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Triviality	By : mehmeh Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 2890 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Universe: G1 AU with elements taken from (mostly) the comics and movies.
Authors: AmuseMe as Soundwave, Starscream, Cassettes, vectorsigma3441 (on LJ) as Optimus Prime, Ratchet
Main Pairing: Optimus Prime/Soundwave. Others to follow.
Warnings: Graphic sticky sex, abuse, humanised language
Also, Jerkface!Optimus Prime. Seriously he is.
additional notes: While Frenzy retains his sonic abilities, his paintjob is black and red as it is in the cartoons because that's what everyone associates him as.
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After his scrub in the washracks, Optimus returned to his berth and cleaned up the slight mess on it. He drew down upon it with a heavy sigh and gazed darkly at the dirty wall and floor that was glistening with cold lubricant and transmetal fluid, and he supposed he would end up cleaning it later.
A terrible pain suddenly gripped him and he grunted, hands reaching up to clutch at his chassis as sharp pierces of agony swept through him. The vents worked furiously on his chassis, and for several minutes, he didn’t move. Of course it was the matrix. Whenever he felt content, or sated, or even remotely happy, it would detect it and give him pain. He thought that it was a reminder that nothing was ever good enough. Things had to be perfect, absolutely flawless before he believed the Matrix would leave him in a moment’s peace.
Finally, his muscle cables stopped seizing up and he drifted into recharge, too tired and hurt to do anything.
Morning came quickly, and morning meant Prowl. Optimus flicked his optics on and checked his comm, noticing the multitude of pings the mech had sent him. His systems had been too downtrodden to even attempt to wake him up for such a small thing, and pain seared through his frame when he tried to move.
A groan left him and he nestled his helm back into his metallo-mesh pillows, deciding that he really didn’t want to get up. Not that he even could in the sort of miserable pain that he was in. So he stayed in the exact position he fell asleep in, and only then noticed a shadow obscuring some of the light, which most certainly signified another mech.
“Get out,” he muttered tiredly.
“Nice try,” Ratchet said calmly in reply, “but with the pain you’re in, I have a job to do.”
The CMO’s jaw was tense, backstrut set rigidly straight as the scent of sex permeated his senses. It wasn’t hard to miss the stains on the floor and wall; milky purple coloured transfluid with the unmistakeable markings of clear lubricant that had congealed on the floor. Obviously Prime had had a lot of fun during the past night.
Of course, he couldn’t help but wonder who that lucky bot was.
“Ratchet,” Prime finally recognized, his gaze flicking over his CMO’s form as the mech dipped into a quick bow.
“Here, this should help you,” the medic said, and a needle appeared in his hand. He kneeled down before the edge of the berth and brushed a hand over Optimus’s bare face, fingers settling in the hollow of his neck, where he quickly prepared a spot to penetrate. The needle easily slipped into Prime’s foremost energon line, and Ratchet took his time injecting the contents.
“So who’d you ‘face last night?” he casually observed, shifting his arms as Prime stirred. As he kept a thumb on the back of the plunger, he looked around the room for more clues. Paint colours, personal effects, anything, but he only noticed a white dash of paint that didn’t belong on Prime’s hips, and also his leg. Probably either Jazz or Prowl then. Or maybe Prime had taken mech on the outside of the group.
“Ratchet,” Prime said lowly, and his optics flashed dangerously, his face smoothing into a solid frown.
“Apologies, it’s none of my business,” the medic soothed, hand touching Optimus’s massive shoulder. “You could have just called up Ironhide or myself. You know we’re more than capable of handling you in your moods,” he teased.
Ah, yes, hose moods. Jazz and Prowl were a bit too delicate when he was feeling the Matrix’s effects, and the larger broader frames of Ratchet and Ironhide were preferable. Rough, heavy fucking, where Optimus released his emotions in a sexual form. The Matrix wouldn’t allow him to express his emotions, so it was the next best thing.
Ratchet pitied him for it.
Pulling that needle out, he slipped his pede completely back down upon the flooring and it tapped into something, and he couldn’t help but look down. Instantly, he wished he hadn’t.
There was a weapon on the floor, a circular shoulder mounted cannon that looked all too familiar. White, and blue, with a turret on the end for multiple firing points, he was quite sure he’d seen the weapon pointed at him a time or two. Ratchet couldn’t help his mouth from opening in astonishment.
Prime leaned over the berth to look and his own blue optics widened, turning nearly white in colouring as his pump seemed to stop dead in his chassis, and a choked breath of air filtered out of his intakes before he surged up and had Ratchet by the neck. He pushed the CMO back against the wall, his expression furious while the mech furtively grasped at his arms, fingers clawing into his plating as he begged for air.
For several moments it stayed that way before Prime dropped his hold. Ratchet, blue optics nearly black, fell to the floor. His lips were parted obscenely as he gasped for breath into his intakes, hands massaging the tubing along his neck.
“Prime,” he said, and launched onto all fours, lowering himself to bow. “I know it’s not my place to question what you do, but him?” he rasped before continuing. “I don’t think that Primus would approve of what you’re doing. You’re risking the entire organisation at that, just by fucking him!” he moaned out beseechingly. “Please Prime, if you’re not interested in any of the high command, just pick someone out among the troops. I’ll debrief them of the situation and you can have them. I’m sure there’s an attractive mech you want, isn’t there? Mirage, maybe Sunstreaker? Both of the twins?” he quickly asked, quite willingly pawning off any mech that he could.
Optimus unclenched his fists and strode over to the berth, where he used his pede to move Soundwave’s weapon underneath the berth, out of view. How could the mech so foolishly forget an item such as that? His mind seethed, and the Matrix raged. But the sedatives were taking effect and he was slowly starting to calm down, composure being forcibly thrust onto him. Still, he did not apologise for his violent actions.
“You saw nothing, Ratchet. If you mention this to anyone, even Wheeljack, I’ll have your CPU modified,” he softly spoke, and strode over to the washracks. He grabbed a few rags and wet them under the warm water, then went back and started to clean the mess on his wall and floor.
A part of him was mildly impressed with the large amount of transfluid that Soundwave had managed to procure in the short time his spike had been out, but soon it was mopped up and he was no more happy. Cleaning up the cold mess of interfacing wasn’t something he was accustomed at doing. On Cybertron, he had mechs that had cleaned him after interfacing, the mess too. Perhaps, next time they met, which would undoubtedly be soon because of the missing weapon, he would demand that Soundwave not show up again. Door locks could be changed, security could be tightened. Even if he was forced to keep Blaster around to stop any mental intrusions, it was the price he had to pay for his mistakes. Ratchet was right; Primus would not approve, did not, and he knew that he could easily become swayed by such a powerful telepath.
Perhaps Soundwave had been planting thoughts in his head to keep continuing their relationship anyway? Now that he thought about it, all of it did seem rather absurd. Sure, the interfacing was hot and great, but was it really worth the pressure on his psyche? The Matrix was egging him to make a decision, and it was making him think negatively of Soundwave.
Liar, cheater... it purred to him. He’s just using you for pleasure... You think you’re special to him? What about Megatron? Megatron fucks him too. And you hate Megatron...
That line of thought he couldn’t deny. To him, it seemed rational.
Beside him, Ratchet hesitantly stood when Optimus was done cleaning up the mess. “Yes Prime, I understand,” he answered softly, his voice nearly back to normal. His face radiated intelligence that Optimus did not miss.
Swiftly Prime straightened up the rest of his room and quickly snapped his facemask back on, then strode out with his personal surgeon upon his heels. He exited his rooms and was in his office, where he had Prowl waiting for him, but he paid the mech no mind and continued on, going out into the main hallway where the rest of the Ark tread.
He stopped and cordially greeted Skyfire, who was more than interested to chat with him about a recent experiment he had been conducting. It was based on the factors of creating an energon chip that could be easily created and used for a long time, and essentially would end the need for energon, and thus, in reality, the war itself. For basically, now, that’s all it was. Petty warfare amongst starving mechs. Though thankfully the Autobots had been on the upside of that battle, and while Prime had his reservations about continuing the meaninglessness, they now had the humans to protect, and human resources to protect.
That, and Megatron’s insane tyrannical rule. The mech wouldn’t quit even if the Decepticons could have all the energon in the universe. He wanted to attempt a takeover of the galaxy, and as Prime had seen firsthand, he knew they would eventually be stopped with how shaky the upper command was getting.
What if Megatron knew he was fucking his third-in-command? It seemed now that Soundwave only showed up when he wanted energon. A cheap whore who just wanted some food to feed himself and his symbiotes. Another reason Prime shouldn’t have been that interested in him. He had mechs that were more than willing to be with him on the berth, and like it in every way. Because they wanted to be with him, the Prime, closest mech to Primus.
But no one knew the real Optimus Prime. Really, he still wished to be called Orion Pax. The thought brought back pleasant memories of Dion and Ariel, back when things were simple, back before he had been chosen by the Matrix to be reformatted and made to lead the entire planet. It was like a second life now, and most of his memories of that time had been forcibly erased by the high council for his ‘protection’. He never had a choice in anything, and while that was unfair, it was the way life was.
A door opened to his right and he briskly walked inside, but no one else was allowed to follow. It was a big room, biggest on the Ark, and it was also a shrine to Primus, the only place where no others but Prime were allowed to step pede. It was considered unholy and blasphemy were another mech to follow inside, or even look. Even mechs that walked up and down the hallways during the day always averted their optics, and some even covered their optics as they passed the door, in case it ever opened when they were near. Most Autobots, most Cybertronians, would rather die than commit that act. Punishment for looking was severe, punishment for entering was death.
At the altar Prime kneeled, drawing his hands up to rest on a dais which was specially fitted for his broad forearms. There, above on the crystal wrought table, was a glass with a glowing sphere of energy in it.
The glowing light of Primus.
It was darker than normal, and the energy within it churned slowly. The God was sleeping.
It was not Primus’s spark, no, that rested deep within the surface of Cybertron, but it was a medium that allowed Optimus to contact the God if he so wished. But, he never woke the sleeping giant. He waited for Primus to wake, always, for he dared not disturb him. Nor did he have the desire. If something important were to happen, the God always warned him. Or, he did nothing at all.
Shifting upon his knees, Optimus Prime drew his head down and prayed. Though for what, he didn’t know.
Soundwave was absolutely livid with himself. First he endangered himself by sneaking into the Ark. And hen he blithely forgot his shoulder cannon there. For what? A session of hot interfacing and ridicule? Granted that he was exhausted and that he had to manually shut half his configuration systems down in order to quell those low-fuel warnings from earlier. He was prompted that the weapon slot on his shoulder was empty when he did a full systems check only after leaving the volcano.
He rubbed irritably at his helm before tapping his fingers on a crest, wondering just how to retrieve the damn thing. Optimus might keep it safely hidden for him until the next time...that is, if he didn’t punish him for forgetting it in the first place. Or worse – deem their relationship too risky to continue. Soundwave would rather rip the Autobot’s processor to pieces and leave him a mindless shell than let him go.
Dead End’s morose face greeted him upon arrival.
“There’s no point watching for that step-“
Soundwave stepped off the elevator, expertly minding the sizable gap.
“-because you’re only gonna trip on it anyway,” the Stunticon finished. He appeared disappointed for a brief moment – though it rather hard to tell from the grim expression he usually wore – before hefting a leg uncaringly over the console. A well-worn rag mysteriously appeared in one hand and a small bottle of expensive polish in the other.
“Requirement: have Constructicons repair elevator malfunction. Priority: level three.”
Dead End paused in his preening. “Oh what’s the point of doing that when it’s just going to break again and again and then at some point we’re all going to end up offline and there’s going to be no one around to fix it so there’s no point fixing it now...”
Soundwave listened to Dead End moan about how pointless everything was for less than a klik before firmly interrupting him. “Command: have Constructicons repair elevator malfunction. Priority: level two.”
“But-“
Now he was beginning to get a cpu-ache. “There is no point in polishing yourself now when I am currently very close to terminating you. The charge: extreme vexation. Predicted result: your lasercore nailed onto my wall.”
It wasn’t as if Soundwave was going to follow through his threat, simply because it was not worth facing Megatron’s wrath for losing the use of Menasor. It was still satisfying to make it however. The other mech gave him one last dirty look but obediently punched in a connection to the Constructicons. Hook’s scathing remarks could still be heard even as Soundwave rounded the corner and walked down the hallway leading towards the officers’ quarters. In the meantime he probed the bond he shared with his Cassettes to check up on them. All of them, with exception with Laserbeak, responded. Soundwave assumed that was because Laserbeak was off-base; their type of arrangement was symbiotic in nature and depended on range, unlike the more intimate and permanent link shared by mates.
Again Optimus Prime managed to flit through his thoughts and Soundwave felt his spark give a hungry pulse at the memory of their recent encounter, the sensation travelling all the way down to settle at his pleasantly sore valve.
And then he had the misfortune of running into Starscream whose shift must have just finished as his optics were dim with the lack of recharge. Still...in spite of the animosity between them, Soundwave could not help but secretly admire the Seeker’s confident gait; the gently swaying hips, shiny wings held high and those thruster heels making those gorgeous white legs look even longer. Starscream’s small poisonous mouth curled into its customary sneer the moment he spotted the other mech.
“Just come in eh? Where the pit were you?”
Ah there it was, that grating voice that never failed to annoy him. Really, what a waste of a perfectly good, serviceable mouth. Such a shame. Soundwave used to entertain many a fantasy in the past with various ways of making it shut up.
His visor flashed once and then darkened. “Explanation: not required.”
“Explanation to second-in-command from third-in-command: required,” Starscream insisted mockingly.
It seemed that Soundwave’s plans for a long, relaxing wash would have to wait a little longer. “Mission: Lord Megatron’s orders.”
“Mission?” Starscream’s optics brightened with suspicion. “Why was I not informed?”
Because you’re an obnoxious piece of slag, Soundwave thought resentfully to himself. Of course Megatron hadn’t ordered anything like that. And even if Starscream did get over his arrogance to complain about it to their superb leader, Soundwave could always use his telepathy to suggest that yes, yes he did in fact order Soundwave to do a little reconnaissance mission for him. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
He robotically rumbled out in his response. “Priority: very low.”
The Seeker leaned in close with a malicious glint in his optics, warm air from his intakes washing over Soundwave’s chassis and making him scowl behind his facemask. “So what did old Rust-Bucket have you do?” Soundwave said nothing and Starscream continued regardless. “Interface one of the squishies’ telephone poles? Hmm... Bet you enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?”
His seemingly endless patience ended as Starscream opened his mouth to add more. There was a high-pitched yelp, Starscream pulling back when sparks jumped briefly from the side of his helm. He looked up with a snarl. “Don’t you dare do that again, you fraggi-“
The energon seemed to freeze in Soundwave’s lines when the other’s gaze suddenly zeroed in onto the empty space on his shoulder, much like a heat-seeking missile.
“Where’s your weapon? And why do you stink like-“
“Yo Boss!”
Never before was Soundwave grateful for an interruption than he was now.
“Boss! Don’t make us do the triple shift!”
Rumble and Frenzy skidded on the floor beside them and immediately turned their blinking, pleading visors towards him. Soundwave frowned, wondering what exactly they were up to. He allowed the tendrils of his telepathy to briefly skim the surface of Rumble’s recipient mind.
“Weapon,” he finally said after withdrawing from his Cassette’s processor. “Currently in pieces on my personal work station. Have yet to filter out all the... liquid.”
“Yeah Boss, we didn’t mean to steal it!”
“We’re sorry about messin’ it up!”
Starscream spared the Cassette twins a passing glare, more out of curiosity’s sake than anything else. “What exactly were you two cretins trying to achieve?”
Frenzy stuck his glossa out rudely. “We wanted to play with it, okay?”
It was somewhat amusing that Soundwave could almost hear Starscream’s thought processes grind to a halt when he somehow managed to connect the words ‘play’ and ‘liquid’ together into something that not even Frenzy and Rumble would be...adventurous enough to bring to their berth. Starscream’s dark grey features scrunched up in disgust.
“That is... Primus! I really have no words for that.” He smartly pivoted on his heels and started to stomp past them, but not without throwing one last comment at Soundwave. “I altered the schedule. Your merry band of freaks have monitor duty in three cycles. Make sure that they’re not late.”
Rumble promptly made an offensive human gesture using his middle finger though it was completely ignored. “Hey! TC and ‘Warp were supposed to have that shift. Not us!”
Starscream paused and tilted his head to one side, the nasty smile evident from between his high shoulder vent. “Well then. Consider it as part of your discipline for hah...ruining Soundwave’s blaster.”
The two small Cassetticons stood there, both glowering mutinously before Rumble stepped forward and shook his fist at Starscream. “Frag ya, Screamer. I oughta do everyone a favour and pound ya into scrap!”
Starscream’s wings flared back at the insult as he aggressively pointed one null-ray towards the blue twin. In retaliation, Rumble shifted both his arms into piledrivers while Frenzy began to prepare a sonic attack.
“Why you little...!”
“Bring it on!”
Soundwave’s mouth thinned with displeasure and he aimed another telepathic zap at the tri-coloured mech to stop the tiff before it escalated into a full-blown battle in the narrow corridor. Starscream reeled back, one cobalt-blue hand clutching his helm.
“I’ll have you all put into the brig for insubordination!” he screeched.
Soundwave was not impressed. In all the time they served as Decepticons, Starscream had never been able to convince Megatron to give Soundwave such a... trivial punishment. Half the time Megatron just laughed in his face. “Current mood: aggravated.” He was not lying this time. “Rumble and Frenzy shall be properly disciplined.”
And with that he brushed past the Seeker, perfectly content to leave him standing there sputtering with rage. He fully expected his Cassettes to follow him and they did, even bounding in front so they could open the door to their shared rooms for him. Ravage greeted them from Soundwave’s berth, one red optic lazily flickering online.
“Woo, did ya see his face?!”
“I can’t believe he just went and decided to change our shifts like that!”
“He’s such an afthead!”
Soundwave tuned out the twins’ chattering and passed an affectionate caress over Ravage’s backstrut before he sank down heavily onto his chair, the gears in his pelvis and leg joints creaking in protest with the movement. His helm lolled back and he tiredly looked around the room, absently reminding himself to scold Rumble for leaving his games equipment scattered all over the floor again. But not now...oh, he was so weary. All he wanted to do was relax for a little bit. And then have that long-deserved shower. Thank Primus for personal washracks.
“Query: have you refuelled recently?” Soundwave asked, after a long moment.
Rumble paused in mid-tirade to shake his helm. “Nah. Not since last time. Why? Ya got?”
While the other Decepticons were afraid to confront Soundwave, he knew that the twins’ rambunctious and blunt attitude often got them in a lot of trouble with the bigger mechs who would not hesitate to steal their energon rations and drink it right in front of them when Soundwave wasn’t present. It didn’t matter whether Rumble and Frenzy often won the fights afterwards; the energon meant for them was still lost. Soundwave tried to stop the bullying many times, but nobody liked a tattletale and the twins were too prideful to admit the times that did escape his watchful optic.
He pulled out one of the full cubes from his subspace and slid it across the berth’s surface towards Ravage’s front paws. The pink liquid sloshed against the protective top film and Ravage waited for it to settle as he stretched his sinuous, black chassis from its previous curled up position.
“Where’d ya get that huge cube from?” Frenzy questioned.
Soundwave resolutely watched Ravage delicately lap at the energon, despite feeling the glare of two small visors weigh down on him. His silence was met with Frenzy’s vents huffing with exasperation.
“Boss, where’d ya get that cube?” Frenzy tried again.
“I have my ways,” Soundwave answered vaguely.
He wasn’t sure how Rumble and Frenzy managed to time both their disbelieving snorts to come out precisely the same time, just passing it off as the many oddities pertaining Cybertronian twins. By then, Ravage had finished his share and merely nudged the cube away from himself. Rumble reached over and snatched it from the berth.
“Boss, this is really good stuff,” he exclaimed with an appreciative hum after a long gulp. “Seriously, where’d ya get it?”
“Did ya get it from Megsy’s secret stash?” Frenzy goaded with a wide grin. “Bet ya did!”
“Yes,” Soundwave said as he hoisted his frame off the chair, determined to have that wash before they started asking him more questions. Frenzy’s next set of words stopped him in his tracks.
“Or did ya get it from Prime?”
The telepath turned around. “What did you say?”
Frenzy had managed to get a hold of the cube now. He wiped his lip components with the back of his hand before focusing his full attention back at Soundwave, not even flinching at his superior’s intense stare. “Don’t lie to us, Boss. We’re not blind, ya know.”
“We were kinda hoping for ya to admit it,” Rumble said flatly, looking down at his pedes and trying to look nonchalant. “It was kinda hard to miss after a while. Especially with that blue streak on yer aft. No one here on the Nemesis has that sorta blue.”
His gaze then pointedly focused on the inner plating of Soundwave’s left thigh, right underneath his closed panel where he had neglected to clean the seam properly. The dried lubricant had left a dull, matte mark on the paint. Barely noticeable to others, glaringly obvious to his observant Cassetticons.
“Evidence: inconclusive.”
“Ravage followed ya,” Rumble continued. “He saw Prime fucking ya like some two-credit tart from the gladiator pits.”
Rumble’s simple statement stung horribly because he ended up successfully describing it exactly how it was. Soundwave slammed his palm down on the surface of his desk, the sharp noise too loud in the suddenly quiet room. The secondary vocaliser crackled, unable to synthesise the sheer vehemence out of his voice.
“I am not a traitor!”
“I never said ya were!”
It was amazing how Soundwave still projected an indifferent image when it was all turmoil and chaos within his circuits, the tension thrummed so strongly through him, almost threatening to choke his fuel pump. Soundwave straightened his frame to his full height, slowly and purposely to tower over the three mechs. Rumble and Frenzy both mirrored each other with the stubborn expression on their faceplates and although Ravage had not moved from the berth, his intelligent optics were bright and alert.
“Yer thinking of formatting our memory cells, aren’t ya?” Frenzy finally said, the accusation clear in his tone.
“Affirmative,” Soundwave admitted calmly.
“Did ya really think we were going to go running to Megatron after covering for ya just now with that glitch Screamer? Especially after letting ya know that we know? C’mon boss, we’re not hat stupid.”
He sent a remote command to the door’s control panel, the locking mechanism securing into place with a serious of ominous clicks. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“Ya know ya can’t take us all at once,” Frenzy said in a low voice, one side of his mouth tilting upwards. “And ya know I can easily override that door.”
“On the contrary, I don’t even have to move.”
He wasn’t the type to advertise the full extent of his mind abilities after all. All Megatron had cared was that he got the job done. Rumble grimaced as he took in his brother’s challenging smirk before punching him solidly in the arm.
“Ow! What’d ya do that-“
“Look Boss,” Rumble said seriously, ignoring Frenzy completely. “We’re not gonna betray yer secret. Not now, not ever. Scan our processors if ya don’t believe us.”
He took up Rumble’s offer without hesitation and was not discreet about it either. He was too agitated, too wound up to even attempt gentleness. Instead, he swept through their thoughts like a tsunami, tearing into their intent with a fierceness that made the twins cringe and even Ravage whimper, triangular ears flattening against his dark head. Satisfied and more than relieved with what he found, Soundwave dropped back onto his chair with a resounding clank.
“Who else knows?” he asked, monotone duller than usual.
“Besides us?” Rumble gestured with one arm, retracting his visor so he could rub at the area around his optics. “No one else. Although...”
“We ain’t sure about the other three,” Frenzy picked up where his brother trailed off. “Laserbeak spends a lotta time doing spying stuff for Megatron, Ratbat is his usual dronish self and Buzzsaw is uh... Buzzsaw I guess.”
“Good. Keep it like that.”
“Just one thing, Boss?”
Soundwave inclined his helm towards Frenzy, the deep red of his visor sharpening to one side.
“Do ya love him?”
This time, Soundwave was unable to restrain himself from flinching. That was the ten million credit question, wasn’t it?
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Triviality