the vibrations from the saboteur rippling through his armour and into his circuits. Slowly, Jazz started to rock him back and forth.
"'M not a sparkling, Jazz…" Prowl murmured softly. Jazz laughed, the noise bright and merry in their dim quarters, and started to hum a different tune. Swaying, swaying, side to side, he continued to rock Prowl in a slow rhythm. This new song was familiar - very simple, but relaxing and soothing to the tactician's weary processor.
The Datsun wrapped his arms around Jazz's neck, placing a kiss on his visor. "Whassat?" he yawned into the saboteur's shoulder, blue optics refusing to stay online a second longer.
"Rock-a-bye baby," Jazz grinned, turning his head a little to see his bonded's face. Prowl smiled peacefully, tightening his grip around the black and white shoulders of the Porsche. Jazz leaned over to kiss Prowl's optic ridge softly, humming the lullaby into his forehead, swaying the Datsun lazily, until finally, Prowl slipped into recharge against the saboteur's body.
Though they had separate berths, it was rare that they ever used more than one. Tonight, it had been Sideswipe to crawl into Sunstreaker's bed. No words were spoken; none were needed. To them, it was natural - they were two halves of a whole spark, born bonded together as twins.
Sunstreaker slipped a golden arm around his brother, pulling him closer. It was more comforting than either twin could ever express to have the other's spark chamber close by, to feel as if they were the same person one more time. Of course they had each had their fair share of lovers, had even shared lovers on more than one occasion - but ultimately had decided that it was distinctly unnerving to bond with someone when your brother could feel and experience everything they were doing.
Really, the yellow twin thought firmly, they didn't need anyone else. Come war, peace, sickness, turmoil, they loved each other, and that was enough for them.