Shared Scars
Title: Shared Scars
Verse: WFC
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Optimus, Sideswipe, Bumblebee, Ironhide, Wheeljack; Optimus/Wheeljack
Word Count: 2,599
Warnings: Mech Cursing, Mech Kissing, Spoilers for the Autobot Campaign in WFC
Summary: Two mechs deal with the shared scars of war.
Notes: For runyasan08. The prompt was "Optimus/Wheeljack-Antimatter" Last part of the meme! 8D
“Optimus,” Sideswipe hissed. “That mech is staring at you.”
Optimus’s optics flickered toward the mech in question before glancing back at Sideswipe. “He has been for a while,” he noted.
“Do you know him?” Bumblebee asked lowly, watching the strange mech.
“No, but I recognize him.”
The three Autobot’s heads snapped over to stare at the unknown mech when he spoke.
“He’s Optimus,” the unnamed mech continued.
The blue-and- red leader nodded slowly. “I am.”
The unknown mech shifted, allowing more light to fall across his frame in the dim shuttle. He had no visible sign of a faction, his plating colored green and white, his optics trained firmly on the Autobot leader still.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Optimus asked slowly, noticeably uncomfortable under his gaze.
The green and white mech grinned, the expression lighting up his rather handsome features. “I don’t think you can. Not right now,” he noted, wiggling against the glowing purple chain of his bonds.
Optimus stayed quiet, not comfortable with his tone. It sounded almost as if the mech understood Optimus and the other three's real purpose for being bound for Kaon on a prison transport shuttle…
“Listen,” the mech spoke again, suddenly looking more serious. “They aren’t gonna be able to keep an important mech like you locked up. Someone’s gonna rescue you.”
Sideswipe made a low sound. “Shut up, neutral.”
Bumblebee shifted nervously beside them. “That won’t happen…”
The green mech shrugged a little. “I won’t be a neutral for much longer. The war really has escalated...” he noted absently. “But that’s not the point.”
“The point is: you need to stop talking!” Sideswipe hissed.
“Let him speak, Sideswipe,” Optimus suddenly cut in.
“All of you! Shut UP!” a guard snarled, stepping toward the group, raising a crackling energon lance. It seemed that the guard had ignored their words for a while before it annoyed him enough to speak up. “No talking!”
When the guard turned away, the four mechs turned their optics on each other, but remained silent. Despite the guard’s obvious disregard of their actions, they all knew the danger they were in here and held their glossa until it felt safe to test the limits again.
“Let’s say that by some off chance; you managed to escape…” the green and white mech said slowly. “How far would you press the… scale of your escape?”
“I don’t leave soldiers behind,” Optimus replied.
“You’d leave a neutral like me behind though,” the mech replied, pinning him with a stare that nearly ordered him to agree.
“If a neutral didn’t want to leave, yes,” Optimus agreed slowly.
“Ready the prisoners for unloading! We’re coming in for a landing!” one of the guards called.
Suddenly, they were all forced to their feet and shuffled toward the loading doors as they landed, allowing the green mech to approach the others, leaning over to whisper in Optimus’s audio. “Take everyone and run,” he said. “I’ll make sure Kaon never sees another prisoner.”
“Hey, Prime?”
Optimus involuntarily flinched at the title. He still didn’t like being called that, even if he had formally accepted the title. “Yes, Ironhide?” he responded, activating his comm-link.
“Know how we couldn’t figure out what happened back in Kaon?” the old soldier asked, a smug tone present in his voice.
Despite what Optimus positively identified as continued satisfaction over his long delayed acceptance of his title (which still annoyed him to no end) his friend’s words caught his curiosity. “Was something found out about it?”
“Yeah.” Ironhide replied, chuckling lightly. “The mech responsible just enlisted.”
Optimus’s optics flashed in surprise. His processor played over the scene on the prison shuttle. That strange nuetral… Could it have been him?
“Is he on base?” he asked carefully.
“He’s on his way to see you right now,” Ironhide told him. “I think you’ll enjoy hearing his story yourself.”
Optimus glanced down at his now forgotten work. “I think I will,” he agreed. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Prime,” the other replied before cutting the link.
Optimus sighed and pushed his data pad to the corner of his makeshift desk.
Interestingly enough, Optimus found himself hoping that the unnamed green-and- white mech had been the one to cause the devastating explosion that had reduced the Kaon prison to ground zero. He’d never really given the idea much thought though, as he never considered placing the blame of such a massive explosion on a single mech. He automatically attributed it to a series of panicked mistakes made by the Decepticons during the escape.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called.
The door slid to the side, revealing the exact mech he’d hoped to see, the same cheerful green and white mech, though his paint seemed a touch brighter and his previously-smiling face was hidden behind a blast mask.
“Optimus Prime, sir,” he greeted, dipping his head briefly as he moved into the room.
“Please sit down…” Optimus said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “I’m sorry, but I never learned your name.”
“Wheeljack,” the mech supplied, sitting down in the indicated seat.
“It’s good to see that you are functional and well, Wheeljack,” Optimus noted. His optics drew down across the mech’s chest, focusing on the freshly painted Autobot symbol there.
“Well that’s thanks to Ratchet,” Wheeljack replied, chuckling lightly. “Despite his apparent distaste for blast damage, he knows how to fix it up pretty well.”
Optimus’s optics flickered in surprise. “Blast damage?” he asked. “You were not clear when the prison exploded?”
Wheeljack’s optics crinkled, implying that behind the mask, he was grinning. “Well I kinda need to explain the whole story to get to that.”
“Please do,” Optimus encouraged. “I’m rather curious as to what happened.”
With permission given, Wheeljack’s hands suddenly shot up, palms out. The move surprised Optimus, making him jerk back in his seat.
“Okay, so basically, I’m a simple engineer with a love of experimenting with dangerous chemicals. Apparently the Decepticons liked this and tried to recruit me. I refused, so they shipped me off in a shuttle bound for Kaon.”
“You knew you would be taken there?” Optimus interrupted quickly.
“I’ve heard stories,” Wheeljack replied, waving a hand. “So when you guys got everyone out, I headed over to the energon core.” He paused when the Prime gave him a confused look.
“That blast was far too large for a core overload.”
“That’s because I didn’t overload the core. I just rigged up a makeshift antimatter bomb,” Wheeljack replied, optics bright with excitement.
“Antimatter?” Optimus asked, optics widening slightly. “I thought all projects regarding it were halted because of how dangerous they were. Even Dark Energon doesn’t have as much explosive power as antimatter.”
At this, Wheeljack only seemed to perk up further, two winglets on his back twitching upwards. “I was a part of the project before it was formally canceled,” he explained. “All of the created antimatter was placed in a sealed vault in Kaon since it couldn’t be disposed of. Luckily the Decepticons appeared to be working with it, so I didn’t have to break into the vault to get at it.”
Had Optimus’s mouth been exposed, his jaw would have hung open in a gape. “You set off all that antimatter and survived the blast?” he asked, dumbfounded.
Wheeljack just shrugged cheerfully. “I don’t know how either. It may just be luck,” he said. “But I didn’t think even my luck would save me when I was in the room when it went off!”
“But that should be impossible! How did you survive? Why did you set it to explode while you were there?” Optimus asked, his tone sounding almost numb in his disbelief.
“Well, I don’t know why I survived, I certainly didn’t expect to…” Wheeljack replied, shrugging again. “But I think the 'Cons saw me go into the containment room and realized what I was up to. So I set the bomb off before they broke the door down.”
Optimus suddenly slumped back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. Primus this was unbelievable…
“Oh, and I did almost die,” Wheeljack added nonchalantly. “Apparently when Ratchet finally got his hands on me, I had flat lined twice already and went a third time soon after. Still, he put me back together perfectly. Almost.”
Optimus didn’t miss the brief, but clearly upset tone that touched the engineer’s voice on the last few words. “Almost?” he asked.
Wheeljack suddenly looked sheepish, a sharp turn from the overly optimistic attitude prior. “There was some… Irreparable damage done to my face…” he mumbled, nervously rubbing his blast mask. “It’s just cosmetic, but it… It makes me look kind of…Deformed.”
A brief silence formed in the room, Wheeljack too uncomfortable to speak and Optimus silently considering how to proceed.
“May I see?” Optimus asked carefully after a moment.
Wheeljack flinched and peered over at him. “Uh…”
“It’s not an order, only a request.” Optimus assured him.
Wheeljack’s optics turned downward briefly, where his fingers fidgeted. “Well…I suppose…” He sighed.
Despite his answer, Wheeljack hesitated before he reached up, undoing the latches on each side of his head. Carefully, slowly, he lowered the mask from his face.
Knowing what that face looked like before, Optimus was even more surprised at the difference.
Only one side of the engineer’s face was severely damaged. Starting from the left side of his mouth all the way across the right side, the plating was warped and cracked open. In several places, he saw where the metal had fused over important circuitry, probably the reason why it could not be repaired.
“It looks horrible,” Wheeljack whispered, reaching one hand up to shield the area.
Slowly, Optimus shook his head, standing up from his chair. “It’s only a scar,” he said, moving around the desk.
“It’s ugly!” Wheeljack insisted, watching him.
“It’s not,” Optimus replied, kneeling down in front of him. “Believe me, it is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Wheeljack peered at him in a mixture of doubt and surprise. Obviously, he didn’t think he should be inclined to believe him.
“At the beginning of the war…” Optimus began slowly, mentally preparing himself for what he intended to do. “A Decepticon cruiser crashed into the ship I was on. I survived, but I suffered some minor damage.”
The latches on each side of Optimus’s helm clicked open as he reached a hand up to take hold of his own face mask. He pulled it away.
When the Prime’s mask was removed, Wheeljack straightened up, optics widening. “Y-Your face…”
Optimus gave him a crooked smile, the jagged scar stretching from his mouth to the side of his helm hindering movement on one side. “Ratchet could never fully repair it,” he explained lightly. “The mask is mostly to protect it from being damaged further, but I admit that I’m often embarrassed by it. Hence why I avoid taking it off.”
Wheeljack squirmed in his chair, optics tracing the line on his face. “I’m sorry…” he murmured. “I didn’t know…”
Optimus set a hand lightly on Wheeljack’s leg. “I’m not trying to belittle your injury,” he said. “But try not to fret over it too much, regardless.”
“I’ll try not to…” Wheeljack said quietly. He remained transfixed by the other’s face, his stare insistent, but not probing. He seemed curious.
Surprisingly, Optimus gave him an amused, though lopsided, smile.
When the engineer noticed, he jerked in surprise. “S-Sorry sir. I didn’t mean to stare…” he stuttered. “It’s just…No offense, it’s just unusual… Not in a bad way though…”
“Ratchet said something similar,” Optimus noted. “Apparently having a serious wound to the head and surviving to tell the tale is quite rare.” At this, he threw the engineer a half smirk.
“Does it hurt?” Wheeljack asked.
“Not anymore.”
Wheeljack tilted his head, his scarred lips pursing slightly. He seemed to be considering something. “Sir… I may be overstepping myself here… But…” He hesitated, debating his words. “May I touch it?”
Optimus wasn’t all that surprised by the request. Based on the engineer’s high interest in his face since the removal of his mask, he had sensed a similar request would be made at some point. “I want you to feel better about your situation, Wheeljack,” he said. “If that will help, you may.” He gave the white leg a gentle squeeze.
There was a notable brightening of the engineer’s optics as he sat forward, hand rising slightly. Of course, he hesitated. Touching your new leader’s face did seem a bit off limits, but even so, he managed to reach forward and stroke a hand softly over the scar.
That was… surprising. Optimus had never associated the scar with anything pleasurable, yet the light explorative touches felt pleasant. Unconsciously, his optics dimmed, his cheek pressing ever so gently into the hand.
Maybe Wheeljack noticed, or maybe he unconsciously reacted, because slowly, his fingers moved out, carefully cupping the Prime’s scar against his palm. “I think… It suits you,” he said quietly.
Optimus’s optics brightened marginally. “As does yours,” he replied softly, his smile gentle.
“Somehow I doubt that…” Wheeljack murmured, hand withdrawing from the Prime’s face carefully.
“Look at it from an outside perspective,” Optimus suggested, lifting the hand from the other mech’s leg.
“I am.” Wheeljack sighed. “It’s ugly.”
“I don’t think so,” Optimus said, carefully touching his fingers to the engineer’s face.
Wheeljack clearly hadn’t been expecting the reciprocation as he jerked away from the hand in surprise.
“My apologies. I should have asked,” the Prime noted, starting to withdraw.
“Wait.” Wheeljack’s hand grabbed Optimus’s wrist, holding it before it could fully withdraw. “It… caught me off guard. I don’t mind, really.”
Optimus gave a soft nod, allowing the engineer to guide his hand back to his damaged face plates. Once more, his fingers carefully smoothed over the area.
“It doesn’t hurt?” he asked, keeping the touches feather light.
The engineer’s helm shook beneath his hand. “No.”
Those fingers, large but gentle, eased across the warped plating. They smoothed over it, as if rubbing away the damage. They circled over exposed cables, warming the plating with his ministrations.
Just as Prime had done, Wheeljack’s optics dimmed as his head tilted into the touch. Then, slowly, the engineer’s hand slid away from where it had circled the Prime’s wrist, moving to softly press his hand over Optimus’s, trapping it against his cheek.
“I didn’t think it could feel this good…” Wheeljack said, dimmed optics peering intently at the other mech. There was an emotion there that Optimus wasn’t sure he was identifying correctly.
“May I… Overstep my bounds again, sir?” Wheeljack asked slowly, that still unidentified look smoldering in his optics.
“I don’t see why no--Mmmf.” The rest of Optimus’s response was lost amidst Wheeljack’s lips, flush against his. Not that he really minded… Especially since he was a rather good kisser, and rather infectious too. Through his own surprise, he found his own mouth moving softly against Wheeljack’s, responding to his sudden vigor.
Despite the kiss’s awkward start, both mechs drew it out as long as they could. Their mouths clashed and moved as denta pressed forward to nibble the pliable metal of their lips, glossa intertwining at other intervals.
When they finally pulled away, cooling fans whirring to life, both mechs looked flustered over the intimate exchange.
Optimus abruptly released a burst of air from his vents. “Feel free to overstep your bounds again,” he rumbled. “I don’t mind.”
And in the future, Wheeljack took every opportunity to do just that.
~~~~
Beta'd by pellimus_prime.ond
Verse: WFC
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Optimus, Sideswipe, Bumblebee, Ironhide, Wheeljack; Optimus/Wheeljack
Word Count: 2,599
Warnings: Mech Cursing, Mech Kissing, Spoilers for the Autobot Campaign in WFC
Summary: Two mechs deal with the shared scars of war.
Notes: For runyasan08. The prompt was "Optimus/Wheeljack-Antimatter" Last part of the meme! 8D
“Optimus,” Sideswipe hissed. “That mech is staring at you.”
Optimus’s optics flickered toward the mech in question before glancing back at Sideswipe. “He has been for a while,” he noted.
“Do you know him?” Bumblebee asked lowly, watching the strange mech.
“No, but I recognize him.”
The three Autobot’s heads snapped over to stare at the unknown mech when he spoke.
“He’s Optimus,” the unnamed mech continued.
The blue-and- red leader nodded slowly. “I am.”
The unknown mech shifted, allowing more light to fall across his frame in the dim shuttle. He had no visible sign of a faction, his plating colored green and white, his optics trained firmly on the Autobot leader still.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Optimus asked slowly, noticeably uncomfortable under his gaze.
The green and white mech grinned, the expression lighting up his rather handsome features. “I don’t think you can. Not right now,” he noted, wiggling against the glowing purple chain of his bonds.
Optimus stayed quiet, not comfortable with his tone. It sounded almost as if the mech understood Optimus and the other three's real purpose for being bound for Kaon on a prison transport shuttle…
“Listen,” the mech spoke again, suddenly looking more serious. “They aren’t gonna be able to keep an important mech like you locked up. Someone’s gonna rescue you.”
Sideswipe made a low sound. “Shut up, neutral.”
Bumblebee shifted nervously beside them. “That won’t happen…”
The green mech shrugged a little. “I won’t be a neutral for much longer. The war really has escalated...” he noted absently. “But that’s not the point.”
“The point is: you need to stop talking!” Sideswipe hissed.
“Let him speak, Sideswipe,” Optimus suddenly cut in.
“All of you! Shut UP!” a guard snarled, stepping toward the group, raising a crackling energon lance. It seemed that the guard had ignored their words for a while before it annoyed him enough to speak up. “No talking!”
When the guard turned away, the four mechs turned their optics on each other, but remained silent. Despite the guard’s obvious disregard of their actions, they all knew the danger they were in here and held their glossa until it felt safe to test the limits again.
“Let’s say that by some off chance; you managed to escape…” the green and white mech said slowly. “How far would you press the… scale of your escape?”
“I don’t leave soldiers behind,” Optimus replied.
“You’d leave a neutral like me behind though,” the mech replied, pinning him with a stare that nearly ordered him to agree.
“If a neutral didn’t want to leave, yes,” Optimus agreed slowly.
“Ready the prisoners for unloading! We’re coming in for a landing!” one of the guards called.
Suddenly, they were all forced to their feet and shuffled toward the loading doors as they landed, allowing the green mech to approach the others, leaning over to whisper in Optimus’s audio. “Take everyone and run,” he said. “I’ll make sure Kaon never sees another prisoner.”
“Hey, Prime?”
Optimus involuntarily flinched at the title. He still didn’t like being called that, even if he had formally accepted the title. “Yes, Ironhide?” he responded, activating his comm-link.
“Know how we couldn’t figure out what happened back in Kaon?” the old soldier asked, a smug tone present in his voice.
Despite what Optimus positively identified as continued satisfaction over his long delayed acceptance of his title (which still annoyed him to no end) his friend’s words caught his curiosity. “Was something found out about it?”
“Yeah.” Ironhide replied, chuckling lightly. “The mech responsible just enlisted.”
Optimus’s optics flashed in surprise. His processor played over the scene on the prison shuttle. That strange nuetral… Could it have been him?
“Is he on base?” he asked carefully.
“He’s on his way to see you right now,” Ironhide told him. “I think you’ll enjoy hearing his story yourself.”
Optimus glanced down at his now forgotten work. “I think I will,” he agreed. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Prime,” the other replied before cutting the link.
Optimus sighed and pushed his data pad to the corner of his makeshift desk.
Interestingly enough, Optimus found himself hoping that the unnamed green-and- white mech had been the one to cause the devastating explosion that had reduced the Kaon prison to ground zero. He’d never really given the idea much thought though, as he never considered placing the blame of such a massive explosion on a single mech. He automatically attributed it to a series of panicked mistakes made by the Decepticons during the escape.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called.
The door slid to the side, revealing the exact mech he’d hoped to see, the same cheerful green and white mech, though his paint seemed a touch brighter and his previously-smiling face was hidden behind a blast mask.
“Optimus Prime, sir,” he greeted, dipping his head briefly as he moved into the room.
“Please sit down…” Optimus said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “I’m sorry, but I never learned your name.”
“Wheeljack,” the mech supplied, sitting down in the indicated seat.
“It’s good to see that you are functional and well, Wheeljack,” Optimus noted. His optics drew down across the mech’s chest, focusing on the freshly painted Autobot symbol there.
“Well that’s thanks to Ratchet,” Wheeljack replied, chuckling lightly. “Despite his apparent distaste for blast damage, he knows how to fix it up pretty well.”
Optimus’s optics flickered in surprise. “Blast damage?” he asked. “You were not clear when the prison exploded?”
Wheeljack’s optics crinkled, implying that behind the mask, he was grinning. “Well I kinda need to explain the whole story to get to that.”
“Please do,” Optimus encouraged. “I’m rather curious as to what happened.”
With permission given, Wheeljack’s hands suddenly shot up, palms out. The move surprised Optimus, making him jerk back in his seat.
“Okay, so basically, I’m a simple engineer with a love of experimenting with dangerous chemicals. Apparently the Decepticons liked this and tried to recruit me. I refused, so they shipped me off in a shuttle bound for Kaon.”
“You knew you would be taken there?” Optimus interrupted quickly.
“I’ve heard stories,” Wheeljack replied, waving a hand. “So when you guys got everyone out, I headed over to the energon core.” He paused when the Prime gave him a confused look.
“That blast was far too large for a core overload.”
“That’s because I didn’t overload the core. I just rigged up a makeshift antimatter bomb,” Wheeljack replied, optics bright with excitement.
“Antimatter?” Optimus asked, optics widening slightly. “I thought all projects regarding it were halted because of how dangerous they were. Even Dark Energon doesn’t have as much explosive power as antimatter.”
At this, Wheeljack only seemed to perk up further, two winglets on his back twitching upwards. “I was a part of the project before it was formally canceled,” he explained. “All of the created antimatter was placed in a sealed vault in Kaon since it couldn’t be disposed of. Luckily the Decepticons appeared to be working with it, so I didn’t have to break into the vault to get at it.”
Had Optimus’s mouth been exposed, his jaw would have hung open in a gape. “You set off all that antimatter and survived the blast?” he asked, dumbfounded.
Wheeljack just shrugged cheerfully. “I don’t know how either. It may just be luck,” he said. “But I didn’t think even my luck would save me when I was in the room when it went off!”
“But that should be impossible! How did you survive? Why did you set it to explode while you were there?” Optimus asked, his tone sounding almost numb in his disbelief.
“Well, I don’t know why I survived, I certainly didn’t expect to…” Wheeljack replied, shrugging again. “But I think the 'Cons saw me go into the containment room and realized what I was up to. So I set the bomb off before they broke the door down.”
Optimus suddenly slumped back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. Primus this was unbelievable…
“Oh, and I did almost die,” Wheeljack added nonchalantly. “Apparently when Ratchet finally got his hands on me, I had flat lined twice already and went a third time soon after. Still, he put me back together perfectly. Almost.”
Optimus didn’t miss the brief, but clearly upset tone that touched the engineer’s voice on the last few words. “Almost?” he asked.
Wheeljack suddenly looked sheepish, a sharp turn from the overly optimistic attitude prior. “There was some… Irreparable damage done to my face…” he mumbled, nervously rubbing his blast mask. “It’s just cosmetic, but it… It makes me look kind of…Deformed.”
A brief silence formed in the room, Wheeljack too uncomfortable to speak and Optimus silently considering how to proceed.
“May I see?” Optimus asked carefully after a moment.
Wheeljack flinched and peered over at him. “Uh…”
“It’s not an order, only a request.” Optimus assured him.
Wheeljack’s optics turned downward briefly, where his fingers fidgeted. “Well…I suppose…” He sighed.
Despite his answer, Wheeljack hesitated before he reached up, undoing the latches on each side of his head. Carefully, slowly, he lowered the mask from his face.
Knowing what that face looked like before, Optimus was even more surprised at the difference.
Only one side of the engineer’s face was severely damaged. Starting from the left side of his mouth all the way across the right side, the plating was warped and cracked open. In several places, he saw where the metal had fused over important circuitry, probably the reason why it could not be repaired.
“It looks horrible,” Wheeljack whispered, reaching one hand up to shield the area.
Slowly, Optimus shook his head, standing up from his chair. “It’s only a scar,” he said, moving around the desk.
“It’s ugly!” Wheeljack insisted, watching him.
“It’s not,” Optimus replied, kneeling down in front of him. “Believe me, it is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Wheeljack peered at him in a mixture of doubt and surprise. Obviously, he didn’t think he should be inclined to believe him.
“At the beginning of the war…” Optimus began slowly, mentally preparing himself for what he intended to do. “A Decepticon cruiser crashed into the ship I was on. I survived, but I suffered some minor damage.”
The latches on each side of Optimus’s helm clicked open as he reached a hand up to take hold of his own face mask. He pulled it away.
When the Prime’s mask was removed, Wheeljack straightened up, optics widening. “Y-Your face…”
Optimus gave him a crooked smile, the jagged scar stretching from his mouth to the side of his helm hindering movement on one side. “Ratchet could never fully repair it,” he explained lightly. “The mask is mostly to protect it from being damaged further, but I admit that I’m often embarrassed by it. Hence why I avoid taking it off.”
Wheeljack squirmed in his chair, optics tracing the line on his face. “I’m sorry…” he murmured. “I didn’t know…”
Optimus set a hand lightly on Wheeljack’s leg. “I’m not trying to belittle your injury,” he said. “But try not to fret over it too much, regardless.”
“I’ll try not to…” Wheeljack said quietly. He remained transfixed by the other’s face, his stare insistent, but not probing. He seemed curious.
Surprisingly, Optimus gave him an amused, though lopsided, smile.
When the engineer noticed, he jerked in surprise. “S-Sorry sir. I didn’t mean to stare…” he stuttered. “It’s just…No offense, it’s just unusual… Not in a bad way though…”
“Ratchet said something similar,” Optimus noted. “Apparently having a serious wound to the head and surviving to tell the tale is quite rare.” At this, he threw the engineer a half smirk.
“Does it hurt?” Wheeljack asked.
“Not anymore.”
Wheeljack tilted his head, his scarred lips pursing slightly. He seemed to be considering something. “Sir… I may be overstepping myself here… But…” He hesitated, debating his words. “May I touch it?”
Optimus wasn’t all that surprised by the request. Based on the engineer’s high interest in his face since the removal of his mask, he had sensed a similar request would be made at some point. “I want you to feel better about your situation, Wheeljack,” he said. “If that will help, you may.” He gave the white leg a gentle squeeze.
There was a notable brightening of the engineer’s optics as he sat forward, hand rising slightly. Of course, he hesitated. Touching your new leader’s face did seem a bit off limits, but even so, he managed to reach forward and stroke a hand softly over the scar.
That was… surprising. Optimus had never associated the scar with anything pleasurable, yet the light explorative touches felt pleasant. Unconsciously, his optics dimmed, his cheek pressing ever so gently into the hand.
Maybe Wheeljack noticed, or maybe he unconsciously reacted, because slowly, his fingers moved out, carefully cupping the Prime’s scar against his palm. “I think… It suits you,” he said quietly.
Optimus’s optics brightened marginally. “As does yours,” he replied softly, his smile gentle.
“Somehow I doubt that…” Wheeljack murmured, hand withdrawing from the Prime’s face carefully.
“Look at it from an outside perspective,” Optimus suggested, lifting the hand from the other mech’s leg.
“I am.” Wheeljack sighed. “It’s ugly.”
“I don’t think so,” Optimus said, carefully touching his fingers to the engineer’s face.
Wheeljack clearly hadn’t been expecting the reciprocation as he jerked away from the hand in surprise.
“My apologies. I should have asked,” the Prime noted, starting to withdraw.
“Wait.” Wheeljack’s hand grabbed Optimus’s wrist, holding it before it could fully withdraw. “It… caught me off guard. I don’t mind, really.”
Optimus gave a soft nod, allowing the engineer to guide his hand back to his damaged face plates. Once more, his fingers carefully smoothed over the area.
“It doesn’t hurt?” he asked, keeping the touches feather light.
The engineer’s helm shook beneath his hand. “No.”
Those fingers, large but gentle, eased across the warped plating. They smoothed over it, as if rubbing away the damage. They circled over exposed cables, warming the plating with his ministrations.
Just as Prime had done, Wheeljack’s optics dimmed as his head tilted into the touch. Then, slowly, the engineer’s hand slid away from where it had circled the Prime’s wrist, moving to softly press his hand over Optimus’s, trapping it against his cheek.
“I didn’t think it could feel this good…” Wheeljack said, dimmed optics peering intently at the other mech. There was an emotion there that Optimus wasn’t sure he was identifying correctly.
“May I… Overstep my bounds again, sir?” Wheeljack asked slowly, that still unidentified look smoldering in his optics.
“I don’t see why no--Mmmf.” The rest of Optimus’s response was lost amidst Wheeljack’s lips, flush against his. Not that he really minded… Especially since he was a rather good kisser, and rather infectious too. Through his own surprise, he found his own mouth moving softly against Wheeljack’s, responding to his sudden vigor.
Despite the kiss’s awkward start, both mechs drew it out as long as they could. Their mouths clashed and moved as denta pressed forward to nibble the pliable metal of their lips, glossa intertwining at other intervals.
When they finally pulled away, cooling fans whirring to life, both mechs looked flustered over the intimate exchange.
Optimus abruptly released a burst of air from his vents. “Feel free to overstep your bounds again,” he rumbled. “I don’t mind.”
And in the future, Wheeljack took every opportunity to do just that.
~~~~
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