That Cold Sickness

by Rinny636

Summary:

Optimus had a little tickle in his throat that grew persistent, and having Sentinel around just made it worse. Especially when said Prime sends Optimus out into the deadly snowstorm, and ends up getting into a horrible accident.

Now Sentinel has to make up for it.

Notes:

A little idea I had a while back. Bare with me, I'm just going back ear here with the transformers medical stuff. Yes I'm a fan of SENTOP, don't judge me.

Chapter 1: Prologue

It started out as a little tickle in the back of his throat, something itchy that made his intakes hitch. Optimus cleared his throat every now and then, rubbing his fingers against the cables of his neck to relieve the itch. However, the tickle was persistent, and over the coming weeks it was progressing into a full blown cough. He would try and hide the best he could, making sure to bite back the cough whenever Ratchet was around. With the added responsibility of being the team Captain, Optimus had to keep up the act of being completely and utterly fine in order to make sure his team was working smoothly.

And then there was sudden appearance of the Elite Guard lead by, who else, but Sentinel Prime.

By the time the Steelhaven landed by their warehouse base, Optimus was already having trouble holding in his coughing fits. He was in his quarters, reading through a few reports from Professor Sumdac when he got the notice, and he sighed heavily. His processor was already starting to ache, a dull pain throbbing against his helm, and all this coughing was creating a tightness in his chassis that would come and go occasionally. The added smug tone of Sentinel Prime was just going to make it worse for him, he could already see it coming.

Primus, why couldn’t he get a break?

Sigh.

Chapter 2: Part 1

It was snowing already in Detroit when the Elite Guard had landed, winter was in full force around for the surrounding counties. Normally, regular cold weather wasn’t a concern for Cybertronians; they could still feel it, however they were not susceptible to damage unlike humans. However, when the temperatures began to grow below zero in the region, the weather became a danger to the resident Autobots. Sub-zero temperatures were always a threat to Cybertronian systems, especially to the internal systems where delicate parts could freeze up and crack. It could cause immobility or a rupture in the fuel lines; intakes could freeze internally and cause the casing to crack and fill with fluids. It was a great risk to go out in these temperatures, not one that many would advise taking.

But somehow, Sentinel Prime had missed that advisery.

“As your superior officer, Optimus,” came the smug tone of the Autobot truck as he paced in front of the monitor at the warehouse base, “It is my decision whether or not anything happens around here.”

They were situated in the monitor center of the warehouse, a few screens mounted on the wall. The screens were currently displaying two major points that granted immediate attention: 1) An Allspark fragment was detected on the other side of Detroit, near the outskirt roadways that lead into the country. And 2) That there was a major snow storm weather advisory for the city and county of Detroit, and along the greater part of Michigan. Optimus was trying his best to keep his optics focused on the fellow Autobot in the room, his processor aching and the tightness in his chassis was proving to be more of an issue than it was before. He and Sentinel had met in the monitor center when getting the alert, and the larger Prime was already blabbering on about his superiority, and the Elite Guard, what Ultra Magnus would think, and blah blah blah blah.

Primus, he was just wanted to sleep, “I understand that, Sentinel,” Optimus’ voice was just a tad bit hoarse as he spoke, “But considering the weather conditions right now, I don’t think it would be wise to look for the Allspark fragment.”

“And I’m telling you that it’s not wise to question a superior officer, Optimus,” Sentinel frowned, narrowing his optics, “Or should I say, Maintenance Prime?”

Optimus groaned inwardly, giving up entirely on his efforts to hide his fatigue and just resorted to leaning against the console. He crossed his arms over his chassis, narrowing his optics as he tried to ignore the insulting nickname, “Then what would you propose we do, Sentinel?”

“Simple,” Sentinel moved to leaned against the chair that sat in front of the monitor console. He motioned towards the map on the screen, the spot of red pulsing on the map representing the fragment signature location, “We send out a team and retrieve it. Done deal.”

“You’re missing the point, Sentinel,” Optimus’ voice held a slight edge to it, his frame was tired and he had no energy to deal with this right now. “We can’t send a team out in these weather conditions! Anyone who goes out there is gonna freeze to death!”

“The organic on the weather show thingy said it won’t hit for a few hours,” Sentinel waved it off, rolling his optics, “Enough time to go pick it up and come back.”

“The human weather channel is never completely on point,” Optimus frowned, pinching the bridge of his nasal unit, “But that’s besides the point! It’ll take a few hours to just get to the fragment’s location, and then having to find it-- the storm will be in full force by then!”

“Are you doubting your own team, Optimus?” Sentinel quirked an optic ridge.

Optimus sneered, one of his optics practically twitching as the energon was reaching a boiling point, “I would never doubt my team!”

“Then what’s the problem?” Sentinel frowned, standing up from the chair and taking a step forward towards the firetruck.

“My problem is that your so-called ‘plan’ would effectively be putting my team in harm's way!” Optimus stood up from the console, facing Sentinel.

“Questioning a superior officer, Optimus?” Sentinel quirked an optic ridge, smirking, “I’ll have to write you up for that.”

“Oh shove it, Sentinel!” Optimus growled, completely and utterly done with the conversation. He could feel the fuel lines in his helm pulse, the ache at its height and his entire frame was beginning to feel like it was burning.

Sentinel was a little taken back by the sudden comment, but he shook it off as he narrowed his optics, “How dare you!” The taller Prime stomped forward, coming face-to-face with Optimus as he sneered, “You’ve got some nerve to back talk an Elite Guard like that, Optimus!” he growled, “What gives you the right, huh?”

“Last time I checked, Sentinel,” Optimus wasn’t backing down, blue optics leveling with Sentinel’s, “You and I held equal rank. So I have every right to question your orders.”

The truck narrowed his optics, gritting his teeth, “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you, Optimus?” He leaned forward just a bit towards the other Prime, “But last time I checked, I wasn’t the one kicked out of the Academy for screwing up and getting someone kill-”

Sentinel wasn’t able to finish the word before feeling firm hands grip his chassis and slam him against the neighboring wall. Optimus’ optics were almost blazing as he stared up towards Sentinel, his grip on the taller Prime’s frame tight and his chassis breathing heavily as he felt the anger course through his lines. No words were shared, however; Optimus biting his tongue, and remaining silent as he glared up towards the taller Prime.

The tension was like a thick blanket between them, a silence that spoke volumes and it was deafening to the smaller Prime.

Despite the fact that he was holding his ground, fatigue wracking his frame and processor ache running strong; he could feel those words sink into his shoulders. There was truth in Sentinel’s words, so much that it hurt, more so that there was still the matter that Sentinel still didn’t know that Elita was still alive. And more so, that Sentinel didn’t know what she had become.

The guilt began to creep over his frame, seeping into the seams of his armor. So much, that it caused his guard to crack just enough for a few coughs escaped his throat. Optimus turned his helm away from Sentinel, releasing the taller Prime and covering his mouth with a clenched fist.

Sentinel was already sneering towards Optimus by the time the smaller Prime let him go, and he reached up to brush off his frame. He stepped forward towards Optimus, keeping his voice dangerously low, “You just earned yourself a solo trip, Optimus, old pal.”

Optimus looked up towards the truck, having composed himself finally. His optics met neighboring blue ones as Sentinel continued, “Now, I’m willing to forget about what just happened here,” he said, sneering once more, “Just get out and get the fragment, and all will be forgotten.”

The fire truck swallowed thickly, the tightness in his chassis returning, but before he could get a word in, Sentinel leaned forward with optics flashing bright, “Screw up- like the disappointment you are-” he grit his denta towards Optimus, “-and I’ll slap you with stasis cuffs so fast that your head will still be spinning by the time you’re thrown into the stockades. That’s what you’ll get for assaulting a superior officer.”

The red and blue Prime was silent as Sentinel towered over him, “Do I make myself, clear?”

Optimus bit back his frown, though his optics were equally bright, “Crystal.”

“Good,” Sentinel straightened his frame, turning back to the monitor screens, “Now get to it, time's a wastin’ Optimus, old buddy.”

The red and blue Prime remained quiet as he turned to leave, not even bothering to give a salute on his way out.

Chapter 3: Part 2

It was cold. Far too cold.

The storm had hit just an hour or two after Optimus left the base, the snowing falling thick and heavily against his frame. The wind was powerful as he drove on the icy roads, causing him to lose traction with his tires every now and then, but thankfully he was able to regain control.

His frame, however, was starting to grow layers of ice on his armor, making him heavier than he was before. By the time he reached the highway towards the country, his tires were layered with so much ice and snow that he couldn’t drive in his alternate mode anymore. He was left with no other choice but to walk, and that of course wasn’t helping with his current state of health.

Another few miles along the snow covered highway, the roads were obviously closed due to the storm, so it was left empty for miles. He was entering the country, the trees waved this way and that as they followed the rough wind, and Optimus could already feel his breath coming up short. His intakes rattled with every breath, and his joints were whining with every step, everything hurt and he was so cold.

Optimus was reaching a bend in the road, a guardrail set up by the edge due to the steep hill on the other side. At some point, he lost his footing in the snow; his pedes landing on slick, black ice and he went crashing through the guard rail. Down he went, frame crashing against the ice and snow covered rocks and dirt, coming to a stop when he slammed against a heavy tree. It cracked from the blow, the wood splitting as the tree fell towards the Autobot below.

All Optimus remembered before he faded out, was his frame screaming in pain and the bitter cold gnawing at his protoform.

Chapter 4: Part 3

Notes:

Apologies for the absence everyone, I’ve been working on deadlines and I’ve havent had a chance to really update anything— until now!

Enjoy.

Daybreak came, the storm had passed over in the night. The city was covered in a thick blanket of snow, leaving no bustle but quiet streets. It was almost peaceful, some would probably even say relaxing. That was all well and good, except there was just one little problem.

Optimus hadn’t come back yet.

Due to the storm becoming more violent than expected, it was by Ratchet’s urgency that they move all resident Autobots into the Steelhaven. It was mainly due to the fact that the power had gone out, and that meant no warmth for the resident Autobots. Upon migrating to the Autobot ship, of course it led to a question from the minibot, BumbleBee, “Uh, where’s bossbot?”

Sentinel, thinking quickly, plainly said, “An allspark fragment was detected outside of the city,” and he gave a mere, helpless shrug, “Optimus thought it be wise to go get it himself.”

A chorus of skeptical looks were all that Sentinel got in return, though the Prime just waved it off and proceeded to his quarters to have himself a glass of highgrade. It didn’t matter what those maintenance bots think, Optimus would do his job like a good little soldier and Sentinel will get all the credit. Same slag, different day, so no shavings off his armor, right?

However, that had been last night. When Sentinel was certain Optimus was out there, doing his job, and completely fine. Now, on the other hand, the larger Prime was beginning to feel just a tad bit concerned.

“He should of been back by now,” came the gruff voice of the medic as he looked out the bay window of the Steelhaven. Sentinel looked across the control bay, spotting Ratchet standing with his arms crossed and optics narrowed, “Frag, he should’ve been back a long time ago.”

I know, the words were left unsaid in Sentinel’s throat as he sat in the captain’s chair of the control bay. His hands were clasped together and held up to his mouth as his elbows rested on the armrest. He looked out towards the bay window, finding nothing but the bright, white blanket of snow looking back at him. He sat in silence a few moments more before turning back to the medic, “Have you tried comming him?”

Ratchet narrowed his optics, “No, I thought I would just send him a carrier pigeon,” he growled, “Of course I’ve tried comming him! We all have! All we keep getting is a static signal!”

Sentinel blinked, his mind wandering to what the frag a ‘carrier pigeon’ was, but it quickly shook off the thought. If Optimus was online he would of gotten back to them by now, however the snow wasn’t probably helping with that. Oh Optimus, he mused to himself, hiding his smirk, can’t even handle a little white powder. He stood up from the chair, “Call the rest of your team,” he looked to the medic, “We leave in an hour.”

“Finally,” came the grumbled reply from the medic before he stormed off from the control bay.

Sentinel watched him go, optics bright as he turned back to the bay window. He took a deep breath, “Just a little white powder,” he spoke aloud this time to himself, “He can handle it, I mean I’m sure he’s handled worse. He’ll be fine.”

He shook his helm, he’ll be fine. His processor assured him, This is Optimus you’re talking about, he’ll be okay.

He’ll be fine.

As Sentinel made his way out of the control bay, he could feel the pestering claws of doubt grasping at the back of his processor.

_____________________________________________

The snow was thick as Sentinel drove carefully down the highway, Jazz, Ratchet and the rest of the team following just as cautiously behind him. Since his alternate mode was modded with a plow, it was fitting for him to take the lead along the road. He hated the snow though, it was cold, and no doubt was dirtying up his frame. Optimus better be grateful for this, he fumed inwardly, having to drive all the way out here to find his sorry skidplate.

It was more of an assurance than a complaint, the entire drive was growing anxiety in the back of his processor. Sentinel even sent Jetfire and Jetstorm ahead so they can scout the roads, hopefully to get an eye on the smaller Prime, but no word came from the twins yet.

The drive through the snow lasted several more hours before coming upon a bend in the road. It was covered in the same thick layer of snow, though there was a hint of a guardrail poking out from beneath. At first, Sentinel was just going to keep going until they reached the coordinates of the Allspark fragment, but the black ninjabot halted.

“Wait,” Prowl called out, transforming into his bi-pedal mode in the snow.

Sentinel sighed as he came to a stop, “What is it?”

Prowl was sluggishly moving through the powdered frost, coming up to the guardrail. He wiped away the snow, finding the mangled remains of twisted metal. The ninjabot narrowed his optics, “The rail has been smashed,” he said, leaning forward to get a better look, “And from the looks of it, it was recent.”

Sentinel was still in his alternate mode, giving an exasperated sigh, “You stop the team to look at a hunk of metal?” His engines revved, “Probably some dumb human crashed into it earlier.”

“Well if there was a crash,” Prowl glanced back to Sentinel, “Then where is the vehicle?”

“How should I know, ninjabot?!” Sentinel growled.

“Prowl’s right,” Jazz transformed and joined his fellow ninjabot by the rail, “If there’s a human injured out here, we can’t just leave them.” The chorus of gears and frames shifting followed as the rest of the team seemed to agree with the two ninjabots.

“Um, excuse me?!” Sentinel transformed, marching towards the two bots, “We’re supposed to be looking for Optimus! Not some slimy organic lost in the snow!”

Ratchet growled, “If Optimus were here,” he snapped, optics glaring holes into the taller Prime, “He would want to take the human’s life as top priority over his. So do us a favor and shut yer trap!”

Sentinel had promptly silenced himself when hearing the medic’s words, though he quickly recovered and begrudgingly followed the group, “Fine.”

He came I pon Prowl looking over the rail, the black ninjabot peeking over the snow covered edge. “Judging by the way the metal is twisted,” Prowl looked back towards the group, “The car went downhill.”

Ratchet peeked over, whistling, “That’s pretty steep.”

“We’ll need a cable line to get us down there,” Jazz looked up to the sky, “The trees are too thick for Jetfire or Jetstorm to search out the human.”

“Who here has a line handy?” BumbleBee piped up.

There was a pause, and Jazz smirked. He was the first to initiate the helm turn towards the taller Prime standing amongst the group. Soon, all optics were on Sentinel, and the Prime blinked, “What?”

_____________________________________________

Sentinel grumbled as he slipped against a icy rock, breathing with relief as he regained his footing. He looked up towards the top of the hill, see just a glimpse of red, white, yellow, and black, where Jazz, Ratchet, Prowl, and BumbleBee were watching him. Bulkhead was out of sight, being the heavy weight that held the line so Sentinel could climb down. Turned out that Sentinel’s alternate mode was the only one amongst the group fixed with a cable tow. It made him the perfect candidate to perform the job, much to his dismay.

“How’s it going down there?” Jazz’s voice echoed from the top.

Sentinel growled, “Oh I’m fine!” he grit his teeth, almost slipping again, “Just peachy!”

The sound of his own vents and the crunch of snow beneath his feet were the only noise that welcomed Sentinel as he climbed down the hill. As he passed the tree line, he began to see the remnants of the crash along the trunks of some unfortunate oaks. The bark was either torn off or splintered, some saplings bent back in a sprawled mess of pine needles and wood chipping. Sentinel was adjusting his weight pulling line from the cable spool situated just beneath his chassis when something caught his optic. It was granting his full attention, a glint of red was visible through the snow on the ground by his feet. He blinked, reaching down and wiping away the snow from the rock. When getting a clear view, he paused, optics growing wide as they fell upon the smear of red paint on the icy rock. No, he frowned, frame stiffening before he quickly looked up to glance down the hill.

Sentinel’s optics scanned down the hill, following the tree line, and it was easy to spot the path of damaged oaks and saplings down the hill. He moved forward, picking up the pace as he climbed down the hill,It can’t be him. Snow crunched beneath his feet, slipping once or twice as he made his way down the icy path. He was pulling at the tow line faster than before, almost at a panicked pace as his optics focused forward.

An awkward step on a fallen, icy branch made him lose his footing, and Sentinel went sliding down the hill. “Frag!” his voice echoed, and he grabbed onto the tow line tightly. The tow line whined as it spun, and Sentinel could feel the tension from Bulkhead’s grip up top as he tried to bring himself to a stop. He initiated the break line on the line, and slowly, the larger Prime came to a stop on the ice and snow. Just for good measure, he grabbed onto a branch embedded in the snow and he sighed with relief as he sank back against the rock.

“You okay?!” came Jazz’s voice again, echoing around the white surroundings.

“Yeah!” Sentinel grit his teeth, definitely feeling the bumps and scrapes against his armor. He let out a heavy breath as he heaved himself forward, standing up once more. As he got to his feet, something made him stop mid step, his optics narrowing as he tried to zero in on it. There was something blue lodged in the snow, it was shimmering in the dim sunlight next to a fallen tree. It was angular, almost like an antennae or an audial fin--

Sentinel froze, his optics growing wide.

The Prime moved, frame literally leaping down the hill as he made for the fallen tree. Snow crumbled along with him as Sentinel came to a halt by the oak, and he plunged his hands into the powdered ice. No, no, no, please Primus no!Sentinel was panting, optics bright as he threw away the snow to get a clear view. In a matter of moments, the Prime found a blue helm under all that snow, the color pale but still online.

Sentinel grimaced, optics wide as he looked towards the hill, “Medic!”

_____________________________________________

It took Bulkhead’s strength to lift the fallen tree off of Optimus, and the twins to pull him out of the snow so they could get him back to base. When Sentinel called for the team, Ratchet was the first in line and practically sprinted down the hill. They had found Optimus, thankfully he was alive but the complexion of his frame was dangerously pale. Sentinel had given the orders to the twins to airlift Optimus back to base, leaving the rest of the crew following suit.

Sentinel was the last to climb back to the top, standing there silently as he caught his breath. His optics turned to the sky, seeing a vague outline of the Safeguard in the distance as they flew back to the city. And in their arms was the fragile form of a bot he once called his friend.

The Prime swallowed thickly, his optics falling to the icy ground where there were the remnants of heavy footprints from the crew. It was beginning to snow again, his blue optics watching as individual snowflakes fell onto the ground, covering the footprints with a soft layer of powdered white. The same soft layer had blanketed Optimus’ broken frame at the bottom of that hill. Where his old friend was battered and barely breathing, his intakes rattling softly beneath the snow. Where he wasn’t moving, wasn’t responsive, his optics dark and frame pale. There was energon staining his frame beneath the tree, and single stream stemming from Optimus’ mouth. The Prime looked so close to death, and Sentinel could only sit there and watch helplessly as Optimus’ limp body was pulled from the ice.

This shouldn’t have happened-- no, no, Optimus was always careful, always cautious, always alert. He was a good mech, a strong bot, this shouldn’t have happened! Why did he have to say those things! Why did he send Optimus out there?! Why didn’t he listen to him?! Why?! Why?! Why-

“You coming or what, SP?”

Sentinel blinked, his processor coming to a halt when he heard Jazz calling out for him. He looked up to see the ninjabot still standing in his bi-pedal mode, the snow falling softly around them. He straightened his frame, nodding towards the mech, “Um, yeah,” he said, voice suddenly solemn, “I’m coming.”

Jazz silently nodded, transforming and driving off towards the highway. Sentinel was silent as he watched the ninjabot go, taking a deep breath as the dread dropped heavily into the pit of his tank.

This is all my fault.

Chapter 5: Part 4

Notes:

Hello and Happy Yule Tide!

HERE COME THE FEELS

Ratchet frowned as he pinched off another a fuel line on the mangled arm to the Prime that was currently laying on the table. Optimus was, thankfully, still alive. However he was very weak and had yet to make any movement since they had found him. When he finally scanned the younger Prime’s frame, he found an number of injuries inside and out.

For one, it was discovered that Optimus had a growing virus to his intakes that was no doubt going untreated for the passed couple weeks. Ratchet bit back the curse, considering the fact that despite his trained eye, the medic was unable to pick out the signs of a virus. Optimus was crafty when he wanted to be, so of course when he wanted to hide something it would be difficult to point out. Why the younger Prime wanted to hide the virus from him was baffling, but at the moment it didn’t matter.

Along the list of injuries, the major damage to Optimus’ frame was the ruptured intake. As expected, the low temperatures caused the Prime’s intakes to freeze and crack, allowing energon to leak in. It explained why whenever Optimus took a breath, it made a sound between a rattle and a gurgle, and it was the most pressing matter to his health.

Ratchet frowned, his processor searching out for the right procedure to address the issue, and he found several roadblocks with the plan already. One issue was that despite the Steelhaven’s grand backlog of supplies, the proper medical tools for this specific procedure were limited. That, of course, was due to the fact that the current crew of the Steelhaven was sans medic at the moment. Ratchet wanted to chuck a wrench at whose bright idea was it to send an Autobot crew without the proper personnel and promptly rip them a new one. He could jerryrig some tools together, and no doubt Professor Sumdac would be able to lend of hand, but it was a growing concern to the medic. Another issue was that the little to non-existent staff available to help him with not only the procedure, but handling the rest of Optimus’ injuries as well.

Ratchet rubbed against his helm, working to remove the armor on Optimus’ shoulders from his frame. As he set the gnarled pieces of metal aside, he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m going to have to recruit an assistant,” he grumbled, “Unfortunately.”

______________________________________________________

It turned out that Prowl drew the short straw when Ratchet announced he would need help tending to Optimus’ injuries. The ninjabot was nimble and careful enough to hold sharp objects so he proved to be perfect for the job.

Sentinel was relieved, but at the same time rather anxious because he wanted to know how the smaller Prime was doing. When Prowl disappeared into the medical bay of the Steelhaven, Sentinel had no choice but to sit outside and wait for any news from the medic. At least he wasn’t alone, Optimus’ crew plus Jazz and the tiny she-organic were all there with him.

Ratchet had explained that Optimus' current condition required a specific procedure: one that involved inserting sharp, needle-like tubes up into his intakes and then drain the energon. The goal was to drain enough energon and fluids from his intakes so Ratchet could fix the rupture. It seemed straightforward enough; get in, get out, and then Optimus would recover. There was just one problem: Optimus couldn’t be induced in stasis during the operation. In his current state, it was too much of a risk, putting the Prime under might slow his systems too much to where it would put them to a stop all together. So Optimus had to be awake during the operation, and endure all the agony and pain until Ratchet fixed the rupture.

Sentinel could feel the dagger of guilt drive deeper into his chassis, and he dropped his helm in his hands, rubbing his face. It was just more pain that the smaller Prime had to endure, and Sentinel just wanted to crawl into a hole and never emerge again. He sat there amongst his fellow Autobots, quiet, and optics staring ahead as they waited for the verdict.

It wasn’t long until a sudden piercing scream echoed from the medical bay.

_________________________________________________________

“He’ll be under for a while, could be a couple days or a couple weeks. It just all depends on how his frame heals, but the rupture was sealed successfully.”

“We’ll have to remold some of his armor, the ice froze most of it to the point that it shattered when I touched it. That fragging tree didn’t help either. So he’ll have to endure having most of his protoform exposed until I can finish remaking his armor plating.”

“On top of all of this, I discovered he was already suffering from an intake virus before the storm. So on top of his injuries, I’ll have to treat him with an antibody nanite solution so he can get over the virus. We’ll have to keep an optic on him, make sure he doesn’t overheat or his processor will fry.”

But other than all that,” Ratchet sighed, glancing back to the fragile figure that laid on the table, “I’m confident he’ll be okay. Kids’ tough.”

Sentinel had been silent when Ratchet went over the laundry list of injuries that all pertained to Optimus’ condition. He had heard every word, but he didn’t even spare the medic a glance due to the fact that his optics were glued to the smaller Prime on the table.

Optimus laid on a solitary table near a bay window of the medical bay. His shoulder, forearm, and chassis plating were gone, revealing the soft protoform underneath. He was covered by a mesh berth-covering, Sentinel could see where the wires and tubes snaked beneath the blanket and were hooked up to the smaller Prime’s frame. He was surrounded by beeping machines and monitoring equipment, all of which emitted the calming rhythm of Optimus’ sparkbeat. But despite all the medical, chaotic mess around him, Optimus slept peacefully on the berth, mouth open just enough to allow a peek at his teeth.

Sentinel swallowed thickly, finally allowing himself to glance up to the medic, “Is he comfortable?” He was trying to appear as calm as possible, but the faintness in his voice betrayed him.

The medic nodded, “Definitely,” he crossed his arms over his chassis, giving a tired smirk, “Even added a pillow just in case he got a kink in his neck.”

“Good,” Sentinel took a step forward towards the berth, “I’ll-um-- I’ll take first watch.”

Sentinel didn’t get very far on his way to grab a chair before Ratchet spoke up, “He didn’t go out there on his own volition.” It was more of a statement than a question, and the larger Prime turned around to face the medic. He was greeted with a firm glare, Ratchet eyeing Sentinel with what almost seemed like distaste, “I know that for a fact.”

Sentinel swallowed once more, optics looking away from the medic’s piercing optics. Not like Optimus’ team were stupid, they all knew the Prime better than that. Of course it would be hard to believe and totally be out of character for Optimus to go out there on his own, into dangerous weather conditions. Sentinel wasn’t denying it anymore, at least to himself, but he hadn’t been vocal about the truth. He remained silent, no quips, no smack talk, or snark; just total and complete silence came from the truck.

However, it was enough to give Ratchet the confirmation he needed, “I’m sure you’ve kicked yourself twice over already,” he grumbled, “And by all means, continue.” The medic uncrossed his arms, moving to turn away and step out of the medical bay, but glanced back to the larger Prime. “But if I even get a whiff of you trying any of your smug games, Sentinel,” blue optics narrowed into slits, “I’ll personally be welding your aft to the tail end of this ship.” And with that, the medic disappeared through the doorway.

Only the sounds of steady beeping and quiet breathing were left with Sentinel. The larger Prime regarded the medics words for a moment, before silently turning to glance over to Optimus. He went and grabbed a chair, setting it by the berth and then taking a seat. He brought his hands in his lap, interlocking his fingers together as he sat. The awkward silence came, occasionally being sated with the beeping from the monitors but it settled oddly on the Prime’s shoulders.

Sentinel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before clearing his throat, trying to ease the tension, “Hey.”

Nothing but steady breathing came from Optimus, the smaller Prime deep in recharge.

The truck tapped his fingers, already beginning to fidget, “I-- um,” and then he frowned. Primus what can I say? Sentinel was twiddling his thumbs, optics now directed towards the floor. He could feeling the inkling of something creeping up his back-struts, something heavy and gnawing at his plating.

Was it shame?

It had to be, how else was a mech supposed to feel in this situation. Sentinel sighed heavily, bringing his hands up to rub at his optics. He slunk back against the chair, optics finding the will to land on the smaller Prime on the table, “This sucks.”

No response from the smaller Prime, obviously and Sentinel let his helm roll to the side to face Optimus, “I mean-” he frowned, waving his hands, “I mean this entire situation just sucks!”

Again, nothing but silence.

There was a growl, “The medic said you were already sick before the storm-- why the frag didn’t you tell anyone, huh?!”

Painfully, cold, dreadful silence.

“Tryin’ to be the bigger bot again, Optimus?!” Sentinel exclaimed, face twisted in a poor attempt to look authoritative, “Typical of you! Big, goody-two-shoes Optimus always putting everyone else before him! When the frag are you gonna look out for yourself for once?!”

A soft beeping from the monitors, but then came the silence again.

The larger Prime let out a breath, intakes heaving as he felt his energy from the outburst drain but the tension rose in his shoulders, this wasn’t helping. Sentinel let his hands drop into his lap, feeling the awkwardness already set in. He let his optics wander, helm turning away until he saw the white snow falling outside the window. He narrowed his optics that accursed white, falling ice, and sighed heavily as he optics found interest in the ceiling, “I should’ve listened to you.” His hands clasped together in his lap, though he was still staring at the ceiling, “Primus, I should’ve listened to you from the beginning,” he swallowed thickly, “I shouldn’t have sent you out there-- and you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Sentinel gave a weak laugh, “You were right,” he spoke softly, “As usual, you were right, Optimus. You’re always right.” He closed his optics for a brief moment, frowning, “And I’m the aft-head who was wrong.”

Sentinel re-opened his optics to look down towards the smaller Prime, regarding him quietly for a moment before he leaned forward. He leaned against the berth, optics searching for a moment before they found what they were looking for. Optimus’ hand was limp on the berth, uncovered by the mesh-coverings. Sentinel reached for it, though he hesitated for a moment, fingers curling back slightly. He frowned, deciding to push forward, and he grasped onto Optimus’ hand. It felt warm, thankfully, not dull or cold like it was before when he first found the smaller Prime. The truck rubbed a thumb over the limp appendage, optics turning back to Optimus, “I’ll be right here,” he said quietly, “Okay? I’ll be right here, and-- Primus, I’ll do anything, anything you need or-- or, want. I’ll be right here, all right? Just don’t--don’t leave--”

The blue and orange truck stopped abruptly, that dreadful silence reigning again. Sentinel grimaced, feeling the mist form over his optics and he let his helm thunk against the berth. Voice slightly muffled, his intakes heaved once more, “Don’t leave me,” he said, giving a gentle squeeze to Optimus’ hand, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re all I have left.”

A slight pressure against his hand, the limp appendage gave a light squeeze in return. That gathered Sentinel’s attention quickly, helm popping up as he glanced over at the blue hand with hopeful, wide optics. He blinked, helm turning to face Optimus, finding the smaller Prime tilt his helm just slightly towards Sentinel. He wasn’t awake, and the movements were very stiff, but he was responding, and that brought a relieved smile to Sentinel’s lips. “I hear you, bud,” he said softly.

“I’ll stay.”

Chapter 6: Part 5

Notes:

More feels, get your feels.

The second day proved to be a little easier, Sentinel starting off the shift with a calm eagerness. As he walked in, he found Ratchet holding Opitmus; or attempting to, anyway, and trying to reattached a few cable lines from the machines to his backstrust at the same time. The blue and orange Prime was quick to hurry over, “Need a hand?”

Ratchet frowned, looking up to the larger Prime with a skepticism that could break walls, “Har, har, very funny.” The medic grumbled, going back to positioning Optimus against his frame so he could attach the wires. However, he was encountering the problem that he was a little too short to see over the smaller Prime’s shoulders.

“I’m serious,” came Sentinel’s simple reply.

The medic blinked, turning his helm to face the larger Prime once more. He eyed Sentinel suspiciously, “Something bugging your processor, kid?” he kept the grumbling frown on his face.

“No,” Sentinel shifted his footing, fingers clasped together and thumbs twiddling. He shrugged, “You just look like you’re having trouble, that’s all.”

Ratchet grew silent for a moment, optics studying the larger Prime with that same piercing gaze he gave any mech he distrusted. He glanced back to Optimu for a moment, attempting to look over his shoulder, but once again found that he couldn’t. He couldn’t roll Optimus onto his side either for this, it would risk putting pressure on his already tender injuries and the protofom was already too fragile.

Fraggit, he would need help after all.

The medic sighed, “All right,” he shifted a bit off the berth, however still keeping a hold of the still unconscious Optimus, “Get up here.”

Sentinel blinked, almost seem to lighten up as he moved forward to crawl onto the berth. He shifted, listening to Ratchet instruct him on what to do, “Hold him against your chassis-- gently.” Sentinel did as he was told, carefully wrapping his arms around Optimus’ much lighter frame, the protoform still bare. Optimus’ helm rest on Sentinel’s shoulder, and the larger Prime could feel the quiet breathing against his armor as the firetruck slept on.

The medic was fumbling through the wires, trying to straighten them out, “I gotta get these under his backstruts,” he grumbled, “He shouldn’t feel it. But if he does, brace yourself and try to keep him still.”

“Understood,” came Sentinel’s solem reply.

Ratchet glanced to the larger Prime once more, suspicion still heavy in his optics before going back to reworking the wires. He sighed with relief once he was able to untangle the lines, bringing up the needle-like attachments, “Finally,” he grumbled. The medic turned towards the still slumbering Prime, “All right, first one,” he said, moving to lean forward and search out the right strut.

Fingers danced along the plating before Ratchet found the right spot, and with the needle in hand he went to insert the first line. Sentinel looked over Optimus’ shoulder, wincing when he caught sight of the needle tip of the line, “That’s going into his back?” he grimaced.

“Yes, it is,” Ratchet frowned, stopping for a moment, “Now quit yammering and let me do my work!”

“Right, sorry,” Sentinel swallowed, looking away from the sight. If there was one thing that he and Optimus agreed on, was that medical bays sucked and the medic’s tools of the trade were more like torture devices. It was something they came to realize during their days in the Academy, especially whenever they injured themselves on the course or just in hijinks in general. They disliked the low grade energon, the smell of the medical bay, the white walls-- and most of all, the needles.

Sentinel was just glad that Optimus wasn’t awake for this.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Ratchet grumbled, fingers going back to the right spot. He held the needle in place for a few seconds, counting silently before pushing in.

Optimus flinched when the line was reconnected, letting out a small whine and Sentinel was there to hold onto him carefully. Ratchet let the smaller Prime adjust for a moment before moving onto the next line, his optics watching Sentinel cautiously. What greeted him was the sight of the larger Prime speaking quietly to Optimus, whispering words of encouragement and giving a pat to the shoulder to calm him. It was a rather- confusing sight to behold, due to the fact that Sentinel was usually one to say, “Suck it up and get over it,” and then continue on his little smug rant about how he could handle so much worse. (which was a lie, Sentinel was a big baby when it came to these things)

But there was no snark, no smug grin or laughter, just a caring look in the larger Prime’s optics as Sentinel held onto Optimus. Ratchet didn’t realize he’d been staring until Sentinel spoke up, “Uh, I think he’s ready for the next one.”

The medic blinked, turning back to the needle in his hand. He cleared his throat, “Right,” he said, “Second one, then there’ll be two to go after that.” Ratchet moved to search out the next spot, carefully guiding his fingers over Optimus’ backstruts. With Sentinel here, this was going a lot smoother than the medic had anticipated.

Perhaps Sentinel could lend a hand with washing Optimus next.

Chapter 7: Part 6

Notes:

Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. Here's a heart to heart conversation. :)

The next few days seemed to be going well with Optimus’ recovery, his wounds healing evenly and without any rust infection. That was before Ratchet discovered one afternoon that Optimus’ frame was beginning to overheat, almost the Cybertronian equivalent to a fever. It was a dangerous turn, one where Optimus needed supervision twenty-four seven until the heat broke.

That was where Sentinel found himself now, nodding off while sitting next to Optimus’ berth. It was late at night, or perhaps really early in the morning? Sentinel wasn’t sure, he was just trying to stay awake. He yawned as he leaned against the berth, glancing over to Optimus who was sans mesh covering and had a few cooling pads over his frame. The pass couple days, Optimus showed more signs of movement and verbal response than before. The heat made Optimus groan as aches and pains wracking his frame, mumbling incoherent gibberish under his breath. It made Sentinel uneasy, and the fear that they would lose Optimus grew higher in his chassis.

Hence why he was here, taking over Prowl’s shift and watching over Optimus during the wee hours of the night/morning. Sentinel groaned, craning his neck and rubbing against the whining cables, this chair was not comfortable at all.

“How is he?”

Sentinel almost jumped in his chair, swiveling around to where the voice came from. Prowl stood in the doorway of the medical bay, one of his hands holding a cube of energon. The larger Prime heaved a sighed, “Primus, don’t do that,” he leaned forward against the berth again, rubbing his face.

“Apologies,” Prowl walked over and set the cube of energon on a small side table by the berth. He turned to Sentinel, “Ratchet informed me that you volunteered to take over my shift,” he quirked an optic ridge behind his visor, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sentinel glanced at the cube, then back up to the black and gold ninjabot, “I-uh, I wanted to.”

“Why?” Prowl almost seemed nonchalant as he leaned against the neighboring window, crossing his arms.

The larger Prime sat back against his chair, clearing his throat, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Do I really need to answer that question?” Prowl frowned, tilting his helm.

Okay, good point, Sentinel frowned and sighed, “Because I needed to, okay,” he glanced over to Optimus, “I just need to make sure he’ll be alright.”

Prowl followed Sentinel’s gaze to the slumbering Prime on the berth, “Optimus has never been one to disappoint,” he kept his voice low, “He’s always come through no matter the situation.” Yes, that was true; Optimus was always a reliable bot, one to lend a hand whenever you needed it. Much could not be said about Sentinel, however, Ratchet’s little story about yesterday’s check up seemed to peak the ninjabot’s curiosity.

So far, Prowl was pleasantly surprised.

“I know,” Sentinel reached up to grasp the limp hand on the berth, feeling the still radiating heat from Optimus’ frame.

A quiet whine emanated from the Prime on the table, grabbing both mech’s attention. Optimus tilted his helm towards Sentinel, face scrunched up into a grimace as he shifted on the berth. Prowl blinked behind his visor, moving forward to approach the medical berth, “He seems uncomfortable.” The ninjabot reached up to grab at one of the cooling pads that laid on Optimus’ helm, “Perhaps we should remove this for now-”

His hand was slapped away, “Don’t touch that!”

Prowl backed off, looking up to see a disgruntled look on Sentinel’s face, “The medic specifically said not to touch any of those pads.” The Prime was standing up from the chair now, and went to move to one of the monitors by the berth.

Prowl watched him carefully, “Apologies,” he said, “I was unaware of Ratchet’s instructions.”

Sentinel sighed, “It’s-- it’s fine,” he tapped at the screen of one of the monitors, “Just don’t do it again.” He saw a green bar flash over the screen, and the Prime looked back to Optimus to find one of the lines transferring a green liquid to the bot’s frame. He exhaled through his vents, glancing back at the ninjabot, “We just have to keep him medicated and cool,” he took a seat by the berth again. Blue optics glanced up to the black and gold ninjabot, “What are you doing here, anyway?” There was no snark in the question, but Sentinel’s voice sounded rather tired.

Said ninjabot tilted his helm, “I was merely-- curious to see how Optimus was doing.” He pushed himself from the window, moving to make his way out of the medical bay, pausing for a moment, “Also, that energon will go stale if you don’t drink it soon.”

Prowl made his way out of the medical bay, a smirk on his face as he left a quizzical Sentinel to glance over to the glass of energon. Said Prime gave a smirk, and reached for the glass.

Chapter 8: Part 7

Notes:

Oh snap whats a happenin'.

The fever heat broke thankfully the next day, and Ratchet decided to push with a stronger antibody nanite solution to flush the virus out of Optimus’ systems. Sentinel was helping anyway he could, but also was going back to his duties as team leader. He would perform his Autobot duties during the day, then join Ratchet at night in the medical bay. Thanks to the storm, there was no Decepticon activity, but there was a problem with power outages and frozen roads all throughout the city. Apparently the aftermath of the storm was making it difficult for the human rescue teams to perform the necessary repairs to community power grids.

So, in an odd little twist, Sentinel opted to let the Autobot team lend the humans a hand.

There were a few moments where the twins or even Jazz would spare him a confused glance, but decided against saying a word. BumbleBee and Bulkhead were much less subtle with their reaction, jaws dropped and optics wide, but a well placed jab in the chassis got them to contain themselves quickly. They watched and observed as Sentinel conversed with the human authorities, spotting a hint of squeamishness here and there whenever any of the humans got too close. But despite it all, Sentinel kept his cool and cooperated with the rescue teams of the surrounding area.

Who knew the Prime had it in him?

__________________________________________________________

Sentinel wiped away carefully at the delicate protoform plating of Optimus’ arm, making sure that whatever droplets of cleaning fluid were left were successfully cleaned up. The smaller Prime laid prone on the table, no thermal in sight due to the fact that it was that time of the week where Optimus needed to be cleaned. Optimus; despite the fact that he was literally doing nothing and just laying on a table, was prone to getting dusty or covered in whatever condensation or fluids that dripped from the various tubes and wires that were connected to his body. Sentinel made sure that he had some dignity, placing a rag over his interface panel so he won’t be so exposed.

The truck dipped the rag into the soapy fluid once more, giving a small smile to Optimus, “Hope you’re doing better bud,” he kept his voice low. He rung out the rag a bit before going back to cleaning Optimus, this time reaching up to clean his cheeks. There was a bit of dried fluid on his cheek and Sentinel went on his merry way to clean it off. Though as soon as he did so, Optimus’ face twitched and turned towards Sentinel’s direction. The truck paused, pulling the rag away immediately, “Optimus?”

No response, only a little whine escaping Optimus’ throat before he went still once more. Sentinel blinked, then sighed as a tired smile crossed over his face, “Sorry about that bud,” he said quietly, “Hope that didn’t bother you too much.”

Once again, only silence replied to the taller truck that sat next to the medical berth. Of course, Sentinel had gotten use to it by now, and went back to cleaning around Optimus’ helm, though this time making sure to be very careful. He leaned in close, wiping down over Optimus’ visor and his helmet, and then moved onto his audials. Upon wiping one down, it twitched in response, and that caused Sentinel to pause once more.

Sentinel quirked an optic ridge before smirking, “Oh right,” he reached up to poke at Optimus’ audial again, “I forgot you’re a little sensitive there.”

Optimus’ audial twitched once more, and another soft whine emanated from the smaller Prime’s throat. Sentinel chuckled softly, moving to set the rag down before crossing his arms against the berth, thus setting his helm against his arms.

He remembered the first time that he found out about Optimus’ sensitive audials; they were in their flat on campus, generally just sitting with a pack of highgrade and talking. They were already a few sheets to the wind, and Sentinel had decided to be a little pain in the butt and poke Optimus endlessly. It wasn’t until Sentinel got to Optimus’ audials that the smaller Prime literally squirmed and wiggled away, earning heavy laughter from the truck. Optimus was beet red, holding his hands over his audials and yelling at Sentinel to knock it off. The next day in class, Sentinel took great joy in letting Elita know about the story so the two of them would end up poking Optimus occasionally whenever the three of them were together.

Elita...

Sentinel reached up to rub a hand over his face; he hadn’t thought about the fem since he found Optimus that day. Primus knows that he felt horrible about it now, considering that he already spilled his guts earlier when Optimus was unconscious. But it still lingered- the guilt, the shame, the loneliness; Sentinel had lost both of his friends that day on Archa Seven, one physically and the other emotionally. He had tried to move on, blame it all on Optimus and tried to make his life a living hell. But it didn’t matter; what happened on Archa Seven was his fault, and not Optimus’.

Sentinel found himself frowning as he watched Optimus breathe, recharging peacefully on the medical berth. He sighed, reaching up carefully to stroke a finger over Optimus’ audial, “I’m so sorry bud,” he said quietly, “I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times already. But-”

The audial twitched in response to Sentinel’s touch, and the truck continued, “But I just- I just want to let you know that I don't hate you. I don't hate you for what happened to Elita. I never did.” Sentinel closed his optics, sighing as he moved his finger to stroke downward on Optimus’ face, his finger feeling the soft synflesh of his cheek. He opened his optics and tilted his helm to the smaller Prime, “I just- If anything I hate myself, I mean-- frag, you should hate me for everything,” he said, voice above a whisper, “Primus, I didn’t even feel that way about Elita.”

Sentinel went silent after those words slipped from his mouth, and he bit his lip, looking away from Optimus. It was a little too much information than he wanted to share, but that was the truth: Sentinel didn’t really have any romantic interest in Elita back then. If anything, he was more attracted to Optimus, but he never acted on it due to the fact that he didn’t want to make it weird between friends. But now--

Now was different.

Sentinel looked back up to the still form on the medical berth, his finger still resting against the soft cheek. His blue optics studied the smooth curves of Optimus’ helm, the blue of his cheeks and lips, how his mouth was open just a tad to see a peek at his teeth. Sentinel frowned, optics narrowing slightly before he let out a heavy sigh, For fragsake. He moved, his larger frame leaning over so he came almost face-to-face with Optimus. Sentinel bit his lip, and swallowed, his finger moving to trace the soft blue lips of the smaller Prime. He could feel Optimus’ breath from his mouth every time his chest rose and fell, it was almost comforting knowing that the smaller Prime was still there and breathing.

He glanced over Optimus’ face before swallowing once more, and leaned down to the smaller Prime. He paused just a moment near a blue cheek, hesitating, but soon pushed forward, and planted a soft kiss on the soft synflesh. Sentinel sat back, optics searching for any signs of movement or reaction, but all that greeted him was silence and the still recharging form of Optimus.

Sentinel blinked, giving a soft smile as he returned to his spot, “I’ll be here bud.” He grabbed the bucket and rag to return to cleaning the Optimus’ protoform, “Now, let’s finish this up.”

Chapter 9: Part 8

Notes:

DEVELOPMENTS

Two weeks into the repairs of power grids and clearing icy streets, not to mention catching any human criminals who decided to take advantage of the situation; the city was almost back to working order.

Sentinel let out a heavy sigh as he made his way back onto the Steelhaven, joints tired and back-struts sore. He had spent most of the day helping construction crews clear off the thick layer of snow from some of the major streets in Detroit, and now all he wanted to do was sit down and pass out. He came up to the door of the medical bay, the door swishing open and he stepped inside.

As he approached the medical berth where Optimus lay, the smaller Prime still out cold, he spotted Ratchet with a small soldering iron in his hand. He was working on something on Optimus’ arm, and on closer inspection, Sentinel found that the smaller Prime was now outfitted with new armor plating. It was the same design as his previous one, but the paint was cleaner and he could just smell the polish radiating off of it. Sentinel grinned towards the medic, standing by the berth, “You’ve been busy.”

Ratchet smirked, deactivating the iron, “Just finished it today.” He wiped down Optimus’ arm, seeing the shine over the smaller Prime’s new armor. Ratchet put the iron back on his tray of tools, “He’s all set,” he said, wiping his hands, “Now, if this virus would just let up already, kid be good to go.”

“Any signs of improvement?” Sentinel glanced to the medic before reaching out to run a careful hand over Optimus’ newly plated arm.

The medic sighed, shaking his helm, “Nah,” he said, looking down to Optimus, “Viruses take time, especially if they’ve reached a critical stage like this.” Ratchet glanced over to Sentinel, “How’d it go today with the rescue teams?”

Sentinel plopped down in a tired head on the chair by the medical berth, almost sagging as he did so. He groaned, “The streets are cleared in midtown,” Sentinel rubbed at his helm, “But there’s still a ways to go with downtown.” He sagged further into his chair, “I’m getting so tired of snow.”

A cube of energon was placed by the side table next to Sentinel, and the Prime looked up to the medic standing over him. Ratchet smirked, “Get use to it,” he said, “Still got another two months of this.”

Sentinel groaned.

Ratchet chuckled, “Keep an optic on the kid,” he turned to leave the medical bay, “I gotta check on the rest of the crew.”

Sentinel gave a mock salute as he watched the medic leave, reaching over and sluggishly grabbing at the cube. He was quick to guzzle it down before setting the cube aside, adjusting himself in the chair and getting comfortable. He glanced over to Optimus briefly, giving almost a fond smile and patting at the smaller Prime’s hand, “You look good, bud.”

Of course, no answer, which was to be expected. Sentinel heaved a sigh before tilting his helm back against the chair, “I’m just gonna-,” he yawned, and closed his optics, “-take a little power nap if you don’t mind.”

Once again, no answer came. However, Sentinel didn’t seem to notice the twitch of an audial fin on Optimus’ helm.

___________________________________________________________

Sentinel felt movement, his audials picking up the other em field in the room, and there was a tap against his helm. He grumbled as he cracked his optics open, most likely the medic, and he yawned. He lifted his helm to look around the medical bay, but to his surprise, he found-- no one else. He blinked, he could’ve sworn he felt another field, but he was the only occupant in the medical bay. Well, at least besides Optimus-- wait.

WAIT.

Sentinel snapped back around to find a pair of tired blue optics staring up at him. It took all the strength in the world to keep himself from screaming, and jumping with joy. Sentinel practically collapsed by the berth, leaning forward and grabbing onto the smaller Prime’s hand, “Optimus!” Was he grinning? His optics felt a little misty, but somehow he was grinning, “Primus! Welcome back bud!”

Optimus was awake; well barely by the looks of his dim optics. His helm stiffly turning to face Sentinel, “S-Sentinel?” his voice was hoarse from disuse.

The larger Prime felt his lips wobble a bit, but he took a deep breath, “Y-Yeah,” he said, voice almost breaking, but he was fighting to hold it together, “Yeah, bud, it’s m-me.”

“W-What happened--?” Optimus stammered, optics blinking as he glanced around, obviously confused.

Sentinel paused, optics growing concerned, “You don’t remember?”

Optimus swallowed thickly, “I-I remember driving-- and there was snow,” he narrowed his optics a bit, “A-And a tree-- a tree fell on me, and--” The smaller Prime didn’t get very far when his intake heaved with wet coughs that wracked his entire frame. He shook slightly, coughing fit continuing to the point where he was fighting to sit upright. Sentinel was quick enough to get the hint and help him sit up on the berth, using his own frame as a weight for Optimus to lay on.

The smaller Prime was practically wheezing as he finally regained his composure. He cleared his throat, frame almost going slack against Sentinel’s chassis. Optimus laid his helm against the larger frame that held him, finding comfort in the warmth. Sentinel could feel the tightness in his spark, the guilt heavy on his shoulders as he held Optimus against his frame. It was practically stabbing at him when blue optics looked up towards him, “A-Are you--okay, Sentinel?”

Primus, this was unbearable, “Y-Yeah, bud,” he feigned a smile, “Why you ask?”

Optimus tilted his helm slightly, optics growing concerned, “B-Because y-you’re acting-- s-so civil to me.”

That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Sentinel looked away from Optimus, optics avoiding his gaze, “Optimus,” hs voice was low, face having fallen. “Listen-- a-about that night,” he began, “Do you remember why you were out driving?”

Optimus grew quiet for a moment, optics looking away to stare ahead as he tried to recall his thoughts. He narrowed his optics a bit, turning back to Sentinel, “Th-There was-- an allspark fragment, a-and we were-- talking about it?” He frowned, almost as if he was having difficulty putting the pieces together, “There was a storm- a-a really b-bad storm, a-and--” he paused, optics growing wide as he went silent.

The larger Prime had a inkling what that meant as well, and he hung his helm. He soon felt those blue optics on him, and Optimus spoke softly, “Y-You sent me out there.”

Sentinel kept his optics focused on the medical berth, “I did,” he spoke quietly. The tightness in his chassis grew stronger, “And I wish--” he swallowed, “I-I wish I could take it back.”

Optimus grew more confused as he looked up to Sentinel, “W-What?”

Sentinel could feel his shoulders tremble, and he took a deep breath through his intake, “I wish I could take it back.” His optics were misting over again, “I was-- Primus I was an idiot,” he began, “I was stupid, and wrong, and reckless, and pigheaded-- “ The tears began to fall down Sentinel’s face, and his entire frame was fighting to hold it together, “And I sent you out there-- you almost died, Optimus! And it was because of me! I made you go out there and-and-- and we--I could’ve lost you!”

He hung his helm, Optimus watching silently as he felt those strong arms hold him closer to the warm chassis. It was then that Sentinel finally found the courage to face the smaller Prime, “I’m sorry, Optimus,” he said quietly, “Primus, I’m so sorry.”

“A-And I wouldn’t blame you,” Sentinel breathed, intakes shaking, “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want anything to do with me again.”

A heavy silence fell upon them, blue optics watched as Sentinel let the tears fall, and turned his helm away. He felt pretty exposed, but Sentinel could give a frag sake at this point, it was better than bottling it all up and letting it eat him from the inside out. He poured out his spark, he had to, he needed to, for not just his sake but for Optimus’ as well. And if Optimus wanted to hate him, he’d be okay with that. He didn’t deserve his kindness.

He didn’t deserve it at all.

Something brushed over his chin, gently grasping at his face and turning his helm back towards the smaller Prime, and all the while Sentinel kept his optics turned away. “Sentinel,” came Optimus’ soft voice, and the larger Prime finally felt the strength to face the smaller frame in his arms.

He was met with a soft smile, a tender expression was displayed across Optimus’ face. His blue optics glowed with a gentle hue, his hand almost caressing Sentinel’s face, though he struggled to do so. Sentinel reached up to grasp the weak hand, and Optimus spoke quietly, “I-I thought I was dreaming-- b-before,” he swallowed, “I-I heard your voice when I was a-asleep.”

Sentinel blinked, frame going stiff as the realization struck,”Y-You could hear me?” he said, “You heard every word?”

Optimus nodded quietly, “E-Every word,” he gave a weak smirk. He leaned his helm against the warmth of Sentinel’s frame, the smile growing fondly on his face, “I’ve already forgiven you, Sentinel,” he said, a small cough bubbling up from his throat. His optics dimmed slightly, the fatigue beginning to take its toll, “Just p-promise me,” he began, “th-that you w-won’t leave me either.”

Sentinel’s optics grew wide, and the tears began to fall once more, “Optimus,” he grimaced. He clutched to the hand by his face and then leaned his helm against the smaller Prime’s. The tears continued to fall as Sentinel spoke out quietly to Optimus, watching the smaller Prime as his optics grew dim and closed, letting recharge take over once more.

“I promise.”

Chapter 10: Epilogue

Notes:

And now for the fluff.

“Optimus!” Sentinel’s voice echoed from down the corridor, causing said Prime to jump in his seat. Optimus let out a few coughs, groaning quietly as he sunk in his seat; he’d been caught.

The doors to the bridge swished open, and Sentinel walked through the doorway. The Prime was holding a heavy thermal berth cover in on arm, the other was propped up on his hip as he stopped by Optimus’ chair. Sentinel narrowed his optics slightly, looking down at the smaller Prime with a frown, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing out of the med bay?”

They were on the bridge of the Steelhaven, where there were a few monitors online and displaying the latest news and weather updates. Currently it was snowing again, the snow could be seen falling silently through the windshield of the ship. It had been a week since Optimus woke up, and so far his recovery had been going well. The virus was still lingering in his system, and it was going to take some more time for Optimus to get back to himself. But, thankfully Sentinel was there to give a (more than expected) helping hand, helping Optimus every step of the way.

And possibly being a little overprotective.

Optimus made an attempt to hide his coughs, “C-Come on Sentinel,” he covered his mouth as he coughed, “I was getting a little stir crazy in there.” The smaller Prime continued to cough, shoulders shaking as he sat in the chair. He soon felt the warmth of the berth covering as it draped over Optimus’ shoulders. The smaller Prime pulled it tight around his frame, turning to see Sentinel kneel next to his chair.

“I know, bud,” Sentinel had one arm over Optimus’ shoulder, and the other patting at the smaller Prime’s arm. The truck gave a small, knowing smirk, “But we can’t have you walking around too much just yet.” Sentinel looked up to those glossy, blue optics just as Optimus came down from his coughing fit, “At least it was me that found you instead of Ratchet,” he grinned.

Optimus gave a small chuckle, shivering slightly in his seat as he snuggled into the berth coverings, “Yeah, I’m sure he’d strap me to the berth.”

Sentinel grinned, “Well let’s get you back before he finds out, okay?”

“Not yet,” Optimus spoke suddenly, clearing his throat once more as he glanced to Sentinel, “I-I just want to relax here for a bit.”

Sentinel sighed, “Optimus-”

“Please, Sentinel?” those blue optics looked towards the taller Prime pleadingly, “It’ll just be f-for a little bit. I need a break from the med bay.”

The taller Prime met those tired blue optics staring back at him, his face falling as he flexed his jaw. He sighed, “All right,” he stood up from floor, “But only for a little bit longer.”

Optimus smiled quietly as he sunk into the chair, watching as Sentinel went over to grab a chair. The taller Prime rolled an extra chair and sat down next to Optimus, letting out a heavy sigh as he got comfortable. As the two settled into their seat, the air around them became filled with silence, and both Autobots watched as the snow fell gently passed by the window. As the minutes ticked by, the silence began to grow more and more comfortable .

When Optimus glanced over to the taller Prime, he found Sentinel was dozing quietly in his chair. Optimus smiled, seeing all the weeks of medical bay duty and working with humans finally catching up with the fellow Autobot. The firetruck felt warmth swell up in his chassis, and he moved to carefully lean over to Sentinel. He was hesitant at first, biting his lip as he contemplated his next move. But, after a moment, he finally made his decision to give a quick peck on Sentinel’s cheek before quickly sitting back down in his seat.

That was enough to wake Sentinel, and the taller Prime’s face turned a beet red. He glanced over to Optimus, optics looking a little surprised towards the firetruck, “Optimus?”

Optimus was also blushing as he looked away from Sentinel, “S-Sorry I was--” he hit his lip, “I just-- I remember hearing your voice when I was asleep. A-And I felt something-- o-on my cheek.” His face was almost a beet red, “I-I’ve been feeling something lately, a-and I couldn’t stop myself.” The smaller Prime took in a shaky breath, unaware of the Autobot next to him shifting, “I-I’m sorry I probably shouldn’t have done th-that, Sentinel. I-I--mmff?!”

Optimus’ ramblings were cut off by the deep kiss that engulfed his lips, and the smaller Prime’s optics were bright and wide. He found Sentinel kissing him back, and the slow realization began to fall on Optimus’ shoulders, and the smaller Prime began to sink into the kiss with a warm smile. Strong hands carefully caressed Optimus’ face and pulled him close, Sentinel being gentle as he brought Optimus onto his lap, berth coverings and all.

When they finally broke away, they were both breathing heavily, their optics almost blazing with light. Optimus swallowed, biting his lip, “N-Now I’m really glad I snuck out of the med bay.”

Sentinel smirked, quirking an optic ridge, “Was this planned?”

“Um-- not entirely?” Optimus gave a sheepish smile.

“What the frag are you doing out of med bay?!” Ratchet’s voice was like booming thunder as it echoed throughout the bridge.

Optimus shrunk against Sentinel, using the berth coverings as his only shield of defense by pulling it over his head to hide from the medic. Sentinel was cackling as Ratchet was berating the bundle of Autobot in the taller Prime’s lap. Sentinel would catch a peak of blue optics and a warm smile from beneath the berth coverings, feeling warmth in his chassis that he hadn’t felt in decades.

Notes:

And that's the SENTOP fic I've been trying to get done for months. Hope you all enjoyed it. :)

~ Rin

Notes:

Stay tuned. :)