#transformer comics

When orange optics turned to look at him startled Blitzwing understood what mechas meant by spark at first glance.

He was fancy to poems and literature but in all his enjoyment of such classics he never paid much mind to the romance of it all.

He wishes now that he had.

He desperately wishes to say something but his vox refuses and his servos cramp with tightness as stablizers remain rooted in the ground.

He wants for the mini and the mini looks at far too long with tilted wings that beg eager and plead curious in giving permission to come and touch.

But the councilman is not in favor of this and makes a show of reminding both himself and the beautiful mini bot just what kind of life he lives.

The shanix is smashed into the minis smaller hand and Blitzwing growls deciding he could rip the bots memory file out later as he stalks towards him.

In better light the cowardice council bot sees exactly who he is and knows to fear. It bothers a spot in his spark he didn’t know still remained as he watched the cowardly bot hide behind the pleasuring mini who looks ashamed and startled before being pushed forward and almost hitting the ground.

Blitzwing felt it silly being so thankful for his battle prowess coming in handy to keep the mecha from falling. But at full touch and close field, he treasures it.

“Jou..are jou okay?”

“Yeah,” the mini let out still transfixed on his face plate, “I’m fine. thank you,” the mecha spoke.

He didn’t need to know that Blitzwing sent a silent blast blowing a hole through the cowardice bots spark. With the processor left untouched they would successfully pull any information needed.

But that could be dealt with at a later time.

Right now,

“May I ask, vhat is jour designation?”

“Bumblebee,” the mini pressed two small servos to the curve of his chassis feeling the heat of his double engines and the steady thrum of his spark beneath the purple insignia.

“And yours?”

“Blitzwing,” his red optic captured intimately the part of the smaller mechs intake as he repeated his designation for the very first time and Blitzwing found himself saving this memory under his classified date bank.

“Thank you for helping me Blitzwing. But-well you saw —so—I mean you know that I.”

“Vork is vork, hummelchen. I can assure jou, there vill be no judgment here,” he spoke truthfully with a glance to his decepticon brand.

“I am more than familiar vith life bringing..odd changes and doing vhat is necessary for survival.”

“you..don’t mind?”

“Not at all, small one,” Blitzwing can’t remember the last time he genuinely smiled at another but he can say he likes the shine in the orange optics at giving it.

“In fact, I vould like it if..I could learn more..about jou and all zat jou do, hummelchen. If jou don’t mind?”

The raise of yellow door wings sound symphonies of courting and conjux ritus in Blitzwings audials. He soaks in the smile and pulse of emotion Bumblebee gives off with such readiness and decides then he could spend the rest of his life cycle drowning in such ecstasy.

“A pleasure to meet jou, mein hummelchen.”

Bumblebee usually felt a numbness to being picked up and watched, such as his daily line of work entails of him. But this time was different.

This time, he hoped those optics and servos never looked away and would not stop holding him anytime soon.

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