What Was Unsaid

It was half past eleven, the kids were already gone, escorted off by their Autobot comrades, but you were still at the base. The well-worn couch was no bed, but it certainly felt more to you like home than the house in which you resided. Rather than your family’s conversations in other rooms, the ambience here was more limited to the beeping of the monitors and the occasional thunk of Cybertronian footfalls. It was calm. Quiet. Relaxing.

It was home, and after everything that had happened in the past week, it was just what you needed.

You and your best friend…your only friend, used to be very close. You spent time together at school, told jokes, and had fun together. However, just this Tuesday, a change implanted itself in the status quo and she found herself a boyfriend. That was good, wasn’t it? It was good until she immediately started spending all her time with him, and even when she did spend time with you, he was there too.

Jealousy was not something you normally expressed, and it was something you utterly refused to express. You were sitting at one side of the lunch table and they at the other, but he always had his damn arm around your friend. Sometimes he kissed her, right there, right in front of you. Was that impolite? What were the specifics of the school’s rules against PDA?

She was happy though, even though this only began in less than a week. Did that even happen? You had no clue, you’d never really been in a relationship with someone. You wished so much that you could connect like that with another, but it just didn’t happen at that time.

Seeing them together hurt, almost physically. It left a pain within you, an aching loneliness by comparison, and some voice inside you wanted to scream “Hey what about me? Why do you get this and I get nothing?” But that was just bizarre. It reeked of desperation, and any such statement would render you socially as the one who tried too hard, so you kept your damn mouth shut. Yes, you cried about it in the bathroom, but you never said a word.

As for your home life, well that wasn’t great either. Your family didn’t pay you much attention, and when they did, it was criticizing the already good grades you had, telling you how you could have done better. The house itself felt like a prison, its walls and structure seething with judgement and the feeling of being irrelevant, and so you spent most of your down time with Smokescreen.

He knew some of this, of course. He knew about your home life; asked you about your human family once and you just kind of laughed your way through that explanation. Laughter and humor were good ways to deal with things, you’d learned. It eased the emotional pain and helped you see things from an alternate perspective…sort of. You hadn’t told the Autobot about this recent event, though. Why it was, you weren’t sure.

You were in the midst of wading between consciousness and sleep when you heard a set of Autobot footfalls heading in your direction. It was probably just Ratchet, checking on you like the worrisome medic that he was, so you curled up tighter around the blanket and put it out of your mind. All of that changed, though, when you felt the light touch of a large metal digit on the top of your head. You sat up, looking over the side of the mezzanine, still half asleep.

“Smokescreen…?”

He looked a little worried. That was easy to read on his face, as he was normally so upbeat and excitable. “The other humans went home hours ago, are you sure you wanna stay?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

Smokescreen’s helm tilted to the side a little. He could tell something was up. “Are you sure you’re OK?” he asked. “Ratchet’s a little worried too.” Upon speaking that part, he lowered his voice, in respect for the medic at the other end of the silo.

It wasn’t a question you wanted to answer, and you couldn’t lie to him either. You pressed your lips together, exhaling heavily through your nose. “No.”

“You…you wanna tell me about it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then sat up, resting one arm on top of the couch as you faced your alien friend. “Sure. Uh…well, my friend has just sorta stopped spending time with me.” God you sound pathetic. “She’s got this guy and whenever she hangs around me, it’s always with him. It kinda hurts, ya know?” Tears pricked in your eyes. “It hurts seeing someone happy like that, being loved by someone and you don’t have it. You…you’re just you, and you’re just alone.” You were starting to cry by but you kept going, kept speaking. “It fragging hurts, Smokescreen, and it’s not fair. I shouldn’t be jealous of her, she’s my best friend…but why can’t I have that?”

By this point the waterworks were going, and you slumped back into the couch to hide your tears from your friend. You couldn’t stop, you couldn’t fragging stop, and you hoped to whatever deity was out there that Ratchet wasn’t listening in on this.

There was a flash of light and a figure stood in front of the couch. You blinked and stared at it through tear-blurred eyes, looking at…a smaller Smokescreen?

“I didn’t get the opportunity to pick a human holoform,” it…no, he explained. It was weird seeing Smokescreen like this. He opened his arms up, opened them wide, inviting you. “C’mere.”

“W-what?”

“It doesn’t have to hurt, y/n. Come on.” Smokescreen waved his hands, indicating you to approach. You did so slowly, the blanket still hanging loosely from your shoulders. Your bare feet slid slowly across the metal floor, coming to rest before your friend as you sink into his embrace. He’s made of metal but somehow, there’s comfort in that. His armor plating edges aren’t sharp, but rather the softness of your human body moulds perfectly against Smokescreen’s rough edges. Metallic hands drew up behind you, pressing gently against your blanketed back, pulling you close.

Your own hands wrapped around the Autobot’s waist, head coming to rest on his armored shoulder. He swayed a little, rocking you gently from side to side in a gesture of comfort that warmed your whole body and pulled at your heart. It was hard not to sob, he’d already seen you embarrass yourself once today anyway. Hands circled gently at your back, his voice gentle and calming in your ear.

“It’s OK, let it out. I’m here. I gotcha.”

You cried until there was nothing left to cry, and he was patient with that. Smokescreen did not judge you, rather he seemed to understand, despite being a completely different species. He spoke soft, kind words to you and rubbed your back, soothing and comforting you, allowing you to calm down. Once you were considerably more emotionally stable, he led you back to the couch, an arm around your shoulder, and sat down next to you.

“You know, since you brought up the topic,” he began with an awkward laugh. “I got something to tell you. And it’s not just out of sympathy or anything, it’s genuine. I’ve never had someone either, ya know.” Smokescreen paused, turning to face you. “I…I know what that’s like, seeing other people and having a hard time connecting yourself.” His voice was sincere, and a hand slid over yours, digits curling around your fingers. “Uh…this is weird, like saying it out loud, but uh…how do I even…”

A servo cupped your cheek and the Cybertronian looked into your eyes, chuckling nervously. “Is…is this okay? You and me, how about it? Is that okay?”

Warmth bloomed in your chest. What?

It was unexpected, to say the least. It was also welcomed. You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

His reaction was priceless, faceplate lighting up with an enormous smile as he tackled you in a warm hug and you both fell onto the couch together, laughing. You’d never seen Smokescreen happier, not even while he was in awe of Optimus.

“I won’t let you be lonely ever again,” he promised. A hesitant servo found itself resting on the side of your face. “C-can I?”

Your ears turned bright red and you suddenly became aware of the tear streaks you hadn’t yet wiped away, but regardless you nodded. An arm circled around you in a tender embrace, pulling you just a little closer as the alien’s metal lips met your own. It wasn’t like in the movies, you didn’t stick one leg up or shove your whole tongue into his mouth, but rather it was soft and gentle. His frame curled around you, almost protectively, servos holding you close, and you got the impression that this was a first for the both of you.

When he drew back, there was a warmth to his optics that you’d never seen in him before. He was happy – Smokescreen was almost always happy – but this was a different kind of happy. You were happy too, and you were certain he could see it on your face as well.

“That was nice,” you murmured. “I’ve never gotten one of those before.”

“Heh, me neither.”

“My insides feel all warm and fuzzy.”

A hand looped around your wrist, moving your palm so that it was pressed flat against his central chestplate, underneath which you could feel a sort of pulse. “Mine too.” Smokescreen’s voice was a bit awkward and shaky but something about that was endearing in its own way.

You snuggled yourself against his frame, cheek coming to rest where your hand was just one moment ago. Something about the pulse and hum of his internal mechanisms, the soft sound and reverberations of it, calmed you, and you found your eyelids beginning to droop.

“I should probably get some sleep,” you muttered.

Smokescreen kissed your forehead. “Sounds like a good idea. Don’t worry, I’ll be here with you all night.”