Rating: M
Chapter 9
“You're weird today.”
Sentinel wiped at his mouth, buttoning
up his shirt. The escort said nothing, glancing back at him
momentarily before continuing to get dressed. “Was your visit not
satisfactory?,” Tracks asked tersely, slipping on his coat.
“No.....,” the rottweiler growled.
“You're still as slick as ever, but you almost didn't do your part.
I don't want to have to stop just to remind you of your duties.”
“My apologies,” the other autodog
replied. He grabbed his bag silently, checking his reflection quickly
in his pocket mirror. “It won't happen again.”
Sentinel opened his mouth to speak, but
was interrupted as he began to cough violently. Tracks turned to the
security guard, his brow furrowed. “That sounds like a nasty cough.
You sure you aren't catching a cold?,” he asked.
“I....,” the blue mech paused to
hack again. “I-i don't get sick!,” he finished. The pomeranian
arched an optic ridge at the protest but merely shrugged off the
rottweiler's words.
“Very well,” Tracks said. “I will
see you again, Mr. Sentinel. Have a good day.” Sentinel watched as
the escort headed out the door, no kiss blown or any other cheery
remark made at his exit. For a moment, the security guard was puzzled
but then he remembered he didn't care. He returned to his desk,
grabbing hold of his waiting sandwich and taking a bite.
A nanoklik later, the autodog was
coughing around his mouthful.
xxXxXxx
It was a quiet orn.
Optimus sat at his desk, without the
company of his young students, taping away quickly at his console. A
stack of folders sat to his right, already catalogued and their
contents transferred into his computer's database. Cheery whistling
broke the monotone of the german sherpherd's routine; lifting his
optics, the secretary was pleasantly surprised to see Jazz swaggering
down the hall. “Good afternoon, Jazz,” he called.
The security guard waved jauntily,
pulling up to the other autodog's desk. “What's shakin', OP?,” he
asked. “Free o' the kiddies today, I see.”
“Yes,” Optimus smiled back, “Today
is their day with Perceptor. I would think they are currently in his
lab at the moment, if not Wheeljack's. It's amazing how quiet things
can be without them.” The german shepherd paused, glancing down the
hall quickly. “I-is, umm..... I n-noticed that you're the only one
doing your rounds today. Is someone sick?”
Jazz's visor flashed as he shuttered
his optics behind it. “You mean you haven't heard yet?,” he
replied, stunned. At Optimus' blank look, the dalmatian sighed, his
helm dropping lowly. “Sentinel's been given medical leave.
Apparently he caught himself a nasty virus and has been noted as
unfit for duty in the roster. We're stretching the hours, trying to
cover the ones he usually has.”
“He's sick?,” the blue and red
autodog gaped.
“Well, yeah.... I'm surprised that
you didn't know,” Jazz repeated puzzled. “I mean, you guys
are.....” The dalmatian trailed off, noticing the heavy expression
on Optimus' face. “Umm, Optimus?”
“Huh? Oh,” the german sherperd
shook his helm, coming out of his thoughts. “No, it's nothing. I
was just thinking. I'm sorry to hear that you have so much to do now,
Jazz.”
“Meh, it's nothin' my mech,” the
black and white mech said, waving off the other autodog's words.
“It's jus' a couple cycles more.” Optimus nodded but didn't say
anything else. Jazz studied his friend for a moment, his lip
components pulled in a slight frown. Smacking the desk top suddenly,
he grinned broadly at the startled autodog.
“Well, I guess I'll just split,”
the dalmatian chirped. “See you later, OP!”
The secretary responded slowly, waving
at the security guard as he bounced off to finish his rounds. When
his friend was out of sight, Optimus lowered his servo, sighing
quietly in the absence of others.
xxXxXxx
It had taken much deliberation, but at
the end of the orn, he realized he just couldn't walk away.
Optimus stood before Sentinel's
apartment door, a steaming bowl of rust-bolt stew balanced
precariously in his arms. He had one servo wrapped about the
porcelain to keep it steady, and the other raised to the door. For
the umpteenth time in the past couple kliks, the autodog sighed,
letting his servo drop back down to his side. His ears were drooped
uneasily, his tail stiff behind him. He just couldn't do this, the
mech bemoaned to himself. This was Sentinel- even with their history,
it seemed unlikely that his old friend would want or accept his help.
Actually, it was because of their shared past that the rottweiler may
very well refuse the secretary's charity.
But he couldn't just leave either.
“Oh, just do it you idiot,” Optimus
hissed to himself, raising his servo again. He held it waveringly
before the door, feeling his nerves grow taut the longer he hesitated
on knocking. Throwing caution to the wind, the german shepherd
quickly tapped the wood; suddenly, fear overcame him and he scrambled
with what to do next.
The thought of fleeing actually entered
his processor.....
“W-who,” wild coughing came through
the door, “H-hoo's bhere?”
Optimus swallowed the squeak that rose
as the door swung open, a disgruntled Sentinel meeting his gaze. His
fright vanished quickly though when he saw the state his ex-friend
was in. Dressed in a ratty house-coat, the security guard was stooped
over with sickness; his optics purple around the edges and his grey
visage a pale, greenish colour. A wad off used tissue was held in one
servo, the other keeping the blue mech steady as he leaned heavily
against the door frame.
“Sentinel.....,” the german
shepherd sighed sympathetically.
“O-ob'imus?,” Sentinel croaked in
surprise. He straightened up quickly, before folding over again.
Apparently the rapid motion sent his processor whirling. “Whab
ar-are eoo do-dooven here?”
The secretary lifted his bowl of stew.
“Soup,” he mumbled nervously. “I heard you were sick a-and,
well, I thought you might need a little something to, umm....”
The sick mech's optics narrowed
suspiciously. “W-why do e-eoo c-care?”
Optimus shuttered his optics stupidly,
before a frown came to his lip components. “Well, of all the-
c'mon, Sentinel,” he huffed, stepping past the threshold. He took
hold of the stunned rottweiler's elbow with his one servo, leading
the other back into the apartment. “You should be in bed.”
“Ob'imus, 'ow d-dare eou-!”
Anything else the blue mech had to say was lost in another coughing
fit; the security guard weakening further, allowing himself to be
taken back to his berth. He let Optimus push him under the blankets,
scowling sullenly as the german shepherd tucked the sheets in tightly
around his shivering frame.
“Sentinel.....,” the secretary
sighed a third time that cycle. “How did you ever get so sick? You
really need to take better take care of yourself.”
“Ah-”
Optimus silenced Sentinel by setting a
finger to the other autodog's mouth. “Stay put,” he ordered,
grabbing his bowl. “I'll be right back.” He waited an
astrosecond, to see if the rottweiler would disobey him, before
nodding and marching out of the room.
When the red and blue mech had left the
room, Sentinel attempted to try and get up. He barely managed to sit
up before his tanks roiled uneasily, his processor stabbed over and
over again by an invisible blade that he just couldn't defend
against. He collapsed back against the mattress, just as Optimus came
strutting into the room. “I told you to 'stay put',” the german
shepherd said wearily.
He circled around the berth, setting
the basin of cold water he carried onto the nightstand. Dipping his
servos into it, he grabbed the wash clothe, ringing it out. “Just
rest Sentinel. I won't choke you in your sleep or anything -promise,”
Optimus assured Sentinel.
“D-don' 'now bhat,” the security
guard grumbled nasally.
The thinner autodog said nothing,
simply patting his friend's slicked forehead. “Go to sleep,” he
repeated. “I'll have something for you to eat when you wake.”
xxXxXxx
Sunlight poured down on a grassy
hill, covered in dandelions and other small wild flowers. The sky was
above was a vivid blue, with a few white, puffy clouds dotting its
canvas; the perfect backdrop to the sparklings playing beneath it.
The little ones themselves did not notice the beauty of the world
around them this day, fixated on their own games and each other.
One blue sparkling was using the
edge of his wooden sword to cut up servofuls of dandelions, passing
them to the other two autodogs behind him. The yellow femme thanked
him for his deed, before turning to her third companion and splitting
the pile between them. Her friend smiled graciously, grabbing a few
of the dandelions and beginning to weave them into a chain.
“Heesh,” the first one grumbled,
kicking at the grass. “'Ow many flow'rs do ya need Elita?”
“As many as it takes,” the other
sparkling replied cheerfully. “Don't be such a meanie, Sentinel.
Optimus likes making the crowns. Don't you, Optimus?”
The red and blue mech lifted his
helm at the question, nodding. “Y-yes, Elita,” he mumbled softly.
He glanced up at Sentinel, smiling at his friend. “I-it's ok,
S-sentinel. You can stop now.”
The rottweiler plopped down with an
exaggerated sigh, sticking his sword deep into the dirt. “'is 'bout
time!,” he huffed. Elita One rolled her optical sensors, while
Optimus merely chuckled quietly.
“You can help, you know,” the
femme pointed out, gesturing to the pile of dandelions still waiting
to be braided.
The blue sparkling's ear jolted
upright in horror. “No way!,” he protested. “'at's girly stuff!
Only bornlings do 'at silly s'uff!”
The german shepherd shuttered his
optics, hurt. “Y-you think I'm a bornling, Sen-Sen?,” the
smallest autodog wibbled.
Elita One glared at the
shell-shocked Sentinel. “Stop picking on, Optimus!,” she scowled,
hitting the the mech. Sentinel responded by quickly raising his
shield.
“I'm not picking on 'im!,” he
argued.
“You are!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Are not!”
“Are too!”
“Are n-”
“Here you go, Sen-Sen,” Optimus
interrupted. He got to his feet, setting his newly made dandelion
crown upon his friend's helm. The rottweiler's tail thumped slowly
behind him, his cheekplates tinged faintly pink, despite the pout he
wore. The femme beside him laughed outright, tossing her own
make-shift crown about the blue and red sparkling's ears.
“There! Now you're both princes,”
she grinned. “And I can be the princess.”
“I'm no prince,” Sentinel said,
rising to his pedes quickly. He grabbed his sword and shield, holding
them up as he puffed out his chest proudly. “I am a kni'te! I'll
proteck you all.”
The other two sparklings giggled in
delight, clapping loudly for their friend. Leaping forward, Elita One
wrapped her arms tightly around Optimus and Sentinel both, drawing
them in for a big hug. “We'll be the bestest friends forever!,”
she exclaimed. The autodogs wagged their tails in agreement.
xxXxXxx
“.....oo're s'ill 'ere?,” came the
mumbled inquiry.
Optimus sighed, walking towards the
berth. “Of course, Sentinel,” he answered, grabbing the
thermometer from the other mech's mouth. He lifted the stick to his
optics, reading the small digits etched into the side of the glass
scale. “Good,” he smiled after a moment, “It looks like the
worse of your fever has broken.”
Sentinel shifted on the berth, sullenly
glaring up at the german shepherd. “I still feel like slag.....,”
he grumbled.
“Well, you're not better yet,”
Optimus agreed. “You'll need some more rest and proper fluids
before the virus is fully gone. Which is why I've brought you some
soup -do you think you can sit up?”
The rottweiler tried to comply with the
polite request, but could not muster the strength to even lift
himself up a few inches. Giving in with a heavy grunt, the blue mech
fell back against the berth and the pillows; glaring sullenly up at
the ceiling. “I hate this.....,” he hissed lowly.
“I know,” Optimus was tempted to
say. He silenced the comment though, fixing the blankets around the
security guard's frame. Even though it had been stellar cycles since
they had actively communicated in a semi-civilized nature, the german
shepherd recalled firmly how much his ex-friend hated being ill. The
feeling of helplessness, of constant dependency -towards anyone!-
irritated the other autodog, who had always believed since he was
young that he was strong and powerful when compared to others.
....Sentinel did love playing the part
of a knight....
The secretary seated himself on the
edge of the berth, grabbing the bowl of soup he had set aside. He
stirred the broth once, twice, before turning to face the other mech.
“Open, please,” he asked politely, lifting a spoonful of the warm
liquid and waiting for Sentinel to comply. Sentinel only pouted
further, pulling his blankets up to his chin. “Don't be so
stubborn, Sentinel,” Optimus huffed exasperatedly.
“.....no,” was the rottweiler's
eloquent reply.
“Sentinel-”
“No,” the mech cut in.
The german shepherd said nothing,
moving the spoon so that it hovered just above Sentinel's lower lip
component. “You haven't eaten a thing since the day before because
of your fever getting worse. Right now, you need to replenish your
systems with the necessary nutrients.”
Sentinel still refused to open his
mouth.
“Sentinel, please,” Optimus almost
begged. Slaggit.... he was tired and hungry himself. Looking after an
over-sized, sick sparkling wasn't exactly the easiest of tasks. All
he wanted to do was make sure that the security guard got something
to eat and drink, before he went back home for the night. The other
autodog resisted for about a nanoklik longer, before he opened his
mouth, snapping his denta about the spoon's neck.
The german shepherd sighed gratefully,
reclaiming his spoon. “Thank you,” he said, spooning some more
soup for his ex-friend. He silently fed the rottweiler, glad for his
compliance, even if it was somewhat half-sparked. This relative peace
lasted about a breem, before Optimus had to break the tense silence
that surrounded them.
“I found your school yearbook the
other day,” he started softly. He dropped his optics to the bowl in
his lap, stirring the last dregs of the soup distractedly. “I was
surprised that you still had it.....”
Smiling a little, the red and blue
autodog continued, “Remember when we were smaller, and we used to
play all the time? You were the knight and Elita One and I were-”
“.....don't talk about her.....”
The low growl startled Optimus. He
lifted his helm, ears rigid. “Sentinel, w-what-”
Sentinel glared at him, shifting on the
berth. He attempted to sit up again; his denta bared threateningly.
“I said don't talk about her.”
Optimus felt his fear and unease drain
away, quickly replaced by anger. “Why not?,” he demanded. “She
was our friend Sentinel- despite everything that's happened, she
always will be to me! Why then can't I mention her?”
“She's not our friend; she never
was!,” the rottweiler snapped. “She was nothing but a no-good,
dirty little half-br-”
The secretary jumped to his pedes,
turning away from the other autodog. “Optimus!,” Sentinel yelled,
lurching up. He grabbed the fleeing mech's wrist, keeping Optimus
from running away. “Don't you dare leave!” Optimus glared at the
blue autodog, before viciously shaking off Sentinel's grip.
“Optimus, get back here!,” the
security guard demanded, struggling in the berth. If he had the
strength, he would have been hot at the german sherpherd's heels. As
it was, he could only listen as his bowl of unfinished soup was
thrown into the kitchen sink, followed by the slamming of the front
door as his ex-friend stormed out. Growling in annoyance, Sentinel
fell back against his pillows, shooting daggers at the ceiling above,
as if it was to blame for all his problems.
xxXxXxx
He honestly didn't know why he had
gone.
Sentinel never changed, it was a fact.
The person that he had once considered a friend had been just as rude
and uncouth since the time they were in middle school together. Any
trace of the sparkling that the rottweiler used to be had been
permanently erased from this world.
Optimus wished he could say he still
did not cry over that sometimes......
Why? Why did he have to lose the only
two people that had ever meant anything to him in the world, he had
to wonder. It wasn't fair.
He slammed his door behind him as he
entered his house, a servo lifted to his face as he hurried for his
room. He was glad to hear that all was silent within the place -it
meant that his foster son, Bumblebee, was out at the moment. He did
not want to worry the yellow youngling with his tears. Once he was
holed up tight in his room, his last resolve crumpled; he sat on the
edge, burying his face into his servos. He cried quietly for about
five kliks, before he could cry no more, and sat up straight. He
wiped at his optics, taking deep, long intakes to calm himself down
again.
“I'm such a fool,” he mumbled to
himself wearily. “Such a fool....”
What had he expected really? Taking
care of Sentinel.... it was sure to bring up some tension between
them. But he had not anticipated his old friend getting so vicious
for mentioning their long lost companion.
Elita One.... orns so long ago, the
three of them had been friends. Playing together, eating lunch and
sharing secrets and joys with each other. That was before the
disaster that had torn their friendship to shreds. In the ignorance
of their youth, they never noticed the differences in the yellow
femme. In fact, neither did the older 'bots watching over them. It
wasn't until a stellar cycle had passed, that the teachers and
parents took notice of the odd inconsistencies of the sparkling's
background. Unknownst to many, Elita One was actually a half-breed;
her carrier, who had been an autodog, had a short relationship with a
kittycon, before it was terminated by her own creators. They had not
known at the time that the young femme was pregnant. She stole off
into the dead of night, taking her and her unborn sparkling away from
the ones who would have her terminate the unprotoformed bornling.
The child she had was Elita One. She
passed off the sparkling as being full autodog, like herself, and for
a while the ploy was plausible. But as the stellar cycles passed, the
sparkling's CNA began to show signs of her kittycon heritage. Her
small puppy ears sharpened into familiar cat points, destroying the
illusion that she was a chihuahua breed, just like her carrier. This
fact was discovered one school orn, while Optimus, Sentinel and Elita
One were outdoors playing. Optimus remembered how terrifying it was,
when his classroom teacher and principal swooped down on the trio;
grabbing hold of the tiny femme and wrenching her away from her
friends.
The two autodogs tried to leap to their
pedes and save their friend, but their teacher held each of them
back, saying that they weren't to interfere in adult affairs. No
matter how much they cried and fought, they were unable to get free,
and could only watch in horror as Elita One was taken from their
sights.
They were never to see the hybrid
again, they were told.
But they had, Optimus remembered. It
was by chance really, that after nine stellar cycles they would meet
their long lost friend. Sentinel and Optimus were just starting high
school..... they were heading home after their first day, chatting
calmly enough about their classes and plans for the semester. The
german shepherd paused to look forward as they were crossing the
street, when he spotted her. He almost didn't believe at first that
it was Elita One. Her fur had changed from its rich, gentle yellow to
a nasty, bright purple; her thin autodog tail not to be seen
anywhere.
Needing clarification, Optimus had run
towards the oddly-coloured femme, ignoring both Sentinel's yelling
and the group of thuggish kittycons surrounding her. “Elita?!,”
he called out desperately, his spark pulsing hopefully in his
chassis.
The feline ears flickered atop her
helm; slowly, the femme turned about, her red optics burning into
his. “Whose the mutt?,” one of the kittycons cracked. “Probably
a stray,” another added. The group crowed with laughter at the
cruel joke. Optimus did his best not to look at them, giving his
attention only to the 'bot before him.
She said nothing at first, crossing her
leather-clad arms across her chestplates. “Hey, want us to teach
this lil' pup a lesson?,” one of the brutes asked, wrapping an arm
around the femme's shoulder plates.
“Go on ahead,” she told him, “I
can deal with this one on my own.”
The kittycons exchanged some looks, but
shrugged and began to walk away. “Elita.....,” Optimus sighed,
when the group was out of hearing range. “Elita, I'm so glad that
you're alright!” He went to go hug his old friend, but was stopped
when her fist came flying.
He fell to the ground from that punch
to the jaw, processor reeling in shock and confusion. “You damn
glitch!!,” Sentinel shouted, coming up to the duo.
“Ah, Sentinel.....,” the femme
sneered, propping her servos on her hips casually. “I should have
known you wouldn't be too far away.”
“Elita....?,” he mumbled, confused.
“The name is Blackarachnia now,”
she hissed, baring her denta. “That pathetic lil' mutt you knew as
Elita One no longer exists.”
“B-but El-Blackarachnia,” Optimus
stammered, struggling to his pedes. Sentinel's strong servos grasped
his elbows gently, helping him up. “W-we're your friends!”
“Some friends you are,”
Blackarachnia growled. “It was because of you that I was forced out
of my home and lost the only life I had! Where were you when I had no
choice but to chop off my tail?! Where were you when my mother died,
and the only ones who would even dare look at me were the same 'bots
you mutts were told to hate?! No..... no autodog is my friend, and
certainly not you either!”
“B-but Elita-!”
The hybrid reacted, lashing out quickly
and kicking Optimus square in the chestplates. He fell against
Sentinel, gasping for air. “You slagger..... I'll fragging tear you
limb from limb!,” the rottweiler roared.
Blackarachnia hissed at the threat.
“Try it, you mudflap,” she said to Sentinel. Her cold optics
turned to Optimus then. “Don't ever call me that again. If you so
much as try to look for me, Optimus, I will kill you. Don't doubt for
even an astrosecond that I won't.”
The femme spat at the ground between
them, turning on her heel and quickly strutting away. The german
shepherd hurried to his pedes, struggling in Sentinel's grasp. “L-let
me go, Sentinel!,” he demanded, his face turned in the direction
that Blackarachnia had disappeared in. “Please, we have to stop
her!”
“Leave her be, Optimus,” his friend
growled. “She doesn't want anything to do with us obviously, and I
refuse to let her hurt you again.”
“But she's our friend! We can't just
let her go, Sentinel- we have to show her that she's wrong!”
“Wrong?!,” Sentinel shouted,
spinning Optimus around. “Wrong about what?,” he demanded.
“Slaggit.... we're not responsible for anything that's happened to
her Optimus! She's the one who hates us! Why should we chase after
some beaten-up, twisted, no-good, dirty little half-breed of a gli-”
Optimus couldn't help what he did next.
He slapped Sentinel.
The rottweiler lifted a servo to his
cheekplate slowly, his optics staring in wide disbelief at the
smaller mech. His shock lasted about a nanoklik, before Sentinel's
gaze hardened and his lip components bent in a ferocious scowl. “I
see....,” he mumbled. “Okay, fine. Do whatever you want; just
don't expect me to follow along anymore.”
He turned about quickly, storming away
from the torn german shepherd. If Optimus had known then that this
incident would have cost him his whole friendship with the only
important person left in his young life, then he would have chased
after Sentinel that night instead of trying to find Blackarachnia
again. In the end though, all he had was two sore pedes and a
bucketful of tears to show for his efforts.
Society's ignorance and bigotry had
cost him his first friend.....
....But he had lost the second with his
own mistakes.....
xxXxXxx
“Y-you..... you came back?”
Sentinel shuffled out of the doorway as
Optimus walked in, the german shepherd's ears rigid on top of his
helm. He took one look at the mess the rottweiler had made in the
kitchen, before sighing and hurrying forwards to clean it up.
The security guard followed closely at
his heels. “Why did you come back?,” he asked, confused. “I was
sure after yesterday.....”
“Someone has to make sure you don't
poison yourself,” the secretary finally replied, throwing the dirty
dishes into the sink. He turned off the stove top, chucking the
gelatinous, burning mound that might have once been soup into the
trash. Behind him, Sentinel watched, leaning against the counter as a
wave of sudden fatigue ran through him.
“No, really,” he demanded, fixing
Optimus with a stern look. “Why are you even bothering to look
after me, if you only hate me?”
Optimus locked optics with Sentinel.
“You are an idiot if you think I hate you,” the german shepherd
said dryly.
The blue mech opened his mouth, about
to retort, but couldn't find the words to speak with. He huffed in
annoyance, slouching down onto the counter further. The other autodog
spared a moment to plug the sink, turning on the taps, before walking
around and grabbing hold of the rottweiler. “You should be in bed,”
he instructed, beginning to lead the security guard in that very
direction.
Sentinel allowed himself to be taken
back to his room and tucked back under the sheets. “I'm not that
sick,” he gruffed half-heartedly. Optimus said nothing, grabbing
the thermometer from off the dresser and holding it out towards the
rottweiler.
“Put that in your mouth,” he
ordered. He waited until the thermometer was in Sentinel's mouth, the
tip under his glossa, before leaving the berthroom. There came the
squeak of taps turning off, and the fridge being opened and closed,
after which the german shepherd came walking back into the room. The
blue mech did his best to keep his tail from wagging when the other
autodog leaned in to grab the thermometer.
“.....your temperature has gone down
a lot,” Optimus remarked. He handed Sentinel the glass of low-grade
he held. “Another night's rest should do it, and you'll be able to
return to work tomorrow.” Even if he didn't say it, the relief was
obvious in his optics.
He stood there idly, debating.
“What's wrong, Optimus? You look as
if you want to say something.”
The secretary frowned slightly, turning
his attention back to Sentinel at the somewhat mocking tone. “I'll
go get you something to eat,” he told the rottweiler. “Stay put.”
Sentinel tried not to scowl as his
ex-friend marched back out of the room, without a farewell or word of
warning said otherwise. He stayed in the berth almost one full klik,
before he got up himself, walking into the main area of his
apartment. “I suppose I should thank you if I'm almost better, as
you say,” he began, startling the german shepherd.
Optimus fumbled with his dish he was
holding, catching it and putting it back in the sink with the others.
“Sentinel,” he replied tersely. “I told you to stay in bed.”
The blue mech said nothing for a
moment, merely studying the other. He noticed that his silent staring
began to make the red and blue autodog squirm after a few
astroseconds. “I have to say, Optimus,” he smirked, “You're
pretty rattled today, aren't you? I wonder why.....”
The secretary's cheekplates flushed
with his embarrassment. He hurriedly turned away from Sentinel,
returning to the dishes he had been previously washing. “Your soup
is just heating up on the stove. I'll have some brought for you
shortly -now if you'd be so kind as to stop pestering me so I can
finish cleaning up, please.”
“But I'm not pestering,” the
rottweiler argued, sidling up to the german shepherd's side. He
caught the tremble Optimus tried to suppress. “In fact, I think
this is a perfect opportunity.”
“What.....,” Optimus began warily,
slowly putting down his scrubby, “Opportunity?”
He didn't like that angry, almost
fearful look the shorter autodog gave him. Sentinel frowned, facing
his ex-friend entirely. “You can't tell me that you're here simply
because you have to take care of me. I don't believe that. You must
have some other reasons for coming here -frag, you were giving me the
silent treatment not a week before! And I still don't understand what
the slag I did to have you so steamed at me.”
Bitter hurt filled Optimus' optics. “If
you still haven't figured it out by now, then why should I tell you
Sentinel?,” he demanded. “I've never before been so insulted and
disgusted in my life.”
“......so that's it then,” the
rottweiler muttered. “Now that you're done playing nurse maid,
we're just going to go back to you ignoring me and me being left in
the dark as to why you're so miffed? Why did you even bother coming
here then Optimus? It makes no sense!”
“I have to have a reason now to be
concerned about someone?,” Optimus shouted back, losing his
patience. “Is that it Sentinel? Is that what you're telling me?”
“Yes!,” Sentinel yelled. Optimus
shuttered his optics before throwing his scrubby back into the soapy
water, turning around and storming for the door. “Slaggit....
Optimus, don't you dare run away again!”
The security guard quickly chased after
the german shepherd, pinning him to the wall. “Let me go!,” the
red and blue autodog growled, struggling in the other mech's hold.
“Why? So you can leave again, like
you did last night! Slag no!,” Sentinel replied. “I don't get you
Optimus- if I slag you off so much, why do you keep on coming back!?
Well? Answer me!”
The secretary bit his lip component,
lowering his helm. The rottweiler tolerated this for about an
astrosecond, before he bent forward, swooping in and sealing his lip
components against the other mech's mouth. Optimus made a strangled
sound in the back of his vocalizer as he was forcibly kissed by his
ex-friend; Sentinel's leg pushing between his thighs. Panic flashed
through the smaller autodog. In a great burst of strength, he broke
out of the security guard's grasp, shoving the sick 'bot to the
floor. Not wasting a single moment, Optimus grabbed his coat and ran
out the apartment door.
Sentinel, hissing as he pushed himself
up on the ground, could only turn his helm to the open door; cursing
himself again.
No comments:
Post a Comment