Presents
Title: Presents
'Verse: TFA
Characters: Optimus. Sentinel. Ratchet. Other characters mentioned.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing. Torture mention. Dismemberment mention.
The yelp from Optimus’s room brought a smirk to Sentinel’s faceplates, and the blue and orange mech crossed the hall to lean against his old friend’s door frame, arms crossed in front of him nonchalantly.
“So you got one too.”
Optimus stared up at him from his seat on his berth, then looked down at the box he held.
“... Too? You mean to tell me that this is a thing that happens regularly?”
Sentinel shook his head, gesturing vaguely.
“Not always. Sometimes.”
The unhelpful answer got him a glare.
“Is this supposed to be some sort of threat? ‘Haha you got rescued this time but I know where you fragging live and can get to you anytime I want’?!”
He sighed, entering the room and picking up the… item in the box. A hand flopped limply at the end of a shorn off forearm, and Optimus shuddered, looking queasy.
“It’s not a threat. Look at it. Does it seem familiar?”
“I’d rather not, thanks.”
Optimus replied shortly, but glanced at the gruesome object anyway. He flinched, optics flickering rapidly as he brought himself back under control.
“... Is that…?”
“A hand and partial forearm, last seen attached to the host of our prior accommodations. I have the matching one.”
“This breaks… I don't know how many regulations.”
“That’s your main concern?”
“You're not freaking out about random body parts suddenly appearing in supposedly secure locations and it sounds like this has happened to you before. Frankly if I started dwelling on that I'd never stop.” His fellow Prime answered dryly, holding the box out at him. “Put that back before I empty my tanks on you.”
Sentinel huffed in amusement, but did as asked. Optimus stared at his ‘gift’ again, making a moue of distaste, then set the box on the floor before fixing a pointed look on Sentinel.
“So… Are you going to explain why you're not freaking out?”
The orange and blue mech shrugged, settling down next to him.
“The last one of these I know about was delivered to Ultra Magnus’s bedside.”
Optimus gave him a startled look and Sentinel smirked again before continuing.
“Yes, through all his security and medical monitoring. No, you wouldn't have heard. These things have a way of staying quiet. No one wants to admit something like that got past them and honestly, the old guard are familiar with the practice so they get the others to shut up too.”
“What did he get?”
Optimus asked, unable to help himself, and his friend laughed darkly.
“A pair of long antennae. Twisted into a nice decorative bowl and filled with alloy-apples. Whoever did it really wanted the Magnus to be able to keep them if he wanted. Usually these have to be disposed of discreetly. Shockwave really fragged someone off bad.”
“You know who left these.”
“I have an idea.”
“Sentinel, quit playing games and tell me who it was.”
Sentinel shrugged once more, reaching for the arm in the box and pointing the severed end at Optimus. The other mech shuddered again, then stared at the cleanly cut edges, lines and armour slightly melted, almost as if the arm had been sliced off using-
Optimus shook his head, bewildered, then grabbed the arm and shoved it under his pillow when he heard Ratchet at the door to the secure medbay he and Sentinel were confined to for the time being.
“In here, Ratchet!”
He called to the medic, and the red and white mech strode in with an armful of datapads and equipment. Ratchet gave both mechs a searching look, as if he expected them to be up to something if they were deigning to stay in the same room as each other.
“Well. It makes things easier when I don't have to drag all this into two different places just because you two aren't over your lover's spat.”
As they sputtered protests, the medic smirking at them as he set up his equipment, Optimus reached desperately for a change of subject.
“How's everyone doing outside, Ratchet?”
The medic replied as he started scanning them, filling out datapads with readings and observations.
“Everyone’s fine. Sari’s gone back to her classes, Bumblebee and Bulkhead are back on their respective duties. Prowl’s recovery is also progressing well.”
“That's good to hear.” Optimus nodded, sounding a bit more cheerful, then glanced at the mech sat beside him and ventured another query.
“What about Sentinel’s team?”
Ratchet glanced up from his datapads, looking thoughtful.
“The jet twins are mostly on guard duty outside your rooms for now. They refused to be assigned anywhere else. Say that the last time they and ‘Jazz sir’ were sent away from ‘Sentinel Prime sir’ he got kidnapped by ‘very badness bot’.”
“Not their fault. Hazard of the job.”
Sentinel merely grunted, arms folded. Optimus thought he looked touched nonetheless, and carefully avoided mentioning the awkward conversations Sentinel sometimes had with their security detail through their medbay door, trying to convince them of the same thing. But it was the last member of Sentinel’s team that he found himself most interested in hearing about.
“And Jazz?”
“He threw himself into helping Prowl recuperate as soon as he was able to after helping bring you two back in. I hardly see one without the other these solar cycles. If they're not doing some fancy ninja ‘kata’ or whatever to get him used to having a body again, they're sitting around and meditating to ‘smooth out his spark energy’. At least it means Prowl’s got someone watching over him while I got my servos full of you two and the Magnus. Last thing we need is some fragger from the science department deciding Prowl’s their next ‘project’.”
Optimus sent Sentinel a questioning look behind Ratchet’s back, and the other Prime rolled his optics at the red and blue mech.
“Prowl. Isn't he the one with the hologram tech?”
“Yes. Now hold still, you've gotten that fracture misaligned again, AllSpark’s sake.”
Sentinel’s pained whine passed unnoticed by Optimus as he sat back, processors whirling.
= = =
After Ratchet had left, Optimus retrieved the arm from its hiding place and joined Sentinel in his room. Looking at the pair of limbs on Sentinel’s table, limbs that had caused both him and the other mech so much pain and still sent chills into his spark even now, dismembered from their former owner, he said quietly.
“When I heard that the Decepticon got away…”
Sentinel nodded, staring long and hard at detached parts.
“Same. Not for long though, obviously. We'll probably never find the body unless someone decides they need to make a point.”
“And this is what, some strange form of reassurance?”
Optimus glanced at his friend and Sentinel shrugged.
“Think of it as like having a slightly sociopathic cybercat. I don't know if it's a Great War thing, a ninja thing or a him thing, but I know I'll recharge better tonight.”
“What does he do when he wants payback for you being an aft?”
The blue and orange mech glared at his friend's use of the word ‘when’, but unable actually deny anything, he settled for grumbling lowly as Optimus laughed at him.
“Sets his music to sound through the wall our quarters share all fragging night.”
'Verse: TFA
Characters: Optimus. Sentinel. Ratchet. Other characters mentioned.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing. Torture mention. Dismemberment mention.
The yelp from Optimus’s room brought a smirk to Sentinel’s faceplates, and the blue and orange mech crossed the hall to lean against his old friend’s door frame, arms crossed in front of him nonchalantly.
“So you got one too.”
Optimus stared up at him from his seat on his berth, then looked down at the box he held.
“... Too? You mean to tell me that this is a thing that happens regularly?”
Sentinel shook his head, gesturing vaguely.
“Not always. Sometimes.”
The unhelpful answer got him a glare.
“Is this supposed to be some sort of threat? ‘Haha you got rescued this time but I know where you fragging live and can get to you anytime I want’?!”
He sighed, entering the room and picking up the… item in the box. A hand flopped limply at the end of a shorn off forearm, and Optimus shuddered, looking queasy.
“It’s not a threat. Look at it. Does it seem familiar?”
“I’d rather not, thanks.”
Optimus replied shortly, but glanced at the gruesome object anyway. He flinched, optics flickering rapidly as he brought himself back under control.
“... Is that…?”
“A hand and partial forearm, last seen attached to the host of our prior accommodations. I have the matching one.”
“This breaks… I don't know how many regulations.”
“That’s your main concern?”
“You're not freaking out about random body parts suddenly appearing in supposedly secure locations and it sounds like this has happened to you before. Frankly if I started dwelling on that I'd never stop.” His fellow Prime answered dryly, holding the box out at him. “Put that back before I empty my tanks on you.”
Sentinel huffed in amusement, but did as asked. Optimus stared at his ‘gift’ again, making a moue of distaste, then set the box on the floor before fixing a pointed look on Sentinel.
“So… Are you going to explain why you're not freaking out?”
The orange and blue mech shrugged, settling down next to him.
“The last one of these I know about was delivered to Ultra Magnus’s bedside.”
Optimus gave him a startled look and Sentinel smirked again before continuing.
“Yes, through all his security and medical monitoring. No, you wouldn't have heard. These things have a way of staying quiet. No one wants to admit something like that got past them and honestly, the old guard are familiar with the practice so they get the others to shut up too.”
“What did he get?”
Optimus asked, unable to help himself, and his friend laughed darkly.
“A pair of long antennae. Twisted into a nice decorative bowl and filled with alloy-apples. Whoever did it really wanted the Magnus to be able to keep them if he wanted. Usually these have to be disposed of discreetly. Shockwave really fragged someone off bad.”
“You know who left these.”
“I have an idea.”
“Sentinel, quit playing games and tell me who it was.”
Sentinel shrugged once more, reaching for the arm in the box and pointing the severed end at Optimus. The other mech shuddered again, then stared at the cleanly cut edges, lines and armour slightly melted, almost as if the arm had been sliced off using-
Optimus shook his head, bewildered, then grabbed the arm and shoved it under his pillow when he heard Ratchet at the door to the secure medbay he and Sentinel were confined to for the time being.
“In here, Ratchet!”
He called to the medic, and the red and white mech strode in with an armful of datapads and equipment. Ratchet gave both mechs a searching look, as if he expected them to be up to something if they were deigning to stay in the same room as each other.
“Well. It makes things easier when I don't have to drag all this into two different places just because you two aren't over your lover's spat.”
As they sputtered protests, the medic smirking at them as he set up his equipment, Optimus reached desperately for a change of subject.
“How's everyone doing outside, Ratchet?”
The medic replied as he started scanning them, filling out datapads with readings and observations.
“Everyone’s fine. Sari’s gone back to her classes, Bumblebee and Bulkhead are back on their respective duties. Prowl’s recovery is also progressing well.”
“That's good to hear.” Optimus nodded, sounding a bit more cheerful, then glanced at the mech sat beside him and ventured another query.
“What about Sentinel’s team?”
Ratchet glanced up from his datapads, looking thoughtful.
“The jet twins are mostly on guard duty outside your rooms for now. They refused to be assigned anywhere else. Say that the last time they and ‘Jazz sir’ were sent away from ‘Sentinel Prime sir’ he got kidnapped by ‘very badness bot’.”
“Not their fault. Hazard of the job.”
Sentinel merely grunted, arms folded. Optimus thought he looked touched nonetheless, and carefully avoided mentioning the awkward conversations Sentinel sometimes had with their security detail through their medbay door, trying to convince them of the same thing. But it was the last member of Sentinel’s team that he found himself most interested in hearing about.
“And Jazz?”
“He threw himself into helping Prowl recuperate as soon as he was able to after helping bring you two back in. I hardly see one without the other these solar cycles. If they're not doing some fancy ninja ‘kata’ or whatever to get him used to having a body again, they're sitting around and meditating to ‘smooth out his spark energy’. At least it means Prowl’s got someone watching over him while I got my servos full of you two and the Magnus. Last thing we need is some fragger from the science department deciding Prowl’s their next ‘project’.”
Optimus sent Sentinel a questioning look behind Ratchet’s back, and the other Prime rolled his optics at the red and blue mech.
“Prowl. Isn't he the one with the hologram tech?”
“Yes. Now hold still, you've gotten that fracture misaligned again, AllSpark’s sake.”
Sentinel’s pained whine passed unnoticed by Optimus as he sat back, processors whirling.
= = =
After Ratchet had left, Optimus retrieved the arm from its hiding place and joined Sentinel in his room. Looking at the pair of limbs on Sentinel’s table, limbs that had caused both him and the other mech so much pain and still sent chills into his spark even now, dismembered from their former owner, he said quietly.
“When I heard that the Decepticon got away…”
Sentinel nodded, staring long and hard at detached parts.
“Same. Not for long though, obviously. We'll probably never find the body unless someone decides they need to make a point.”
“And this is what, some strange form of reassurance?”
Optimus glanced at his friend and Sentinel shrugged.
“Think of it as like having a slightly sociopathic cybercat. I don't know if it's a Great War thing, a ninja thing or a him thing, but I know I'll recharge better tonight.”
“What does he do when he wants payback for you being an aft?”
The blue and orange mech glared at his friend's use of the word ‘when’, but unable actually deny anything, he settled for grumbling lowly as Optimus laughed at him.
“Sets his music to sound through the wall our quarters share all fragging night.”