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shadow_vector2011-08-31 03:03 pm
niyazi-a.livejournal.com) wrote in shadow_vector2011-08-31 03:03 pm
Entry tags:
Caught in a Net of Stars
PG
IDW mid issue 24
Drift/Sunstreaker
spoilers for the ongoing series: AHM 8 and 9 and Drift series, Ironhide series, Chaos Theory, Chaos
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tf_rare_pairing weekly request response: Drift/Sunstreaker they’re watching you but it doesn’t matter.
Sunstreaker sighed, reaching to clear the screen in front of him, the electroshielded blankness fading to transparency, revealing the expanse of stars. They looked different—the angles were different and everything—but still, he thought, the skies around Cybertron.
It was weird to be back.
Behind him, down the hallway, he heard the spill of laughter—the others, rapt in Ironhide’s storytelling. How many nights—down there, on Cybertron—had Ironhide whiled the cycles away with stories like that for him, trying to distract him from his crippled state, until Sunstreaker had half-snapped that Ironhide was channeling Kup. But he was excluded now, and he wasn’t, apparently, the audience Ironhide had wanted all along. He hadn’t even noticed when Sunstreaker left. None of them had.
Sunstreaker heard a footfall behind him. His head snapped to the side. Drift. “Come to check up on me?” It was hard to keep the sour tone from his voice.
A shrug, the white spaulder almost glowing in the darkness. “In a sense.” He stepped beside Sunstreaker, his own optics studying the starscape. As Sunstreaker watched, one corner of the mouth twitched. “Never thought I’d be back here.”
“Yeah.” Sunstreaker faltered. He didn’t want to be back on Earth, but…he didn’t want to be here, either. Too many bad memories in both places. The world seemed made of bad memories.
“Wonder what we’ll find down there,” Drift said, tilting his head to look at the crescent of Cybertron, glowing dully to their right.
“Don’t know.”
The moment stretched between them, Drift’s blue optics flicking over to the saffron frame. “It’s good to see you again. I don’t know if anyone’s said that.”
“I don’t think anyone thinks that,” Sunstreaker said. “I think they all preferred thinking I was dead.”
A soft laugh, drained of humor. “I know that feeling.” The white helm tipped up. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you prefer to think you were dead?”
Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed, studying Drift’s face for any sign of mockery. “Sometimes,” he said, slowly. “I did.”
Drift nodded. “And now?”
Sunstreaker’s gaze dropped to his hands. “No.” He teetered on the edge of saying more, stopped. He had betrayed them all; he deserved their scorn.
Drift stepped back, next to Sunstreaker, head tilted, studying the stars. “I don’t think anyone can understand what you’ve been through.”
Sunstreaker gave a bitter snort . “Like they’ve tried.” He regretted the bitterness of the words. He’d hated Earth, twitched every time a human looked at him. He should be glad he was off that cursed place again, the place where he had really died.
A tilt of the helm, finials stabbing skyward, speculating. “I think that’s true for all of us. No one can understand what anyone else has been through.”
“Doesn’t stop us.”
“No.” Drift rocked back on his heels, fingers brushing his sword hilts, as though for some quiet comfort. Sunstreaker felt a flare of envy: he didn’t have any similar talisman to comfort him. He seemed to exude some strange, white calm. Sunstreaker could feel it creeping over him, cool and gentle.
“I never thanked you,” Sunstreaker said, abruptly.
The blue optics jumped to him. “For what?”
“For…before. Taking Ironhide away.” It was still Sunstreaker’s most vivid memory: standing there, facing down the Swarm, taking Perceptor’s job. It hadn’t felt like sacrifice. It had felt like a mercy killing.
Drift paused, nodded. “I’m sorry it came to that.”
“I’m not. I…couldn’t continue.” Not with what he had suffered. And then done, thinking it was retribution. “I was useless, though.”
“Sideswipe,” Drift said, quietly. “He was devastated.”
Sunstreaker nodded. “I know I let him down.” Sideswipe who’d only ever looked up to him.
“You let no one down. You saved us all.”
Sunstreaker shook his head, rejecting the praise. He was no hero. Not then, and maybe…maybe not before, either. Maybe never. Maybe he’d always just…served himself.
He lifted his chin, looking into the smaller mech’s blue optics. “How do you do it, Drift?”
“What?”
“How do you cope, knowing no one here trusts you?” He twitched, at another burst of noise from down the corridor. “Knowing they’re all watching you, judging you.”
A flicker of the optics, like a quickly burning smile. “I trust myself.”
Sunstreaker frowned. “I’m…not sure I can do that.”
“My way isn’t your way, Sunstreaker.” Drift leaned in, and Sunstreaker felt the soft fuzz of an EM field brush against his. It seemed to eddy through his sensornet, and Sunstreaker realized—dimly, slowly, as if creeping across time—how long it had been since a mech had gotten this close. Was Drift....? No. He wouldn’t.
“Yeah,” Sunstreaker said, uneasily, unsure of the emotions swirling around his own spark. “Kinda funny, isn’t it?”
“What?”
One corner of Sunstreaker’s mouth posted into a smile. “We fought each other once. You kicked our afts.”
Drift’s smile seemed to shimmer. “A long time ago.”
Sunstreaker nodded. “Both of us, really different back then.”
Drift’s head tilted, up, leftward. “We were.” The fuzz against Sunstreaker’s frame grew plusher, his systems tingling alive with it.
“A lot’s happened.” Sunstreaker twitched, nervous-hot air gusting from his vents, leaning forward, optics locked, blue in blue.
“It has.” Drift’s voice was barely a whisper, bridging the narrow space between them. A spark shocked through their bodies as their mouthplates touched.
Sunstreaker wanted to ask why, but he didn’t want to break the contact—the mouth warm and probing against his, curious, wanting. His hands found the white spaulders, sliding over their length, the silky gloss of his armor, almost shyly. Sunstreaker realized how much he had changed, right there, in the hesitance of the gesture. There was a time he would have grabbed, taken; where he wouldn’t have trembled, shyly, not even letting the want articulate itself.
Drift pulled away, slowly, optics lidded, mouth seeming to resist breaking contact.
“What was that for?” Sunstreaker tried to summon his old arrogance, while his net spun, dizzy with sensation.
That strange, closed smile. Black fingers traced his audial fin, one thumb sliding over the front vents. “To remind you you’re not alone, Sunstreaker.”
Sunstreaker’s arrogance shattered before that. Behind Drift, between the cat-like finials of his helm, the stars seemed to glitter, like distant jewels, cold and too rich to be held.
IDW mid issue 24
Drift/Sunstreaker
spoilers for the ongoing series: AHM 8 and 9 and Drift series, Ironhide series, Chaos Theory, Chaos
for
tf_rare_pairing weekly request response: Drift/Sunstreaker they’re watching you but it doesn’t matter. Sunstreaker sighed, reaching to clear the screen in front of him, the electroshielded blankness fading to transparency, revealing the expanse of stars. They looked different—the angles were different and everything—but still, he thought, the skies around Cybertron.
It was weird to be back.
Behind him, down the hallway, he heard the spill of laughter—the others, rapt in Ironhide’s storytelling. How many nights—down there, on Cybertron—had Ironhide whiled the cycles away with stories like that for him, trying to distract him from his crippled state, until Sunstreaker had half-snapped that Ironhide was channeling Kup. But he was excluded now, and he wasn’t, apparently, the audience Ironhide had wanted all along. He hadn’t even noticed when Sunstreaker left. None of them had.
Sunstreaker heard a footfall behind him. His head snapped to the side. Drift. “Come to check up on me?” It was hard to keep the sour tone from his voice.
A shrug, the white spaulder almost glowing in the darkness. “In a sense.” He stepped beside Sunstreaker, his own optics studying the starscape. As Sunstreaker watched, one corner of the mouth twitched. “Never thought I’d be back here.”
“Yeah.” Sunstreaker faltered. He didn’t want to be back on Earth, but…he didn’t want to be here, either. Too many bad memories in both places. The world seemed made of bad memories.
“Wonder what we’ll find down there,” Drift said, tilting his head to look at the crescent of Cybertron, glowing dully to their right.
“Don’t know.”
The moment stretched between them, Drift’s blue optics flicking over to the saffron frame. “It’s good to see you again. I don’t know if anyone’s said that.”
“I don’t think anyone thinks that,” Sunstreaker said. “I think they all preferred thinking I was dead.”
A soft laugh, drained of humor. “I know that feeling.” The white helm tipped up. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you prefer to think you were dead?”
Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed, studying Drift’s face for any sign of mockery. “Sometimes,” he said, slowly. “I did.”
Drift nodded. “And now?”
Sunstreaker’s gaze dropped to his hands. “No.” He teetered on the edge of saying more, stopped. He had betrayed them all; he deserved their scorn.
Drift stepped back, next to Sunstreaker, head tilted, studying the stars. “I don’t think anyone can understand what you’ve been through.”
Sunstreaker gave a bitter snort . “Like they’ve tried.” He regretted the bitterness of the words. He’d hated Earth, twitched every time a human looked at him. He should be glad he was off that cursed place again, the place where he had really died.
A tilt of the helm, finials stabbing skyward, speculating. “I think that’s true for all of us. No one can understand what anyone else has been through.”
“Doesn’t stop us.”
“No.” Drift rocked back on his heels, fingers brushing his sword hilts, as though for some quiet comfort. Sunstreaker felt a flare of envy: he didn’t have any similar talisman to comfort him. He seemed to exude some strange, white calm. Sunstreaker could feel it creeping over him, cool and gentle.
“I never thanked you,” Sunstreaker said, abruptly.
The blue optics jumped to him. “For what?”
“For…before. Taking Ironhide away.” It was still Sunstreaker’s most vivid memory: standing there, facing down the Swarm, taking Perceptor’s job. It hadn’t felt like sacrifice. It had felt like a mercy killing.
Drift paused, nodded. “I’m sorry it came to that.”
“I’m not. I…couldn’t continue.” Not with what he had suffered. And then done, thinking it was retribution. “I was useless, though.”
“Sideswipe,” Drift said, quietly. “He was devastated.”
Sunstreaker nodded. “I know I let him down.” Sideswipe who’d only ever looked up to him.
“You let no one down. You saved us all.”
Sunstreaker shook his head, rejecting the praise. He was no hero. Not then, and maybe…maybe not before, either. Maybe never. Maybe he’d always just…served himself.
He lifted his chin, looking into the smaller mech’s blue optics. “How do you do it, Drift?”
“What?”
“How do you cope, knowing no one here trusts you?” He twitched, at another burst of noise from down the corridor. “Knowing they’re all watching you, judging you.”
A flicker of the optics, like a quickly burning smile. “I trust myself.”
Sunstreaker frowned. “I’m…not sure I can do that.”
“My way isn’t your way, Sunstreaker.” Drift leaned in, and Sunstreaker felt the soft fuzz of an EM field brush against his. It seemed to eddy through his sensornet, and Sunstreaker realized—dimly, slowly, as if creeping across time—how long it had been since a mech had gotten this close. Was Drift....? No. He wouldn’t.
“Yeah,” Sunstreaker said, uneasily, unsure of the emotions swirling around his own spark. “Kinda funny, isn’t it?”
“What?”
One corner of Sunstreaker’s mouth posted into a smile. “We fought each other once. You kicked our afts.”
Drift’s smile seemed to shimmer. “A long time ago.”
Sunstreaker nodded. “Both of us, really different back then.”
Drift’s head tilted, up, leftward. “We were.” The fuzz against Sunstreaker’s frame grew plusher, his systems tingling alive with it.
“A lot’s happened.” Sunstreaker twitched, nervous-hot air gusting from his vents, leaning forward, optics locked, blue in blue.
“It has.” Drift’s voice was barely a whisper, bridging the narrow space between them. A spark shocked through their bodies as their mouthplates touched.
Sunstreaker wanted to ask why, but he didn’t want to break the contact—the mouth warm and probing against his, curious, wanting. His hands found the white spaulders, sliding over their length, the silky gloss of his armor, almost shyly. Sunstreaker realized how much he had changed, right there, in the hesitance of the gesture. There was a time he would have grabbed, taken; where he wouldn’t have trembled, shyly, not even letting the want articulate itself.
Drift pulled away, slowly, optics lidded, mouth seeming to resist breaking contact.
“What was that for?” Sunstreaker tried to summon his old arrogance, while his net spun, dizzy with sensation.
That strange, closed smile. Black fingers traced his audial fin, one thumb sliding over the front vents. “To remind you you’re not alone, Sunstreaker.”
Sunstreaker’s arrogance shattered before that. Behind Drift, between the cat-like finials of his helm, the stars seemed to glitter, like distant jewels, cold and too rich to be held.
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<= dumb
I only see you writing "ongoing"
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Sorry. Do you have a better suggestion of how to do it? ETA: header edited to include the story arcs that I remember that I drew canon from. I'll be more precise in the future.
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And this? is.... awesome!
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Just... You pull everything together for Sunny. I've felt like a lot of glossing has been happening in the comics - not that I blame them or mean to complain - so it's really nice to get the little "between the scenes" like this. :3
*rolls some more*
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A quick note though, saffron is an orangey red, not a yellow, just for the record ;) ochre might work, as ochre is a more golden shade of yellow, in the true sense of gold-okay time for me to stop being an artist fag >.> XD
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That is saffron, which does not strike me as 'orangey red' at all. That looks an AWFUL lot like Sunstreaker's color to me in IDW. And I rate pretty highly on color-acuity tests.
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Thank you.