For Dragonrider10
Universe: Prime
Characters: Optimus Prime, Arcee
Rating: K+
Warnings: 'Breastfeeding' with robots having semi accurate human breasts. ROOBS! Sticky style.
Disclaimer: I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.
Arcee snapped online with coolant dripping down the sides of her helm.
"Tailgate…"
It was the same, always the same. Watching Arachnid tear into her old partner, the screams, both hers and his, filling her processor. Always those optics, telling her things she wished she'd been brave enough to acknowledge, begging her to live on, because Tailgate knew her. Knew it would have been easy to die with him, and hard to live on after him.
Fragging Starscream! Fragging Arachnid! Everyone she kept dear was stripped from her and it hurt to no end to see them gain peace while she still fought in this Primus dammed war.
Wiping the tears away angrily she stood up and out of the tiny area she'd claimed as her own, optics watching her own pedes as she walked.
A hand caught her shoulder and she jumped, turning off her vocalizer before her shout rang through the small base. Optimus stood behind her, optics and expression neutral as he nodded in greeting.
"Are you feeling well tonight Arcee?"
A trick question. She couldn't remember feeling well any night in vorns. Recharge brought about memory fluxes and painful emotions she still refused to sift through. Still, she answered with a half smile, "I'm fine Optimus. Nothing to worry about; just had a flux. Shouldn't you be in recharge?"
The Prime looked at her for a moment, before walking past her, motioning for Arcee to follow, and it wasn't until they were leaving base that she thought to ask where they were going, and why they hadn't at least told Ratchet.
"Do not worry about Ratchet; I have already informed him of our departure."
He stopped when they were some distance away, sitting down on the ground and beckoning for her to do the same. His hands braced behind him and he leaned back, helm turned up to the stars. Arcee folded her legs up and sat beside him, both of them simply watching a small piece of the universe as the world turned on its axis.
"I had a sparkbond, once. Long before I became the Prime, when I was simply an archivist called Orion Pax." Optimus settled more comfortably on his hydraulics. "Her name was Elita One, and there was very little I would not have done to see her happy."
He fell silent and Arcee looked at him, surprised to see tears coming from his optics. "Optimus?"
When I became Prime, I became a whole new mech. I was rebuilt, reformatted, and reborn. Our bond shattered and I watched her scream and cry, frame eventually crumpling to the ground. When she rose, she did not look at me, though I begged. She did not listen to my pleas or supplications, just walked away clutching at her spark, head bowed as though she bore the weight of Cybertron on her helm."
Arcee said nothing, her own memories of Tailgate's optics, his unspoken final words crowding her processor until there was no room for anything else.
"How Optimus? How do you deal with knowing that they're gone?"
He reached out and gathered her in his arms, his broad body encompassing her own, enfolding her in an embrace that was secure and full of compassion and caring. She felt the metal of his chassis vibrate as his feeding system hummed, pouches filling and turned away. She hadn't shared a feeding with anyone since Cliffjumper, and it had taken her ages to feel comfortable enough after Tailgate to even do that.
"There is no shame in taking comfort with others, Arcee. Let me help ease your burdens this night."
She shook, plating rattling against Optimus' as he slid back his windshield to reveal full and ready pouches, holding her firmly, cradling her against him solidly as his engine thrummed comfortingly. She hesitated, moving toward, then back, before cautiously pressing her cheek to the warm Energon before nuzzling inward to capture the nub in her mouth.
A sob, and she suckled, hands finding purchase in the many struts and pieces of kibble that Optimus' front had. Clutching to her Prime with all her strength as she poured out emotions that had been kept behind partitions for hundreds of vorn, crying for the unspoken and the unrecognized, the unseen and the ignored.
Breaking down even as she was built up by her leader's faith and compassion, his willingness to allow his soldiers to be more than drones, to be appreciated and fulfilled. To know that he believed in them and shared their happiness, and their grief, boosted Arcee up as she cried for her past and embraced her future.
And cradled there, cupped against Optimus' chest, she suckled. Thick, heavy arms wrapped around her, rocking back and forth with murmured comforts in her audials.