#ghfic

Oliver frowned in annoyance and marked question number fifteen so that he could go back and answer it later. That made four he’s had to skip so far. The questions were getting somewhat difficult, he had to admit, or perhaps it was just that his concentration was waning. He had been revising nonstop for his GCE exam for five hours straight with no break in between, after all. He tapped his right finger on the desk as he contemplated to himself, then placed his pencil down and sighed in relief as he lightly cracked his wrist and fingers to loosen his joints. Studying in this manner would do more harm than good, so he decided it was enough for today.

 He picked up the novel Madoka had lent him that week (for some reason she thought he would enjoy reading Dracula , though what made her think he was a fiction reader was beyond him). At any rate, a little bit of light reading ought to cool his brain down. Freshly brewed tea and a light snack also seemed a fitting companion to this activity.

 He glanced at the clock and was surprised at how late it had gotten, and wondered briefly if Luella was still downstairs. Usually on Saturday nights she would be found in the kitchen, baking a small batch of sweet bread, or cake, or some form of dessert, as practice for a bigger batch she would hand out to friends and colleagues for that week. As he was too tired to go down to the kitchen and check for himself, he decided he would ask Gene since he was sure his brother would still be watching the telly or playing some video games even this late at night.

 However it had been a while since they communicated via their hotline so he was out of practice, and their telepathic connection with each other was not as strong as before, not to mention he was never usually the one to initiate the connection, so he wasn’t sure if it would work. Nevertheless he gave it a try and knocked.

 ‘Gene?’

 A torrent of emotion suddenly overwhelmed him. He felt hot, felt nervous. His gulped down the breath that was caught in his throat. He was in someone’s room--one he didn’t recognize, with the setting sunlight filtering through the small gaps between the closed blinds. He was sitting on the bed and the girl beside him crawled closer and closer before pausing uncertainly just inches in front of his face. Though he did not recognize the girl, his pulse quickened at her proximity, feeling a rush of excitement as he marveled at the brilliance of her blue eyes, inhaled the sweet fragrance of her lilac shampoo, and felt her soft, warm breath as it deliciously tickled his lips. If possible, his heart palpitated even wilder.

 They both leaned in. Their lips met in an awkward kiss at first, but after a few more attempts warming up, realized that they were both talented, quick learners, and soon, their tongues danced with each other, stirring wild passion--

 ‘Noll!’

 Oliver inadvertently dropped the book he meant to read and shook his head to clear his mind. Apparently Gene only grew worse at shielding parts of his mind from him during their connection. As soon as Eugene had opened the line his unguarded thoughts burst forth like a deluge, completely overpowering Oliver’s own control and revealing to him memories he never experienced, as if they were his own. He fought to regain composure.

 Thunderous footsteps preceded the sound of his door slamming open as Gene burst in, panting furiously, face completely red, from sprinting or from embarrassment, Oliver wasn’t sure which.

 “Y-you needed something?” Gene asked breathlessly.

 “I just wanted to ask if Luella is still downstairs.”

 “Oh, n-no, she turned in for the night a little more than two hours ago. It’s, uhh, already thirty minutes past midnight, Noll.”

 “Yes, I see.”

 “So... did you need her for something?”

 “Just tea and a light snack.”

 “Oh. Do you… do you want me to make it for you?”

 Oliver shook his head and leaned over to pick up his book. “No need, I can make it myself.”

 An awkward silence descended.

 “Uhm. S-sorry about that…”

 Oliver raised his brow and asked curiously, “What are you apologizing for?” Although it was true that the incident happened due to Gene’s lack of control, ultimately it was he who inadvertently invaded his brother’s privacy. There was no point in laying the fault with either of them.

 “You experienced it as I did. It must have been awkward and weird for you.”

 “It was.”

 Gene sighed, closing the door silently behind him and trudged toward Oliver’s bed. First he sat down carefully, then slowly tipped himself over to his side and groaned softly. “I wasn’t expecting you to call out to me. You don’t often call out to me first.”

 “Right.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Again, what are you apologizing for?”

 Eugene took one of Oliver’s pillows and hid his face behind it. Several seconds passed before he mumbled out, “Ugh, I didn’t want you to see that. I’m just so embarrassed. I was just so happy about it that I couldn’t--,” he paused to take a large breath and finished, “--Please forget about it.”

 “Okay.”

 Oliver tried to go back to reading his book, but he suddenly felt a jolt of uncontainable excitement in the back of his mind. That wasn’t his emotion. Gene must be projecting unconsciously again. He looked over to his bed and found Gene still hiding his face underneath his pillow, staying so still on his bed that he frowned in confusion at the discrepancy between his twin's appearance and inner emotion.

 He finished reading the paragraph first before finally commenting, “Your emotions are somehow still coming through even though I haven’t reopened our connection. That must be a very powerful memory for you. If you don’t want me seeing any of that, you should practice more control. Lin could help with that.”

 “Right…” Gene slowly uncovered his face and turned to him, propping his head up with his right arm. “Ah, bloody hell. You already know anyway. I think I might as well talk to you about it and I desperately need an outlet. Do you want to listen?”

 Oliver did not say anything immediately. Eventually he ceded, “Fine. Who was that?”

 “That was Lyla Taylor. She was in your class last year?”

 He nodded absentmindedly. He did not remember any Lyla.

 “She sat behind you…” Watching Oliver’s unchanging blank face, Eugene sighed. “She’s my girlfriend now. My very first.”

 “Since you’re keeping track like that, I presume you believe you’ll have others?”

 Gene glared at him and shook his head. “Oh bug off, idiot. I didn’t mean that, I just assumed you’d think I’ve had others because you probably think I’m attracted and involved with every girl I speak with.”

 Since he was right, Oliver had nothing to say to that.

 “Which is not true. I’m just friendly. Anyway Lyla and I have been together for three months now and… well… since today was our birthday she asked me to come over and wanted to give me something. So that was our… first time…”

 Oliver raised a hand. “Fortunately you were able to sever the connection in time. I have no intention of experiencing that. And through your memories, no less.”

 Gene realized his implications and colored significantly to the tips of his ears, crying, “Oh geez, no, no! We just kissed! Today was the first time we kissed. We didn’t go that far, honest, despite what you saw!”

 Oliver sighed. “Okay.” He massaged his temples and made a conscious effort to eliminate all lingering sensations completely.

 “It was awesome,” Gene gushed after a while. He lay back down again and sighed dreamily as he stared at the ceiling. “I’m just so happy. I just love being around her all the time. I feel like I’m on cloud-nine and everything is exciting, and the world seems more colorful when we’re together.”

 “Women seem to affect you greatly.”

 “Not ‘women’, just her! ”

 Oliver turned to face him and raised his brow. “Need I remind you of the time you said you had a crush on Madoka? I remember you said something similar along those lines for the first few weeks after you met her. Not to mention what you said about the six other girls you had crushes on, one for every grade level since we started school.”

 “Those were silly crushes. This one’s different!” Gene retorted, sitting up and crossing his arms in annoyance. “Gah, whatever. It’s true I like girls in general, but I swear this one is different. I think I’m really in love with her.”

 “Fine.” He wasn’t issuing a challenge, just announcing his acceptance, though upon hearing his own curt voice he realized it could have come off wrong, so he was relieved that Eugene understood his intention. He wasn’t looking for a senseless argument.

 “Right. And what about you, are you not interested in girls, Noll?”

 “Not really.”

 “Boys, then?”

 Oliver raised half-lidded eyes at him. “I’m not interested in anything outside of my studies and in the paranormal.”

 There was some rustling as Gene shifted his position on the bed and scooted himself up so that his back rested against the wall. He grinned.

 “So stubborn. Man, I swear, whoever falls in love with you is in for a world of pain and confusion.” Oliver merely shrugged his shoulders so he continued, “Your future girlfriend--or boyfriend--would have to be someone stubborn and formidable, yet bubbly and loveable. Someone who could understand your quirks, someone who would call you out whenever you got insufferable, someone who could make you smile sometimes--”

 “That person sounds like a pain--,”

 “--Someone like me!” Gene laughed. “Maybe I should be your girlfriend--err, boyfriend--Noll. Of course, you’d be the girl in the relationship. You’re fine with that arrangement, right?”

 Oliver glared at him and scoffed in disgust. Sometimes Gene took his jokes a little too far. “Go away and brew me a pot of tea,” he snapped dismissively, “or else I’ll tell Luella and Martin you’ve been sneaking off to a girl’s room.”

He too, passed Sunstreaker without a glance, something the frontliner was used too. It wasn’t that his Prime was ignoring him, it was that Optimus hadn’t seen him. He never did. His refusal to recharge was the entire reason Sunstreaker was here, and it’s mark was always a lack of awareness.

Sunstreaker tracked him, counting the seconds in his head from the time the larger mech disappeared around the corner.

Their arrangement may have been known to higher Command, but it wasn’t to anyone else. People had...problems...with what he did. What he was going to do.

The Prime was untouchable. A living symbol, a direct connection to their God. Atheist or not, middle of the war or not, there were things so heavily ingrained in culture that they were unthinkable. Many a Decepticon wouldn’t outright attack Optimus, despite Megatron’s constant reassurances that his enemy was nothing more than an over-hyped figurehead.

The Matrix did nothing to help, there.

He was untouchable. Undefeated. Pure.

The very center of the Autobots, their moral compass.

All things that directly opposed Sunstreaker.

There were mechs aboard the Ark who held some very old-school thoughts though they hid them well. Thoughts that someone as lowly as Sunstreaker, as bloodthirsty as he was, should never be allowed near the Prime. Should only be allowed to do so if it was an emergency and he was under heavy supervision.

Little did they know…

He waited until his count reached thirty before he  pushed off the wall, out of the shadows. To follow the path his leader had taken, pace leisurely even if he wanted to stalk. Prowl thought it would be less obvious if he didn’t wait for the Prime as he did, when he was needed, but Sunstreaker disagreed. Mechs saw what they wanted too. Sunstreaker could be blanker than a wiped datapad when he needed to be, and it didn’t take  much for mechs to draw their own conclusions. To realize how often he and his brother were in trouble. It took only a few slight comments, dropped by Jazz and his ilk, for people to think Sunstreaker was headed to a punishment.  And if not a punishment than a “talking too”--things that happened just enough to make others overlook Sunstreaker’s private meetings.

It helped as well, that those who knew covered for him well.

And if not him, then for their Prime.

Optimus Prime, was a mech of the people. For the people. By the people. He was also highly social and greatly connected to his Autobots.

Before the war, he’d wanted a family.

Wanted nothing more than a family.

Being chosen Prime, being thrust into the spotlight both as the personal messenger for their god and as the leader of their entire faction (and thus, everyone’s superior) made things like personal relationships...difficult. There were few willing to interface with the Prime let alone openly court him.  That pool narrowed when considering the Prime’s personal preferences (though Sunstreaker, personally, thought the great idiot could likely talk himself into falling in love with anyone if given enough time.)

Without the ties though, the personal relationships, the Prime...faltered. Not in his beliefs, or in his duties, but in himself. The Prime would go through phases, putting everyone above himself even more so than usual. Passing up on recharge, throwing himself into meetings and plans and trainings. Unnecessary events, to distract from the pain, the knowledge.

It had gotten pretty bad, by the time Sunstreaker had caught onto what was happening.

Unlike those who knew but refused to do anything, Sunstreaker had no qualms. He was already facing backlash from others for a number of things, already highly disapproved and distrusted. This wouldn’t harm his reputation, or cast doubts on him.  Plus, Optimus was an attractive mech. He was one of the few who respected Sunstreaker over fearing him, and accepted him and his brother despite their faults. His intervention had prevented their dismissal from the army on more than one occasion.

So Sunstreaker stepped up where others couldn’t. Took matters into his own hands--literally--and accepted any outcomes his actions may cause.

It had taken a few times for Optimus to understand he was serious, but Sunstreaker had managed to pull enough patience from somewhere to see it through.

He knocked on his lover’s door now, covering for the fact that he had pinged the code to it. To anyone watching him, it would appear Optimus had opened the door.

Sunstreaker let himself in as the door did just that, and waited until it closed behind him before continuing forward.

“Berth.” He commanded, when he saw his leader sitting on a chair.  Blue helm hung, held up by a splayed hand and the mech didn’t even jump when Sunstreaker spoke, nor moved much when the frontliner went over to tug incessantly on an arm.

Optimus huffed a quiet laugh but it was hollow. Fake. Sunstreaker ignored it as the great mech finally lumbered to his feet.

They walked slowly to the bed, Sunstreaker backwards, until his legs hit the edge of the berth. He sat easily, gracefully, still tugging. Optimus followed him, falling more than anything else. They situation themselves quickly, Sunstreaker crawling half on top of the Prime’s windshield.

“Not tonight.” Optimus said suddenly, optics half lit. Sad. “I’m sorry, but--not tonight.”

He meant interfacing and they both knew he was too tired for it.

“Not what I’m here for.” Sunstreaker grunted, wiggling against an arm, hoping it’s owner would get the hint. He did, but only after a confused look at the wiggling.

The arm came up to wrap around Sunstreaker’s back and the lamborghini relaxed, sinking into the broad chest under him. His chin rested atop crossed hands, tilted up to look at Optimus’s face.

Already, the truck’s field felt better.

Prime’s other hand came up to stroke Sunstreaker’s shoulder gently for a moment, hands tracing patterns and he gentled into the touch, as he did for no other besides his twin.

This was for Optimus. Only for Optimus.

They sat in comfortable silence, until finally, sleep overtook the larger mech. Sunstreaker stayed awake, memorizing the lines of his lover’s face to draw later. Knew his presence eased a burden, even if Optimus questioned it from time to time.

Sunstreaker didn’t blame him, they had nothing in common. Not truly. Of course, Sunstreaker had few interests beyond tearing Decepticon’s in two, so the fact held little weight. For him, anyway.

Optimus….

Well. There was a lot of things that meant something to Optimus. Things that might make their not-relationship a problem if the war ever ended.

Sunstreaker didn’t expect to make it that long though. His entire goal was to get his Prime through the war and die gallantly in the final battle, as was his twins. Living beyond the war scared the both of them, the idea of a world where the skills they were best known for were entirely unneeded.

Prime would find someone better then, though.

All he needed was someone now and Sunstreaker was more than content to be that person. Even if Prime never understood it. Never got it--that all Sunstreaker needed to be was loved.

Wanted.

That, he found in his Prime, and for it, he’d give everything he had in him. Mind, body, soul.

Whatever the Prime wanted, he could have--from himself or his twin.

He kept Deadlock on top, knowing the gunner would object to having his back pinned just as much as he would to being pinned down. Even passionately. The slimmer mech was grinding hard, his heated array drawing sparks as it moved across Ratchet’s own. The medic didn’t object-but he did move a hand to Deadlock’s hip. Hooked a thumb in a seam, rubbed a gentle circle in his armor.

When Deadlock’s head came down to kiss him-all hard nips and demanding glossa-Ratchet let his own be slow. Heavy. The kisses he returned where as gentle as his hold, ignoring the energon Deadlock’s fang’s drew and sucking on his frantic glossa in slow waves.

One of the gunner’s hands slammed down, right next to Ratchet’s head. Ratchet responded by running one of his own hands up the extended arm-then across Deadlock’s shoulders, stroking  down his back. Ever so slowly he moved down, to cup the Decepticon’s aft, palming it almost lovingly.

Deadlock pulled away violently, rearing up like Ratchet had struck him.  “Stop that!” He spat, optics narrowed.

Ratchet titled his head at him, tongue darting out to catch the energon leaking from his punctured lip.

“Stop what?” He said, knowing the movement of his glossa had already re-directed Deadlock’s attention.

“This is a frag. Stop treating it like it’s a, a--” Deadlock trailed off, struggling to name the things he balked at.

“This is a frag. This is how I frag.” Ratchet rolled his hips up, let his array make contact with Drift’s. “You’re the one halting things.”

Deadlock snarled at that, slamming his hips down against Ratchet’s and grinding hard. Ratchet allowed it, letting the other mech have a moment at his desired pace to keep him invested before slowing it down again.  

“You can’t treat ‘em like they’re fragile ‘cause they’re not.” Kup had told him once, when Ratchet had asked how he managed to turn so many ex-Cons. “But the one thing they’re all starved of? Gentleness. Gentle affection. Gentle attention. You have to go slow though-you go to fast, you give them too much and it’ll break them.”

Ratchet had thought he was full of it. That Kup had been teasing, or lying-but it was true. He could see it now, in the way Deadlock balked at it. In the way slower movements scared him.

He’d hardened himself to survive. He was afraid of who he’d be if he allowed himself to be soft. Of what would happen to him.

Drift had been a gutter mech, which no options to get out. It wasn’t hard for Ratchet to remember that, but it was difficult to recall just what it meant. He had admitted to himself, long ago, that he could have done better with Drift. Could have helped him get out, get a job. Get into some kind of apprenticeship. He hadn’t though-had barely helped any of his patients in that way.

How many would have been Autobot’s, if he had? How many Autobot’s would have lived, never having to face the monsters Ratchet had a hand in creating?

He had a chance now. To right a wrong. To see what Kup saw-not a badge but a person.

Deadlock had killed thousands-but so had Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. All three were praised by their respective sides for their kill-counts. All three were looked at with contempt by members of their own fraction for those same counts.

Their only difference was who surrounded them, and what badge they wore.

Ratchet could change those two things. Not for Deadlock, but for Drift. For the mech he knew was still inside the one lying atop him.

He just had to be gentle.

Alexis, Carlos and Rad were camping. Or rather, setting up a camp, waiting impatiently for Billy and Fred to join them.

Alexis was tapping her foot, eyeing her wristwatch. “Where are they?” She huffed, eyes tracking to look to down the road.

“Relax would ya?” Carlos said. “We graduated high school last week, let’s let things be easy for a while, yeah?”

He was joking about her being high strung, she knew he was, and the two of them got into a (playful) argument while Rad rolled his eyes behind the pair.

The conversation was never finished, and all but forgotten, with the chaos of the next few years.

Everything was.

Jack was yelling for Miko to give him his phone back dammit-! After she’d stolen it from Raf. The prodigy had promised he could jailbreak the older teen’s Iphone, but he’d barely started on it before the exchange student had found the two of them.

“Do you just haunt this mall!?” Jack demanded, exasperated as Miko ran literal circles around him.

“Do you?” She challenged back, sticking her tongue out.

“I work here!” He protested, throwing his hands up.

Miko had a brilliant comeback, she did--and she never got to use it. Instead the windows of the food court shattered, the shocks rippling through the screaming crowd and all the trio remembered was lights, bright, brilliant lights--and nothing.

Nothing for a good, long time.

“It’s a family reunion.” Spike explained, for what must have been the hundredth time, approaching Portland from the opposite direction Sam had been going. “You’re all going to be bored.”

“And for the last time, you’re the only one going to the reunion.” Carly said. “The rest of us got a hotel.”

“So I’m just the ride down here, huh?”

“It’s about time you caught on, amigo.” Raoul joked, patting Spike’s shoulder from the back seat. “We were gettin’ worried about you.”

Chip snorted, Carly outright laughed and Raoul’s grin was infectious, even reflected through the rearview mirror.

Spike flipped him off.

“Fuck y--”

“Spike!”

Carly’s yell wasn’t playful but panicked, and it followed something hitting their window.

Somethings hitting their window.

“Shit!” Spike yelped, car swerving, hands gripping hard as he fought for control.

It was too little, too late--the car lost control, flying off the road, down an embankment. Twisting, off balance the vehicle rolled, once, twice, four times.

When it finally rocked to a stop, all four passengers inside were unconscious--and not from the car crash.

From something else.

Something other.

Impeded within them, causing seemingly random parts of their bodies to glow. Marking them, changing the course of their lives and imprinting each of them with a piece of another.

From there the list goes on. Maggie Madsen was taking a break outside of the government building she worked for, sipping cold coffee and internally cursing her boss. Cody Burns had  teamed up with Frankie Greene, to take down his two siblings in an epic Nerf fight outside in a rare bonding moment. His father was speaking at a community event, on the topic of  road safety.

Verity Carlo was hotwiring a car.

Marissa Fairborne was on sight of The Incident, and as a result, got to see how things went down first hand. Her eye-witness report was sealed by federal and local governments for years until it was finally destroyed,in an effort to stop the epidemic sweeping their nation...and the world.

But there was no stopping it.

Because, as much as everyone, alien and human, claimed it was, The Incident wasn’t an accident. It was the deliberate, final act of a God of a massive, mechanical race, who’d seen the writing on the walls and decided to do something about it. Save the species that worshipped him. Give them a new, permanent home. Do it in a way that the resident species couldn’t refuse, forevering entwining the two together in a way that’d change the course of millions of lives and thousands of years while ensuring the survival of both.

All it took was one, final battle, fought on a foreign world (their world, now), between less than a dozen mechs (and more than one confused human) and the object of their fight to completely and utterly, explode.

Explode in manner that would blind anyone within a ten mile radius, shattering into so many pieces it became improbable to count them all. Rather than fall, straight to the ground the pieces had shot up, streaked out.

Reached all over the world, in a feat no one had ever witnessed before.

Giant, transforming aliens included.

Shooting stars, some papers called them. Missiles! Cried others. None were prepared for the reality, and all were helpless, as the shards fell, impaling their targets.

A deity’s final plea to save his species.

Each shard represented a mech, a “transformer” born to the alien race now invading Earth in order to finish their war. Each one flew to find that mechs partner, a human to be tied to them, for the rest of their lives. A symbiotic relationship, forged through the heart/spark of a relic made for creation. A true one, that benefited both halfs.

With the humans, the fate of the Cybertronian race would live--or die. With the humans, they would find a new home, and new ways to reproduce. With the humans they regained abilities long thought lost, and with them, they found peace.

Their ties meant the humans couldn’t reject them. That Earth was forced to accept them. The ties guaranteed that the human race lived on, now protected at all costs. 0

In exchange, the humans lives were lengthened, as their children’s. They gained their own abilities, to feel out and find their partner (and even, to some extent, their partner’s matching sparkmate) and many of them claimed nothing felt so right, as to finally stand with the one they were entangled with.

But that was all later, much later, than the initial incident. That was nearly a century in the future, when the full effects of the partnership, of The Incident finally took home to all involved.

Initially no one knew what had happened. Initially no one realized not everyone was hit.

Everyone who was woke up though. Even those in the car crashes, the ones in dangerous situations. Each and every one would wake up, perhaps injured or shaken, but mostly okay, and have a sudden and abrupt need to find---something.

Someone.

And that’s where this all starts. Because a few of them didn’t--find their partners. They were still searching.

Endlessly restless, somewhat wistful but mostly scared. All thinking.

What if their partners showed up?

What if they didn’t?

They could do nothing but wait. So that’s what they did. Waited.

Watched as time flew and culture changed.

Watched as Earth changed.