Fic - Methods
Title: Methods
Characters/Pairings: Optimus Prime, Ultra Magnus/Perceptor
Rated: PG
Warnings: Sorta hints of robosex? Heheh. Also, character death. And a weird kind of morbid humor, I suppose. Not actually in the fic, just on my part.. xD
Notes: It's all primusatemyleg's fault. This pairing is in my mind and I adore it and--*flails*
Anyway, here's what came of it. May or may not do a sequel, still pondering that.
"I fear the wounds are... fatal."
Perceptor never had less of a desire to speak than the moment he was needed to most. He had nothing near Ratchet's medical skill, but anyone--especially aided with his lens--could see that Optimus Prime was dying. And while the Autobot leader gave his parting message, Perceptor felt unfocused. He barely heard what Prime was saying as he prepared to pass on the Matrix.
In fact, stupidly, his gaze kept straying over Optimus's body to fall on Ultra Magnus. Perceptor had always found Magnus attractive, though he had only looked on from afar. He kept glancing back at Magnus, optics tracing along the larger mech's profile as he turned to listen to their leader's words, a frown tugging at his lips... and then the scientist scolded himself, berating his fickle processors--though he couldn't blame them for seeking a distraction, and Ultra Magnus's profile was certainly a pleasant one. Strong chin, shapely lips...
Perceptor mentally shook himself--again. Sure, during most social situations he would allow his mind to wander off, what the humans would call "spacing out"--but during Optimus Prime's dying speech? Perceptor was unbelievably irritated with himself. Surely, surely he could focus at this time.
Of course he could focus. He could see his fading leader, lacking the luster he'd always shone with. Soon he was gone, having given the Matrix to Ultra Magnus. At Daniel's tears, Perceptor excused himself from the room; somehow he'd always been more broken up by human crying than the static sobs of his own kind.
The red scientist found himself in a nondescript room after wandering through Metroplex some, squatting on a bench--not because it was comfortable, but because he could close in on himself more tightly, more closely. The position lessened the feeling of loneliness in some way, supposedly by being close to oneself. Perceptor stayed that way for a length of time--exactly how long he was unaware; time seemed abstract. Until...
Until he became aware of a steady set of footsteps, increasing in proximity and therefore volume. Slowly, Perceptor turned and looked, and found the object of his earlier distraction striding towards him at an unhurried pace. Their gazes locked, just for a moment because Perceptor dropped his gaze--too afraid he would stare like a fool into Magnus's optics--but it was enough so that Magnus slowed slightly, stopping in front of the smaller scientist. Perceptor looked back up, knowing that his face must reflect the troubled expression he saw upon Ultra Magnus's.
They gazed at one another again, for a seemingly indefinite time that was probably only a few astroseconds. It felt much longer to Perceptor, however, and he felt increasingly awkward, so he spoke.
"H-how are you?"
So awkward that he spit out that inane question. The leader we were confident would take us to victory at the end of this exhausting war has just died, and we witnessed it, but how are you doing? Perfect, right?
Perceptor was startled out of his internal rant when Magnus made a noncommittal motion with his shoulders--more like a half-hearted shrug than anything. Nodding silently, Perceptor dropped his gaze again, embarrassed. Silence stretched on again, but Ultra Magnus didn't move.
Again, Perceptor was startled out of his thoughts--this time by Magnus speaking. “I never thought...” his sentence trailed off.
“I understand,” Perceptor stated quietly. Ultra Magnus's gaze focused back on the smaller scientist, who smiled ever so slightly in a sad way. He kept his gaze up, but soon got the impression that Magnus had started looking through him rather than at him. He seemed distant, in a faraway place that Perceptor couldn't touch.
For some reason that notion startled him, filled him with something akin to... fear? Surely not. Concern, perhaps, but...
Perceptor stood. Even standing on the bench, he wasn't optic-level with Magnus. He wasn't sure what he had been trying to accomplish with this action, maybe some irrational response to the--the concern he had felt, but what he did know was that his next action was on impulse--impulse, since when was he impulsive?--from being in such proximity to Magnus.
Maybe he wanted to prove that he could still reach his commander.
Whatever it was, before his processors caught up with his actions, he'd raised up on the edge of his toes and softly pressed his lips to Magnus's. Once he came back to himself, Perceptor pulled away, embarrassed. His gaze flicked up to Ultra Magnus once before flitting away again. There had been some unidentifiable expression on his face, but Perceptor didn't chance looking up again.
Rocking back on his heels, he began, “Er... I'm sor--” but before the apology could finish, the scientist felt himself pressed back against the wall, being kissed with much more fervor than he had shown before. For once, Perceptor stopped caring about knowing exactly why what was happening was happening as large fingers brushed over sensitive plating, soliciting a soft mewl.
After all, he concluded swiftly, we all have different methods of coping.
Characters/Pairings: Optimus Prime, Ultra Magnus/Perceptor
Rated: PG
Warnings: Sorta hints of robosex? Heheh. Also, character death. And a weird kind of morbid humor, I suppose. Not actually in the fic, just on my part.. xD
Notes: It's all primusatemyleg's fault. This pairing is in my mind and I adore it and--*flails*
Anyway, here's what came of it. May or may not do a sequel, still pondering that.
"I fear the wounds are... fatal."
Perceptor never had less of a desire to speak than the moment he was needed to most. He had nothing near Ratchet's medical skill, but anyone--especially aided with his lens--could see that Optimus Prime was dying. And while the Autobot leader gave his parting message, Perceptor felt unfocused. He barely heard what Prime was saying as he prepared to pass on the Matrix.
In fact, stupidly, his gaze kept straying over Optimus's body to fall on Ultra Magnus. Perceptor had always found Magnus attractive, though he had only looked on from afar. He kept glancing back at Magnus, optics tracing along the larger mech's profile as he turned to listen to their leader's words, a frown tugging at his lips... and then the scientist scolded himself, berating his fickle processors--though he couldn't blame them for seeking a distraction, and Ultra Magnus's profile was certainly a pleasant one. Strong chin, shapely lips...
Perceptor mentally shook himself--again. Sure, during most social situations he would allow his mind to wander off, what the humans would call "spacing out"--but during Optimus Prime's dying speech? Perceptor was unbelievably irritated with himself. Surely, surely he could focus at this time.
Of course he could focus. He could see his fading leader, lacking the luster he'd always shone with. Soon he was gone, having given the Matrix to Ultra Magnus. At Daniel's tears, Perceptor excused himself from the room; somehow he'd always been more broken up by human crying than the static sobs of his own kind.
The red scientist found himself in a nondescript room after wandering through Metroplex some, squatting on a bench--not because it was comfortable, but because he could close in on himself more tightly, more closely. The position lessened the feeling of loneliness in some way, supposedly by being close to oneself. Perceptor stayed that way for a length of time--exactly how long he was unaware; time seemed abstract. Until...
Until he became aware of a steady set of footsteps, increasing in proximity and therefore volume. Slowly, Perceptor turned and looked, and found the object of his earlier distraction striding towards him at an unhurried pace. Their gazes locked, just for a moment because Perceptor dropped his gaze--too afraid he would stare like a fool into Magnus's optics--but it was enough so that Magnus slowed slightly, stopping in front of the smaller scientist. Perceptor looked back up, knowing that his face must reflect the troubled expression he saw upon Ultra Magnus's.
They gazed at one another again, for a seemingly indefinite time that was probably only a few astroseconds. It felt much longer to Perceptor, however, and he felt increasingly awkward, so he spoke.
"H-how are you?"
So awkward that he spit out that inane question. The leader we were confident would take us to victory at the end of this exhausting war has just died, and we witnessed it, but how are you doing? Perfect, right?
Perceptor was startled out of his internal rant when Magnus made a noncommittal motion with his shoulders--more like a half-hearted shrug than anything. Nodding silently, Perceptor dropped his gaze again, embarrassed. Silence stretched on again, but Ultra Magnus didn't move.
Again, Perceptor was startled out of his thoughts--this time by Magnus speaking. “I never thought...” his sentence trailed off.
“I understand,” Perceptor stated quietly. Ultra Magnus's gaze focused back on the smaller scientist, who smiled ever so slightly in a sad way. He kept his gaze up, but soon got the impression that Magnus had started looking through him rather than at him. He seemed distant, in a faraway place that Perceptor couldn't touch.
For some reason that notion startled him, filled him with something akin to... fear? Surely not. Concern, perhaps, but...
Perceptor stood. Even standing on the bench, he wasn't optic-level with Magnus. He wasn't sure what he had been trying to accomplish with this action, maybe some irrational response to the--the concern he had felt, but what he did know was that his next action was on impulse--impulse, since when was he impulsive?--from being in such proximity to Magnus.
Maybe he wanted to prove that he could still reach his commander.
Whatever it was, before his processors caught up with his actions, he'd raised up on the edge of his toes and softly pressed his lips to Magnus's. Once he came back to himself, Perceptor pulled away, embarrassed. His gaze flicked up to Ultra Magnus once before flitting away again. There had been some unidentifiable expression on his face, but Perceptor didn't chance looking up again.
Rocking back on his heels, he began, “Er... I'm sor--” but before the apology could finish, the scientist felt himself pressed back against the wall, being kissed with much more fervor than he had shown before. For once, Perceptor stopped caring about knowing exactly why what was happening was happening as large fingers brushed over sensitive plating, soliciting a soft mewl.
After all, he concluded swiftly, we all have different methods of coping.