Chapter Text
Incredibly soft lips brushed against his. Megatron had no idea how it had happened, but it had happened. In one quick and glorious moment, he found, it was over. No time to react. No time to reciprocate or push him away. It was one of the quickest kisses of his life, but it left his spark racing. Not one moment later, the engex got the best of him, and he was left with an armful of unconscious Rodimus.
There weren't too many people left in the bar. That was good, he supposed. He had no excuse for the way he was feeling, but a sober Rodimus could blame this whole thing on his drunk self.
Had anyone seen? He'd expect no less than a small army of bots coming after him if they thought for even a second that he was taking advantage of him. If he had been the one to make the move, he would have. But he still wasn't sure how Rodimus had managed to move so fast, or how he had ended up in his lap. Especially with all that engex. How much had he had? He should have kept better watch.
"Rodimus?" Megatron gave him a little shake. He wasn't opposed to carrying him back to his room, but, again, angry mob. Passed out in his arms did not make for a good scene.
Rodimus' helm lolled back, his mouth wide. His chest still expanded with ventilations, so he was fine. Just exhausted. Why hadn't he stopped him before he got to this point? He had mostly come to make sure his co-captain was okay.
This was the third night in a row he had come to Swerve's. Now, Rodimus was known to drink a lot. But not to this point. Not this often. He usually just had enough to make bad decisions and have a viable excuse.
Tonight, he'd excuse the kiss.
"Uh, Megatron?" Swerve called over awkwardly. "I'm about to close up."
"Yes, yes, we were just leaving." Megatron tried shaking him again. Just a little more loudly, he repeated, "Rodimus!" Nothing. Well, it had to be done.
He shifted Rodimus off of his lap and got to his feet. Then he scooped the Prime up in his arms and made a quick dash for the exit, avoiding Swerve. Oh, this looked bad. Hopefully everyone was already back in their hab suites recharging. He just had to get Rodimus back to his, and then they could both forget what happened. It was better this way. He told himself that the whole way back, and his spark felt tighter with every reminder.
When he made it back to Rodimus' room, he realized the hitch in his plan. He had no idea what the pass code to his room was. He stood there for a while, with his arms full of a limp Rodimus, wondering what numbers might have meaning to him. Only knowing one sequence, he regrettably entered "89101." He was, fortunately, wrong. Unfortunately, that meant Rodimus wasn't getting into his room tonight. And there was only one room Megatron had access to.
No sense in dwelling on it. He couldn't just leave him out in the hallway or sprawled on a bench at Swerve's. Besides, after all that engex, he needed a comfortable place to sleep.
He was lucky to not pass anyone in the hall, and even luckier to find that no one was around his room. He could only imagine what would happen if someone saw him take an unconscious Rodimus into his room. No one would care what he'd have to say. And he couldn't fault them for it. He shouldn't have let him get this far.
He would do this right. Lay Rodimus down on the berth, and not get in with him. He had a desk chair to sleep on. That would do. But once he had him lying down, looking more peaceful than he had ever seen him, well... It was tempting to curl his frame around him.
No. Even that would be taking advantage of him. One drunk kiss didn't mean anything. Knowing Rodimus, it had happened only because he was in the closest proximity. And he had been the one to let that happen. To let everyone else leave before them. To isolate Rodimus. He hadn't meant it that way but that was how it had happened. The two of them far closer than was proper to be, in a booth that could hold ten, he had let it happen. He had thought nothing of it when the last of their group had left to recharge. But he should have left then, too. Walked Rodimus home and keep this whole mess from happening. Then he wouldn't be here. Above Rodimus. Fighting with himself to let him sleep.
With a brisk shake to his helm to banish thoughts that he should have nipped in the bud long ago, he tucked his co-captain in. A small smile played at his lips as the covers were pulled up to his neck, and, oh, if that didn't make him more beautiful. No, no, he was going to leave him alone. It didn't matter whether or not he had consent because even if Rodimus wanted any of this Megatron couldn't give it to him.
It was days like this that he was painfully aware of his fate. All of these months aboard the Lost Light were just a tag on to his life. Extra time he had been granted. Impermanent. A temporary state of being. What could he possibly give to Rodimus when he knew that any moment it could all be snatched away? Even if Rodimus had feelings for him-- and how could he? How could he love someone who had slaughtered so many of his friends? Someone who had tried to kill him? Even if he did, it would be selfish to act on them. He had to hurt him now, to keep him from hurting later. That was all Megatron could do. Hurt him.
As much as it made his spark ache, he hoped this had all been the engex. That Rodimus would wake up, disgusted that he was even in Megatron's berth, and they could go back to normal. Where Megatron would yearn from afar, never acting on his feelings. For what could he give him beyond an unhappy ending?
And yet...
Megatron sighed. He tore his tired gaze off of the most beautiful mech he had ever laid optics on, and sat heavily in his desk chair. His helm met his hands in a familiar way. The same way they always met whenever Rodimus took monopoly over his processor.
What was he even doing at Swerve's? It wasn't like he could drink. No matter how much he wished he could lose this night to engex. No matter how many times he'd tried to wash away his feelings. He knew it wouldn't work. He'd down one, then two, and then he would lose count, but never did he feel the alibi of a swimming processor. His tank, on the other hand, reacted to it as it always had. He'd find himself purging or trying to sleep while it would gurgle and bubble.
Megatron tried to settle back into the chair. But no matter how he shifted his shoulders or how he turned his helm, he couldn't find enough comfort to recharge. The floor almost sounded like a nice option at this point. But it was his thoughts that were really keeping him awake. There was only one way to make them rest.
Pulling an empty data pad from a neatly stacked pile, he powered it up. It sat empty, waiting for words. But which words? There were so many... So many and yet none of them were right. After three false starts he sighed and leaned back. This hadn't used to be so hard.
Eventually something came. He didn't really think about it, just wrote from the spark. The kind of poem that would only be seen by his optics. The kind of poem that, once he was satisfied with, he deleted. He just had to get the words out. But even that didn't help. Not completely. This was going to be a long night.
In the end, Megatron resigned himself to getting no sleep. He sat back with his optics out of focus, and maybe they closed once or twice, but never for long enough. He was sure that he would be exhausted when morning came, but as soon as he heard Rodimus stir, he sat bolt upright, energy surging through his frame.
A groan eased out of Rodimus' vents as Megatron decided where he should be looking once his co-captain sat up. He realized too late how creepy it was to be watching Rodimus when blue optics met his. Confusion and, thankfully, a little horror, made them swell wide.
"Did we..."
Megatron didn't even let him finish. "No."
"Oh."
Well, wasn't that a weighted word. There was some relief, sure, but it was dwarfed by the overwhelming disappointment. Frag.
"I'm sorry. You passed out so I brought you here. I can take you back to your room, if you'd like." Megatron kept his gaze on the floor.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd, ugh..." Rodimus held his helm, optics squeezing up tight with pain. "Frag, how much did I have?"
"Enough." Megatron couldn't help but chuckle a bit. He stood and crossed the room to his berth before he could question whether this was a good idea or not. "I can help with the pain, if you'd like."
"Please." Glazed optics opened just a slit.
Megatron sat down on the berth and reached towards Rodimus. He stopped just short of his neck. He was letting himself get pulled in again. But he didn't want to watch Rodimus suffer, not when he could help him. He was just helping him. No one could fault him for that.
"I have to, uh, touch you, for this to work. Is that alright?" It was nothing too intimate, but he still had to know.
"If you can make this go away, you can do whatever you want to me."
Could Rodimus have said anything worse? And could his frame not react this way? It was embarrassing how quickly heat had rushed to his interface array, and it brought a flush to his face that he hoped his co-captain couldn't see. That wasn't what he had meant and even if he had meant it that way there was no way it could happen. A kiss was bad enough. Thinking about this was bad enough. Sitting here, his hand microns from his neck, was bad enough for three lifetimes. And all he had was one. One that he was still managing to hold on to with borrowed time.
Still. There was a helmache to deal with. No turning back now.
With careful fingers, Megatron massaged the wires at the nape of Rodimus' neck. He felt them warm up, felt the energon flow more easily, and was awarded with a relieved sigh. Then he was simultaneously rewarded and punished when Rodimus leaned his back against his chest.
"You never told me you had magic fingers," Rodimus groaned out.
This new position made it hard for his "magic fingers" to get at his neck. He kept going until his wrist ached, and then continued for a while after that. It was only once his hand started cramping up and refused to move how he needed it to, that he stopped and pulled away from Rodimus. Immediately his frame missed the warmth, but he couldn't stay in this fantasy world where they were together and happy. Reality was far too pressing.
"No, please," Rodimus begged, weakly reaching for him as Megatron stood. "It still hurts."
"It still hurts because your fuel levels are so low," Megatron explained. He crossed the room to fetch some energon from his cabinet and handed the cube to Rodimus and didn't sit back down because he knew he might not be able to stop himself if Rodimus tried anything. "Drink, and you'll feel better."
"But you make me feel better now," Rodimus whined.
That was the problem, wasn't it? Megatron wouldn't always be there to take the pain away. The pain that he would leave in his spark.
"I've opened your energon lines. Until you fuel up, that will only do so much." He had meant to nudge only the cube, but accidentally brushed one of Rodimus fingers in the process. "Drink."
Rodimus obeyed, taking a cautious sip. Then he seemed to realize just how thirsty he was, and downed it in a few quick gulps. Holding the empty cube out, he demanded, "More." To his credit, he did add a "please" before Megatron handed him his second cube.
"Take small sips," Megatron said before he relinquished the cube. "Two is plenty."
Why did his spark have to swell every time their fingers so much as touched?
"Can you still..." Rodimus' hand went to his neck. "Can you do that thing again? It felt really nice..."
He shouldn't. He wouldn't. His processor screamed at him while his frame moved as though they were two completely different entities. But the processor that knew that this was a bad idea, that continuing to stay around the Prime in general would only lead to his undoing, was very much a part of the same bot whose hands still reached for him. His mind could not plead innocent while his frame was held guilty. He was in control. Though he had never felt more out of control in his life.
This time, though, he arranged them so that Rodimus could not fall back on him. He wanted to be in control of what parts of them touched. So that this contact point was their only contact point. But Rodimus would always find a way to break the rules.
Megatron flinched when the hand he had left on the berth felt the touch of another. A smaller, more delicate hand. It didn't do much. It just sat there, touching its mate.
No, no, not its mate. Which gave it no reason to be there. Megatron should move his. He willed it to move. He could join it with the one on Rodimus' neck. That was plausible enough. True, it would only get in the way of the one that was hard at work, but it would be worth it to not give Rodimus the wrong, or perhaps very right, idea.
Should. He should move it. It was the first of many shoulds that he was sure to ignore. He could ignore the wants, though. Like the want to turn his hand over and interlace their fingers. The want to pull Rodimus against his chest, to kiss at his audial flares. To have Rodimus kiss him again, this time sober, and this time, he would reciprocate. The want to do more. To see where the kiss would lead. To surrender to his more base instincts and rid himself of the pressure--
No! Whatever happened, he couldn't do that. He just... no.
He left Rodimus' hand where it lay. He pretended to not notice it as he continued to work away at the kinks in his hoses. It became harder to do so when Rodimus' pinky started to make small circles on the back of his hand. The touch made his spark swell and he hadn't noticed that he had stopped moving his hand. Had stopped ventilating, even, until Rodimus turned his helm.
"Megs? You okay?" The pinky had stopped. Rodimus' neck had curved under his hand and his optics had found Megatron's face.
"Megatron," he said sternly. "My name is Megatron."
"Sorry. Megatron." Rodimus shifted so he was facing his co-captain. "I feel a lot better now, thanks to you. Sorry I caused you so much trouble."
He grunted in response.
"Megs, uh, Megatron..."
He waited for Rodimus to go on, but when he didn't, he turned to look at him, and found Rodimus much closer than he had anticipated. Too close. There wasn't enough space between them. And then there was no space between them. Those soft lips fell upon his again. Young and full of life up against old and scarred. Without a drop of engex in either of their tanks.