[Consortium] Dynamic Persuasion
Aug. 23rd, 2021 06:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Dynamic Persuasion
Universe: TF, Canon Divergence, Consortium AU, The Prime’s Consorts series
Characters: Skyfire/Optimus Prime
Rated: T
Enticements: Fluff, Comfort
Description: Optimus tends to try and weather his losses in private, but Skyfire refuses to let him suffer alone.
It is unlike Optimus to miss their evening gathering.
No.
Skyfire corrects himself.
It is exactly like Optimus to miss their evening gathering if he thinks it will ease their burden in some way, or to keep them from taking on a burden Optimus feels they should not carry. The weight of his undeserved guilt -- he’s not responsible for their forced bonding but he takes it on his shoulders nonetheless -- bears Optimus down, and he always opts to handle it in stoic silence.
Skyfire walks into the over-large dining hall, packed to the brim with Consorts and their companions, friends and families, and the moment he notices Optimus is not present, he spins on a heel-strut and walks right back out. He passes Starscream, who frowns, takes a moment to scan the dining hall, before he nods and passes with a quick squeeze to Skyfire’s arm.
“Take care of him,” he murmurs, and then he’s all smiles and optic-rolls as he sashays past a giggling Hot Rod and wriggles into a space between Wheeljack and Ratchet.
Starscream will ensure no one bothers them out of well-meaning concern, and Skyfire is free to seek out Optimus wherever he is hiding. Not that Skyfire needs more than one guess. Optimus always tucks away in his personal quarters when he has a problem he doesn’t want their assistance with. They all have an open invitation to visit him whenever they like, but few of the Consorts take him up on that offer.
Hot Rod, Skyfire knows with some certainty, is a frequent visitor. He is capable of pulling Optimus out of his occasional ‘funks’ -- to put it in Hot Rod’s terms -- depending on what caused said ‘funk’ in the first place.
Given the evening’s top headline, Skyfire does not think this is a situation where Hot Rod’s flirtatious charm will be of much help.
Skyfire swings by the kitchens first and steals a bundle of the treats Hot Rod made earlier in the day. He keeps them fully stocked in sweet candies, and it just so happens the flavor this week is Optimus’ favorite.
Bribery tucked under his arm, Skyfire goes to Optimus’ private suite and pings the door for entry. Optimus is far too polite to simply ignore the request, and Skyfire is not ashamed to use that to his advantage.
The door opens, and Optimus looks up at him, field radiating surprise and fatigue in equal measures, while the bond between them hums with a fond warmth. He offers Skyfire a smile, though it is strained around the edges.
“Good evening, Skyfire,” he says. “Is something wrong?”
“You aren’t at dinner,” Skyfire says, inviting himself into Optimus’ quarters, knowing Optimus won’t protest, or if he does, it won’t carry any weight behind it. Optimus can be fairly predictable. “So I brought you something.”
“You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it all the same,” Optimus says, and the strain in his vocals bleeds into his field, before it is quickly whisked behind a mask of calm.
He cannot hide it from their bond, however, and Skyfire is not too ashamed to use that to his advantage either. It has always been some relief to know that they can hide as little from Optimus as he can hide from them. Some matters remain private, of course, but strong, surface emotions are impossible to shield.
The door whooshes shut as Optimus follows Skyfire beyond the entryway and into the reception room, furnished with comfortable lounges, some even large enough for Skyfire to fit without worry.
“I apologize if I worried you,” Optimus continues.
Skyfire pauses in the middle of the reception. It is not the first time he’s been here, but he takes a moment to remind himself of the layout nonetheless. Multiple adjoining doors lead to Optimus’ private hab, a private bathing room, and a separate corridor containing an absurd number of guest suites and leisure facilities, none of which are in use at the moment.
He turns, and for the first time, fully runs his gaze over Optimus. The Prime holds his shoulders strong, but can’t hide the fatigue wreathing his optics, or the stressed clamp of his armor. His gaze is wan, and the restraint in his field speaks of his attempts to shield his more painful emotions from outside perceptions.
“I saw the news,” Skyfire says, careful to keep his tone even and prepared for Optimus to pepper him with false assurances. “I think you could use a friend right now.”
Optimus’ smile is gentle as is the hand he rests on Skyfire’s arm. “I appreciate it, but don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”
He says he’s fine, but the tension rippling around him is enough to make the air thick, and Skyfire’s armor crawl. The taint of perceived failure thrums their bond despite Optimus’ efforts. Though Skyfire doesn’t have access to Optimus’ inner monologue, he imagines it is full of self-castigation.
Optimus is a cable about to snap, and Skyfire sees no reason to let him suffer through it alone.
Damn self-sacrificing Prime.
Skyfire hums and looks past Optimus, to his private washroom. “You have an oil bath, don’t you?”
“Yes?” Optimus sounds confused.
Good.
“It’s kept warm and clean at all times, isn’t it?” Skyfire asks.
Some of the tension gives way to mild exasperation. “I do try to tell them it’s unnecessary and a waste of resources, but they insist otherwise.”
Skyfire nods, the plan unfurling as he looks back at Optimus, whose tilted-head confusion should not be as adorable as it is.
“Why?” Optimus asks.
Skyfire answers by simply lifting Optimus and tucking the Prime into his arms. “Because you are in need of a long, relaxing soak, and if we had to wait for the oil to fill and warm, you’d have found some excuse to avoid it.”
Optimus sputters, but his protests are token at best -- more embarrassment than outrage if the trill along their bond means anything. He doesn’t squirm, which makes it easy for Skyfire to whisk him into the bathing room, where the humid heat of the oil bath washes over his sensors.
Skyfire steps directly into the hot oil, and doesn’t release Optimus until they are both comfortably soaked, and even then, he perches on one of the shelves beneath the surface, and tucks Optimus beside him.
The silence which follows could be defined as “sulking” were Optimus any other mech. It takes a few moments of cycling ventilations before Optimus says,
“I could have walked.”
“You would have argued,” Skyfire says, whisking the tray of sweetened treats from his subspace. “This was more efficient.”
Optimus waits for two more ventilations before he relaxes into the warmth of the oil bath with a surrendering air. “I concede your point.”
Skyfire nudges the box of treats toward Optimus. “Freshly made, I’m told.”
“I am sensing something of a bribe,” Optimus says, his tone wry, a curve of amusement to his lips that does much to loosen the tension wreathed around his frame.
He takes two of the goodies which is a victory in itself.
“Not this time,” Skyfire says.
Optimus snorts, but he leans in against Skyfire without further protest. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fair. We don’t have to talk.” Skyfire rests his arm around Optimus, thumb gently stroking around Optimus’ elbow. “I’m here to listen, or to offer advice, or to talk about something completely unrelated -- like the book I’ve recently finished, for example.”
Beneath the surface of the pool, Optimus’ hand comes to rest on Skyfire’s thigh -- as chaste a touch as it can be. Optimus defaults to letting the Consorts make the first move which suits Skyfire’s purposes just fine.
“Thank you,” Optimus murmurs with a quiet cycle of his vents that goes hand in hand with the subtle relaxation of his frame. “You were right. I did not want to be alone.”
Skyfire turns his head, their size difference making it an easy manner to lean over and brush a kiss over the tip of Optimus’ nearest antenna. Warmth blooms in Optimus’ field, a flush of delight gliding along the surface of it. He’s so very easy to fluster.
“As long as I’m around, you won’t be,” Skyfire says, his ex-vents teasing the sensitive antennae until it flicks away from him.
Skyfire grins and settles back against the rim of the oil bath, relaxing his armor so that the heat of it could soak in against his cables. Optimus’ hand lingers on his thigh, but his fingers start to shift, aimlessly stroking with the pads. It’s likely he’s not consciously aware of the motion, but Skyfire takes it for the good sign it is. Optimus only does this when he’s allowed himself to relax.
“Would you tell me about your book?” Optimus starts to nibble on one of the treats, his expression softening with his enjoyment.
They are all weak for Hot Rod’s kitchen exploits.
“Of course.”
Skyfire launches into a brief summary of his recent dive into the archives, and the historical fantasy he’d found -- not non-fiction for once, while Optimus listens and grows steadily more relaxed against him. The tension from earlier ebbs away, and if he’s thinking at all of the Senate or the failed amendment, Skyfire would be very surprised.
There’s not much Skyfire can do for Optimus’ exploits in the political arena. He hasn’t Prowl’s strategy or Ultra Magnus’ wisdom or even Starscream’s cunning.
He can, however, help pick up the pieces in the aftermath.
Fortunately, Optimus seems to enjoy it as much as Skyfire does.
***
Universe: TF, Canon Divergence, Consortium AU, The Prime’s Consorts series
Characters: Skyfire/Optimus Prime
Rated: T
Enticements: Fluff, Comfort
Description: Optimus tends to try and weather his losses in private, but Skyfire refuses to let him suffer alone.
It is unlike Optimus to miss their evening gathering.
No.
Skyfire corrects himself.
It is exactly like Optimus to miss their evening gathering if he thinks it will ease their burden in some way, or to keep them from taking on a burden Optimus feels they should not carry. The weight of his undeserved guilt -- he’s not responsible for their forced bonding but he takes it on his shoulders nonetheless -- bears Optimus down, and he always opts to handle it in stoic silence.
Skyfire walks into the over-large dining hall, packed to the brim with Consorts and their companions, friends and families, and the moment he notices Optimus is not present, he spins on a heel-strut and walks right back out. He passes Starscream, who frowns, takes a moment to scan the dining hall, before he nods and passes with a quick squeeze to Skyfire’s arm.
“Take care of him,” he murmurs, and then he’s all smiles and optic-rolls as he sashays past a giggling Hot Rod and wriggles into a space between Wheeljack and Ratchet.
Starscream will ensure no one bothers them out of well-meaning concern, and Skyfire is free to seek out Optimus wherever he is hiding. Not that Skyfire needs more than one guess. Optimus always tucks away in his personal quarters when he has a problem he doesn’t want their assistance with. They all have an open invitation to visit him whenever they like, but few of the Consorts take him up on that offer.
Hot Rod, Skyfire knows with some certainty, is a frequent visitor. He is capable of pulling Optimus out of his occasional ‘funks’ -- to put it in Hot Rod’s terms -- depending on what caused said ‘funk’ in the first place.
Given the evening’s top headline, Skyfire does not think this is a situation where Hot Rod’s flirtatious charm will be of much help.
Skyfire swings by the kitchens first and steals a bundle of the treats Hot Rod made earlier in the day. He keeps them fully stocked in sweet candies, and it just so happens the flavor this week is Optimus’ favorite.
Bribery tucked under his arm, Skyfire goes to Optimus’ private suite and pings the door for entry. Optimus is far too polite to simply ignore the request, and Skyfire is not ashamed to use that to his advantage.
The door opens, and Optimus looks up at him, field radiating surprise and fatigue in equal measures, while the bond between them hums with a fond warmth. He offers Skyfire a smile, though it is strained around the edges.
“Good evening, Skyfire,” he says. “Is something wrong?”
“You aren’t at dinner,” Skyfire says, inviting himself into Optimus’ quarters, knowing Optimus won’t protest, or if he does, it won’t carry any weight behind it. Optimus can be fairly predictable. “So I brought you something.”
“You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it all the same,” Optimus says, and the strain in his vocals bleeds into his field, before it is quickly whisked behind a mask of calm.
He cannot hide it from their bond, however, and Skyfire is not too ashamed to use that to his advantage either. It has always been some relief to know that they can hide as little from Optimus as he can hide from them. Some matters remain private, of course, but strong, surface emotions are impossible to shield.
The door whooshes shut as Optimus follows Skyfire beyond the entryway and into the reception room, furnished with comfortable lounges, some even large enough for Skyfire to fit without worry.
“I apologize if I worried you,” Optimus continues.
Skyfire pauses in the middle of the reception. It is not the first time he’s been here, but he takes a moment to remind himself of the layout nonetheless. Multiple adjoining doors lead to Optimus’ private hab, a private bathing room, and a separate corridor containing an absurd number of guest suites and leisure facilities, none of which are in use at the moment.
He turns, and for the first time, fully runs his gaze over Optimus. The Prime holds his shoulders strong, but can’t hide the fatigue wreathing his optics, or the stressed clamp of his armor. His gaze is wan, and the restraint in his field speaks of his attempts to shield his more painful emotions from outside perceptions.
“I saw the news,” Skyfire says, careful to keep his tone even and prepared for Optimus to pepper him with false assurances. “I think you could use a friend right now.”
Optimus’ smile is gentle as is the hand he rests on Skyfire’s arm. “I appreciate it, but don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”
He says he’s fine, but the tension rippling around him is enough to make the air thick, and Skyfire’s armor crawl. The taint of perceived failure thrums their bond despite Optimus’ efforts. Though Skyfire doesn’t have access to Optimus’ inner monologue, he imagines it is full of self-castigation.
Optimus is a cable about to snap, and Skyfire sees no reason to let him suffer through it alone.
Damn self-sacrificing Prime.
Skyfire hums and looks past Optimus, to his private washroom. “You have an oil bath, don’t you?”
“Yes?” Optimus sounds confused.
Good.
“It’s kept warm and clean at all times, isn’t it?” Skyfire asks.
Some of the tension gives way to mild exasperation. “I do try to tell them it’s unnecessary and a waste of resources, but they insist otherwise.”
Skyfire nods, the plan unfurling as he looks back at Optimus, whose tilted-head confusion should not be as adorable as it is.
“Why?” Optimus asks.
Skyfire answers by simply lifting Optimus and tucking the Prime into his arms. “Because you are in need of a long, relaxing soak, and if we had to wait for the oil to fill and warm, you’d have found some excuse to avoid it.”
Optimus sputters, but his protests are token at best -- more embarrassment than outrage if the trill along their bond means anything. He doesn’t squirm, which makes it easy for Skyfire to whisk him into the bathing room, where the humid heat of the oil bath washes over his sensors.
Skyfire steps directly into the hot oil, and doesn’t release Optimus until they are both comfortably soaked, and even then, he perches on one of the shelves beneath the surface, and tucks Optimus beside him.
The silence which follows could be defined as “sulking” were Optimus any other mech. It takes a few moments of cycling ventilations before Optimus says,
“I could have walked.”
“You would have argued,” Skyfire says, whisking the tray of sweetened treats from his subspace. “This was more efficient.”
Optimus waits for two more ventilations before he relaxes into the warmth of the oil bath with a surrendering air. “I concede your point.”
Skyfire nudges the box of treats toward Optimus. “Freshly made, I’m told.”
“I am sensing something of a bribe,” Optimus says, his tone wry, a curve of amusement to his lips that does much to loosen the tension wreathed around his frame.
He takes two of the goodies which is a victory in itself.
“Not this time,” Skyfire says.
Optimus snorts, but he leans in against Skyfire without further protest. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fair. We don’t have to talk.” Skyfire rests his arm around Optimus, thumb gently stroking around Optimus’ elbow. “I’m here to listen, or to offer advice, or to talk about something completely unrelated -- like the book I’ve recently finished, for example.”
Beneath the surface of the pool, Optimus’ hand comes to rest on Skyfire’s thigh -- as chaste a touch as it can be. Optimus defaults to letting the Consorts make the first move which suits Skyfire’s purposes just fine.
“Thank you,” Optimus murmurs with a quiet cycle of his vents that goes hand in hand with the subtle relaxation of his frame. “You were right. I did not want to be alone.”
Skyfire turns his head, their size difference making it an easy manner to lean over and brush a kiss over the tip of Optimus’ nearest antenna. Warmth blooms in Optimus’ field, a flush of delight gliding along the surface of it. He’s so very easy to fluster.
“As long as I’m around, you won’t be,” Skyfire says, his ex-vents teasing the sensitive antennae until it flicks away from him.
Skyfire grins and settles back against the rim of the oil bath, relaxing his armor so that the heat of it could soak in against his cables. Optimus’ hand lingers on his thigh, but his fingers start to shift, aimlessly stroking with the pads. It’s likely he’s not consciously aware of the motion, but Skyfire takes it for the good sign it is. Optimus only does this when he’s allowed himself to relax.
“Would you tell me about your book?” Optimus starts to nibble on one of the treats, his expression softening with his enjoyment.
They are all weak for Hot Rod’s kitchen exploits.
“Of course.”
Skyfire launches into a brief summary of his recent dive into the archives, and the historical fantasy he’d found -- not non-fiction for once, while Optimus listens and grows steadily more relaxed against him. The tension from earlier ebbs away, and if he’s thinking at all of the Senate or the failed amendment, Skyfire would be very surprised.
There’s not much Skyfire can do for Optimus’ exploits in the political arena. He hasn’t Prowl’s strategy or Ultra Magnus’ wisdom or even Starscream’s cunning.
He can, however, help pick up the pieces in the aftermath.
Fortunately, Optimus seems to enjoy it as much as Skyfire does.
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Date: 2021-08-23 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-08-23 09:35 pm (UTC)