The OTP Quotes challenge! Megarod for 'you’re very warm… It’s nice.'
LOL THIS IS THE BEST PROMPT TBH
They’d arranged themselves sitting side by side in the far corner of the cave, close to but not touching the crystalline wall. Despite his warnings Rodimus had leaned against it, promptly losing the tip of a spoiler which had turned brittle and crumbled as easily as a silicone wafer.
Four cycles down, four more to go.
“You’re very warm… It’s nice.”
Megatron grunted.
“What have you got under the hood, anyway?” Rodimus shivered, pointed shoulder scraping unpleasantly against Megatron’s arm. “I’ve burned through half my tank just keeping my fuel lines from freezing, and you’re still chugging along just fine.”
“I’m not just chugging along. I’m keeping both of us alive,” he snapped. “Show a little gratitude.”
“It’s your fault we’re stuck here so…” Whatever uncharitable thing Rodimus muttered was lost to the howling wind.
Megatron gritted his teeth.
“Standard energon combustion engine, miner class. Rated for crude. Low efficiency, high output.”
Rodimus glanced up, giving him what he supposed was a sympathetic look. “Well. At least you have a ginormous fuel tank.”
Arrogant racer types. Megatron rolled his optics and considered moving away out of spite. “My main engine is supplemented by a twin fusion core. I activated it as soon as we made landfall.”
When he crashed the Rodpod on a frozen gasball, to be precise.
Rodimus’s mouth dropped open with a creak and stayed that way. It was a supremely unattractive expression on a face that, in spite of himself, Megatron had grown fond of beholding.
“No slagging way. You modded your power system?”
Megatron’s optics rolled again, threatening to unmoor themselves from their optics. “No Rodimus, because the responsible thing to do as Decepticon commander was to embrace the limitations of my constructed frame.”
“You could’ve died,” Rodimus said hotly. “Hooking in a second engine is too risky. I knew a racer who tried it, as a performance enhancement thing. Blew out his primary too. He never raced again.”
In the early days of the war, the Autobots had by and large maintained control of the energon supply. Any energon the Decepticons captured went straight to the front lines. He himself had existed in a perpetually half-starved state prior to the modification. Risk hadn’t been much of a consideration at all.
Had it been concern in Rodimus’s voice? He wished to press; he didn’t dare. Discussing the past with Rodimus was a minefield he did not currently have the resources to navigate. Megatron shook his head.
“Perhaps more dangerous for a forged mech.” A fair counterpoint yet not a concession. Unlike Rodimus’s complex, finely-wrought internals his own makings were crude, the tolerances loose and components interchangeable. “In any case, what’s done is done.”
They lapsed into a silence that wasn’t quite peaceful, punctuated as it was by armor-scouring blasts of wind and Rodimus’s chattering teeth, his miserable little sniffles.
There came times in every commander’s life when he would be called upon to make difficult decisions for the greater good. He wrapped an arm around Rodimus’s huddled form and lifted him onto his lap.
Rodimus didn’t have the grace to appear even slightly ashamed at being handled as easily as a sparkling. He sighed and uncurled immediately within the cage of Megatron’s limbs. He gingerly rotated his wrists, wincing as they creaked in protest. Megatron took Rodimus’s hands and sent a surge of power through his own digits, thawing frozen circuits and joints.
Rodimus moaned loudly. The sound reverberated within Megatron’s spark chamber and traveled straight down to his reactor core. His thermal output jumped another 5% of its own volition.
“Oh thank Primus,“ Rodimus was babbling. Cold fingers scrabbled to find purchase in the seams of his abdominal plating, using them as leverage to turn so they were pressed chest to chest. “Wow you’re so hot, feels so nice. Love you Megs. I’ve been wanting to do this for vorns.”
He pointed out that it had been five-point-six cycles since they crashed.
There was no reply. Rodimus was silent except for the soft purr of his engines, operating within acceptable parameters once again. Rodimus’s nose had taken up residence in his neck cables.
Following suit, he offlined his optics and audials. It made it easier to commit to deep memory all of his other sensory inputs clamoring to report novel data including—
Rodimus’s precise weight and shape. The surprising location of his center of mass. The pulse frequency of his vibrant, living spark beating a tattoo against Megatron’s chest plate, an affectionate greeting that his own spark amplified and returned at a lower harmonic.
The force of gravity tethering them both to the rocky ground felt weaker now than it had moments ago. Megatron lowered his head till his chin rested against the top of Rodimus’s helm.
“By the way, it’s still your fault that we’re stuck here,” Rodimus murmured, after a time. “Just wanted to get that on the record for the debrief.”
Feeling too content to rise to the bait, Megatron nevertheless reset his vocalizer to speak. “Noted. Unfortunately, my barometric sensors indicate it will be another four cycles until the ion storm breaks.“
Rodimus sighed and impossibly, burrowed in deeper. “Good. Let them wait.”
