[Bay] Indivisible 5.0
a/n: This one actually takes a step back in the Indivisible timeline mostly because I started writing it as a post-DotM fic but Sideswipe insisted he wanted to share a little backstory first. So there ya go.
Title: Indivisible 5.0
Universe: Bayverse, post-RotF
Characters: SideswipexOptimus
Rating: T
Warning: implications of interfacing, fluff
Description: Sideswipe did what he had to do because there was no alternative. So, too, would Optimus.
Recharge remained the hardest part.
The humans thought the Cybertronians shut down, like a computer, but that was far from the truth. The processor continued to function in recharge, much like the human brain, running autonomic processes and maintaining a certain degree of conscious.
Sideswipe was always painfully aware of being alone. It was a constant on the edge of his conscious. Thousands of years couldn't erase what had become second nature to him. He had memorized Sunstreaker's frame and spark as well as he knew his own and the middle of recharge was when his spark cried the loudest.
Automatic pings to a spark long extinguished. Flashes of panic when his system realized Sunstreaker was gone all over again. Guilt would swamp him next and his spark would ask why and his processor would reply in kind, pinging his memory core and--
Every time he recharged, Sideswipe relived the moment he tore out Sunstreaker's spark.
He saw, all over again, Sunstreaker snarl. The dim of betrayal in his twin's optics, the Decepticon badge bright and seared on Sunstreaker's chestplate. Energon was thick and gummy on Sideswipe's hands, his own wounds numb, his spark in agony.
He told himself, over and over again, that what he'd done was necessary.
Over and over again, he failed to believe it.
Recharging with others made it easier to bear for a time so yes, Sideswipe berthhopped. It was better than the alternative if only by a fraction.
And then by accident or Primal design, Sideswipe wound up in Optimus' berth and it was the closest he came to peace. Optimus' spark felt the same and Sideswipe luxuriated in that. Better that Optimus needed him, too.
He needed no other berth. Except that Optimus being Prime couldn't always share his. After the comfort that was so close to perfect, no other berth would do.
Sideswipe endured because he had become good at it. Waiting for Prime was a torture into itself, but the moments when he could and did share Optimus' berth were bright spots of light in the darkness of the war. The knowledge that he could help Optimus when the Prime disdained the confidence of all others soothed Sideswipe on some level.
They pretended to understand, the surviving senators and council, the multitudes of medics and army officers, the priests, but none of them could. They didn't know what it was like to watch your -- lover/brother/spark -- turn on you. They couldn't feel each blow like a physical wound, or endure the internal debate that called you a traitor.
Sideswipe did what he had to do because there was no alternative. So, too, would Optimus.
Over time, that understanding grew into something more. Grew into something without audible promises, but understood intent.
Sideswipe would never feel whole again, but with Optimus, he could at least feel happy. Content even.
It was an arrangement that suited Sideswipe. Optimus understood like no one else.
He would open his arms without question or hesitation, extend his field, and embrace Sideswipe with eager enthusiasm. More than that, Optimus would willingly surrender. He would lay back, unmasked and vulnerable, ports spiraling open and crackling with discharge. His optics would brighten, field filled with unmistakable need and that was so easy to fulfill.
Optimus was Prime, would always be Prime in Sideswipe's optics. But Sideswipe wasn't forged a warrior. He became one out of necessity. He served Prime by choice, unlike many other Autobots.
So when he crawled into that large berth and those open arms, he kissed Optimus, not Prime. He memorized every inch of Optimus' plating with his hands. He sank each cable with need and not reverence because Prime did not exist here, only Optimus.
Prime was simply Optimus, grief-stricken and in need. He was a mech Sideswipe could easily love and that was what mattered, even if the end result couldn't be one of his choosing.
Optimus made the darkness fade and Sideswipe prayed he could be the same in return. One broken spark to another.
***
a/n: There is definitely one more part to this, involving DotM and the muses are tugging at me to add a couple more so we'll see if I can convince them to coalesce into something workable.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Anyone out there want to beta a 22-page untitled Jazz/Sunstreaker fic?
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/241662.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Indivisible 5.0
Universe: Bayverse, post-RotF
Characters: SideswipexOptimus
Rating: T
Warning: implications of interfacing, fluff
Description: Sideswipe did what he had to do because there was no alternative. So, too, would Optimus.
Recharge remained the hardest part.
The humans thought the Cybertronians shut down, like a computer, but that was far from the truth. The processor continued to function in recharge, much like the human brain, running autonomic processes and maintaining a certain degree of conscious.
Sideswipe was always painfully aware of being alone. It was a constant on the edge of his conscious. Thousands of years couldn't erase what had become second nature to him. He had memorized Sunstreaker's frame and spark as well as he knew his own and the middle of recharge was when his spark cried the loudest.
Automatic pings to a spark long extinguished. Flashes of panic when his system realized Sunstreaker was gone all over again. Guilt would swamp him next and his spark would ask why and his processor would reply in kind, pinging his memory core and--
Every time he recharged, Sideswipe relived the moment he tore out Sunstreaker's spark.
He saw, all over again, Sunstreaker snarl. The dim of betrayal in his twin's optics, the Decepticon badge bright and seared on Sunstreaker's chestplate. Energon was thick and gummy on Sideswipe's hands, his own wounds numb, his spark in agony.
He told himself, over and over again, that what he'd done was necessary.
Over and over again, he failed to believe it.
Recharging with others made it easier to bear for a time so yes, Sideswipe berthhopped. It was better than the alternative if only by a fraction.
And then by accident or Primal design, Sideswipe wound up in Optimus' berth and it was the closest he came to peace. Optimus' spark felt the same and Sideswipe luxuriated in that. Better that Optimus needed him, too.
He needed no other berth. Except that Optimus being Prime couldn't always share his. After the comfort that was so close to perfect, no other berth would do.
Sideswipe endured because he had become good at it. Waiting for Prime was a torture into itself, but the moments when he could and did share Optimus' berth were bright spots of light in the darkness of the war. The knowledge that he could help Optimus when the Prime disdained the confidence of all others soothed Sideswipe on some level.
They pretended to understand, the surviving senators and council, the multitudes of medics and army officers, the priests, but none of them could. They didn't know what it was like to watch your -- lover/brother/spark -- turn on you. They couldn't feel each blow like a physical wound, or endure the internal debate that called you a traitor.
Sideswipe did what he had to do because there was no alternative. So, too, would Optimus.
Over time, that understanding grew into something more. Grew into something without audible promises, but understood intent.
Sideswipe would never feel whole again, but with Optimus, he could at least feel happy. Content even.
It was an arrangement that suited Sideswipe. Optimus understood like no one else.
He would open his arms without question or hesitation, extend his field, and embrace Sideswipe with eager enthusiasm. More than that, Optimus would willingly surrender. He would lay back, unmasked and vulnerable, ports spiraling open and crackling with discharge. His optics would brighten, field filled with unmistakable need and that was so easy to fulfill.
Optimus was Prime, would always be Prime in Sideswipe's optics. But Sideswipe wasn't forged a warrior. He became one out of necessity. He served Prime by choice, unlike many other Autobots.
So when he crawled into that large berth and those open arms, he kissed Optimus, not Prime. He memorized every inch of Optimus' plating with his hands. He sank each cable with need and not reverence because Prime did not exist here, only Optimus.
Prime was simply Optimus, grief-stricken and in need. He was a mech Sideswipe could easily love and that was what mattered, even if the end result couldn't be one of his choosing.
Optimus made the darkness fade and Sideswipe prayed he could be the same in return. One broken spark to another.
***
a/n: There is definitely one more part to this, involving DotM and the muses are tugging at me to add a couple more so we'll see if I can convince them to coalesce into something workable.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Anyone out there want to beta a 22-page untitled Jazz/Sunstreaker fic?
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/241662.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.