“Rodimus bit his lip, worrying the smooth, plump metal for a moment before glancing up at Thunderclash, his cheeks burning as he steeled himself to ask-”
Thunderclash paused, taping his stylus against the datapad. How would Rodimus word his confession? He had often dreamed of the other mech saying various things to him, but those were fantasies. This would be recorded, although no one would read it but the writer, and the words had to be perfect.
“steeled himself to ask for something that he wasn’t certain Thunderclash would give. He had been rude to the other mech so often, hiding his feelings out of embarrassment, never understanding that they were reciprocated. One arm wrapped around his narrow waist, his beautiful optics dropping as he stared down at the floor now.
‘I know I’ve been… surly towards you.’ The mech would start, his confidence surging back. 'But you’ve been so wonderfully patient with me and-’ ”
There was a knock at the door, startling Thunderclash into closing the document, staring at the metal.
“Yes?” He asked tentatively.
“Open up, 'Clash, we got scrap to do.” Rodimus’ voice echoed into the room and Thunderclash deleted the document he had been working on.
His glorious star would never been so meek and sheepish, he thought with a wry smile as he stood up.
“I am at your service my Prime.” He said as he opened the door, smiling fondly at the disgruntled mech.
“Yeah, well hop to it. I don’t have all day.” The mech grumbled, turning away. And if Thunderclash stared at the delightful backside for a moment too long before following, no one would tell him.
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