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shadow_vector2011-05-11 08:09 am
niyazi-a.livejournal.com) wrote in shadow_vector2011-05-11 08:09 am
Stars
G
IDW
Perceptor/Wing
no warnings
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tf_rare_pairing request Perceptor/Wing, brightest star in the night sky
“I thought I might find you here.” Wing’s voice was soft, carrying through the damp night air like a ghost.
Perceptor turned his head, just slightly, just enough that he could spot the white jet’s armor, almost luminescent in the darkness. “Did Drift send you?”
Wing waited until he was near enough to touch Perceptor, dropping down onto one knee. “I sent me.”
Which was a neat evasion, Perceptor knew. He subsided into silence, letting his optics return to the starred expanse above them. He came out here to be alone, to get away from the noise and bragging and…violence of their temporary base. He felt crowded there, confined. Stupid, he knew. He lived in close quarters with these mechs for orbital cycles. But there he had a mission, and a purpose.
Here, they were just waiting for pickup. Waiting for Springer to get new orders. And the base had…descended. And Perceptor did not deny the other Wreckers their ‘fun’, but he wanted no part of it. And wanted, sometimes, to just…get away and stare at the stars.
Wing settled closer, tucking one hand under Perceptor’s arm, fingers sliding down the forearm for the large black palm. For a long time they said nothing, both staring at the twinkling vault of the heavens above them, Wing’s hand holding his; he…letting his hand be held.
“Thank you,” Perceptor murmured, finally.
“Mmm?” Wing looked over, golden optics curious. “For what?”
Perceptor shrugged. “Not asking questions.”
“Not mine to ask.” Wing leaned closer, letting one shoulder nacelle bump Perceptor’s shoulder guard. Perceptor lifted his arm, letting Wing duck under, snuggling down against him.
“You can,” Perceptor said. Wing had earned the right.
Wing watched him for a moment, and then looked up at the indigo sky, the lights of different worlds glittering above them. “All right,” he said, recognizing the offer for what it was. Perceptor felt a sudden rise of nerves, laying himself open like this. He trusted Wing, but still. There were just so many questions he didn’t know he was ready to answer, even just to himself.
Wing tilted his chin toward the sky. “What do you see when you look at that?”
Perceptor blinked. That was…not what he’d expected. He looked up, suddenly aware of the vulnerable expanse of throat he was baring to Wing, whose head was cradled between his thigh and chassis. “I see…” he cycled a vent. “I see the atmosphere of this planet causing optical disruption. Beyond that, the light from the stars, and I want to know how old it is, how far it’s come from. I wonder if the stars are even still alive, or if they burned out eons ago and we’re getting ancient, dead light, photons fleeing from the inevitable. I wonder about the life that’s out there—if it can live as it should. If there is a place that has peace, true peace and not just…lulls between wars.” He drew himself up sharply, the last striking—he feared—too close to Wing’s home. Words. Always his enemy.
He risked a glance down, and saw only warm, golden optics, like pools of honey. The jet smiled up at him. “That’s beautiful,” Wing said. He reached one hand up to stroke at Perceptor’s shoulder.
“You. What do you see?”
“Me?” The soft smile again. “I see the spaces between the stars.”
Perceptor nodded, looking up. Another answer that was so…Wing. Elusive, enigmatic. “Dark.”
Wing gave a soft laugh. “But filled with light.”
IDW
Perceptor/Wing
no warnings
for
tf_rare_pairing request Perceptor/Wing, brightest star in the night sky“I thought I might find you here.” Wing’s voice was soft, carrying through the damp night air like a ghost.
Perceptor turned his head, just slightly, just enough that he could spot the white jet’s armor, almost luminescent in the darkness. “Did Drift send you?”
Wing waited until he was near enough to touch Perceptor, dropping down onto one knee. “I sent me.”
Which was a neat evasion, Perceptor knew. He subsided into silence, letting his optics return to the starred expanse above them. He came out here to be alone, to get away from the noise and bragging and…violence of their temporary base. He felt crowded there, confined. Stupid, he knew. He lived in close quarters with these mechs for orbital cycles. But there he had a mission, and a purpose.
Here, they were just waiting for pickup. Waiting for Springer to get new orders. And the base had…descended. And Perceptor did not deny the other Wreckers their ‘fun’, but he wanted no part of it. And wanted, sometimes, to just…get away and stare at the stars.
Wing settled closer, tucking one hand under Perceptor’s arm, fingers sliding down the forearm for the large black palm. For a long time they said nothing, both staring at the twinkling vault of the heavens above them, Wing’s hand holding his; he…letting his hand be held.
“Thank you,” Perceptor murmured, finally.
“Mmm?” Wing looked over, golden optics curious. “For what?”
Perceptor shrugged. “Not asking questions.”
“Not mine to ask.” Wing leaned closer, letting one shoulder nacelle bump Perceptor’s shoulder guard. Perceptor lifted his arm, letting Wing duck under, snuggling down against him.
“You can,” Perceptor said. Wing had earned the right.
Wing watched him for a moment, and then looked up at the indigo sky, the lights of different worlds glittering above them. “All right,” he said, recognizing the offer for what it was. Perceptor felt a sudden rise of nerves, laying himself open like this. He trusted Wing, but still. There were just so many questions he didn’t know he was ready to answer, even just to himself.
Wing tilted his chin toward the sky. “What do you see when you look at that?”
Perceptor blinked. That was…not what he’d expected. He looked up, suddenly aware of the vulnerable expanse of throat he was baring to Wing, whose head was cradled between his thigh and chassis. “I see…” he cycled a vent. “I see the atmosphere of this planet causing optical disruption. Beyond that, the light from the stars, and I want to know how old it is, how far it’s come from. I wonder if the stars are even still alive, or if they burned out eons ago and we’re getting ancient, dead light, photons fleeing from the inevitable. I wonder about the life that’s out there—if it can live as it should. If there is a place that has peace, true peace and not just…lulls between wars.” He drew himself up sharply, the last striking—he feared—too close to Wing’s home. Words. Always his enemy.
He risked a glance down, and saw only warm, golden optics, like pools of honey. The jet smiled up at him. “That’s beautiful,” Wing said. He reached one hand up to stroke at Perceptor’s shoulder.
“You. What do you see?”
“Me?” The soft smile again. “I see the spaces between the stars.”
Perceptor nodded, looking up. Another answer that was so…Wing. Elusive, enigmatic. “Dark.”
Wing gave a soft laugh. “But filled with light.”
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...well, there are worse musicals. Few more depressing, though.
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I loved Javert so much when I read the book and saw the musical. ;-; Which is...kind of opposite the point, isn't it?
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also, yay for giving the introverts an escape hatch from the Force of Extroverted Warriors Partying Hard! Sometimes you totally just need to get away...
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