Fic- Uglier Than Sin, Sideswipe/Ironhide, Resurrection Request Response
Title/Prompt: Uglier Than Sin
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: PG, just to be on the safe side
Characters: Ironhide and Sideswipe
Summary: Sometime after the first encounter Sideswipe had on Earth with Demolisher, Ironhide observes Sideswipe’s fury
Prompt: Sideswipe/Ironhide - "You're gorgeous when you're angry"
Warning: Unbeta’d
Word Count: 887
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks.
Sideswipe’s blades shone as silver arcs as he brutally attacked the target that hung from one of the rafters. The arcs shown where the blades had been but never their present location. The silver mech skated smoothly around the target seeming to always manage to be engaging it. It was an art. The wheeled pedes were placed in well-practiced steps never to allow him an unguarded angle. The blades flashed again, and again. The warrior’s pace didn’t slow. The training target similar to a Cybertronian version of a punching bag swayed at each hit. Since it was projected out from an inner core the target didn’t gain visible damage unless one would count the flicker in the projection.
Ironhide shifted where he’d found a place to lean against the metal wall of the hanger-like building that had been erected for their use as a common area. His optics were focused on the lighter built mech’s movements. It had been a long time since the other had been his student. The other had learned everything presented to him and made it his own. The movements were more fluid than Ironhide could ever hope to achieve.
It stopped. The younger mech’s cooling systems cycled air, and his legs folded at the knees, the only thing keeping him from dropping to the ground was the force of one of his blades plunging into the flooring. Silver plating quaked, and Sideswipe’s optics while looking in the direction of the target were not seeing it. The mech roared at his foe. The yellow light cast from the high-pressure sodium lights above made golden streaks on the silver armor. Sideswipe attempted to push off. Stumbling forward he slashed once more at the target. He’d given it all that he had, and managed to catch himself before he kissed the ground.
The mentor looked to the sword bearing mech. He’d known Sideswipe before the incident with the refugee camp and after. He could say for certain that although they bore the same appearance and name the mech before him was not the same mech that had stood beside him on the training compound in Iacon dutifully mimicking his movements as a student.
They all bore scars whether worn externally, or buried deep within their sparks. As Ironhide looked forward he could see the brilliant shine of the other’s armor. The high gloss finish, and the beautiful curves of plating were undeniable in their flawlessness, but the barely audible curses the silver mech spoke openly when he though no one was present, the tremble so strut-deep that one could almost see no outward sign of it and would have to turn their audial sensors up to listen for the metallic shiver of the plating, there was evidence of the other’s scars. It was evidence of anger that ran so deep that if Sideswipe were deprived of fuel his spark would still find sustenance from this burning rage.
Pushing away from the wall and standing straight Ironhide attracted the other’s attention. The silver mech’s helm snapped to look in his direction. The black painted mech walked forward and took a knee in front of Sideswipe. The motion was awkward due to the larger mech’s bulk but practice had made it smooth. The older warrior clapped his large hand on the other’s shoulder.
The sports car mech’s helm slowly dropped to where it hung. He knew the older mech had witnessed his anger then and before when he’d doggedly pursued Demolisher. A shiver ran through Sideswipe’s frame from the remembrance of the heat of his anger. The hand on his shoulder slowly trailed over his armor surprisingly gentle, only to tuck beneath his chin and lift his helm forcing him to look at his teacher’s face.
“It’s alright to have anger.” Ironhide’s thumb brushed over Sideswipe’s cheek plate. “It’s alright to let that anger fuel you, even if Optimus wished it didn’t.” The younger mech’s optics watched him. Ironhide leaned closer. “Don’t let it be all that you are. You are more than that. I trained you to be more than that.” Raising his other hand he stroked the along the finials that flared from the silver mech’s helm. Sideswipe attempted to lower his helm and it was pulled back up automatically. “As with many warriors, your anger makes you beautiful, but there is more to this life than outward beauty, and that anger will make your inside uglier than sin.”
They both seemed frozen in place as if waiting for the other to break the silence. Ironhide stood and hooked his hands under the smaller mech’s front chest plate and pulled him to stand as well. “Go fuel. You’re shaking.” Sideswipe didn’t move his helm turned to look at the ground to his left. “Go. Nothing good will come from me dragging your aft to Ratchet to have him dump fuel in your tank.”
“I let them down, Ironhide. I was supposed to protect them. All of them are gone... I don’t know who to hate more, Myself for not returning to the Well of the AllSpark with them, or Demolisher for massacring them and not finishing the job.” His blades folded to his upper arms slowly. His optics still would not look at the other’s form.
“Whichever you can live with. I suggest the Con.”
Writer: Left_eye_better
Rating: PG, just to be on the safe side
Characters: Ironhide and Sideswipe
Summary: Sometime after the first encounter Sideswipe had on Earth with Demolisher, Ironhide observes Sideswipe’s fury
Prompt: Sideswipe/Ironhide - "You're gorgeous when you're angry"
Warning: Unbeta’d
Word Count: 887
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks.
Sideswipe’s blades shone as silver arcs as he brutally attacked the target that hung from one of the rafters. The arcs shown where the blades had been but never their present location. The silver mech skated smoothly around the target seeming to always manage to be engaging it. It was an art. The wheeled pedes were placed in well-practiced steps never to allow him an unguarded angle. The blades flashed again, and again. The warrior’s pace didn’t slow. The training target similar to a Cybertronian version of a punching bag swayed at each hit. Since it was projected out from an inner core the target didn’t gain visible damage unless one would count the flicker in the projection.
Ironhide shifted where he’d found a place to lean against the metal wall of the hanger-like building that had been erected for their use as a common area. His optics were focused on the lighter built mech’s movements. It had been a long time since the other had been his student. The other had learned everything presented to him and made it his own. The movements were more fluid than Ironhide could ever hope to achieve.
It stopped. The younger mech’s cooling systems cycled air, and his legs folded at the knees, the only thing keeping him from dropping to the ground was the force of one of his blades plunging into the flooring. Silver plating quaked, and Sideswipe’s optics while looking in the direction of the target were not seeing it. The mech roared at his foe. The yellow light cast from the high-pressure sodium lights above made golden streaks on the silver armor. Sideswipe attempted to push off. Stumbling forward he slashed once more at the target. He’d given it all that he had, and managed to catch himself before he kissed the ground.
The mentor looked to the sword bearing mech. He’d known Sideswipe before the incident with the refugee camp and after. He could say for certain that although they bore the same appearance and name the mech before him was not the same mech that had stood beside him on the training compound in Iacon dutifully mimicking his movements as a student.
They all bore scars whether worn externally, or buried deep within their sparks. As Ironhide looked forward he could see the brilliant shine of the other’s armor. The high gloss finish, and the beautiful curves of plating were undeniable in their flawlessness, but the barely audible curses the silver mech spoke openly when he though no one was present, the tremble so strut-deep that one could almost see no outward sign of it and would have to turn their audial sensors up to listen for the metallic shiver of the plating, there was evidence of the other’s scars. It was evidence of anger that ran so deep that if Sideswipe were deprived of fuel his spark would still find sustenance from this burning rage.
Pushing away from the wall and standing straight Ironhide attracted the other’s attention. The silver mech’s helm snapped to look in his direction. The black painted mech walked forward and took a knee in front of Sideswipe. The motion was awkward due to the larger mech’s bulk but practice had made it smooth. The older warrior clapped his large hand on the other’s shoulder.
The sports car mech’s helm slowly dropped to where it hung. He knew the older mech had witnessed his anger then and before when he’d doggedly pursued Demolisher. A shiver ran through Sideswipe’s frame from the remembrance of the heat of his anger. The hand on his shoulder slowly trailed over his armor surprisingly gentle, only to tuck beneath his chin and lift his helm forcing him to look at his teacher’s face.
“It’s alright to have anger.” Ironhide’s thumb brushed over Sideswipe’s cheek plate. “It’s alright to let that anger fuel you, even if Optimus wished it didn’t.” The younger mech’s optics watched him. Ironhide leaned closer. “Don’t let it be all that you are. You are more than that. I trained you to be more than that.” Raising his other hand he stroked the along the finials that flared from the silver mech’s helm. Sideswipe attempted to lower his helm and it was pulled back up automatically. “As with many warriors, your anger makes you beautiful, but there is more to this life than outward beauty, and that anger will make your inside uglier than sin.”
They both seemed frozen in place as if waiting for the other to break the silence. Ironhide stood and hooked his hands under the smaller mech’s front chest plate and pulled him to stand as well. “Go fuel. You’re shaking.” Sideswipe didn’t move his helm turned to look at the ground to his left. “Go. Nothing good will come from me dragging your aft to Ratchet to have him dump fuel in your tank.”
“I let them down, Ironhide. I was supposed to protect them. All of them are gone... I don’t know who to hate more, Myself for not returning to the Well of the AllSpark with them, or Demolisher for massacring them and not finishing the job.” His blades folded to his upper arms slowly. His optics still would not look at the other’s form.
“Whichever you can live with. I suggest the Con.”