Title: Movieverse Drabbles

Title: Such is Life
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Rating: R. Slash.
Summary: Another drabble set. None of these drabbles are meant to be in consecutive order.

SideswipexPerceptor and JoltxPerceptor and SideswipexJoltxPerceptor – 2009 Universe


Megatron and Optimus Prime – 2009 Universe



SideswipexPerceptor and JoltxPerceptor and SideswipexJoltxPerceptor – 2009 Universe
(Note: …Just ignore me and my insanity. This one is a bit dumb.)

The organics are the first to speak about the silver mech’s…fascination with their newest arrival. Sam sharing a glance with Mikaela, the two observing the Autobot team, their attention solely on one particular pair as the tall, lean cobalt and red Autobot steps outside the military bunker, his steps so precise and…strangely delicate for a being so massive, compared to the organics. Perceptor striding just behind the Autobot medic, dark face turned towards Ratchet as they quietly converse in low Cybertronian.

From behind the medic and the scientist, a tall gleaming silver mech darts past the twins, and Perceptor is smoothly circled, Sideswipe grinning and expertly spinning in a complete perfect ring around the intellectual mech. His rounded pedes keep his lean frame balanced, a fine line from looking completely ridiculous as his tire wheels spin with negligent grace as the front liner continues to shadow the microscope.

“Weird.” Sam says, noting the wise yet flustered look Perceptor throws toward the front liner, “Sideswipe’s been acting kind of funny since Percy showed up.”

Bumblebee ¯ sitting beside his small friends ¯ chirps with amusement.

“What?” Sam demands, “What’s so funny?” He mock glares at the yellow warrior.

Mikaela smiles, rolling her eyes, wearing the expression sadly commiserating her boyfriend for being as dense as a brick, “Sideswipe likes him.” She kindly informs him.

“Oookay...”

Again Mikaela turns her gaze skyward, asking for patience, “Sideswipe likes, likes him.”

“…Wait.” Sam nearly gives himself whiplash, flinging his head around to gape at his Autobot guardian, “You mean¯”

Bumblebee hummed, vocoder crackling with static before he speaks, “Sideswipe is…head over heels over Perceptor, as the saying goes.” The yellow guardian tilts his helm, pondering the horrified look on his human’s face, “You…do not approve?”

Sam flaps his arms up and down, backpedaling, “Wait. It’s…okay, it’s not a big deal…I’m just spazzing. Sideswipe likes Perceptor. It’s…just a bit sudden.”

“Is is because of human preconceptions about relationships among entities you designate as ‘males’ cohabitating or interface with another male?”

“No!” Sam shudders at the the disapproving look he receives from Mikaela, “Look, as long as everyone is consenting adults…err…mechs…then no big. But…Sideswipe? He hasn’t even known Perceptor for that long!”

Ratchet has continued walking towards the small party of the two humans and one Autobot, leaving Perceptor to sort out Sideswipe as he saw fit, “It is not unusual for one of our kind to become enthralled with another entity, even when it is the first meeting.” The medic drops down onto one knee so that the humans need to crane their necks far back to look upon him, “And from what I have seen, Jolt has given his approval for Sideswipe to court Perceptor.”

Mikaela perked up at the mention of the blue Autobot, “So…Jolt and Sideswipe?”

“Bondmates.” Ratchet updates the young female on the status of his fellow Autobots, “It is not unusual for Cybertronians to form a trine. Not too common either. However, it is looked upon as a great honor and joy if a bonded pair finds another who fits into harmony with them. While myself and Ironhide do not desire a third member, if I recall, Optimus Prime, Megatron, and Starscream had been a excellent example of a trine before the Great War.”

“Bleeeegh.” Sam bemoans, slapping his hands over his eyes, “No, I don’t want that image in my head now.”

Bumblebee casually scrutinizes the courting mech and his target. The yellow warrior’s sensors detecting the most minute of Sideswipe’s gestures. Sideswipe arching onto the very tips of his pedes, stretching the length of his body until he was even taller than Perceptor than he usually was. The front liner’s plating flexing, preening his sleek frame, widening and stretching the plates to make him appear a great dealer larger, not too dissimilar of a display that he has witnessed between the avian species on this planet when one brightly feathered partner tries to catch the eye of another.

Jolt, too, displays in front of the microscope. His thrumming hands, laced with static and electricity, would hum louder whenever Perceptor was close by. An obvious wavelength of pulses racing up his forearms, lighting the blue mech’s long strong arms as the bottled lightning curl around his biceps and shoulders like hissing, writhing snakes.

Arcee chuckles at Jolt and Sideswipe’s behavior while running maintenance on her sisters, her blue and purple sisters sharing knowing looks. Standing beside Arcee, Ironhide groans in annoyance, applying a cloth to the seams of his cannons to remove the stubborn compacted sections of sand that persists on adhering to his frame.

Even the twins have taken notice of what is occurring, for once toning down their banter and crude comments, usually edging around the courting party, the two young mechs’ programming warning them not to interfere or upset the complicated dance.

Well… toning down their banter for a few astroseconds.

Mudflap groaned, “All this looove stuff is going to make me purge my tanks.”

Skids echoed his twin, “Mechs making googly-eyes at one another. Ech! Get a room!”

Perceptor flinches from the crude gestures and comments, shrinking away and twitching his gaze away from the two Autobots.

Mudflap and Skids yelp when two blasts of lightning narrowly miss clipping their helms.

Sideswipe’s growl sends the two running for cover, the twins zipping away in their Earth vehicle modes, speeding away to avoid the bladed mech’s wrath.

“Idiots.” Ratchet is unsympathetic, “Jolt could have easily fried the both of them.”



Megatron and Optimus Prime – 2009 Universe


“Brother…”

Optimus fails to twitch or respond to his silver brother. Limbs crusted with aged black soil and the ash of the humans charred by the Decepticon guns, the large Autobot hangs his head between his shoulders, hands curled between his knees as he sits upon the top of the hill. Bleak, glittering blue optics never waver from their constant, loyal observation of the crumbled ruins of the human city, the monoliths of tumbled buildings and miniature fires dot the dead city like bullion and ruby stars, the pearl of the glowing moon chilling the soil with its cold light.

The ivory twilight lighting the cold dead corpses of the centuries old monuments and cracked glass windows of the once beautiful capital.

Megatron strides up the hill to join his brother. In his hand, as he has done for the last orn upon endless orn, he clasps a cube of glowing energon.

“Brother.” The tyrant beseeches the silent mech. Megatron curls his long wicked claws against his brother’s unresponsive face, gently brushing the back of his talons along a ridged cheek, “…Optimus.”

Again, as time before, the Prime does not flinch nor does he lean forward to accept the offering from the large Decepticon as Megatron kneels before him, silver hands proffer the humming vessel of lavender energon.

“Optimus,” Megatron beseeches, incessantly trying to coax the Prime to wrap his slack hands around the cube, “You must intake energon before you fall into stasis lock.” Megatron narrowly manages to capture the precious cube when the vessel slips from between limp fingers. The large mech growls with annoyance as he slides and wrestles the marionette arms into a more suitable position.

The Prime’s gaze fails to waver, staring firmly above Megatron’s broad shoulder all the while his brother finally manages to curl his fingers around the cube of energon.

“Why won’t you look at me?!” Megatron’s voice rises into a howl, his thread of patience frayed beyond measure. He curls his hands around Optimus’ wrists, grinds his fingers to the point where he knows that he is causing his brother an immense stab of pain. Ruby optics bore upwards, glaring up at the discounting face, “Why will you not shout and curse me, brother? Why will you not strike me or shove me away?”

The only sound that echoes the backhanded slap is the shriek of metal, a shiny glistening of mercury against ivory as the Prime tumbles off his seat and onto his side, the energon cube rolling to the wayside as Megatron leaps forward and follows his brother to the ground.

Megatron straddles his Prime, hands curled over Optimus’, pressing the dark palms against the jagged edges of his face and mandible. “Rend me to pieces, Optimus. Make me bleed. Do something, anything to give me proof of acknowledgement!” Megatron’s talons curl and slice into his own dermal flesh as he drags the Prime’s lax fingertips down his own face, the large tyrant pressed against his silent brother.

“……” Optimus’ head lolls, broken and defeated against the curl of his shoulder, otherwise unmoved by his brother’s pleas and threats, the Prime a frozen, empty testament of vast disappointment and betrayal after Megatron and his master the Fallen had claimed the Earth’s sun.

When the Prime’s Autobot brothers and sisters had waged a fruitless last battle before they succumbed and fell to their knees in defeat, the Prime remained silent and indifferent, a lone giant who responded to neither friend nor enemy. Even when Megatron had approached him, prepared to gloat and bask in his victory, the Prime did not waver. Much to his brother’s confusion and horror, the tyrant realized the Prime’s intentions.

“Say something!” Megatron shoves him back, the motion forces the Prime to stumble and drop onto his posterior. The larger tyrant snarls at Starscream and Soundwave to stay back, the silver mech shoving his talons deep between the plates of the Prime’s shoulders, “Look at me! Damn you, Prime. Why won’t you acknowledge me?!”

They both knew that this was the cruelest of acts for the Prime to deliver upon his brother.

Megatron’s jaw trembles against his neck as the large tyrant curls upon his brother. Nestled into the warmth of the Prime, Megatron clings to him like they would when they were younglings, “Optimus…” Megatron weaves his hands behind the Prime’s helm and gently tilts the mech’s head back.

Lax lips coolly spread beneath the first chaste kiss. Megatron delves in for a second time, his touch far more harsh. Teeth hook and snag the Prime’s lips, stirring beads of energon to pour from the torn metal flesh.

“I won’t let you cast me aside,” Megatron swears with dark promise, glossa snaking out to lap at the glisten of fluids, patiently swiping up the steady flow of energon that stains his brother’s lips and chin, “I don’t care if it takes over a millenia for you to awaken from your induced comatose state. I will be waiting.”


Author's Note: Don't mind my madness. I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing TF fics after a short break.