No you don't understand I need the angst but I don't have TIME to write it so here we go (fighting the urge to write a full fic of these fools) --- Megatron watched as the dim light from Rodimus’s quarters spilled across the berth, illuminating his body and making the warm tones of his plating seem to flicker, as though fire itself lived beneath the metal. He didn’t know why he had done it. Perhaps it was pity; seeing him like that at Swerve’s: dead drunk, the sharp scent of overly sweet engex clinging to his vents, helm slumped against the counter, optics dark and unseeing. Megatron released a heavy sigh. Without allowing himself time to reconsider, he had lifted him effortlessly and carried him back to his quarters. Rodimus had muttered something incoherent but offered little resistance. Megatron still couldn’t explain his own actions. He shouldn’t have cared. He shouldn’t have picked him up. He certainly shouldn’t have noticed the warmth radiating from Rodimus’s smaller frame pressed against his own, nor the faint rumble of his engine, nor the flush coloring his cheeks from the engex. And he definitely shouldn’t still be here; sitting on the edge of Rodimus’s berth. Yet here he was. “What are you doing here…?” Rodimus’s voice came out soft and unfocused as he squinted up at him, two dim blue optics glowing lazily in the darkness. “The bar was closing.” Megatron replied simply, his tone colder than he intended. Rodimus let out a quiet chuckle, unsteady with intoxication. Megatron said nothing more. “Yeah… right.” The words carried amused disbelief, his laughter fading into a soft breath. Megatron realized he could not remember ever studying Rodimus this closely; never truly noticing the sharp lines of his helm, or the way those thin dermas curved into that infuriating smile. So irritating. So impossibly distracting. “You just couldn’t wait to be alone with me, huh?” Megatron wasn’t certain whether Rodimus meant it or if the words slipped free only because of the engex. He should have ignored the comment. He didn’t. The words settled stubbornly in his processors. “I don’t-” “It’s okay.” Rodimus murmured, the protest dissolving into a sleepy sigh. His optics closed briefly before lifting toward Megatron again. “If you pretend to care about me a little longer… you can stay here tonight.” His optics dimmed once more, accompanied by the soft purr of his engine. Megatron’s vents stilled for a moment, as if the vulnerability in those words had struck him directly. He knew this was the perfect moment to leave. To walk out that door and pretend none of this had ever happened, certain that Rodimus would likely remember nothing by the next cycle. And instead, he did something incredibly foolish. He stayed. Not only did he allow his presence to linger in the quiet air of the room, but slowly -almost as if drawn by an unseen force- he lifted one large servo and placed it gently against Rodimus’s cheek. Rodimus’s optics flickered to life again, surprise briefly cutting through the haze of engex clouding them. His dermas parted, yet he made no attempt to pull away. Instead, his own servo rose sluggishly, coming to rest over Megatron’s. Then the blue light dimmed once more, depriving Megatron of that fleeting glimpse of sky. Rodimus turned his helm slightly into the enormous servo, his soft exhale fogging the dark metal. Everything about this situation was dangerously wrong. And yet Megatron could not break the contact. The warmth of Rodimus’s faceplate against his palm felt… perfect. Right. Precisely the warmth he had always searched for without realizing it. Megatron knew what this was. Fate’s cruel way of demanding atonement for sins too great to erase. Yet as he leaned closer over Rodimus, none of that seemed to matter anymore. Only the faint blue glow illuminating his face. Only the absence of bravado and sarcasm, stripped away to reveal something achingly lonely beneath. Only Rodimus’s dermas; close enough now that claiming them felt like the only absolution left to him.
