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kinkfestTitle: Gethsemane
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liltigre
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really. D:
Word Count: 667
Summary: Magnus doesn't know what Rodimus means to him, exactly.
A/N: Gaaah, Magnus is hard to write. This one came out all weird on me... hopefully it doesn't suck too badly. xD
It's funny how easy it is to forget just how very young he is under the powerful frame and deepened voice. It's easy to forget how very inexperienced he is when he's in the thick of battle, the harsh lines of his prematurely aged face lit by the streak of laser fire. It's easy to forget how vulnerable he really is when even the harshest criticism often draws anger and rebellion and a facade of strength.
It is easy to forget how young Rodimus really when he's being a leader. It's hard to forget when he's all alone.
Magnus stalls at the edge of the park, already knowing what he'll find. It's strange, how torn he is between the duality of his leader; when he was Hot Rod, Magnus had looked at him as another soldier, a young pup with a bad case of hero worship. Then he'd been fond of him, sort of, in the distant way he figured a leader needed to be.
Now... he isn't sure just how he feels.
Rodimus looks up from his perch at the base of the memorial statue, under the shadow of Optimus (and isn't he always, always in his shadow, even in his own mind?), and Magnus almost wants to leave. Turn around and let the young Prime wallow in whatever it was that was tearing at him... but there is something inside him that won't let it go. Magnus had had nights like this with Optimus, back when said leader was young and impetuous... but they'd come online together, become close friends through the bonding of endless nights in the battlefield, of war and wounds and celebrating victory and mourning defeat.
It occurs to Magnus that Rodimus... doesn't have that. He has friends, of course- Springer and Arcee, Kup and the Dinobots- but none of them understand the burden of leadership. Not the way Ultra Magnus has seen it. And he holds something not even Optimus held- the status of the Chosen One, yet another wedge that drives him apart from the rest. It's lonely at the top, and unsteady ground to stand upon.
"... Rodimus." Magnus steps out into the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back like he would as a drill seargant, then drops them. The words stick in his vocal processor before he rasps them out. "Mind if I join you?"
The flickering light in the young leader's optics brightens as he raises his head. "... sure," he finally says, gesturing to his side. There's a moment's awkward pause, and then Rodimus looks away as Magnus sits beside him. For a moment there is silence, broken only by the soft sound of metal on metal as Magnus puts a hand on his leader's shoulder.
"Why?" The question hangs there, without context, as Rodimus looks back up at him. The angle of the light softens the hard angles of his features, bringing back the memory of how his face had looked before, with the slight curves of youth. He reaches up and touches Magnus's hand as if to reassure himself it's actually there. It hurts to look at his upturned face. The conflict within- innocence and experience, youth and age, responsibility tying down freedom- is alien to him, and yet not. A stab of guilt hits him; at the same time, he's humbled by the trust Rodimus shows in him.
For a moment Magnus is still. There's a faint thrumming under his digits, the feel of electric circuits and fuel running, familiar yet strange. "... I don't know," he finally confesses, then manages a hint of a smile. "Does it matter?"
Rodimus chuckles a bit at that, hand still lingering over Magnus's, and sits up straighter. It's something odd, a pass of current between them, an understanding of sorts. The feeling is so brief the older Autobot isn't sure it happened. All he knows is that, for that second... everything felt right. And he'd have given anything to make it last. "No," Rodimus says after a pause, returning the smile. "I don't think it does."
Author:
liltigreRating: PG
Warnings: None, really. D:
Word Count: 667
Summary: Magnus doesn't know what Rodimus means to him, exactly.
A/N: Gaaah, Magnus is hard to write. This one came out all weird on me... hopefully it doesn't suck too badly. xD
It's funny how easy it is to forget just how very young he is under the powerful frame and deepened voice. It's easy to forget how very inexperienced he is when he's in the thick of battle, the harsh lines of his prematurely aged face lit by the streak of laser fire. It's easy to forget how vulnerable he really is when even the harshest criticism often draws anger and rebellion and a facade of strength.
It is easy to forget how young Rodimus really when he's being a leader. It's hard to forget when he's all alone.
Magnus stalls at the edge of the park, already knowing what he'll find. It's strange, how torn he is between the duality of his leader; when he was Hot Rod, Magnus had looked at him as another soldier, a young pup with a bad case of hero worship. Then he'd been fond of him, sort of, in the distant way he figured a leader needed to be.
Now... he isn't sure just how he feels.
Rodimus looks up from his perch at the base of the memorial statue, under the shadow of Optimus (and isn't he always, always in his shadow, even in his own mind?), and Magnus almost wants to leave. Turn around and let the young Prime wallow in whatever it was that was tearing at him... but there is something inside him that won't let it go. Magnus had had nights like this with Optimus, back when said leader was young and impetuous... but they'd come online together, become close friends through the bonding of endless nights in the battlefield, of war and wounds and celebrating victory and mourning defeat.
It occurs to Magnus that Rodimus... doesn't have that. He has friends, of course- Springer and Arcee, Kup and the Dinobots- but none of them understand the burden of leadership. Not the way Ultra Magnus has seen it. And he holds something not even Optimus held- the status of the Chosen One, yet another wedge that drives him apart from the rest. It's lonely at the top, and unsteady ground to stand upon.
"... Rodimus." Magnus steps out into the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back like he would as a drill seargant, then drops them. The words stick in his vocal processor before he rasps them out. "Mind if I join you?"
The flickering light in the young leader's optics brightens as he raises his head. "... sure," he finally says, gesturing to his side. There's a moment's awkward pause, and then Rodimus looks away as Magnus sits beside him. For a moment there is silence, broken only by the soft sound of metal on metal as Magnus puts a hand on his leader's shoulder.
"Why?" The question hangs there, without context, as Rodimus looks back up at him. The angle of the light softens the hard angles of his features, bringing back the memory of how his face had looked before, with the slight curves of youth. He reaches up and touches Magnus's hand as if to reassure himself it's actually there. It hurts to look at his upturned face. The conflict within- innocence and experience, youth and age, responsibility tying down freedom- is alien to him, and yet not. A stab of guilt hits him; at the same time, he's humbled by the trust Rodimus shows in him.
For a moment Magnus is still. There's a faint thrumming under his digits, the feel of electric circuits and fuel running, familiar yet strange. "... I don't know," he finally confesses, then manages a hint of a smile. "Does it matter?"
Rodimus chuckles a bit at that, hand still lingering over Magnus's, and sits up straighter. It's something odd, a pass of current between them, an understanding of sorts. The feeling is so brief the older Autobot isn't sure it happened. All he knows is that, for that second... everything felt right. And he'd have given anything to make it last. "No," Rodimus says after a pause, returning the smile. "I don't think it does."
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 08:54 am (UTC)I don't think you have to worry about that. This was absolutely perfect.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 05:04 pm (UTC)She only writes this stuff to get off on it. Since she has no man.
She claims to have a man in her life but who would date her bitchy ass.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-11 05:19 am (UTC)You have clearly come off as the better person in all this. Well done, well done.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 01:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-12 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 04:54 pm (UTC)Go fucking get a LIFE and quit writing these lame ass stories.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 11:36 pm (UTC)What does it say about you that you took the time to write this?
no subject
Date: 2009-02-11 12:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-11 12:28 am (UTC)OH God how will I go on?