#sgverse

“Ready?” Soundwave asks and starts attaching the sparkling-wrap to his partner’s back. The wrap is made of cables and wires, durable but soft enough to not scratch the baby’s plating.

When the 'nest' is finished, double- and triple-checked, Soundwave carefully puts their child inside it. Lightning trills something, curious as always about every new thing. He wiggles, touches Shockwave’s frame, nuzzles his back plating. And then closes his optics, listening to the hum of his sire’s systems.

They leave him in the middle of the last battlefield. He can't focus; his thoughts keep going haywire; his pedes feel very wobbly. He won't be able to make a step without tripping again. His colorless frame is smeared with mud. He knows he looks laughable, like a helpless sparkling, unsure how to move on his own. He feels confused. Ashamed. It's not supposed to be this way...!

He hears the roar of jet engines and lifts his helm. He knows these shapes, these mechs. He should... no, he used to despise them. Now it's all gone, replaced by a vague - but already blooming - sense of guilt. So he stands in the middle of the battlefield, ready for everything, for another round of laughs, for getting shot at, for an execution.

Megatron lands in front of him. The Decepticon leader looks at him carefully. He sees the dimmed light of the new optic, the frame stitched together from scraps, the crooked stance. He quickly replays Red Alert's last message about the 'gift' ("I know you'll gladly take in another useless, soft-sparked idiot"). And he knows he trusts too easily, but...

He realizes, a nanoclick too late, he forgot to turn on the lights.

The moment Astrotrain’s back touches the berth, he goes completely still. The laughter dies out. His optics reset few times and then online again, wide and already unseeing. Skywarp scrambles to hit the light switch. He turns on all the lamps, suddenly worried, terrified. The high-grade induced carefreeness evaporates in a moment. He looks at Astrotrain’s completely unmoving frame. “‘Train," he says and leans towards the big mech. “‘Train," he repeats, more urgently, careful not to obscure any of the lights with his shadow. “’Train, it’s me! Skywarp. You are home. Home! Safe." For a moment there’s no reaction. And then Astrotrain’s optics reset again and he suddenly grabs the Seeker and pulls him to himself. The movement is quick, desperate. Skywarp feels the panic in ‘Train’s EM field, total dread and sparkling-like helplessness. Astrotrain’s servos leave dents in the Seeker’s frame but he doesn’t care. That’s not important. Not… “‘Train," he repeats again, his words a bit muffled against the shuttle’s chest. “It’s okay. They’re not here. He’s not here. Just you and I. You and I…" He hears a whimper and roar of Astrotrain’s vents. The grip relaxes a little. Skywarp knows better than to move. The big mech - his lover, his friend - still clutches him like a favourite toy, the only one that could protect him from nightmares. “‘Train," he says again. He pets the other mech’s sides gently. He can feel the tremor of the huge wings. “‘S okay," he calms and stays in the vice-like hold. He senses the moment when Astrotrain’s fear dims out, leaving only complete humiliation and grief. The mech starts sobbing, still clinging to his smaller friend’s frame tightly, as if it is the only relief from terror, from pain.