The Closet

A Transformers: Prime one-shot by haloangel21

(12/19/13) Author's Note: Yet another Optimus x Arcee one-shot. I can't stop writing about these two. :) They are perfect together.

His vents came out harshly as he shook his head, clearing it of its violent thoughts. Memories from his past and old friendship that was lost between him and his current enemy came to the surface. His spark seized painfully, forcing him to swallow hard. How many times as Prime he had failed to terminate the warmonger. His friends were expecting him to exterminate him and bring the peace they had fought to get for so long.

But that pressure exhausted him repeatedly and each time he'd fail, he felt…defeat.

I've promised I would end this war. Why did I have to make it in the first place if I cannot even hold my end of the promise up? If I cannot even defeat Megatron? He started doubting himself once again, asking questions to his other self, the data clerk named Orion Pax, who was still alive under the burden of the Prime title.

And now, tonight, after a long day of scouting missions and Energon retrieving missions, he wanted nothing more, for the first time in millenia, to sleep. After bidding goodnight to Ratchet, who huffed and muttered, "About time," he left the medbay for his quarters. Just as he was out of sight, his posture sagged and his helm hung low.

God, he felt so tired. He tried to prevent an incoming yawn, but since his engines were slowly turning off for the night, he couldn't stop it. His back struts were howling in pain, due to him having to stand proud if they were going to win the war (it was necessary for Primes to look proud and bring hope to those who had been needing it); his feet ached and were getting worse with each step he stole from the Earth; and his processors were throbbing.

As soon as he got halfway down the hall, Optimus was immediately taken aback by the sound of a door opening near him and very small hands that grabbed him and pulled him inside. "What the-?"

The next thing he knew, was the audible click of the lock on the door. And Arcee.

"Sorry about that. But I needed to talk to you. Badly," she said with concern written across her faceplates. He raised a metallic brow at this. This didn't impress him at all.

"And dragging me into an Energon supply closet was going to help?" he replied with a dry tone, causing Arcee to shrink back in embarrassment.

Then he realized what he had said. Oh… "I apologize. I should not have said that," he sighed, rubbing his optics with his fingers tiredly. "I am merely tired and have been seeking my berth for some time." He explained.

Arcee's head bobbed up and down. "I can tell." She smiled sadly. "Optimus?"

"Yes, Arcee?"

"…Can you…can you bend down a little closer to me?"

With confusion clearly read in his optics, Optimus, in curiousity, did as she asked. "Yes?" When no sound came out of her mouth, her hands did the work by observing his facial features; his helm curves; the antennaes.

"Hmm."

"Hmm?" Now he was bewildered. What exactly could she be thinking of? Prime didn't fail to notice his servos doing the exact same thing, but before going any further, he stopped himself. Partially due to the fact that he was overly exhausted and he. Just. Wanted. To. Fragging. Sleep.

"W-well, I-I hope you found what you were looking for," he stuttered, slowly pulling from her grasp.

The femme responded with a frown as she took in more details. "Just wait. I'm almost done. Hmm. Weird."

"…What?"

"You…somehow remind me of Cliff."

"E-e-excuse me?" Optimus asked, shocked. Why on Earth would she be saying that? For all he knew, he was nowhere identical to Cliffjumper, spark and appearance-wise. He waited for her to say something else, but instead, he stiffened when he felt something smooth and warm press onto his lips. He didn't know what to say. His spark was hammering hard. He wasn't used to this type of closeness!

But somehow, it was some type of good feeling he himself couldn't explain and he pushed into the contact, shuttering his optics in the process. He was kissing her.

Arcee.

His soldier. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but it was too intoxicating for him to pull away from. This wasn't a dream. It was real.

So. Slagging. Real.

His throat emitted a purring noise, indicating he was enjoying it as he swapped glossas with Arcee. She was so warm and…alive. His servos trailed up to the small of her back, caressing this and that as his systems began to turn his cooling fans on.

For her part, Arcee had intertwined her arms around his neck, fingers holding onto his side faceplates delicately, pulling him into her. After debating on her feelings for the Autobot leader for so long, this felt so right. She didn't know, however, that he would be this warm.

As she continued, a sudden flashback of Cliffjumper and Tailgate looking so horror sticken had briefly ran across her processors, resulting in her to jerk back away from him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she yelled, tears threatening to stream down her faceplates. "I shouldn't have done that," she sobbed. How could she do this?

"…Arcee, there is no reason for you to apologize." Optimus started off after a sparkbeat of silence.

"Yes, there is! It's not right! Cliffjumper. Tailgate. It's not right…!" she cried a bit more before noting who she was in front of. "…Scrap. I'll go back to my room. Sorry to bother you, sir." She quickly dried up her tears, gave him a salute and headed out. But he stopped her with his hand on hers.

"Wait."

That was enough for her to glance back at the tall form of her superior commander. "What if I told you…I liked it?"

"…Y-you did?" She asked, perplexed by what he said. A smirk came about his faceplates as he reached behind him to a light switch, shutting it off as he said,

"Yes. Let me show you."

Her words died in her throat as he pinned her down to the ground, gently onto her back, and setting his mouth on hers again. And this time, neither pulled away. She still knew it was wrong, but his mouth on her own was enough to let her worries be forgotten for just this one night. Him indulging her. After all, there was no one else in the room to see them together.

Or so…she thought.

The next morning

Ratchet was grumpy. He was ticked off. He had no desire to see or speak to any humans. Them being Agent Fowler. And Miko. Oh yes. Especially Miko. After briefly snapping at a frightened Bulkhead for breaking another of his useful tools, the medic still was frustrated. He wasn't sure why. That is until…

Grumble, grumble! His tanks produced other worldly noises he couldn't find an explanation for.

He was hungry.

How could have he forgotten to eat?

Cursing to himself, he left his post and returned to the hallway, stopping before a certain door and entered the key code. The hydraulics were announced as it opened the door for him, allowing him to step inside. "Now where are those cubes?" He mused, peering onto the shelves for a good looking one.

After several moments, Ratchet had found the lucky cube, but it was way in the back and there was no crowbar around him. With a growl, he whisked himself around and headed back to the door, where the lightswitch was located. He couldn't see anything in this blasted darkness!

Click!

Then…

He blinked at what he saw before him. Before he knew it, he screamed. "AAAAAAHHH!" Screamed like a femme. He hadn't expected this at all! What were they doing in here?!

In front of him, sprawled out on the floor, but otherwise cuddled up into each other was Optimus and Arcee. Optimus was laying behind the femme, arms wrapped around tight on her frame; his cheekplate on hers; mouth morphed into a blissful smile as he slept soundly. For Arcee, she covered his hands with her small ones, her smile decorating her faceplates.

A moment or two into noticing the pair didn't bother to close their fun parts up (they were excessively happy and tired at the same time to do so) and figuring it out, Ratchet sighed. It was clear they couldn't take it anymore and had spent the night in here, pleasuring the other as much as they could.

Then…he smiled.

"Heh. I win, Bulk." He laughed, grabbing his cube, clicking the lights off, and shutting the door quietly on the sleeping couple. Suddenly, he wasn't grumpy anymore. Instead, he was rather pleased. Oh, how great it would be when he tells Bulkhead that he lost the bet. He could imagine the horror painted on the former Wrecker's face when he realizes he has to pay his part of the deal.

The deal being if Ratchet won the bet, Bulkhead would dress up in a large ballerina outfit and accompaning him as his servant for two full weeks.

And so, the medic happily drank his Energon cube up and was on his merry way to deliver the news.

And Bulkhead's side of the deal was to have Ratchet allow him to break whatever tool he had in his possession without moaning for two full weeks. Imagine that.

-Halo