GAAAH! . . . A new fandom! ! ?

Title: Neophytes

Pairings: Optimus/Starscream, Skyfire/Starscream-one-sided, Prowl/Jazz, vaguely hinted Hot Rod-gone-Rodimus Prime/Kup

Warnings: OP/SS, obviously? AU-ish, Character death, Unbetaed, Canon-ignorant author (Don't judge meeeee)

Universe: G1-ish

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A/N: Okay. . . Okay, deep breaths, Got Buttermilk! Even if you know how the Transformers G1 Canon goes, who lives and who dies, it doesn't necessarily mean that this little experiment blows, just because you absolutely, totally changed everything! Waugh!

No, what I meant to say is that I really like this pairing! Not too many of them, though; yet those stories out there with OP/SS are usually pretty, darn good! Pressure's ON :3 Anyway, I wanted to try and write one myself; a story in which the war is over, the different factions tries to live alongside each other, their epic love ain't taboo etc., etc. . . . And thus I bring you this ;D

Enjoy! Please Read and Review.

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Chapter I . . . New Impressions

Optimus enjoyed the loud chatter, the vague music, and the 'bots he was celebrating the revival of the Cybertronian Parliament with; Autobots, Decepticons and neutrals alike.

Ever since the homecoming to Cybertron, the installation of new machinery, the establishment of their new alliances, and the first harvest of pure, phosphorus energon, he had been in a fairly good mood. The starvation would finally come to an end, the fallen towers were being re-designed and rebuild, and most importantly: the ancient propagandas and cultural differences were being dealt with, discussed, solved.

So that the war would never start again. So that the war could never drag them into the dark abyss of destruction and death again.

Over.

Yes.

And all the Elites and politicians of Cybertron, both the old and the new members of the Parliament, even those his own men had fought against back on Earth, were gathered that evening, not unlike so many others, to be together, marvel at the newness of being one population, one organism. Purple icons, red icons, no icons. It didn't matter tonight. Hopefully it would never matter again.

Optimus smiled softly. At the moment he was humouring the new Prime, the young Rodimus. The young 'bot had hero-worshiped him since back when he was Hot Rod, racing and flashy sportscar. Now he was trying to keep his posture noble and impressive-looking. But his excitement was difficult for him to contain.

"I can't seem to say it right, Optimus. Is it 'Autobots, roll off'?"

A chuckle.

"Honestly, Rodimus, it is not necessary for the Prime to say that. It was merely a rare, strange impulse of imagination in our time on Earth. As the new Prime, you should make something of your own, instead. Something that you'll like to be remembered for after your time is over."

"I can still never thank you enough for considering me worthy of being the bearer of the Matrix, Pri- I mean Optimus!"

"There is nothing to 'thank' me for. You've proven yourself brave enough, wise enough, and certainly patient enough to be the Prime." Optimus smiled, gesturing discreetly at Kup, who was watching them like a turbo-fox, observant and anxious.

"No, no, Kup is being very sweet and patient with me," Rodimus slurred softly, slurping down his cube of neon-pink high-grade. "I love having him for my mentor!"

"Is that so," Optimus couldn't suppress a grin behind his face-mask. Rodimus nodded eagerly.

"By the way, why don't you ever take off your battle-mask-"

Kup came marching over, pained and awkward expression in place.

"I think you've had enough," Kup fussed, putting his larger servos on the new Prime's red and orange shoulders. "Don't bother Optimus with more of your drunken babbling, you're being a nuisance and an embarrassment to the name of the Primes."

"I'm not drunk!" Rodimus exclaimed a little too loudly, leaning into the touch of the old Autobot, swayed lightly.

"Sure. And my aft is made of cheese-cake."

"Oh, those humans absolutely love this 'cheese-cake'-thing! They say it makes them gain in mass, though. . ." The younger, brightly-coloured 'bot allowed his elder and mentor to pull him away, towards a corner of the Great Hall of Primes where he no doubt would be scolded; before praised for trying his best.

"Sorry about that, Optimus. Damn neophytes," Kup tossed over his shoulder at Optimus as they walked off. The former Prime smiled warmly, laughed inwardly.

The war was over. Peace had come. But every time he smiled or laughed, all the others saw was his Autobot-blue optics lightening up. His face-mask hid the rest. After what felt like an eon of wearing it he didn't know if he'd ever be brave enough to take it off.

It seemed like an eternity ago, now. The last battle on Earth. Smoke, explosions, wheels burning into the scorched dessert sand.

Optimus found that his memories of the battle against Megatron themselves were foggy and disconnected. Almost like a dream, like something that had never happened. He had some memory-vision-snapshots of the large, grey mech snarling insults and threats like always, visions of a fusion cannon being shot at him. Images of himself wrestling his opponent into the sands, trying to tear him apart, put an end to the war once and for all.

In the end it had been two very lucky shots, courtesy of Sunstreaker and Bumblebee, that nearly off-lined the leader of the Decepticons. Prowl and Ratchet comm. linked the trunk-transformer, gave him the coordinates of his fallen nemesis. One blow to his spark-chamber had finished him off.

There had been an intense silence after Megatron's spark extinguished and his optics turned a dull shade of grey. All battle seized up, eyes studying the Prime as he bowed his head in acceptance and farewell to the dead mech in the dust at his feet.

The remaining Decepticons were shocked to their very core. Soundwave didn't move at all. His eyes and mind scanned the lifeless 'bot that had promised them victory and glory only a few breems ago again and again. His Casseticons were lingering near him, uncertain and a little frightened. Losing a battle they knew all to well. Losing Megatron forever had never even crossed their processors once.

The Seekers were interesting to watch. Optimus remembered the three brightly-coloured jets landing in the sand, fascinatingly near Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, their very own nemeses. Thundercracker had been quiet, holding a shuddering Skywarp in his arms, the slightly younger Seeker paralyzed and unsteady on his pedals.

Starscream, however, had landed, waited for a klik; but then he moved towards Optimus and Megatron, eyes glued to his leader all the time; expressionless. The sun had reflected beautifully in his red, shiny platings; his optics had glistened with his many thoughts.

It hadn't really been appropriate, but right there at the end of the battle, with Megatron dead at his feet, his nemesis' energon dripping from his big, scarred servos, no mech or femme had ever looked as beautiful as Starscream did right there in the heated dessert.

The youngest Seeker stared at the dead corpse of metal below them, then he snapped his head up and met Optimus' admiring yet watchful optics. No words were spoken for a while, the only sound was the sudden, sobbing hiccups from Skywarp, as he surrendered to the shell-shocking sight in front of him.

Everybody realized it, finally. Megatron was dead. Gone. Forever.

It was over.

Starscream snapped his optics from Optimus' and stared carefully at his fallen leader, again. Then he, too, nodded in acceptance and farewell, before turning towards his allies, spoke to the other:

"We'll need a few days of rest and recovery. Then we will discuss the future of our stay here, on Earth."

"I accept your demands, Starscream." Optimus replied gently. Skywarp sobbed somewhere behind them, pressed himself to his older trine-mate. Thundercrakcer held him even closer, off-lined his optics.

With that the Autobots returned to the Arc in silence, also in shock. Three human days passed in a blur, no words were spoken. Teletraan-1 was quiet and watchful.

Then the message from the new Decepticon Leaders arrived:

We need to talk. Where can we meet?

The new Decepticon Leaders had been Soundwave, Shockwave and Starscream. When back on Earth Spike had joked about it, called them a Holy Trinity of sorts. Why? Because together, despite their differences, things seemed to work out.

Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet and Red Alert had met with the three Decepticons in a far away forest. No need to involve the humans yet. Not until they knew of the others' intentions.

The Autobots had been surprised by the opposing faction's willingness to end the war, to ally themselves with the others. They quickly set up a strategy for the future survival of Cybertron, contacted the human governments, asked for their cooperation. Supplied with energon compressors and other machinery, they returned to the dying planet as a united troop of saints.

Everything only lit up after that. . .

Optimus looked around in the Great Hall of Primes.

The bright-shining lights, the luminous glow from their revived planet outside the windows, the access to legally obtained, pure, white energon and high-grades in every colour of the spectrum, the Decepticons and Autobots, together, celebrating yet another victorious stellar-cycle of team-work.

Mind you, Optimus thought, there was still a visible, dividing line between the factions.

It was the truth, and a sensible truth at that. Enough time had not passed for the Decepticons and the Autobots to truly mingle, as the humans called it. Yet the mood wasn't unpleasantly hostile. Only peaceful and slightly wary. But it was sufficient for now. Peace was a foreign concept in their processors. It would take time to adjust, fully.

It was sheer luck that their systems hadn't ejected it, yet; mistaking it for a virus-caused dream-vision, really.

Optimus chuckled audibly. Jazz had been the one to say that. Right after his Bonding Ceremony with Prowl.

It had been a relief and a joyous event, naturally, for the Autobots to see the SIC and TIC end their otherwise never-ending dance around each other. For vorns the residents of the Arc had watched in painful impatience as the easy-going Special Ops. agent and the thoughtful, quiet tactician had flirted more or less discreetly. But never had they allowed their relationship to evolve beyond a friendship with intensely stronger undertones.

Optimus was horrified, proud and guilty-feeling when he realized that it was the positions he had given them, and the war, naturally, that kept the two love-struck mechs from giving in to their emotions and wants. If they got carried away, too emotionally involved, bonded even, during the war, then the death of one of them would mean the death of the other. Then the Prime would have lost two of his greatest cards in the greater scheme of things.

But he would have lost two dear friends as well.

After the revival of Cybertron an entertaining series of courtship-events had taken place. Nearly desperate with their needs to be together, at last, Prowl and Jazz had chased each other around like love-sick younglings; gifts, dates and awkward yet truthful words were shared.

They quickly found a date for their Bonding Ceremony – it couldn't happen soon enough.

It must have been nice, Optimus pondered as he studied the still newly-bonded black-and-white mechs, holding onto each others' arms, talking silently. It must have been nice for them to know what they wanted to happen after the war.

Optimus himself was lost. He was happy for them, no doubt, but somehow there was still a silent, gaping emptiness singing from his core. It had grown more obvious after he bestowed Hot Rod with the Matrix of Leadership. The empty space the Matrix used to claim suddenly demanded to be filled. But how could he fill it, when despite of being a nearly ordinary mech again, he was still considered the very portrayal of a Cybertronian Prime.

And Primes were the lone leaders, watching, guiding and protecting their people.

Optimus stared at his battle-scarred servos. He remembered the long, hideous scar across his lip-platings, unseen behind his faithful face-mask.

Primes weren't really expected to look after themselves.

Jazz was laughing loudly at something Prowl said, the larger of the two rolled his optics in a very un-like-Prowl manner. Kup was explaining something to an eagerly listening, young Rodimus Prime.

It would be nice, yet impossible, to return to the life of Orion Pax, the dock-worker. He was an important political figure on their planet, and a source of guidance for the new Prime among other 'bots. His wisdom, knowledge and experience couldn't and shouldn't be wasted, for the sake of the future of Cybertron. But it was pleasant, sometimes, to imagine returning to a life where all he strived for was peace, friends, love and family.

He had the first two.

Optimus' train of thoughts war interrupted as the mighty giant, Skyfire, rushed pass him, his impressively long, broad wings banging into several mechs and femmes on his way through the Autobot crowd.

Optimus sighed inwardly, already knowing of the space shuttle's destination: the table of high-grade cubes in the middle of the room.

It had been a tradition of sorts at every social event since the end of the war that the middle-table, right between the dividing line of Decepticons and Autobots, was the meeting-place of the factions. This was where Skyfire and Starscream, former fellow-scientists, met. Talked.

Rebuilt their lost friend- and professional partner-ship, really.

Both of the flying mechs had brought a lot of attention to themselves with their eagerness to save their friendship; the friendship that had been doomed since the beginning of the war. At first they had been so very awkward, impatient, yet self-conscious.

The gentle giant and the feisty Seeker had worked hard to regain the trust they'd held in each other once. And they were achieving it at a slow, steady pace.

Or that was until Skyfire began touching the jet with timid caresses, spoke lowly to him, flirted in his own unique, careful way. Starscream had been in shock. That much was obvious.

Of course Optimus knew that the larger scientist's feeling for Starscream ran deeper than simple camaraderie, but the eager, longing attempts at courtship had surprised many in his factions. And the Decepticons seemed just as awed.

But Starscream wasn't amused. He seemed downright saddened and frustrated about it.

Optimus had observed the Seeker shake his head, pull his servos from the giant's hands, tell him 'no' and 'stop'. But the fact that he kept up with the tradition to meet Skyfire at the middle-table, every time a gathering of the Elites and the politicians was held, only seemed to encourage the shuttle. He continued in his pursuit of the ruby-eyed beauty.

They met at the table. And Optimus watched as, once again, Skyfire strived for some short glimpses of consensuality, whilst the Seeker was determined to make the conversation continue in directions of policy, foreign galaxies, explorations. Anything but talking about a future that consisted of a Bonding Ceremony between the two of them.

Because Starscream didn't want Skyfire as a bond-mate. He wanted his friend back.

Now they were both upset.

Optimus watched in sadness as Skyfire took hold of the Seeker's white servo, spoke carefully to him, called him 'Star'.

'Star's' wings were at the moment rigid with frustration and anger, his pretty face screwed in an expression of hopelessness and fury. He hissed desperately as a pair of lips was pressed to his fingertips.

Suddenly he had had it. He bolted away, long limbs fleeing the scene, heading out of the Great Hall. Skyfire called for him but his friend Wheeljack pulled him away from the high-grade to somewhere private. Probably to calm him and ease his sorrow a little.

Optimus nodded at the smaller scientist as he pulled the shuttle away with him. But he also noted that no one made notion to follow Starscream. His former trine-mates weren't participating the gathering tonight, and otherwise they would have been the ones to follow him. Tonight no one would calm him, listen to his point of view. . .

Determined, the former Prime walked out of the Hall, optics scanned his environment, searched for the little Decepticon. Starscream had hid himself in a small, deserted office and he was pacing back and forth restlessly. His head snapped up when Optimus entered quietly.

His facial-plating showed a brief glimpse of relief and gratitude that it wasn't Skyfire that had come after him, but soon a sneer of distaste was thrown at the semi.

"'Come to talk some sense into me, Autobot? Force me to end your friend's loneliness?"

Optimus sighed.

"I would never force anyone to be together if that is not their own wish. Freedom is the right-"

"-of every sentient being, yeah, I know, I know," Starscream huffed, but visibly relaxed. ". . . But thank you anyway, I guess."

Optimus smiled, placed a hand on the other's shoulder.

"You're welcome, I guess," he studied the small Decepticon. "Are you alright, Starscream? Do you need to talk? It might help more than hiding alone in the darkness."

Starscream stared at him, stunned. Then he repeated:

"Am I alright, Autobot? Am I alright?"

"I do realize that it must have been a stupid question, but nonetheless it's more proper and informal than-"

The Seeker wasn't listening at the moment.

"Alright? . . . Feel it, feel it!" the small Seeker hissed, static leaking into his vocals. He grasped for Optimus' servos, brought them to his chassis and placed them right under his brightly shining cock-pit. "I'm trembling! That big d-dope, that glitched fragger, he's so . . ."

Optimus was startled, but marvelled at the warm, shuddering rumbles from the inner mechanics of Starscream. The small Decepticon was pure sleek, streamlined heat between his scarred servos; the younger's shiny core was safely, but temptingly hidden behind an orange glass-shield. Optimus could feel its distress; its confusion, anger, shame and many other emotions. He felt how the other's spark pulsed rapidly for calming words, longed for normalcy and peace.

It saddened Optimus that Starscream still didn't feel like he had this, even then with Megatron gone, the war over, and Cybertron glowing and simply, gloriously living right outside the magnificent windows they were standing in front of.

Most of all it saddened Optimus that Starscream felt just as alone and confused as he did most of the time. Because he knew that unbearable ache all too well.

Why did they feel like that when billions of auto-mechanical organisms lived and thrived all around them?

"I'm sorry, Starscream," he murmured softly, slowly letting his hands warm and vibrate gently against the Seeker's abdominal platings. A little intimate, but very comforting. Starscream sighed as his trembling subdued slightly. He off-lined his optics for a klik, vents circling silently and thin servos gently returned the soft caress on Optimus' arm-platings.

"Skyfire might. . . be more understanding than you think he is. But not when he has had three cubes of high-grade. Perhaps you should visit him in his lab, talk to him?"

"Perhaps I should royally kick his aft." A huff and a sneer.

"Starscream-"

"Oh, but I should!" the Seeker cried triumphantly, shrill vocals echoing in the small space of the secluded office. "Every 'Con on Cybertron thinks I'm 'facin' him by now! Autobots, too! This will prove you, all of you, wrong!"

"Violence will solve nothing, Starscream. It never solved much for the last millenniums. And besides -" Optimus countered, holding the smaller 'bot still with his strong hands. "No one in our fraction believes that the two of you are. . ." he winched as he said the word. "-'facing each other. We know that Skyfire's courtship isn't-"

"Courtship!" Starscream nearly choked on the word, suddenly struggling in the former Prime's grasp, wanting to get away, be alone. "He's not- w-we, aren't, no!" he sputtered.

Optimus released him, servos immediately mourning the loss of warm, pulsing metal they'd delighted in touching. Starscream paced back and forth, wings held high and painfully tense in his frustration.

And furious sorrow, Optimus would soon discover.

"That glitch isn't courting me, you fool! Nobody would want to court and bond with 'Screamer'" Optimus winched at the mention of the hated nickname the Autobots and Decepticons alike had given him. The Seeker continued:

"He's just being a ridiculous, horny geek, hoping to have an easy and quick peek at a spark. And Primus knows I'm the 'bot for the job!" he snarled, crimson optics burning with hurt and anger. "I know what I've been called over the span of my life: whore, slut. Easy and accessible Starscream!"

Optimus stared at the younger, more beautiful mech, waited. The other's anger had been quicker to subside since after Megatron's death and the return to Cybertron; and now the fury in the Seeker's facial plating eased into a sombre expression of the scientist he truly was inside. Knowledge and impressive patience.

All those good values that Megatron's rules, punishments, expectations and propaganda had forced Starscream to forget. Fool.

"But little did all of you know that I believe in those ancient, important promises to oneself," Starscream continued, voice lowered to a normal audio-level. "I believe in the 'Promise of the Bonding Night'."

Optimus' optics widened. The 'Promise of the Bonding Night' was an eon-old tradition from the days of the first Cybertronians. It was an oath a mech or a femme took just when the platings of their bodies began to harden, at the age of adolescence. An oath of chastity until the bonding night with the 'bot they wanted to spend the rest of eternity with.

Cybertronians rarely stayed true to such an oath any longer, believed it was their right and duty to explore the worlds of pleasure and intimacy before they settled down for real.

So for Starscream of all robots, the mech who was considered the greediest and most arrogant of all the Decepticons' on their planet, to believe in such an old tradition and keep his promise to himself. . . Optimus was a little stunned.

"That's. . ."

"I know, I know!" the Seeker hissed, wings erect in stress and embarrassment at his little secret. "It's old-fashioned and stupid, but I think it's important!"

Optimus held up a servo in a quiet, calming manner. The other stilled and crossed his arms.

"No. I think that it is . . . very romantic, Starscream."

The 'Con stared, almost like he was in shock. Disbelief etched into every inch of his pretty, dark face, crimson optics wide and glowing. Optimus decided to open up some more, wanted the younger Seeker to feel at ease again, like before, when they had touched. . .

"My former tactician and Special Ops. agent might not have taken the oath you have, but they still waited a long, long time before bonding and sharing themselves with each other. And they knew of their feelings for way too long for it to have been pleasant."

Starscream was listening, his posture naturally regal and graceful, but his face bore the curiosity of a hatchling. Optimus liked the Seeker's gun-metal lips and clean, beautiful lines. The intensity of his ruby eyes.

"Their ceremony was quite sudden," he admitted, optics glowing fondly at the memory. "The invitation had been written in a haste and there was hardly any time for planning a party afterwards. But it was a very beautiful night, starry and warm. And they were so happy, Prowl and Jazz."

"I know of your Prowl," Starscream said, optical-brow quirked in interest at the mention of Optimus' former SIC. ". . . Is Jazz that slang-tossing idiot?"

"Jazz is no idiot," Optimus offered dumbly.

"Huh," the Seeker huffed again, lips pursed slightly. "I guess he is a little better than those damnable, rocketing Lamborghini-twins. . ."

"Anyway, Starscream," he continued softly, not trying to hide his amusement at that last comment. "I believe that for them to have waited so long for the days when they could peacefully and truly become one made it all the more special. . . I think it is romantic, Starscream. . . To wait for one's true love."

". . . Autobot sap," the smaller mumbled, facial plating heating up.

"Doesn't that make you a sap as well, hmm?"

"Don't push it." It seemed that Starscream had also obtained a little Earth-slang.

Optimus smiled behind his battle-mask.

"It's stupid," Starscream suddenly announced, looking the massive blue and red Autobot directly in the optics, face scrutinizing.

"Excuse me?"

". . . You're walking around, processor still well-functioning and logical in that sentient, caring, crappy-sort-of-way," he waved a servo at Optimus' chassis, right by the glass of his chest. "And yet they take the Matrix and put it in that little brat, Hot Rod. It's just stupid."

"It was. . . His name is Rodimus now, Rodimus Prime. And it was my choice," Optimus said, uncertain as to how he should react.

"You decided to simply stop being 'The Prime'? You gave up the Matrix of Leadership? Why would you do that, are you dying or something?"

". . . No, I'm not. And, yes, it was my decision. I'm not exactly what you would consider a young mech any longer, Starscream. The war is over, and I feel that perhaps. . ." Optimus hesitated.

"What?" the Seeker was curious and snapped in his sudden impatience. "You feel what?"

"I. . . I merely want to settle down, enjoy the happier days of our home. Visit Earth again, amongst other galaxies. . ."

Optimus trailed off, feeling a little foolish for sharing his secret wishes with the former Evil Decepticon Air Commander, King of the Sky, Starscream. But the younger mech simply glared incredulously with his jar slightly agape.

". . . Wow, that's, errr. . ."

"You don't have to say anything, Starscream," Optimus silently cursed his vocaliser for its little slip. He hadn't meant to share that with anyone anytime soon. "- You may forget what I just said."

Starscream's facial-plating turned into a very familiar expression: the twins had long ago dubbed it the 'Smirky Face'.

The 'Con, still standing near the former Prime, leaned closer. Optimus could hear the vague pulse-beat of his spark, the excess air rushing quietly from his vents, the soft chuckle from the Seeker's throat.

"No need to get all defensive, Optimus," he smiled as he formed the name with his lips, dental-plating and vocaliser. A shiver went down the larger mech's body. "You merely didn't strike me as the domestic kind of guy, after vorns of fighting off each other, beating each other to slag. . ."

"I suppose not. . ."

The Seeker put his thin, white servos on the larger's shoulder-plates, leaned closer, closer. . .

"The almighty Optimus Prime wants to 'settle down' . . . I guess there is more to you than meets the eyes, Autobot."

Starscream pressed his lips to Optimus' face-mask for a brief couple of kliks, nuzzled it. The blue and red 'bot was surprised at how quickly his body responded, and he felt the Seeker smirk even wider during the 'kiss' as he put one servo on his wing, felt it hesitantly, gliding his scarred, thick fingers up the sharp edge of the metal. The Seeker purred into his jaw, pressed their 'mouth-parts' together again, while the larger's other hand began feeling and tickling at the orange glass of the heated cock-pit.

After a while, as if realizing what they were doing, they stopped, stared dazedly at each other. Heated and surprised with themselves.

"I'm sorry, Starscream," Optimus was quick to retreat, pulled a little away, wanted to give the other some space. His circuits were whirling and his processor was circling as he tried to analyze what had happened. "I didn't mean to-, well, take advantage of you, or-"

Starscream raised his optical-brow yet again, faint smile in place. He seemed amused, but delighted.

"-What I meant was that I would never dishonour you oath, your 'Promise of the Bonding Night'. As you fellow professional, parliament politician I respect your views, I respect your origins. I respect you." Optimus shut his mouth.

Silence.

A snicker.

"Primus, relax . . . Just because I believe in the 'Promise of the Bonding Night' it doesn't mean I can't enjoy some good necking once in a while," came the reply, with an amused, bratty glint in those bright-red optics. "No harm ever came with that. . . Heeh, we should do this again. Definitely."

The red Decepticon grinned at him, before he turned and sashayed out of the room, the bright lights from the buzzing city glistening on his cherry-coloured hips and his proud, purple Decepticon-icons. Optimus was left staring as the door-panels shut close again, leaving him with his thoughts.

His thought, circling circuits, and a very active, pleasurably burning spark. The world continued on around him. There was laughter and music, somewhere. Reality? Probably.

Optimus smiled faintly. He was in no rush to join it, just yet.

~ ~ ~ FIN? ~ ~ ~

Whooo - Optimus got to feel Starscream up at a party! Huzzah! :D

Urrr, I kinda hoped there would be more plot to this little thing, but it seems that this wanted to be all like: We're so alone - Boohoo! Let's discuss, flirt, make out and then agree on seeing each other again, cuz you're kinda hawt and I'm kinda hawt!

. . . But did'cha like it?

I dunno how, yet, but if you guys want it I can definitely make this into an ongoing fic with plot and everything (!), in which OP and Screamer's relationship gets to be developed into something borderline epic, but we also explore other pairings, the way of life on Cybertron, and how the politicians try to make the mill go 'round . . . Or som'thin' . . . Yay?

xD

Heeh, that depends on you guys :3 Wheee, it's outta my hands now! Chew it over, then tell me!

REVIEWZ ARE LUURV