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Title: String of Hope
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1474
Rating: PG13 (kissing)
Warnings: Bad science! String theory taken out of context and broken. Sorry...
Characters: Perceptor Wing
Notes: No beta. Grammar abuse ahead.
Written for
tf_rare_pairing prompt: Perceptor/Wing - "Impossibility"
........
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be real. Perceptor stared at a mech standing in front of him. One who bore a striking resemblance to Drift. Only moments before Brainstorm had been given the go ahead to shrink the Metrotitan. Reality had shifted. He had no idea where he was or who this mech in front of him was. Perceptor stood, trying to stretch logic to its limits to explain what all Brainstorm had done.
“Hello,” the mech before him said, smiling. This mech’s golden optics shimmered. His body design of intricate layered plating harkened back to the golden age of Cybertron.
“What’s happened? Where is everyone?” Perceptor asked in a calm, even tone despite his confusion.
“My name is Wing. Time is currently running through past, present and future, therefore we may exist in the same plane,” the gleaming white mech explained.
“Time is linear.” Perceptor replied.
Wing’s lips curved into a bright smile. “And time is also relative.”
Perceptor frowned.
“Or do you not subscribe to the notion of time running on multiple threads at once?” Wing asked canting his head.
“There is no proof of that theory,” Perceptor replied.
Wing laughed. “Oh? And my standing here isn’t proof enough for you?”
“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.” Perceptor felt like the world was moving but he wasn’t moving with it, trapped in this strange neither world with this strange mech. Maybe his processor had glitched?
“It’s his nature not to commit, by the way. I hope you haven’t suffered too much for it,” Wing said, his shining smile sobering to a more serious look. “Though, I’m quite happy that he saved your life.”
Those words felt like a stab in Perceptor’s spark. This mech was referring to Drift? Drift’s attention to Perceptor and their rather short-lived ‘relationship’ had left him in emotional ruins. In the aftermath he’d grown cold, stark, quiet. “He?” Perceptor asked, knowing full well who this mech meant.
“Drift. You do you know I was his mentor, do you not?” Wing then stepped closer to Perceptor.
None of this made sense. This was not scientifically possible. Drift’s mentor was long dead. That great sword he carted around a reminder of his loss. “He mentioned you. I was unaware you were alive.” It was at that moment Perceptor also realized Drift had never mentioned his mentor’s name.
“I’m not alive in your time.” Wing’s golden optics dimmed. “I’m alive in my time, but thanks to the disruption your comrades created with the Metrotitan, I was able to come here. To come see you.”
“Me?” Perceptor vaguely shook his head. “I believe you have the wrong mech. If you are truly able to pass between threads of time, wouldn’t you come to see Drift?”
Wing closed the remaining space between them and reached out, his long delicate fingers touching Perceptor’s chest. “I went to see the oracle for guidance. The oracle informed me of an alternate path. One in which I could avoid my death.”
His touch felt so real. Warm. Glancing down, Perceptor let his fingers curiously touch the back of this hand that shouldn’t logically be there.
“If I follow the path shown to me, I will survive to meet you in the same space of time. I’d be able to pull you from the dark, cold place you’re currently buried in.” Wing took another step forward, pressing his hand flat to Perceptor’s chest. He could feel the warmth radiating from Wing’s plating and fingers. “The battle can still be won on this path, but it’s my death that will create true change in those around me.”
Perceptor looked up and stared into those beautiful golden optics, unable to tear his gaze away. Wing was beautiful, more beautiful than Perceptor could ever have imagined from Drift’s cursory descriptions. “This event has yet to happen in your time?”
Wing nodded. “I apologize I’m not going to be there for you when you truly need it.”
Shaking his head, Perceptor felt like his processor was spinning. How could this mech know him? Know about the pain he hid behind his stoic expression? “I believe you have the incorrect mech.”
“No, Perceptor. I have the right mech.” Wing leaned in close, pressing his lips to the side of Perceptor’s helm in a gentle kiss.
“H-How do you know my name?” Perceptor stammered. He must be experiencing some sort of processor melt down. This mech had to be something his mind conjured up in a moment of distress. There was no other possible explanation. No other way this mech could know his name.
Wing shifted to stare deeply into Perceptor’s optics. “The path I do not choose would have led to me to you. Once Drift’s attention to you waned, I’d have been there to pick up the pieces. Mend you. I’m so sorry I can’t be there to do that, though.”
No amount of self-control over his emotions could fight back the tears that pooled on Perceptor’s optics. He faintly shook his head. He must be glitching.
Wing suddenly looked sad. Filled with regret. He reached up and cupped Perceptor’s face in his hands. “Don’t give up on love. Don’t let him take that from you.”
Perceptor balled his hands, fighting back the tidal wave of emotion cresting inside him. After Drift broke his spark, he’d promised himself not to ever be weak like that again. Remain detached. Rely only on reason and science, never emotion.
“The time crossing will close in moments.” Wing dimmed his optics. “There is something I’d like to give you, but first...” His fingers still cupping Perceptor’s face, gently pulled him closer.
Across time or inside his broken processor, they kissed.
Lips met tentatively at first. The warmth felt so real. In this strange space of unreality, Perceptor suddenly latched on to this open affection. Real or not. He pressed into the kiss, and Wing parted his lips in an offering. Perceptor’s glossa slipped past sweet lips. Wing tasted amazing. He felt amazing. Twinning glossae and the radiating heat between their frames felt tangible, solid.
The kiss broke, and Perceptor was left staring into incandescent golden optics.
“Promise me you won’t give up on love,” Wing said.
Perceptor dimmed his optics. “I promise.”
“Good.” Wing kept one hand on Perceptor’s face as he reached down with the other hand, pulling a small object from his subspace pocket. “Hold out your hand.”
Perceptor did as directed and Wing placed an object in his palm. Glancing at the small, weighted item, he noticed it was in the shape of scaled down Cybertronian jet.
“In the old days, every flier was required to carry one of these for good luck and protection.” Wing pressed a finger to the small talisman. “May it bring you both.”
Perceptor’s gaze snapped back to Wing’s beautiful face. If this wasn’t real, if his processor had been corrupted, he desperately hoped this moment wouldn’t end. Suddenly, he felt a shift in the air around them. Movement unseen, swirling.
“The connection is breaking,” Wing said, dimming his optics. He then flung his arms around Perceptor, hugging him.
Sliding his hands up Wing’s back, he hugged back, fingers splaying over the folded wings. Primus, please don’t let this end… Perceptor thought as he pressed the side of his face to Wing’s helm, arms tightening on this mech in his grip.
Like mist, Wing dissipated. Time moved forward. Perceptor’s comm. link blared at him. Rodimus demanded a report on what just happened on all channels. Looking around, Perceptor saw he was standing in his lab on the ship.
“Processor glitch?” Perceptor asked himself. Looking down, he saw a small scaled down jet made of cast metal in the palm of his hand. “Impossible.”
“What? That I’m amazing?” Brainstorm said as he came bursting into the ship’s lab. “I’m brilliant. You can say it. Of course, I knew it would work.”
“Did not! You got lucky!” Rewind said, trailing behind Brainstorm. “You got any data readings from what happened, Perceptor?”
Perceptor stared at his comrades, trying to reconcile what he’d experienced. “I haven’t checked them, yet.”
Brainstorm plopped down in Perceptor’s seat, pulling up the energy readings of the ship. “Let’s have a look see. Whoa! Look at that energy spike!” Brainstorm typed in a command to see the logs.
Perceptor stared at the screen. The fluctuation recorded was so large part of the data scrolling past on the logs turned to gibberish. Sequence strings of code that were fragmented and incomplete.
“I think we broke science!” Brainstorm said, laughing.
“What’s that you’ve got there? A jet? That thing looks old,” Rewind said.
Snapping his attention back to his hand, Perceptor nodded to the smaller mech. “It is quite old.”
“Where’d you get it?” Rewind asked.
Perceptor ran his thumb over the back of the small talisman. “From someone very special.”
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1474
Rating: PG13 (kissing)
Warnings: Bad science! String theory taken out of context and broken. Sorry...
Characters: Perceptor Wing
Notes: No beta. Grammar abuse ahead.
Written for
tf_rare_pairing prompt: Perceptor/Wing - "Impossibility"........
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be real. Perceptor stared at a mech standing in front of him. One who bore a striking resemblance to Drift. Only moments before Brainstorm had been given the go ahead to shrink the Metrotitan. Reality had shifted. He had no idea where he was or who this mech in front of him was. Perceptor stood, trying to stretch logic to its limits to explain what all Brainstorm had done.
“Hello,” the mech before him said, smiling. This mech’s golden optics shimmered. His body design of intricate layered plating harkened back to the golden age of Cybertron.
“What’s happened? Where is everyone?” Perceptor asked in a calm, even tone despite his confusion.
“My name is Wing. Time is currently running through past, present and future, therefore we may exist in the same plane,” the gleaming white mech explained.
“Time is linear.” Perceptor replied.
Wing’s lips curved into a bright smile. “And time is also relative.”
Perceptor frowned.
“Or do you not subscribe to the notion of time running on multiple threads at once?” Wing asked canting his head.
“There is no proof of that theory,” Perceptor replied.
Wing laughed. “Oh? And my standing here isn’t proof enough for you?”
“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.” Perceptor felt like the world was moving but he wasn’t moving with it, trapped in this strange neither world with this strange mech. Maybe his processor had glitched?
“It’s his nature not to commit, by the way. I hope you haven’t suffered too much for it,” Wing said, his shining smile sobering to a more serious look. “Though, I’m quite happy that he saved your life.”
Those words felt like a stab in Perceptor’s spark. This mech was referring to Drift? Drift’s attention to Perceptor and their rather short-lived ‘relationship’ had left him in emotional ruins. In the aftermath he’d grown cold, stark, quiet. “He?” Perceptor asked, knowing full well who this mech meant.
“Drift. You do you know I was his mentor, do you not?” Wing then stepped closer to Perceptor.
None of this made sense. This was not scientifically possible. Drift’s mentor was long dead. That great sword he carted around a reminder of his loss. “He mentioned you. I was unaware you were alive.” It was at that moment Perceptor also realized Drift had never mentioned his mentor’s name.
“I’m not alive in your time.” Wing’s golden optics dimmed. “I’m alive in my time, but thanks to the disruption your comrades created with the Metrotitan, I was able to come here. To come see you.”
“Me?” Perceptor vaguely shook his head. “I believe you have the wrong mech. If you are truly able to pass between threads of time, wouldn’t you come to see Drift?”
Wing closed the remaining space between them and reached out, his long delicate fingers touching Perceptor’s chest. “I went to see the oracle for guidance. The oracle informed me of an alternate path. One in which I could avoid my death.”
His touch felt so real. Warm. Glancing down, Perceptor let his fingers curiously touch the back of this hand that shouldn’t logically be there.
“If I follow the path shown to me, I will survive to meet you in the same space of time. I’d be able to pull you from the dark, cold place you’re currently buried in.” Wing took another step forward, pressing his hand flat to Perceptor’s chest. He could feel the warmth radiating from Wing’s plating and fingers. “The battle can still be won on this path, but it’s my death that will create true change in those around me.”
Perceptor looked up and stared into those beautiful golden optics, unable to tear his gaze away. Wing was beautiful, more beautiful than Perceptor could ever have imagined from Drift’s cursory descriptions. “This event has yet to happen in your time?”
Wing nodded. “I apologize I’m not going to be there for you when you truly need it.”
Shaking his head, Perceptor felt like his processor was spinning. How could this mech know him? Know about the pain he hid behind his stoic expression? “I believe you have the incorrect mech.”
“No, Perceptor. I have the right mech.” Wing leaned in close, pressing his lips to the side of Perceptor’s helm in a gentle kiss.
“H-How do you know my name?” Perceptor stammered. He must be experiencing some sort of processor melt down. This mech had to be something his mind conjured up in a moment of distress. There was no other possible explanation. No other way this mech could know his name.
Wing shifted to stare deeply into Perceptor’s optics. “The path I do not choose would have led to me to you. Once Drift’s attention to you waned, I’d have been there to pick up the pieces. Mend you. I’m so sorry I can’t be there to do that, though.”
No amount of self-control over his emotions could fight back the tears that pooled on Perceptor’s optics. He faintly shook his head. He must be glitching.
Wing suddenly looked sad. Filled with regret. He reached up and cupped Perceptor’s face in his hands. “Don’t give up on love. Don’t let him take that from you.”
Perceptor balled his hands, fighting back the tidal wave of emotion cresting inside him. After Drift broke his spark, he’d promised himself not to ever be weak like that again. Remain detached. Rely only on reason and science, never emotion.
“The time crossing will close in moments.” Wing dimmed his optics. “There is something I’d like to give you, but first...” His fingers still cupping Perceptor’s face, gently pulled him closer.
Across time or inside his broken processor, they kissed.
Lips met tentatively at first. The warmth felt so real. In this strange space of unreality, Perceptor suddenly latched on to this open affection. Real or not. He pressed into the kiss, and Wing parted his lips in an offering. Perceptor’s glossa slipped past sweet lips. Wing tasted amazing. He felt amazing. Twinning glossae and the radiating heat between their frames felt tangible, solid.
The kiss broke, and Perceptor was left staring into incandescent golden optics.
“Promise me you won’t give up on love,” Wing said.
Perceptor dimmed his optics. “I promise.”
“Good.” Wing kept one hand on Perceptor’s face as he reached down with the other hand, pulling a small object from his subspace pocket. “Hold out your hand.”
Perceptor did as directed and Wing placed an object in his palm. Glancing at the small, weighted item, he noticed it was in the shape of scaled down Cybertronian jet.
“In the old days, every flier was required to carry one of these for good luck and protection.” Wing pressed a finger to the small talisman. “May it bring you both.”
Perceptor’s gaze snapped back to Wing’s beautiful face. If this wasn’t real, if his processor had been corrupted, he desperately hoped this moment wouldn’t end. Suddenly, he felt a shift in the air around them. Movement unseen, swirling.
“The connection is breaking,” Wing said, dimming his optics. He then flung his arms around Perceptor, hugging him.
Sliding his hands up Wing’s back, he hugged back, fingers splaying over the folded wings. Primus, please don’t let this end… Perceptor thought as he pressed the side of his face to Wing’s helm, arms tightening on this mech in his grip.
Like mist, Wing dissipated. Time moved forward. Perceptor’s comm. link blared at him. Rodimus demanded a report on what just happened on all channels. Looking around, Perceptor saw he was standing in his lab on the ship.
“Processor glitch?” Perceptor asked himself. Looking down, he saw a small scaled down jet made of cast metal in the palm of his hand. “Impossible.”
“What? That I’m amazing?” Brainstorm said as he came bursting into the ship’s lab. “I’m brilliant. You can say it. Of course, I knew it would work.”
“Did not! You got lucky!” Rewind said, trailing behind Brainstorm. “You got any data readings from what happened, Perceptor?”
Perceptor stared at his comrades, trying to reconcile what he’d experienced. “I haven’t checked them, yet.”
Brainstorm plopped down in Perceptor’s seat, pulling up the energy readings of the ship. “Let’s have a look see. Whoa! Look at that energy spike!” Brainstorm typed in a command to see the logs.
Perceptor stared at the screen. The fluctuation recorded was so large part of the data scrolling past on the logs turned to gibberish. Sequence strings of code that were fragmented and incomplete.
“I think we broke science!” Brainstorm said, laughing.
“What’s that you’ve got there? A jet? That thing looks old,” Rewind said.
Snapping his attention back to his hand, Perceptor nodded to the smaller mech. “It is quite old.”
“Where’d you get it?” Rewind asked.
Perceptor ran his thumb over the back of the small talisman. “From someone very special.”
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