#sunstreaker tf

maybe he had gotten caught up with something. that would explain his radio silence, even if his untimely disappearance don't often include explanations. sluggishly, your palm coasts along your back pocket, searching for your phone, tugging it free from the same place it's been stuffed for hours. with a simultaneous guilt and dread consuming you, you come to find the device has been completely drained of its battery, no incoming messages to be found on the black screen.

with a breathless sigh, you set your bag on the ground and begin towards your bedroom, in search of your phone charger. this likely wouldn't bode well if someone had been looking for you, unknown how long it'd been powered down. with maximum effort, your fingers curl around the door knob, finding that you must've left it ajar sometime this morning, having left in a hurry.

nothing quite compares to the scream that leaves your throat to find Sunstreaker lying in your bed, only regarding you with a look that you can describe as annoyed. he isn't so thrilled that you're screaming, but there is a bit of relief that sinks into his frame to discover that you were alright.

you recover a bit sloppily, hand coming to your chest to qualm your racing heart. "What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark like that? You scared me."

"I gathered that," he hums, relaxing back into your messy tangle of sheets and blankets. "I couldn't find the light switch."

with some semblance of a deadpan, your fingers raise and flick the light on, enveloping the room in a dimmed brightness from the one lamp on the nightstand.

"Oh." he rumbles, not hiding his indifference. "It's minimal payback for you ignoring me all day."

you watch the way he has an armful of your pillows, cheek smushed into the material as he surveys you carefully, searching for your reaction. that same guilt finds you again, settling in bottom of your stomach as your shoulders sag downward in vanquish.

accepting some defeat, you hold your phone up, walking across the room to plug the device in. "My phone died. I'm sorry."

Sunstreaker's cerulean optics follow your form, pushing off your bed to a standing position when you walk right past him. even mass-displaced, he still is tall and broad, peering down at you with alleviating scrutiny.

"I'm guessing you texted that you were going to be here?" you surmise.

he nods curtly twice. "I did."

there's another sentence that builds on his tongue, but it doesn't spit out fast enough before you continue.

"I'm sorry." you repeat, back to him as you start digging through your dresser in search of some pajamas. "I had a long day, and I didn't realize-"

"You usually work until eleven Thursdays." there's a pout to his tone, but it's gentler than you were expecting. "Why'd your schedule change?"

when you still weren't facing him, too occupied with trying to figure out where your favorite pair of pants had disappeared to, he makes a noise in the back of his throat that almost sounds like a whine. where all this desperation came from, he was uncertain, wondering just how you had managed to make him such a muddled mess. his emotions were being tugged as if they were on strings, reduced to a ball of frustration, mostly directed at his inability to speak such affections.

as far as he knows, nobody is aware of such sentiments, because there is hardly any change in his demeanor. they can't decipher that Sunstreaker is in constant indecision with telling you how strongly he feels, because he's too worried about being hurt all over again if he dares to vocalize his adoration. perhaps maintaining what you've decided to label this as is the most suitable resolution for both parties; however, this does not imply that Sunstreaker is unwilling to treat you with the respect and care you deserve.

with that being considered, whenever he ponders the topic for too long, there are moments when doubt creeps in, emotions that stir quietly, yet deeply, leaving him with a slow, inescapable ache of culpability. it's the constant reminder that he'll never be right for you, haunted by a past filled with moments that never quite turned in his favor, he carries the quiet weight of things left unresolved. fully aware that he could never face you after ruining something so precious, it's a reluctant decision to leave it where it stands, even if it's not what he yearns for. 

"I was forced to pick up overtime." you return, gasping slightly to find him so close upon turning around. how he crept on you so quietly was horrifying and fascinating all in the same breath, tilting your head back to meet his scrutinizing gaze. "Are you okay? What's the matter?"

Sunstreaker, try as he may to suppress it, is quite obvious when something is amiss. whether that be by your own doing, or other factors you had no idea of but he would certainly filter their way into your discussion, there was a storm brewing. you could feel the tension impend between the two of you, but for some reason, it drew you closer, sincerely wanting to dig to the root of his woes. it wasn't often that he revealed his inner thoughts so effortlessly, so you took the chance to try and understand his barricades and what he kept behind them.

emotions were a sensitive topic, and a little more blurry when trying to translate your own to a mech who makes you already vigorously happy presently. it’s like reaching for more when your heart already feels full, drawn by a quiet light that seems to whisper there’s still something beautiful waiting to be found. not wishing to appear as the downfall of an already wonderful amity, you shelve the topic for perhaps a more perfect moment, still yet to be seen.

he raises a brow at you, evidently puzzled. "I'm fine. Overtime? What kind of scrap excuse is that?"

"I don't know what to tell you," you groan, feeling whatever remainder of energy you had left seep into the carpet beneath your feet. "I was forced, Sunstreaker. It's kinda in the name, I don't have a choice."

you attempt to push past him, not aggressively- mostly in annoyance, but he doesn't allow it. a servo lands on your upper arm, holding you hostage before you could get very far, no more than two steps forward. it doesn't hurt, he's being clement as always, but there was not a chance in hell he was letting you go so easily.

"Last week you were 'busy' too," he gravels, unimpressed by your crankiness, but compassionate to your exhaustion. "Today, your phone magically happened to have no battery."

hanging your head in defeat, you yield your defenses. "Someone wanted to go out for drinks last week. I tried to get out of it, but I couldn't."

you were starting to feel like a broken record.

"That's an even lamer excuse."

finally having enough, you yank your head up and over, folded clothes nearly slipping from your erratic movement. "What are you, jealous?"

Sunstreaker falters, his digits actually going slack around your warm skin. the call-out he likely deserved, but in such a defensive manner he was not expecting.

jealous? no. well, maybe, a bit- but he was worried about you, wondering where you'd been when he had so carefully memorized every task on your schedule. of course, you were never bound to it, as neither was he to his own, but one of the many things he appreciated about you was your honesty.

change of plans, but I'll talk to you soon.

and the worst part of this entire conversation was that you were telling the truth, he watched with his own optics your phone turn back on whilst displaying an empty battery screen. you were still in your uniform, dark circles starting to form under your beautiful eyes, and here he was ruining the scraps of the evening he had left with you.

"Whatever." you sense the lax in his hold, wrenching your arm free and moving toward the door. "I'm going to get changed."

the bedroom door slams over with a little more than necessary aggravation, leaving Sunstreaker dumfounded in the center. he still hadn't come up with a candid response to your question, startled by the frustration that laced into your words. clearly, you were already at your limit, and he shoved you far beyond it and then some. in retrospect, he was truly deserving of your indignation, but as always, he recognized this aspect a little too late.

he hears you leave the bathroom when the door creaks over, but you don't make the left he anticipates you to make, back toward the bedroom.

you head in the direction of the kitchen instead, and with mild reluctance, Sunstreaker follows.

the passing anger leaves you as you move around the kitchen, hearing the mech enter the room to your right from the hall. you're halfway through putting together a bowl of cereal when he's at your side once more, looming but trying his best not to appear overbearing. he's giving you space to move away, if you weren't quite ready to talk to him, or about it yet.

"I'm guessing it wasn't a good day, then." Sunstreaker mumbles, holding back his disgust with your meal of choice.

you shrug, but don't look his way just yet. "Not the best, no."

your coldness is warranted, but it doesn't mean he wasn't going to try and rectify what he had broken. "Look, I can tell you're tired-"

"So why do you continue to push my buttons?"

Sunstreaker tries again to meet your gaze, but fails terribly. "Alright, alright."

at his tone, you assume he's going to retreat back to your bedroom, to allow you time to cool off completely before trying to recover the already dwindling evening. in return, you sigh, moving to finally catch his optics before you are promptly whisked off your feet.

large hands cup your thighs, holding you close to chilly plating with little room to argue. just as you swallow the gasp that almost leaves your lips, his face presses against the crook of your neck, lips moving across ticklish skin.

"I can tell you're exhausted." he can't meet your eyes to say it, so instead he hopes his voice can convey his sincerity. "When you didn't answer your phone, I thought somethin' was wrong, and-"

as if it was physically ripped from his chassis, he murmurs: "I missed you."

your fingers find his shoulders, trying to push him upright so you could accept his version of an apology, but he won't budge. as if he wasn't quite worthy of your kindness or forgiveness, he hides in one of his favorite spots, leaving sparse pecks of affection along your sternum.

"Sunny," you whisper.

he perks some at the nickname, hoping the benign twinge to your words wasn't fraudulent.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you, and I know I should have checked sooner to see if my phone was dead. It just happened to be a perfect storm, and I know that's a lame excuse."

"I wasn't-"

you coax him once more, and he relents, allowing your hands to cup his face. "I know. I missed you too,"

he can't help the way his spark thrums loudly whenever he's near you, or the way his psyche subconsciously yearns to be with you every moment of every day. minutes without you feel like hours, stretching him and his patience thin until the elasticity eventually breaks.

if he could uncover the right words to convey just how much you mean to him, than perhaps his moments of blind exasperation could make a little more sense. he worries for you, so deeply that maybe his envy truly is wildly misplaced, unfounded in the situation he crafted. everything has felt like a whirlwind lately, and perhaps he was unaccustomed to having something so delicate, yet so perfect to care for. he is well aware there's things he needs to work on, both for you and this relationship, but if there's one thing he can be eternally grateful for is your forbearance and empathy.

you have your moments and threshold as well, as all do. you have your faults and qualities that you don't trust are meant to be shared with the world, but you've dropped your guard and let him in to see them. you know what it means to be loved, to give love, and to carry it softly even on the days you feel unworthy of it. you're everything he's not, but every time he brings such an apparent observation up, you smile brightly and tell him that 'opposites attract'.