Title: Forgiven, Never Forgotten
Pairing/threesome/orgy Wanted: Optimus/Sentinel or vice versa.
Continuity wanted: TFA
Three things wanted in story: Hurt/Comfort, sparkplay of some sort
image): http://zephony.deviantart.com/art/Lost-quot-tf-slash-quot-99451959
Title: Forgiven, Never Forgotten
Author: SBX
Characters: Sentinel Prime, Optimus Prime
Pairings: Optimus/Sentinel
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst
Disclaimer: No character used in this story belongs to me.
Summary: Optimus says his name softly, lays a hand on his chest plates so carefully.
A/N: I'm not entirely sure how well this fits the criteria of the prompt, but I hope the requester likes this anyway. It's also not very long, but I couldn't think of a way to make it longer without making it seem drawn out. The ending is open to an aftermath sequel, which depends entirely on whether or not this story is well received.
All that said, I enjoyed writing this, mostly because of the experimental writing style I used made me really think about what I was writing. Written from Sentinel's POV without using first person. Optimus is only ever referred to by his name. All of the 'he/him/his' pronouns refer to Sentinel only. I may or may not use this style again. Depends on reader feedback and whether or not it was too confusing for you guys.
ooooo
Sirens. Shouting. Flashing lights. An explosion. The building shakes, crumbles around them. There is a short, agonized scream. A control panel fries, electricity jumping to him from where he is grasping for balance. Then darkness.
Pain. Pain everywhere, and he can't access the relays to shut off his nervous system, can't even access his own motor controls. He's paralyzed, helpless and this scares him more than anything ever has. No control. No control over his situation, his surroundings or even his own body and he craves control. It drives him, makes him want more than he should, makes him unpleasant to be around. And isn't it funny that the one thing he truly wants control over is his desire to control? He wants to shut it off so he can finally act like a normal bot, finally be able reach out to others without wanting to control every little thing about them.
Light. Light shining in his optics and he realizes that the darkness wasn't from malfunctioning optical sensors but from a lack of light. And he can finally see the rooms only other occupant. Blue optics stare down at him in concern. Optimus slaggin' Prime, and didn't he look just perfect. Not a scratch on him. Something about that bothered him, contradicted with some piece of information in the back of his processor but he was too overcome by self pity to worry over it much.
A smile. Optimus sees that he is on line and smiles with relief. Optimus says his name softly, lays a hand on his chest plates so carefully. He wonders how bad he must he must look for Optimus to worry over him, to be so gentle when usually Optimus is harsh no matter what. He realizes that he might be dying and the thought doesn't bother him as much as the thought that nobody would miss him.
A frown. Optimus looks sad. Optimus says he's wrong, that there are people who would miss him if he'd only let them close enough. Like you, he thinks sarcastically, resenting that fact that he couldn't say the words aloud. Then he frowns, wondering how Optimus could possible have known what he was thinking.
Warmth. There is a warmth spreading from the place where Optimus' hand is still resting on his chest plates over his spark, soothing the pain. Yes, Optimus says, smiling. He finally realizes that the words are not being spoken aloud. They are coming through his own spark. This warmth is the care and understanding Optimus feels for him in spite of everything.
Shame. He knows he does not deserve this, has hurt and betrayed Optimus in the past and could never swallow his pride enough apologize, to ask for forgiveness. He is able to move his head enough to turn away from the warmth he cannot accept. Focusing his optics elsewhere, he sees it.
Gray. The body was gray, crushed beneath rubble. Dead. It took him forever to realize whose body he was staring at. A static wail of horror and denial forces its way out of the vocal processor without his knowledge. No, it can't be, he's glitched. His optics were damaged and he's seeing things because that body couldn't possibly be...
Pain, both physical and emotional feeding of of each other, causes his body to seize and shudder. And Optimus is there carefully holding him down so he doesn't hurt himself further, but that is impossible because Optimus is also across the room, not moving, not making a sound and so very dead.
I'm sorry, he nearly screams in his own head, I'm so sorry for everything. Please don't leave me, please oh pleasepleaseplease I'll be different, I'll change, just don't go!
A kiss. Optimus presses a chaste, loving kiss to his cheek as one hand wipes away his tears, tears he wasn't aware of crying. Up so close he can clearly see what he had been ignoring as impossible before. The gentle light that he had been able to see by was coming from Optimus, whose entire body was glowing. The was a blue tint to the light that reminded him of spark energy.
You're leaving aren't you, he thinks sadly, the earlier desperation spent. Optimus smiles sadly again, pressing a hand over his spark again and that soothing warmth was back, spreading through him. He accepted it gratefully, his optics shuttering is a moment of bliss. Behave yourself, Optimus teases and he can't help but smile because he knows that somehow he has been forgiven.
As the true dark of stasis finally comes to claim him he hears, truly hears a voice calling his name in desperation. He has just enough time to identify the voice before he goes under.
Jazz?
ooooo
End?