Chapter Text
1: Rung x Skids
Skids booted up slowly, the sound of someone humming softly bringing him to the surface. His optics onlined to the warm tones of a sunrise, bathing the berthroom in golden hues. For a moment, though all his faculties were awake and online, he simply lay there. He still hadn’t quite gotten over this novelty; waking up in no rush, nowhere to go, no battles to fight or lives to save.
The humming quieted, and the other field in the room flickered with a brief flash of amusement and affection, “Good morning Skids.”
Skids turned his attention to the side where Rung sat, snuggled deep into his reading chair with a data pad and a steaming mug of fuel (which was probably overly sweetened). Skids smiled and rolled onto his side to better face his Conjunx, propping himself up on an elbow.
Rung’s antenna twitched, “Sleep well?”
Skids hummed in confirmation, carefully extricating himself from the berth. Rung watched intently as Skids moved across the room and then settled down on the floor in front of him. He rested his helm gently against Rung’s leg and settled into a quiet purr as Rung’s slender digits gently brushed over his helm and face.
A memory bubbled up unbidden, bringing the vaguest curve to his lips, “So…how’s it feel to be retired?”
Rung paused in his motions, making a small thoughtful noise, a single digit tapping against Skids’ crest.
“I’d say it feels a great deal better than being bait. That, is for certain.” There was a lilt to his tone that underlay the blunt statement with humor.
Skids snorted, “I would hope so. I’d hate to be comparable to a spark eater.”
Rung chuckled softly, “I’m afraid your bite is too gentle for that comparison.”
Skids’ face heated slightly and he burst into a fit of laughter that Rung shortly followed him into.
~*~
2: Hound x Beachcomber
Hound pondered, not for the first time, how Beachcomber always managed to wake up before him. It didn’t matter how their schedules changed, it didn’t matter if inevitably he would end up going back to sleep after Hound left; Beachy was always up before him.
So when he onlined his optics to the soft beep of his internal chronometer, alerting him to the change in shifts, he wasn’t at all surprised to find Beachcomber awake beside him; still very comfortably nestled up in the curve of his frame, small helm wedged under the impressive shelf of Hound’s front bumper. The only real tell of his awakeness being the faint blue light bouncing back from Hounds bits of reflective armor and onto the wall next to their berth. Hound smiled and rumbled his engine in a pleased little growl before curling more tightly around the little gray and blue minibot. Beachcomber laughed, that soft little laugh that sent Hound’s spark fluttering wildly every time, and hooked his small digits into Hound’s seams, nuzzling into his warm abdominal plating and purring.
There was time yet before he needed to get up and leave, both to fuel and relieve the mech who had duty before him. So they sat in the serene little space of their room, the details lit only by the soft glow of their optics and biolights, and spoke quietly. Of the day before, of thoughts on this and that, it was mostly random chatter; but it was something Hound would never seek to change, it was perfect.
“Hey.” a firm poke to his gut made Hound blink and unfurl slightly so that Beachcomber could move up closer to his face, “You should get going, before poor ‘ol Sideswipe has a conniption.”
Hound groaned, but there was no avoiding it. Beachcomber laughed again, and it was like peace and harmony put to sound, before planting a soft kiss on Hound’s nose. Hound had found the action embarrassing at one point, he couldn’t fathom why anymore. Stretching both his arms and field out he dragged his lover into one more firm and overwhelming embrace, planting a kiss of his own on the minibot’s head; the fluster and affection bubbling in Beachy’s field made everything worth it. He rolled, until he was up on his hands and knees over Beachcomber and smiled down at him, visually tracing every feature he already knew by spark.
“Go on.” Beachcomber gave a gentle push at Hound’s chest, though his field rippled with amusement.
Hound dipped in for one more kiss, simply because he could, before vaulting out of bed with energy he shouldn’t have had, but did. And walked out the door with one last glance and a few words,
“Sing for me?” it was posed as a question, but he already knew the answer.
The birdsongs in his spark would warm him all day.
~*~
3: Ratchet x Wheeljack
Getting up in the morning was a test of willpower, not only because he rarely got much rest at all, but also because Wheeljack made such a tempting cuddle partner. However, today in particular he was trying much harder to keep Ratchet in berth.
"Wheeljack, I need-oof!" Ratchet was cut off as Wheeljack dropped heavily over his front, grunting from the force of it, though it was hardly much of an obstacle.
Ratchet could bench press any of the mecha on the Ark and toss them around like ragdolls, shunting Wheeljack off of him would have been easy.
But the warmth seeping into this chest plate and belly along with the soft vibrations of a high performance engine made wanting to do that very difficult. He groaned and wrapped his arms around Wheeljack's middle, slotting their bodies closer together as Wheeljack rested his helm on Ratchet’s windshield.
Wheeljack chuckled drowsily, "You need to go back to sleep. It's yer day off doc, don't make me tie you down."
Ratchet would have made some quip about them being in a war, and in war you don't get days off, but that last little comment sent his processor spiraling elsewhere. He was an insomniac by nature, going back to sleep would neither be simple nor easy, however...
His engine revved and Wheeljack visibly shivered, "Is that a promise?"
Wheeljack was fully awake in five seconds flat, finials flashing brightly as he rose up to lock optics with his lover, "If you want it to be."
Ratchet smirked and wet his lips, field flickering with blatant interest, "Well then...I suppose I could be persuaded to stay and rest..."
"Challenge accepted." Wheeljack blurted out before his mask slid back at record speed and he pressed their lips together hungrily.
Speedsters. Delightfully insatiable.
~*~
4: Elite Trine
Thundercracker was the only reason anyone got up on time. Skywarp was the one who managed to wake everyone up after they got up by being loud and obnoxiously petulant. And Starscream? Starscream was the one who made all of that pointless because they would end up late because of him anyway.
At least, that was how it had been, back during the war. With the war over, and all their schedules being different, morning routines changed significantly; especially considering they as people had also changed. Certain mornings were different from others, but only in the sense of whether or not Warp or TC is the first of them to wake up; Starscream is still generally the last one up.
On days when Warp needs to get up first, even if he's trying not to he still somehow manages to wake everyone else up; which is just wonderful considering his duties require the earliest wake up hours. And that usually starts some low level of bickering between him and Starscream which TC tunes out with practiced ease, only floating back to the surface when Warp walks over to plant a kiss on his cheek in goodbye. Leaving TC to wrangle their prickly mate into a cuddle and get him to stop being so noisy.
On days when TC needs to get up first, it's not nearly as early but is somehow far more disruptive and requires all his willpower to push through. Seeing as both Skywarp AND Starscream seem to have made some silent agreement to be as whiney, petulant, and clingy as possible. His mornings often require a mild show of his oft restrained strength, in the form of disentangling and sometimes bodily shunting his two mates off of him. But he always makes sure to smooth out everyone's fields and plant a kiss on both of them before leaving (despite almost always being swiped at by Starscream when he does this, it's a bit half hearted these days though). On these days Skywarp generally gets up right after TC leaves, but occasionally finds himself crawling back into the berth with their pouty Trine leader (who still doesn't know how to ask for the affection he wants, or admit that he wants it).
And then there are rare days like this. Where none of them have anywhere to be and they can wake up at their natural pace...but Starscream is always up first on days like this. And no matter how they'd fallen asleep, TC and Warp would wake gleefully to Starscream nestling down between them. And they'd all huddle even closer together, finding their comfortable positions easily due to years of sharing a berth not big enough for the three of them. And then they'd be so close that they could feel each other's spark beats in their own armor.
And they'd simply lay there for as long as Starscream could tolerate, drowning in each other's fields and their bond. Neither TC or Warp ever dared to complain when Starscream finally decided to extricate himself, often loudly and sometimes violently, because they knew it came from a place of anxiety and feeling far too open and vulnerable for his comfort, not true distrust or disinterest.
They would take what they could get.