None of you read what is up here, do you? I bet you don't. Well, whatever.
This is only even here because of Optimus' Girl's reviews. She wanted fic! Fic with Optimus/Ultra and Christmas!
We don't normally do holiday things because of a very simple reason. Tash is an atheist and I'm agnostic. It just isn't our thing, dig?
But we did it for you, Optimus' Girl. We like knowing you want more. We're not working on A Continuous Courting right now, though. We're doing whatever catches our fancy. Which just so happens to be Shockwave or Oil Slick, apparently. Also, Bumblebee with helicopter rotors. That's just how we roll.
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro
On earth, sometime between the time that the leaves fell off of the trees and the first snowfall blanketed the ground, the organic lifeforms went mad with something called 'holiday spirit.' This holiday spirit infected most of the organics and caused them to do rather odd things that involved tremendous amounts of credit spending and a sudden explosion of decorations.
Optimus is still not entirely certain that the 'Santa' figure mentioned so frequently was not a vandal of some sort, as sneaking in to houses via the roof was not exactly an honest way of entering a home.
And he's also not entirely certain why everything suddenly glows with tiny blinky lights in various colors, or why the only trees that remain green in the snow are covered in them as well. Sari has tried to explain it to him several times, but it makes no more sense than her claim of where tiny organic lifeforms come from, because . . . no.
It would be too bizarre and . . . messy for organic sparklings to be created in such a manner.
He vents a sigh and lifts an arm so Sari can wrap a string of blinking lights around it. "This will hinder my ability to transform, Sari."
The techno-organic is perched carefully on a ladder, leaning forward to twist the little wires along his armor seams so they'll stay in place. Her tongue is caught between her teeth, and is released only so she can scold him, "I don't really care about that, Optimus. You're getting decorated like the rest of them, and then we're going to take the best Christmas Picture ever."
He shifts a tiny bit, "I still don't understand why I need to be decorated for a picture. The newspapers were perfectly fine with us posed how we normally are, and you only have on that... Santa hat like you put on Sentinel." It was actually quite amusing to see her set it on the other Prime's headfins while Ultra scolded the arrogant bot into stillness. Sentinel is sulking in the corner of the room, sipping at high-grade brought from Cybertron and glaring at nothing.
She twists more wires on, so it doesn't shift, "I am not made entirely of metal, Optimus. You don't get hurt like I do if I twist a little too hard."
She'd be fine if she went into bot mode, but he's not stupid enough to point that out. He knows that if he does, he'll get even more ridiculous things put on him. Like Bumblebee had happen. Optimus has no interest in a singing and light up angel inbetween his headfins. "If you say so, Sari. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
"Yeah." She takes a big red bow and sticks it on his chest, right between his windshields. "There. Now you're festive."
Ultra Magnus chuckles softly in the background, and Optimus feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Somehow, he is the only bot that has thus far escaped decoration-even Prowl and Jazz have strings of lights draped over their shoulders, and Bulkhead has a big golden star perched on the top of his helm. The jet twins took quite eagerly to the decorating, and have successfully tangled each other up to the point that they can barely hobble around without snapping the light strands.
While Blurr has a delicate glass ornament hanging down from his headfin. The racecarbot has a few other things, but he'd say that the blue mech got off lightest of all the bots decorated. He's a tiny bit jealous of that fact, but Sari seemed to have decided that Blurr's speed shouldn't be hindered.
She gets off of him, and looks around at everyong before going over to Ultra Magnus, "Don't you think you are getting out of this." She holds up a string of lights menacingly, "You're joining the picture, too."
The Magnus looks at her in amusement, "Of course, Sari. Is there anything specific you'd like me to wear?"
She clambers over and climbs up him like he was part of the furniture, and it warms Optimus's spark at how willing Ultra is to let her do that to him. Most larger bots find it insulting, and most Cybertronians dislike organic touches. Ultra Magnus has calmed over the stellar cycles, and more exposure to earth and its organics has softened his rough edges, the ones honed sharp by too many megacycles listening to Sentinel Prime.
"I'm going to paint you," she declares, and pulls out a strange stencil and a wide paint brush that most organics would use to paint a wall. She slaps the stencil against his chest and begins painting, and Ultra Magnus's mouth quirks into a smile.
"I do hope you are not using paint that is too permanent. You might give a few councilbots spark attacks if I go to them with something like these," he glances down at the white, lumpy shapes, "snowmen on my chest."
She snorts, "Just use rubbing alcohol, and it is gone. I'm sure your solvent stuff will work, too. Not a problem."
Ultra nods easily, "Well, if you know I can remove it, then I will not worry." He moves her to another side, "Any other things you want to add?"
She puts on several more snowmen and a few gingerbread men. "Put me up on your guns," she says as she pulls out a spraypaint can, "Gotta make you festive."
Ultra hums agreeably, and Optimus wonders if the Magnus is slightly overcharged, "Of course, Sari. I have no problem with anything you want to do."
She presses down on the top of the can and begins to coat his shoulder cannons and turret mounts with fluffy fake snow that piles up when she sprays more of it, but doesn't get too high before it topples over in a foamy, fluffy mess that sticks to his armor in way that has to feel either terrible or ticklish. Optimus certainly doubts he could tolerate it.
But Ultra doesn't seem bothered by it at all, though his mouth does quirk up in a smile again as Sari works her way across his shoulders, occasionally stopping to shake the can or spray from a different angle.
When she's done, she steps back, looking at her handiwork proudly, "Yeah, now you look almost perfect. Time for the last thing." She pulls out a tiny plant with little white berries, "Put me up on your head."
Ultra hums agreeably, moving her up without disturbing the fake snow, "Is that a special decoration just for this holiday? Because I've heard of a plant you hang on a door called holly."
She snorts, "Yeah, well, this isn't holly, but you do hang it up for what you're thinking."
Optimus blinks, doing a search for hanging plants and holly, but only getting odd information about plant holders.
"I'm not entirely certain I approve of you tying it on me," Ultra says, but he does nothing to stop her from putting the plant on his antennae, arranged on a long metal rod so it dangles out above and in front of him a bit. Ultra's optics cross as he tries to look at it from that angle, and Optimus giggles, biting his lip again, embarrassed by the noise. Perhaps he has had too much high-grade as well, if he is making such noises.
Optimus flushes pink when Ultra glances at him.
Ultra murmurs something too soft to hear, and Sari smirks before nodding and saying, "That is why I put it on you. Just put me down before you do."
The Magnus nods, setting her on the chair, "Then I will go do that. You don't think he'll mind, do you?"
She shrugs, "I don't know. He's him, you'll need to keep that in mind."
Another nod, and Ultra starts walking, "Well, I'll try my best not to mess up your decorations, then."
Optimus stares up at him, and then down into his cube of high-grade, which he takes a sip from. He gets the feeling they're talking about him, and he doesn't want to be the butt of any jokes. Not when he's tipsy with overcharge and wants to maybe curl up under a nice heating blanket for a few megacycles. Even with the blinky lights and the big red bow drawing attention to his sparkplates in a very shameful manner.
His leader walks over to him, just like he thought would happen, and takes his waist, pulling him close, "Well, Optimus, it looks like we have an Earth tradition to uphold."
Ultra's servo is on his aft, squeezing it softly but posessively, and he blushes faintly, "What?" He's not sober enough for this. He really isn't.
Ultra leans forward, optics dim, "We, Optimus," the mech squeezes his aft a little harder, and uses his other servo to hold him closer, "are standing under mistletoe. Do you know what that means?"
"No," he says quietly, shifting a bit as his aft is squeezed again, more deliberately this time, fingers pressing into his hip seams. "What does it mean?"
There's a snort across the room, "It means you have to kiss." Sari grins wide when he glances over at her, optics bright with disbelief. "And technically, you pluck a berry from it until there aren't any more, and then there are no more kisses to be had, but no one does that anymore. So make with the smooches," she waves a hand at him.
Optimus blushes, "I couldn't! It isn't profes-"
Ultra kisses him, glossa shoved in his mouth demandingly, and both servos on his aft, squeezing and rubbing. When the Magnus pulls away, he licks Optimus's lips and hums softly, "Been wanting to do that for quite awhile." His aft is squeezed a little more and Ultra's voice drops into a soft almost inaudible murmur, "How about we head to your berth after the picture, Optimus? Or mine, if you'd prefer. I'm not picky."
Optimus flushes and shakes his head. He's not that kind of bot. He's going to demand a date first, at least. "I . . think we should both wait until we aren't so overcharged before we make decisions that will impact our careers, Ultra Magnus."
"Call me Ultra," the bot murmurs again, rubbing his aft almost possessively. "I do not need to hear my title from you. Not when I have you in my servos like this."
He squirms a little bit, blushing as he hides his face in Ultra's chest, "I just... You shouldn't be doing this, Ultra. We're both ve-"
He's kissed on the head, "We can just recharge on the berth, Optimus. I'm not opposed to that. I will have to demand my berth if we do, though. I've seen your berth. It does not compare to mine."
Optimus shifts in his arms, ignoring the whistling of the ninjabots, trying to spur him on to further lewd acts with the Magnus. "I really don't-" he's cut off by Ultra's glossa in his mouth again, mapping the contours of his glossa and denta, and Optimus whines into the kiss, overcharged systems informing him to shut up and accept Ultra's offer of platonic berth-sharing. "Alright," he pants when he's released.
Ultra tugs him close, optics dim, and looks over to Sari. "Can we get the picture over with? I'd like to take him to my berth."
Sari nods, making shooing motions with her hands at the other bots. "Yes, yes, Everyone in a group. You can do it."
Sentinel grumbles, but moves over along with the rest of the bots, and Sari perches on the arrogant mech's shoulder, patting him softly on the head. The mech sighs softly, "I still don't understand why I have to be in this."
"Because that's what Christmas is about. It's about taking awkward photos and being with the people and robots you care about." She loops an arm around his neck and kisses his cheek, and Sentinel promptly twitches, restraining himself from what would have likely been a very violent reaction to organic 'contamination.' "Merry Christmas, you grumpy bag of bolts."
Sentinel just twitches at that, and manages to mutter, "Merry Christmas," at Ultra's sharp look.
They all gather up in the group, and Sari sets up the camera to take the picture. It is oddly cuddly because of the highgrade flowing from the party, but that isn't a bad thing. When it is over, Ultra loops a arm around Optimus's waist, and murmurs softly into his audios, "Let's head to my berth, shall we?"
"I . . yes. But only for recharge." No matter how much he might enjoy something more. He isn't that kind of bot at all.
Ultra kisses him until he's venting hard, and then pulls back, "Of course. Only recharge. I would not want to take advantage of you just because you were a bit . . overcharged." A servo gropes his aft again, and Optimus flushes. He would hardly call himself that overcharged, though he certainly is tipsy with extra charge.
Ultra pulls him into his arms, and takes him away from the other bots, pressing tiny kisses to his helmet lovingly as they walk. He can feel the crisp air from the winter season, and the snow under his peds. It feels wonderful to be with a bot he admires, and it might be the highgrade talking, but he thinks it couldn't get any better than this.
A Christmas fic! One requested by Optimus' Girl. She wanted it, so she gets it. I realize that you are worried we aren't paying attention, but I read every single review. If I had a way to contact, I'd have sent a reply to it!
That applies to everyone, really!
If you leave me a way to contact you, I'll send a reply to your review. I'll even accept anonymous reviews on my livejournal, since I can just automatically reply to those! My co-writer is also likely to reply there, too!
But, yeah. Christmas fic, woo!