Title: Denial

Rating: T
'Verse: G1
Characters: Ratchet, Sideswipe
Prompt: Avoiding love at any cost.

A/N: written for Vivienne Grainger - happy birthday ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, I don't make any profit from this, I just do it for fun


The lovers stole precious moments together. Desperate kisses swallowing needy moans, grasping fingers moving fast against heated plating... too fast, leaving scratches...

Always with one optic on the door. Always with audials tuned to pick up on the sound of anyone approaching.

They never talked, but each knew in his spark that it could never work. Commitment was out of the question, and discussing it would not help: the other would not understand. Could not understand.

How could he understand, the medic mourned, grappling with his lover on a medical berth. How could this brash, excitable young mech really understand the pain of loss? The agony of knowing someone so well and caring so much for them, and then being forced to watch them die in spite of every effort to save them. The medic had seen it happen too many times, had lost too many friends. Too many lovers. Watched too many mates suffer through too much grief when their partners faded away. He could not bear to do it again. He knew his lover wanted more - of course he would, who wouldn't? - but so long as they never talked about it they could enjoy the physical without giving in to the emotional. They had to. It was all he could give.

How could he understand, the warrior mourned, shoving his lover up against a wall in desperate need for haste. How could this mech, or any mech, truly understand what it was like being a split-spark twin? It wasn't that his brother disapproved or even cared, but he did not feel right about it. All their lives they had shared the same opinions: liking one mech, disliking another, hating the Decepticons. Now he had feelings for someone that were different to those of his brother's and it felt wrong. It felt lonely. He felt urges to acknowledge those feelings for the medic, but simultaneously felt horror that he could be considering doing this. He was not one, he was two, and half of that two was disinterested so he could not do this. He could not accept it. He knew his lover wanted more - of course, what mech wouldn't? - but so long as they never talked about it, they could enjoy the physical without going in to the messy emotional. They had to. It was all he could give.

The lovers parted and observed: red streaks on white, white streaks on red.

"Jack'll be here soon." one apologised.

"Sunny's looking for me." the other admitted.

"Tomorrow." the first asked, turning away.

"Tomorrow." the second agreed, walking out.

Each of them would go through the day talking to friends and colleagues and avoiding contact with the other except when their duties brought them together. Some others might have thought they knew what was going on, but they could never understand. This wasn't love, each of them knew. It could not be.

Love was to be avoided at any cost.