Rating salient for part of the italicised section of this chapter.

Loom

Chapter 2

In dry, clear weather with a cool breeze and warm roads, the day of travelling had been relaxing to them all. Bumblebee led the way with Sam and Mikaela, fishtailing at gleefully random intervals when the stretches of empty highway reached into dozens of miles at a time. Though the scout's exuberance had Ratchet mentally rolling his optics, the warmth of vicarious joviality was worming its way into his spark. It felt good to just drive in weather such as this, in a peaceful convoy without any risk of ambush. His sensors told him that the time was proving beneficial to humans and Cybertronian's alike. Optimus had been quiet for most of the morning, but he'd soon become coaxed into some of the the sports conversations.

Lennox was reclined inside Ironhide's cab and joining in on the collective radio chatter, occasionally breaking off to speak to the NEST officers travelling behind them. The plan had been to pull over at nightfall to allow the humans to sleep, and provide the four hours that Ratchet had ordered for the mechs to rest.

"I'm surprised Optimus fought so hard to have the kids come along," the soldier commented through a grin as the yellow Camero launched off a negligible rise at the side of the road, eliciting peals of laughter that he imagined he could almost hear.

Enjoying the speed and mood, Ironhide eased back a little to come alongside Ratchet, subsequently giving Bumblebee more room. "They've honoured themselves fighting alongside us, at enormous risk. They're honorary Autobots in his optics, and have every right to go on a field trip like this." An engine grunt as the scout deliberately spun out, waiting until the cloud of dust he'd kicked up settled before tearing back on to the road to catch up. "And it keeps the youngling happy. It'll be nice for him to see Certa with his charges."

Taking full advantage of a vehicle that preferred to drive itself, Lennox reclined in the seat and pulled the rim of his cap further over his sunglasses. "You make it sound like a holiday camp."

Ironhide's wipers twitched, not quite rising but flexing off the glass of his windshield. "This is more of a vacation than a military operation. Certa's about as inoffensive as it gets, or it was when we were last there. Perfect place for a break. Optimus needs the change of scenery and your scientists need some new mud in a tube to go ballistic over."

The human scoffed a laugh but conceded the point. Alien mechanical life was one thing, but organic was another. He was excited himself to see how much they had in common after centuries of evolving apart, and doubtless the scientists were even more anxious to get there than him.

His mind was dually occupied, however, and the rest came to the fore when his gaze drifted to the rear view mirror and the Peterbuilt keeping pace behind. "How was he last night?"

The sound of Ironhide's engine remained the same, his tone frank. "Throwing axes into a wall." A beat as he weighed up how much to disclose, before he finally added, "we had a talk."

Lennox waited a few seconds before his brows rose, speaking towards the illuminated radio display. "And?"

Ironhide hesitated again. Lennox knew everything about what had happened, and had a better notion of his own state of mind than Ratchet did. There were no secrets left to protect, and he knew right down to the grooves in his bearings that Lennox could be told anything and be trusted with that knowledge. Yet for all that, he still didn't like talking like this without at least two cubes of High Grade in his systems, so he settled for replying: "It was a good talk."

Ratchet's voice spat through the radio with no warning, the tremor of static behind it signalling it to be an open Autobot channel. "What in Primus's name is that stupid youngling doing with those humans?" To underline his point, Bumblebee executed another mini-jump from a roadside rise to land swerving on the asphalt.

To Lennox's surprise, Optimus's voice immediately came through in answer. "The boy intends to propose soon. Bumblebee is… enthusiastically supportive."

Ironhide did a quick search to acquire the specifics of that before huffing audibly down the line. "'Bee, the kid ain't gonna ask with you skidding around like an overcharged Vespa."

With immediacy that Lennox couldn't help but laugh at, Bumblebee straightened up and matched his speed to the rest of the convoy. The Topkick's engine grumbled around him. "Better."

Taking the water canteen from the passenger footwell, Lennox took a lukewarm sip and watched through the back window of the Camero. In dark shapes he could just make out Sam putting an arm about Mikaela's shoulders in the neighbouring seat. Do you guys have anything like proposals and engagement rings?"

"Not particularly. There's less ceremony in bonding for us," Ironhide replied after a pause. "How did it take place for yourself and Sarah?" It wasn't the type of question he'd have ever considered asking a year ago, but their friendship had developed to far more personal depths. It had been an inevitable and terrible kind of necessity.

Screwing the canteen lid back on, Lennox answered with warmth reflected in his smile. "Traditionally, by human standards. Dinner, dancing. I took her back to where we had our first date. She was my fiancé before dessert. Got pregnant just after our honeymoon and I was posted four months after that."

He remembered how that post had ended quite vividly – Scorponok, and downhill from there. Throughout the adrenaline-charged danger and the reality-defying strangeness of the alien race they'd just discovered, he'd thought of his daughter and was grateful that her mother was his wife.

"I wanted to make the commitment before I left, y'know?" he finally added, privately suspecting that Ironhide had had a similar experience.

The pitch of the Topkick's engine flexed with Ironhide's murmur of agreement. "I do. I asked Optimus to bond with me on the aircraft carrier, though we'd have to wait a few weeks for him to recover enough to do it."

Lennox frowned a little as he remembered those days on the ship, everyone trapped in the same twilight state after saving the world. They had all seen the Prime's body, and Sam had seen him fall. The urge to want him kept sat or lying down, still and safe and under their watch, had been both overwhelming and ridiculous. Optimus was a legendary warrior amongst his own people and didn't remotely need cosseting.

Ratchet had, though, with lingering disbelief that the gaping wound through the mech's chassis was slowly closing. Lennox had put that attention down to simple medical duty. Bumblebee had also hovered nearby when he wasn't with Sam, but that felt like youthful anxiety and love. Ironhide, however, hadn't moved from Optimus's side from loading to unloading. Sam and Mikaela had suspected with him that that was down to guilt from his Commander being slain alone and outnumbered in the forest. There had been no telling emotion in the mech's features, however. His solid presence alone conveyed that he would not be moved. When Lennox had learnt that they were involved, the vigil made sense. He'd been seeing it all over again this year.

"You told me," the soldier began, hesitating with an awareness that he was referring back to that dark week, "that when one bot dies, their sparkmate dies with them." He left the question hang unspoken, and Ironhide was quick to pick it up.

"That is true. But a bond will also support one another's sparks and enable them to endure greater hardships." A beat passed before he confessed: "And it was unbearable for the time he was gone. When he came back, I couldn't waste it. I wanted everything, to give and to have, for however long Primus sees fit to give us, and for us to follow one another back into the Well of Sparks."

Lennox breathed a soft sound of admiration, humbled by the implications of such a bond. The thought of that kind of dependency on a partner for thousands of years unsettled him to contemplate, and only made his chest ache more about the weekly conversations they'd had. "You said about enduring, how the bond lets one spark support another. Do you think..?" There wasn't an end to that sentence, and none was needed.

"Ratch' said that if we hadn't been bonded, that the spark sickness could well have poisoned his systems."

A nod at the quick, flat reply, and Lennox found himself watching the Peterbuilt's impressive grill in the rear-view mirror. With it in mind that Ironhide had already been having a tough week, he force the start of a smile. "Well, with the war over I think you guys can look forward to a few millennia of bond…ed…ness." No response, so Lennox placed a hand on the wheel and nodded to the Camero in front. "So. Do you reckon we can get a tux' big enough so 'Bee can be best man?"

Inside the private space of his alt form with the soldier, Ironhide couldn't help but laugh long and hard.

The convoy drove on for another two hours and the light waned. Bumblebee, as the scout, had pulled ahead and was scanning the coming miles for a suitable camp site for the night. It needed to accommodate the soldiers as well as provide them cover to transform – too long spent in their alt forms could cause strain, though they could recharge in them fine.

There was, however, a third criteria in the scout's processor for the rest point, and it was wholly about the couple in his front seats. He had been scanning for waterfalls, flocks of white doves and aesthetically pleasing floral swathes: perfect backdrops for a human proposal, though none of which seemed to exist within the vicinity. He persevered, though, because this was a momentous event within his charge's life that he wished to witness, partially because he'd already helped in advising Sam on the most appropriate engagement ring. Compiling the specifics of Mikaela's existing jewellery to distil her taste against his budget, the mech had made quick work of searching internationally for the perfect piece. The ring had been in some variation of Sam's pocket for almost a month now, and aware of how preciously short their life spans were, Bumblebee was keen for the humans to get on with it.

Inside the Camero, Sam had already figured out what Bumblebee was doing when he'd replied to inquiries that he hadn't found anywhere 'suitable' to spend the night yet. His patience was further thinning, despite genuine appreciation for his guardian's help and enthusiasm, because if the mech played one more Bryan Adam's song he was likely to bail out.

"'Bee, we've been sitting in here for going on seven hours," he blurted, almost shouting to be heard over the chorus of another ballad. "We need to pull over and get some sleep."

"I'm looking," came the peevish reply through the radio. "It has to be right."

Sam rolled his eyes and slumped his head back against the seat. He'd had a suspicion that the mech was going to be like this, but he hadn't realized he'd be quite this terrible. Being millions of years old had set up an expectation of maturity, but then Bumblebee was comparable to his age in terms of Cybertronian aging. "Everyone's tired, so just find something –nearly- right and we'll set up camp for the night."

Mikaela spoke over the grumbling whine from the Camero that spoke of grudging assent. "Can't wait for that – my back feels like Ironhide stepped on it."

Bumblebee considered that pensively as his scanners picked out a suitable spot in the woods and transmitted the co-ordinates to the convoy. An uncomfortable femme was typically an unhappy femme, and less amenable to situations where bonding proposals could arise. That would certainly not do, he decided.

"You can sleep in Prime's cabin."

A pause as the teens exchanged a look, sorely tempted by the notion of a mattress for the night though wary to impose. "Are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

"I don't see why. He has sheltered a human overnight at least nineteen times, by my count, and he's told us that we should all see it as an extension of guardianship. You'd have more room than in anyone else's vehicle forms." Their speed declined as he reached the turning off; a wide dirt road leading towards a distant crop of trees. "Except for Ratchet, I suppose, but you wouldn't want to recharge with him. His manifolds rattle."

Sam frowned. "His… what?"

Despite herself, Mikaela was grinning. "He means he snores, Sam."

A smirk and he coughed a laugh, naturally drawn to the side mirror and the reflection of the medic behind the Peterbuilt. "I find that strangely awesome to know."

There was no need to stand sentry over the humans whilst they slept, but old habits died hard. Optimus shifted his weight again after another pointless sensor sweep, his systems quieted in stealth mode so as not to disturb his charges. The only notable occurrence was Ironhide making his way uphill through the trees, away from the campsite where Bumblebee and Ratchet remained in light recharge by the tents. The tall mech didn't react to the approach, didn't stir at the wash of gentle concern that had become almost ever-present in their bond during the last year.

:Thought you're be recharging with how you've been buzzing lately: Ironhide murmured through the bond as he came to stand alongside, seeming to take in the view without really seeing it. :You've put Prowl to shame with fretting.:

Optimus glanced to him at the remark, optics narrowed with bemusement. :I do not fret. I'm… cautiously meticulous.:

Shunting vents conveyed a chuckle and Ironhide put a hand to his sparkmate's backstrut. From experience, he knew where to press and with what pressure to realign miscellaneous small parts and ease off overly taut lines. He smiled at the sigh he drew out. :Reckon I could make you relax enough to recharge.:

Arching a brow, Optimus forced his facial shield to retract to expose the wry smile on his scarred mouth. :I hardly think now is an appropriate time for what you're suggesting.:

A low engine purr and Ironhide pressed his fingers deeper, setting the tips to vibrate against the areas of protoform he could reach. When the mech's optics shuttered with a soft hiss, he grinned. :In a forest, under the stars, with folk close by so you've gotta fight to keep quiet? Seems like a perfect setup to me.:

As the skilled touches became bolder, Optimus found himself sorely tempted by the offer of illicit intimacy. Living for millennia and fighting for most of it thinned out opportunities for mischief (unless is was a processing flaw, as in the Twins). Now the war was firmly over, they were relatively secluded, and trying to overload in complete silence so as not to get caught had an appealingly erotic challenge to it.

And they didn't do this enough anymore, Optimus added to himself with a prickle of guilt. It wasn't a lack of desire at being somehow 'tainted' by events a year ago, nor fear on his part because of the same. The bond prevented secrets, and their exposed mutual hesitance was rooted in caution. Ironhide didn't want to risk pushing unwanted attention, and Optimus didn't want to upset his sparkmate with the underlying unease that still, after months, persisted.

The only thing they could do, however, was to keep trying. It would get easier. Decided, Optimus forced the lingering anxieties aside for the sake of this spontaneous romance and initiated the first long kiss, allowing Ironhide to pull him close for the second.

A devilish grin flickered across the dark mech's features as he drew back, stepping behind the slim mech and nodding for them to walk. He led them forwards into a thicker cluster of trees where they would be secluded, their footfalls as quiet as they could manage on the ground. Ironhide stopped them by wrapping an arm around the red and blue chassis, his fingers slotting into the central seam of the armour plates.

Optimus sagged at the play of his sparkmate's energy field, manipulated through his fingers, and leaned back into the broad body. Before this went further, though, he felt the need to say what he'd been thinking about for most of the day. :Forgive me, 'Hide, for how I've been recently.:

Ironhide rumbled reassurance, pulling him closer and holding him in place with fierce strength. :If you think you need to make it up to me, I ain't gonna stop you.:

Apology unnecessary but accepted, Optimus translated with a smile. :And what would you have of me, love?: he asked, smiling through the term of affection that he rarely said but was often called.

Dark hands tightened and pulled to close the last inches of space between them, hips flush to one another. :Compliance: Ironhide purred through the bond. :Submission, to let me make you feel what I feel.:

The words sent a cold, abrupt lance through his spark but Optimus dismissed the feeling. This was his sparkmate, his lover, a mech as devoted to him as he was in turn. And this wasn't much to ask. He tipped his head back silently, bearing the exposed part of his throat in a traditional gesture of acquiescence.

Ironhide didn't guide them to the ground or turn the other mech to face him. Instead, he pushed his hand deeper towards the Prime's spark in his chassis, teasing a finial with his other hand. They rocked together, Optimus wanting more than this limiting position would allow and Ironhide physically refusing.

:Quiet, remember: Ironhide reminded with a low rev, his hand stroking down the sensitive structure to rest around the mech's throat. The suppressed groan could be felt as much as heard when he sent microfilaments from his fingers to grasp and directly stimulate the neural lines he found.

Optimus's chassis opened wider, welcoming Ironhide's knowing touches that were making it increasingly difficult to keep his hands at his sides. Heat and pressure built, the silence almost as torturous as the swelling need to be turned and brought spark to spark in blissful overload. After several minutes of torture he was on the verge of asking, but restrained himself with the reiteration that this was Ironhide's desire. His want to orchestrate and be responsible for pleasure, even though he seemed to be depriving himself of his own.

The heat in his chassis flickered when he heard a foreign sound of metal moving, a transformation in the dark mech that he didn't recognize. Then all pleasure turned suddenly cold when he felt a sharp pressure at his groin between the juncture of his thighs. His sensors reported the monstrous and savage dimensions. The bladed shaft and serrations wrapped in sensor nodes were all the same.

:'Hide: he started, making to step away but finding himself trapped by the vice-like hands about his throat and inside his chassis.

Ironhide's feet were planted wide for stability, rooting them both firmly to the spot. :I'll go gentle, I promise.:

Optimus hissed through his vents in disbelief tinged with alarm. The bond prickled from his end, but his sparkmate was calm as night. :Ironhide-:

:Been dying to try this with ya for months.:

The pressure increased, a sharp point sliding against the tarnished spot where the metal had 'scarred'. Optimus felt his strength drain downwards through his legs and into the ground. His processer was fogged, energon racing throughout his systems. :You never said: he murmured, shuttering his optics as he tried to think.

The blade bit in, breaching open the first few centimetres of metal with much to follow. :Still got weak seams on the welds. Bet you'll just buckle and come apart around me.:

The taller mech jerked, hard, but couldn't move either of them at all. Ironhide felt suddenly stronger than he'd ever known. Unstoppably powerful. Mounting panic snapped him completely from the bond with a shout. "Ironhide, stop this now."

Ironhide forced his body forwards at the demand, the bellow of pain underlining the squeal of metal and cabling torn rapidly apart as endless inches of blade were forced inside. Optimus buckled, optics white with shock and pain, crippled beneath the dark mech's penetrating weight. Ironhide pulled at his neck to bend his back strut and hiss straight into his audio.

"What? You'll get fucked to stop a war but you won't do it for your sparkmate?"

Sam had been dreaming about earthquakes when a tinny rattle drew him from sleep, curled up in the Peterbilt's sleeper cabin against Mikaela's back. A flashlight flicked up to his face, effectively blinding him before he could hold up a hand against it. The beam against his eyelids had been what had awoken him the rest of the way. "What the hell?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

From the open doorway Lennox lowered the torch with white knuckles. To his side and visible through the windscreen, Ironhide was knelt at the front of the truck's grill, hands hovering over the engine housing and ready to pin it down. Though it was only a precaution, the fact that it was even necessary put a cold sweat down Lennox's back.

The truck shook again, a brief but violent shudder that woke Mikaela and brought Sam's alarmed gaze back to the soldier. Lennox raised his hands as if calming an animal, voice hushed and serious. "Sam, you and Mikaela need to get out of the cab as quickly and quietly as you can."

Sam nodded, bewildered but knowing full well not to question that tone and to just act. Mikaela sat up beside him, eyes widening when she saw Lennox and Ironhide's crouched, waiting form. "What's going on?" She whispered, urgent but instinctively sensing a need for quiet. "Is everything okay?"

Optimus shook again.

With a mounting sense of urgency, Lennox didn't answer but beckoned them out with sharp motions. However, as soon as Sam's socked feet pressed into the bare metal floor, an internal and unidentified pressure to the fluxing mech, Optimus jerked more violently. Ironhide swore and slammed his hands onto the truck, bearing down with his full weight to stop the mech from twisting and transforming. The teens didn't need Lennox's shouted order to get out, hurtling from the misshapen cab with only seconds to spare before it crushed in on itself, parts folding and shifting as the violent transformation began.

Disorientated and flux-panicked, Optimus was fighting off the assailant restraining him before his transformation had reached halfway. Ironhide rolled and staggered with him, determined not to let the disturbed mech fully transform with so many vulnerable humans close to them. Jerked out of recharge by the commotion, Bumblebee moved to put himself between Sam, Mikaela and Lennox, radio sounding a confused and alarmed tone. Ratchet stood between them and the camped NEST soldiers, ready to step in if things got out of hand but knowing that Ironhide had handled the aftermath of these fluxes on his own before.

Ironhide grunted as the truck wrenched against him again, and pressed against his chassis he saw the grill begin to collapse back. "I can't hold 'im," he warned, optics snapping up to find the medic. "You need to wake him up."

The severity of the words were not lessened by their low and terse delivery, and Ratchet felt a pang that the dark mech had become used to responding to this. His sensors flared in sharp, flickering beams, and the results tightened his features. "It's not a flux – he's awake," he called back over the sound of transformation as Ironhide finally lost his grip.

Optimus tended to come up from one knee when he switched into his bipedal mode, but now he surged forward and into the other mech whilst his parts were still whining and snapping together. Ironhide bit down his dismay at finding his sparkmate coherent enough to fight this well. Coming around from the occasional flux, Optimus's movements had been slurred from recharge. Now he was fighting with all the power and finesse of his lifestyle, underscored by a desperate rage that made his optics blaze and engine roar. When he drew his axe, Bumblebee locked his own weapons by reflex, optics bright and wide.

Lennox put himself between the teens and the Autobots, keeping them back with one arm whilst watching in horror as Optimus went into his sparkmate mercilessly. "This is a nightmare," he breathed, his voice caught between an accusation and a plea.

The axe swung up in a vicious arc, the blade hot enough to singe moisture in the air, and Ironhide had to pitch himself sideways to avoid being cleaved. Optimus tracked him half a step before seeing Ratchet, now coming in close to his other side to drive him back. Throwing the axe in a near-miss, he'd drawn his swords before the blade had crashed through the trees.

It was dark, even with night vision. It was dark and he hurt and Ironhide was still trying to pin him and hurt him further. An audience this time – Ratchet to take his own part in the parody of affection; the youngest mech and the last he'd ever want to know of this act; and the humans that his time on Megatron's berth had saved. Here to watch, now, as he was torn apart again.

Millennia of war fought without significant advance as a soldier because that's what he was, over in a day when he became a whore.

This is how I got you peace.

Aren't you proud?

"Bumblebee, get behind him," Ratchet shouted as he deflected the flat of the blade with his forearm, following the motion when Optimus continued forward to grab his chassis. Ironhide crashed against the other side as Bumblebee moved into place, forcing the tall mech back and down over the yellow mech's body.

On the ground it was easier to restrain him, though only by applying force through holds that the older mechs knew weren't helping. When Ironhide clambered atop him to clutch his helm, Optimus's voice came as a black snarl. "Don't fragging touch me."

Shuttering his optics at the words, Ironhide marshalled himself in the same instance that he leapt to trust Ratchet to protect him. Locking his legs against slim hips, he ignored Ratchet trying to pin the mech's arms and pressed their chassis flush. It was a fight to part his chest plates a scant few centimetres with his programming screaming the risk of vulnerability. Yet through its own closed chassis, quite isolated from the panic that had consumed him, Optimus's spark felt its mate and reached back. It was enough to push their bond to the forefront, allowing Ironhide's pulses of love, calm and reassurance to break through the maelstrom.

Optimus stilled, vents gasping and optics wide. The lights flared, sharpened, and finally focussed on him.

Ironhide waited for almost a minute until he was certain, and then: "Hey love." Resealing the narrow gap in his chassis, Ironhide pushed himself up a little so that they were no longer adjoined. He ran a hand across the mech's helm, his touch light and assuring. "You're alright. Everyone's alright."

Optimus shifted, feeling the earth twist against his body and heated swords retract. Awake. Safe. Another flux – of course it was. Ironhide would never...

"Oh Primus," he murmured, faceplates drawing together as his optics shuttered. He could hear Sam and Mikaela, closeby and concerned. Ratchet and Lennox were silent. Bumblebee droned a low warble he wasn't aware of making. The NEST soldiers didn't know what to do.

Withdrawing, Ironhide took the mech's elbow and helped to pull him onto his feet. Azure optics slid away from his, though he could feel the younger human's stares on them. Lennox was deflecting their interference for him. At present, he couldn't care less. Mouth pulled in a concerned grimace, he nodded towards the woodland and took a half step. "Come on. We'll walk it off."

Ratchet straightened with a nod before pointing sharply at Bumblebee, and the humans by association. "You stay here," he instructed flatly, leaving no time for protest before he stepped after the rapidly retreating mechs into the woods.

Bumblebee waited for one minute before slipping into stealth mode and beginning to track after the other bots. Sam jogged to catch up with him, calling up from his ankle. "Where're you going, 'Bee?"

The mech glanced down at him through the battle mask, optics hard with light. "To scout." There was an alien note of finality in his voice that broached no protest.

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