[Virtues Fic] Lightning and Thunder
Title: Lightning and Thunder
Fandom: Transformers G1
Characters/Pairing: Optimus Prime/Elita One
Word Count: 1103
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Episode tag for "War Dawn".
My Little Table
---
He came back from his first battle with Megatron and found the female sitting on the edge of a work table. Tools still lay scattered around her, bits of wire and loose screws forming a halo around where she had lain. She held a piece of highly-polished metal in her hands, staring in confusion and something like distaste at her form. Her colors fluctuated softly as he watched, blues and purples rippling through reds.
"Ah, Optimus. You have returned." The engineer who had repaired him leaned against an inner door. He seemed mature, not much older than the soldier-jets Optimus had met only a few days ago. But there was something antiquated about the engineer, while the jets had seemed far past cutting edge. "I was able to repair your friend, but it looks like she's still growing accustomed to the new body. Her color nanites haven't settled on a design yet. Your other friend..." He glanced back over his shoulder. "He'll take a while longer yet."
Something in his tone and expression made the fuel run chill from Optimus's tanks. The engineer had barely seemed to have any supplies when Optimus insisted he work on Ariel. He had managed to repair her, obviously, but what about poor Dion?
"I-"
The engineer held up his hand. "It may take a while longer, as I said. But, sit and talk with your friend. You still have time for that."
With that, the engineer re-entered his workshop, the door sliding shut behind him.
-Did that mean he would ever stop having time? Shaking off the engineer's odd phrasing, Optimus tentatively approached the mech who had once been Ariel.
She watched him warily, blue optics boring into his own. He flinched from the accusation he read there, from the spikes of lurid red and black across her body as her colors refused to settle on this new body. He couldn't blame them or her; if her body was anything like his, she'd gone from being a simple Autobot dock-worker to a war-machine. Heavier, tougher, a killer disguised as a normal mech. All because he'd been too naive to believe that Megatron would harm them.
"Ari-" He cut off at the sharp, negative jerk of her head. No, of course not. That wasn't her name anymore, anymore than his name was Orion Pax. He knelt down in front of her, vaguely feeling that he shouldn't loom over her while she was like this. "I'm sorry, I-"
Her colors snapped into place.
Pristine whites and warm pinks covered her from head-to-foot. The colors were almost exact matches- He tried not to flinch. Almost exactly Ariel's colors. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I should have listened to Silverbolt, shouldn't have been such a fool-"
Strong white hands settled on either side of his helm. "We were both fools, Optimus."
Her voice, like his, was deeper than it had been. But it sent an odd rush of warmth to his lasercore, a warmth only increased by the sensation of her hands against his mask. "I-"
"You went out to fight the Decepticons." Fingers trailed over his shoulder, gently touched a blast mark blackening his windshield. He hissed at the sudden pain, and she flinched back.
"Yes- Yes. I had to. Please don't-" He reached out and took her hand, drawing it back to simply hold against his cheek.
"It was very brave of you to do that."
She shifted closer to him, and he shuffled forward on his knees to lay his masked face against her lap. "Megatron blew up the warehouse district. Silverbolt and his men were in the middle of the explosion. They're-"
He broke off, shying away from how badly he'd ruined everything. Ariel changed, Dion changed, those noble jets dead.
"Oh, Optimus..."
He tried not to groan as she began to rub the back of his helm. It felt good, nice... "They're going to keep hurting people, A- What should I call you?"
"Elita. Elita One." Her fingers pressed harder at the back of his helm, bringing pressure sensors to life that distracted him from his pain. "And yes, they will. But we'll be there to fight them."
He shuddered at her words. Yes, they would be there to fight the Decepticons. After what had happened to them, after knowing first-hand what the Decepticons were capable of, there was no possibility either of them could walk away. He knew it, and it shook him to his core. When had he become capable of this? Had Megatron truly killed Orion Pax there in the warehouse?
For a few moments, he took refuge in not thinking about anything at all except how pleasant her hands were on his helm. But thoughts crept into his head, the problem of the Decepticons inescapable. There had been more than a dozen of them in that attack. Elita and he, powerful as their new forms might be, couldn't take a dozen dangerous mechs, much less all of them plus Megatron. "We can't do this alone, Elita. We need-"
"We need allies," she finished his thought. "Most of the news about Megatron came out of Iacon, didn't it? Surely we can find others there who can help us."
He nodded, mask rasping against her thighs. "We need more than just help. We need..."
"To not be such fresh-paint warriors?"
He heard the smile in her voice and wished he could smile back at her. Instead, he lifted his face towards hers, hands sliding up to rest on her knees. "Yes. We need that exactly. Oh, Elita, what are we going to do if-?"
She laid a single finger against the center of his mask and shook her head. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it, Optimus. We cannot tangle ourself in 'what ifs', not yet."
A soft sound escaped his vocoder at the the sensibility in her words. No sense in borrowing trouble when there was already a whole world of it out to get them. "We'll go to Iacon then," he told her. "We'll learn what we can there. We're not... Not ready yet to face Megatron again, but as soon as Dion is fixed, the three of us must go."
"We cannot give Megatron time to hurt anyone else," she agreed.
He nodded, optics dimming as one pink hand cupped his cheek. He hardly needed any prompting when she leaned down, and her mouth pressed against his mask. Like lightning and thunder, he thought dimly, as a virtual circuit flared between them, and he pressed into her kiss.
As long as he had her, he would never be lost.
End
Fandom: Transformers G1
Characters/Pairing: Optimus Prime/Elita One
Word Count: 1103
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Episode tag for "War Dawn".
My Little Table
---
He came back from his first battle with Megatron and found the female sitting on the edge of a work table. Tools still lay scattered around her, bits of wire and loose screws forming a halo around where she had lain. She held a piece of highly-polished metal in her hands, staring in confusion and something like distaste at her form. Her colors fluctuated softly as he watched, blues and purples rippling through reds.
"Ah, Optimus. You have returned." The engineer who had repaired him leaned against an inner door. He seemed mature, not much older than the soldier-jets Optimus had met only a few days ago. But there was something antiquated about the engineer, while the jets had seemed far past cutting edge. "I was able to repair your friend, but it looks like she's still growing accustomed to the new body. Her color nanites haven't settled on a design yet. Your other friend..." He glanced back over his shoulder. "He'll take a while longer yet."
Something in his tone and expression made the fuel run chill from Optimus's tanks. The engineer had barely seemed to have any supplies when Optimus insisted he work on Ariel. He had managed to repair her, obviously, but what about poor Dion?
"I-"
The engineer held up his hand. "It may take a while longer, as I said. But, sit and talk with your friend. You still have time for that."
With that, the engineer re-entered his workshop, the door sliding shut behind him.
-Did that mean he would ever stop having time? Shaking off the engineer's odd phrasing, Optimus tentatively approached the mech who had once been Ariel.
She watched him warily, blue optics boring into his own. He flinched from the accusation he read there, from the spikes of lurid red and black across her body as her colors refused to settle on this new body. He couldn't blame them or her; if her body was anything like his, she'd gone from being a simple Autobot dock-worker to a war-machine. Heavier, tougher, a killer disguised as a normal mech. All because he'd been too naive to believe that Megatron would harm them.
"Ari-" He cut off at the sharp, negative jerk of her head. No, of course not. That wasn't her name anymore, anymore than his name was Orion Pax. He knelt down in front of her, vaguely feeling that he shouldn't loom over her while she was like this. "I'm sorry, I-"
Her colors snapped into place.
Pristine whites and warm pinks covered her from head-to-foot. The colors were almost exact matches- He tried not to flinch. Almost exactly Ariel's colors. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I should have listened to Silverbolt, shouldn't have been such a fool-"
Strong white hands settled on either side of his helm. "We were both fools, Optimus."
Her voice, like his, was deeper than it had been. But it sent an odd rush of warmth to his lasercore, a warmth only increased by the sensation of her hands against his mask. "I-"
"You went out to fight the Decepticons." Fingers trailed over his shoulder, gently touched a blast mark blackening his windshield. He hissed at the sudden pain, and she flinched back.
"Yes- Yes. I had to. Please don't-" He reached out and took her hand, drawing it back to simply hold against his cheek.
"It was very brave of you to do that."
She shifted closer to him, and he shuffled forward on his knees to lay his masked face against her lap. "Megatron blew up the warehouse district. Silverbolt and his men were in the middle of the explosion. They're-"
He broke off, shying away from how badly he'd ruined everything. Ariel changed, Dion changed, those noble jets dead.
"Oh, Optimus..."
He tried not to groan as she began to rub the back of his helm. It felt good, nice... "They're going to keep hurting people, A- What should I call you?"
"Elita. Elita One." Her fingers pressed harder at the back of his helm, bringing pressure sensors to life that distracted him from his pain. "And yes, they will. But we'll be there to fight them."
He shuddered at her words. Yes, they would be there to fight the Decepticons. After what had happened to them, after knowing first-hand what the Decepticons were capable of, there was no possibility either of them could walk away. He knew it, and it shook him to his core. When had he become capable of this? Had Megatron truly killed Orion Pax there in the warehouse?
For a few moments, he took refuge in not thinking about anything at all except how pleasant her hands were on his helm. But thoughts crept into his head, the problem of the Decepticons inescapable. There had been more than a dozen of them in that attack. Elita and he, powerful as their new forms might be, couldn't take a dozen dangerous mechs, much less all of them plus Megatron. "We can't do this alone, Elita. We need-"
"We need allies," she finished his thought. "Most of the news about Megatron came out of Iacon, didn't it? Surely we can find others there who can help us."
He nodded, mask rasping against her thighs. "We need more than just help. We need..."
"To not be such fresh-paint warriors?"
He heard the smile in her voice and wished he could smile back at her. Instead, he lifted his face towards hers, hands sliding up to rest on her knees. "Yes. We need that exactly. Oh, Elita, what are we going to do if-?"
She laid a single finger against the center of his mask and shook her head. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it, Optimus. We cannot tangle ourself in 'what ifs', not yet."
A soft sound escaped his vocoder at the the sensibility in her words. No sense in borrowing trouble when there was already a whole world of it out to get them. "We'll go to Iacon then," he told her. "We'll learn what we can there. We're not... Not ready yet to face Megatron again, but as soon as Dion is fixed, the three of us must go."
"We cannot give Megatron time to hurt anyone else," she agreed.
He nodded, optics dimming as one pink hand cupped his cheek. He hardly needed any prompting when she leaned down, and her mouth pressed against his mask. Like lightning and thunder, he thought dimly, as a virtual circuit flared between them, and he pressed into her kiss.
As long as he had her, he would never be lost.
End