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There’s something to be said about the differences on this planet compared to space. Compared to photos of dozens of other beaches and cliffs in the galaxy. The sky is a light purple that fades into pink at the horizon, the stars managing to peek through despite both suns being up. The grass is too green and not soft enough, almost like crystals. The water at the end of the cliff is a deep blue, a forewarning of the true depth beyond the steep drop into the ocean.
Blitzwing sighs, the breath running through and out his body as a reminder of his shape. A reminder that his body is still here and hasn’t unwound into an unknowable blob, like a cloud losing its shape as the wind pushes it onwards.
“We won’t have much time,” They say aloud. “We’ll only have 30 minutes.”
“Especially now that he’s late,” Zing complains. Blitzwing scoffs.
Optimus had little to no way to tell the time like Blitzwing did. The two of them lived in separate worlds with separate rules. It was inevitable that at some point their lives would misalign— that their own way of doing things would clash with the immutable differences of the other.
Zing and Blitz both thought that was a fancy and wholly unnecessary way to say that Optimus didn’t like them anymore.
“You two are like children,” Wings snipes, fiddling with the mask on their face until they don’t feel like Wings anymore.
“Maybe he thinks we’re ugly,” Zing bemoans. Or maybe that was Blitz. “He probably went and got with someone his own size!”
We haven’t stipulated any rules for this relationship, Wings thinks. It would be fair of him to do so.
He’s ours. Blitz fires back.
If you ever have an idea on how to lay claim to a being whose finger is bigger than us, I’d be fascinated to hear it.
Any further petty insults are silenced by a familiar sound. Blitzwing has yet to find an adequately concise description for it. A low groan, like something you’d hear deep within the pitch darkness of the ocean. Creaking, like something deep within the earth, large and old, moving for the first time in centuries.
There’s the sound of water parting, falling off the surfacing head of whatever is rising from within it. It’s loud, all consuming, almost never ending.
Webbed claws fall on either side of Blitzwing, shaking the ground despite the clear attempt to be gentle. The nails dig into the grass for leverage, water dripping off their scales.
Fins decorate the sides of his arms, back and head, blue and beautiful. The ones on either side of his face twitch, adjusting to the air. One fin runs from his head, down his back, and down the endless expanse of his tail.
Fathomless blue eyes focus on the tiny human beneath him, turning upward in delighted amusement. He exhales, and though it’s a soft motion for him it knocks Blitzwing down flat onto their back. They would complain if it wasn’t thrilling, something so impossibly large and powerful standing before them with no intention to hurt.
Optimus smiles, showing off fangs and teeth meant for ripping living beings to shreds. “Hello, Blitzwing.”
His voice is quiet— it has to be, otherwise he might blow out Blitzwing's eardrums. Getting too close to his heartbeat is dangerous too, the pounding of it enough to risk exploding their brain.
“Optimus!” Zing croons, quickly getting back up to walk towards the leviathan. “Sweetheart, where have you been? You’ve made us wait. You know I hate waiting!”
Optimus blinks, large droplets of water falling from his lashes. “I did not notice,” He says. “I thought I was on time. Am I not?”
Blitzwing can’t help but shiver at the magnificent, monstrous rasp that accompanies Optimus’ voice. It’s an undercurrent more than anything else, but once it’s noticed it’s impossible to not hear it. It’s enough to make Blitzwing decide to drop holding a grudge over him being late.
“You’re not,” They huff, still willing to pout a little bit. “We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes! I’m not a patient man, Liebling.”
Optimus hums, looking at Blitzwing like he’s a particularly interesting barnacle he scraped off his scales. It’s moments like these where Blitzwing wonders if Optimus ever considers killing him out of annoyance. He hasn’t made any indication he wants to do such a thing, but Blitzwing can’t help but wonder. In comparison to tiny, fragile humans, Optimus is practically a god.
Then Optimus smiles, looking indulgent and adoring all at once. “Forgive me, Blitzwing,” He gently raises a finger to delicately poke at Blitzwing’s back, shoving them closer to him. “I hope I haven’t wasted your time too much?”
Blitzwing giggles. “Well, now that you’re here, I suppose it can be forgiven,” They tap Optimus’ hand, a signal that they want to be held. Optimus obliges, scooping Blitzwing into his palm with a single finger. The texture of his hand is scaly, slightly slimy, and undeniably wet. It’s not a pleasant sensation, but it’s Optimus, so it’s worth it.
“We have something for you,” They coo, making grabby hands towards Optimus’ face. Optimus clearly resists the urge to laugh at them — it would be a bit risky since they’re so close to him — and brings them closer, to the point where they can reach out and touch his mouth. “No, closer!” Optimus indulges them more, bringing them so they’re pressed against his nose.
Zing giggles. They disengage the lower part of their mask, exposing their mouth and cheeks for just a second to kiss the bridge of Optimus’ nose. They have to stand on the tips of their toes to do it, but it’s worth it.
Blitz switches in, clearly wanting his fill of their pretty, terrifying fish. He peppers kisses from Optimus’ nose to where he can reach his cheekbones, a sort of surreal feeling as he feels the enormity of Optimus’ eyes follow his worshipful movements. His mouth is covered in a wet, slimy feeling afterward, but it’s worth it. It’s always worth it, as long as it’s Optimus.
Optimus blinks, moving his head from where he had crouched down to be closer to eye level with Blitzwing. Then, what can only be described as an explosion of color follows.
Optimus covers his mouth with his free hand, but it can’t hide the flustered smile that peeks out, nor the way his eyes are upturned with delighted joy. Scales along the sides of his arms and head shift their color, alongside the fins on his head, which fan out to their full size like a flower taking in the sun. That, alongside the space above Optimus’ cheeks and eyes, turns into a rainbow of color; pink, yellow, green, purple, a hint of a brighter-than-usual blue— it should be an eyesore, and yet…
It’s beautiful. It’s like watching a natural disaster from afar, watching flames billow and tsunamis swallow homes and buildings.
“Thank you for your gift,” Optimus says, forgetting to lower his voice in his joy. Blitzwing winces, but doesn’t cover their ears. He smiles with nothing but sheer affection, only looking mildly intimidating with his array of sharp teeth. “I have one for you as well.”
Gently, he takes Blitzwing between two fingers, the digits shaking from the effort required to remain so, so gentle. He brings Blitzwing up, up, up, to the point where they’re at least a hundred feet off the ground. Blitzwing only mildly fears for their life. Optimus lowers his head and delicately presses his lips to the top of Blitzwing’s head.
His lips are bigger than Blitzwing’s entire body, so it’s not a “perfect” kiss— but oh, it’s warm and gentle and so so loving. Blitzwing relaxes against Optimus’ grip, resting their hands on his finger. Impulsively, Optimus darts out his tongue, the very end of the prehensile appendage brushing against Blitzwing’s hair.
“You’re so small,” Optimus sighs, resting his head against the palm of his other hand. “I could eat you and not notice.”
Despite the fact that they all have the same body, Zing can feel Wings and Blitz stare at him with the force of a million suns to keep his mouth shut and not say anything erroneously horny.
“And you’re so big!” Zing says instead of begging Optimus to eat them or at least put them in his mouth. It’s half an observation and half a complaint. “I can’t hold you at all!”
“And that’s bad, how?”
“Because you’re so cute,” Blitzwing coos, laying his head against Optimus’ hand. “My Liebling. If only we were even half your size! We’d never let go.”
“Maybe it’s for the best that you can’t breathe underwater,” Optimus says, amused. His eyes take on a greedy shine. “If you could, I can’t promise I wouldn’t take you with me and never let you go.”
Blitzwing would love to talk about that more, but they realize their time is almost up.
“You’re going to have to for now,” Wings says. “We need to return to base.”
Optimus grumbles like he’s tasted something bitter, but he sets them down regardless. A part of them wishes he hadn’t.
“You will come back,” He says. It’s not a request.
“Of course we will,” Blitzwing assures, their voice soothing. “We wouldn't dream of anything otherwise.”
“Good,” Optimus watches them, eyes calculating. “I’ll be waiting.”
They reluctantly turn their back and walk away, giving Optimus an ample amount of time to change his mind and grab them. He doesn’t, instead simply watching their retreating form as it grows further and further away.
Blitzwing resists the urge to keep looking back, but never once do they feel the weight of Optimus’ gaze leave them.