#megarodweek2022

[heliopauseentertainments]

What's Been Done

Prompt: Day 4 - Regret / Forgiveness

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Rodimus & Megatron

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Summary: In which Megatron asks Rodimus if he’s forgiven him for murdering Hot Rod.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut

The burning light of the datapad cast Rodimus in a blue glow as he played whatever idle game it was. Megatron had no idea which one it was this time. He didn’t keep track, for his own sanity.

Rodimus often stayed up late playing them until his mind finally quieted down enough to let him recharge.

That was fine.

Megatron usually just drifted off to recharge, content in the warmth of his partner’s company.

Nothing was official.

Their legal relationship was “roommates,” but here in a universe where the highest ranking Cybertronians were both on this padded recharge slab, that was official enough. It was an argument they had already had with Ultra Magnus and one that Megatron had zero interest in having again.

Tonight, unfortunately, Megatron found himself unable to recharge.

If he squinted his optics just enough to let colors become malleable suggestions, the bright blue light from the screen reminded him of the white-hot glow that haloed a purple blast from a fusion cannon.

Which reminded him of many things, but looking at Rodimus, it reminded him of one thing in particular, one thing that after joining the Lost Light and getting to know Rodimus, had never quite sat well with him.

“This may seem… a strange question,” Megatron started, softly.

Megatron didn’t often start a conversation apropos of nothing. That was something he tended to leave to Rodimus. Spontaneity tended to be his department, whereas Megatron’s job, in concert with the rest of the command staff, was to reign that boundless chaos in as safely as possible.

Rodimus stirred slightly in his cocoon of stolen tarpaulins, elbows moving up and down as he furiously tapped the datapad.

He abruptly stopped tapping.

A quiet smile of victory spread across his face, as he succeeded in… whatever the object of the game was. If it had been earlier in the day, Rodimus would no doubt have whooped and cheered, but he seemed to have not heard Megatron talking to him.

He probably didn’t even know Megatron was still awake and didn’t want to bother him by being too loud. It was oddly considerate.

Or maybe it wasn’t “odd.” Now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall Rodimus waking him up while playing one of these late into the recharge cycle, not unless he was finally settling down and trying to wriggle under an arm to cuddle. That was never a bad thing to be woken up for.

The datapad vibrated with a low buzz and Rodimus quickly went back to rapidly tapping on the screen.

“Rodimus,” he tried again.

Rodimus swore at the datapad, giving up the manic tapping like something had gone wrong.

“Rodimus.” Again, louder.

“Hm?” Finally, Rodimus seemed to realize Megatron was trying to get his attention. He must have been so focused on that game that the outside world had ceased momentarily to exist.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Shoulders slumped under the tarpaulins, he looked appropriately apologetic. “Sorry, babe. Go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I’ve been awake.”

“Oh, damn, my bad—“

Megatron shushed him, gently patting the bundle of tarpaulins containing Rodimus.

“No, it’s not you.” Or rather, it wasn’t Rodimus’s fault. That was separate.

“I’ve just been….” He hesitated. “Thinking.”

Rodimus narrowed his optics, leaning away defensively. If he weren’t careful, he could topple backwards right off the recharge slab and onto the floor.

“Look, I didn’t steal the blankets on purpose—“

“Yes, you did, but it’s not about that.” That was an everyday sort of theft that Megatron had just become accustomed to. That was the price—or one of them anyway—of sharing a berth with Rodimus.

Megatron took a deep ventilation before rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around the entire bundle of blankets. The warm weight of someone nearby that he could trust was a comfort all on its own, a comfort he had long thought he would never have, not after a lifetime spent in a constant state of mostly justifiable paranoia.

“Have you ever forgiven me for the death of Hot Rod?”

Silence stretched out between them for several moments, Rodimus visibly rolling the notion around in his processor, letting the idea itself sink in. Megatron had never known the true extent of how Rodimus had come to terms—or if he even had—with what had happened to him back then.

“That’s… kind of a big question for the small hours of the night, babe.”

Rodimus wasn’t wrong.

“It is, yes.”

The tarpaulins shifted like Rodimus shrugged underneath them, the gesture somewhat muted by the thick mesh.

“I… don’t know that’s really a question I can even answer. It feels kind of like it’s slightly to the left of how I think about it, you know?”

Megatron looked up from where he had his nose buried in the warmth of Rodimus’s side, one optical ridge raised.

It wasn’t as though he had expected to be forgiven, but he had expected something a little more direct than this.

“I mean, yeah, Hot Rod died. I died. But I got better, didn’t I?”

Rodimus continued, looking down at Megatron and vaguely moving his hands, which were free and unencumbered by the blankets.

“Sure, like I’m not mad at you now about it or anything and there was a war on back then, but… look, it’s… it’s complicated.”

Megatron sighed, squeezing the bundle in his arm apologetically before letting go.

“It was not my place to ask—“

He pushed himself up on his arm to roll back over only for Rodimus to grab him by the shoulder with both hands.

“No, that’s—that’s not what I mean.”

It wasn’t often that Rodimus was still.

His focal rings were rotating slowly clockwise in his optics, a sure sign of health and calm mood. Quick rotational speeds were telltale signals of stress or overcharge. Anticlockwise could mean a broken or absent ratchet wheel.

Megatron normally didn’t get the opportunity to notice those sorts of fine details, to marvel at all the little beautiful nuances of life, since Rodimus tended to be in constant motion.

To think that at one time, lost so deep in his hatred, he had almost destroyed something so precious. By some mercy of fate, it was the one time he had failed.

“Look, it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t tell you, okay?” Rodimus gripped Megatron’s shoulder tightly. He could pull away if he had really wanted to, breaking Rodimus’s hold would be easy, but instead he remained motionless. “I used to have nightmares about it. All the time. I had nightmares for years, ever since I woke up with the Matrix, even up until Optimus assigned you here. I was scared and I was mad.”

Nightmares.

Of course.

Megatron should have expected that.

Having your identity violently destroyed would leave a psychological mark. And like anyone who had grown up in an environment where visible weakness could get you killed, Rodimus had hidden it.

No one had ever mentioned it… or those that had known had the decency to keep it quiet.

He stayed quiet to avoid interrupting Rodimus.

“I used to wake up screaming all the time. I used to have Drift keep me company when he was around.” And Drift, even if he had been furious, would have never told a soul. “That helped, but… then I kicked him off the ship to cover my own aft and then you showed up and reminded me every day and it was hard.”

Megatron hadn’t intended to further Rodimus’s harm by simply existing around him, but intentions didn’t matter.

He also hadn’t intended for the Matrix to activate and reformat anyone. Further proof that intentions counted for nothing.

Yet, despite everything, Rodimus had eventually let Megatron into his life.

“I don’t know if I forgive you. I don’t know if I can or if the concept even applies, but I do know that I don’t have nightmares about it anymore.”

Rodimus released his death grip on Megatron’s shoulder, just letting his hands on lie flat on the plating instead.

It was conflicting to regret an act of violence that had seemed so rational at the time… but without it, would they have ever been here?

Megatron looked up at Rodimus without judgment, passively waiting and wondering.

“I’m not mad anymore and I’m not scared of you.”

Would another path have brought them here, he wondered? To share quarters and warmth? To Rodimus having a floor free of discarded trash because Megatron wouldn’t abide a mess?

Megatron didn’t like to think that having caused pain was necessary to reach the present—that seemed dismissive of the suffering and gratuitous violence—but he couldn’t quite untangle the two either.

Maybe he didn’t have to.

Rodimus shrugged again.

“If that’s not forgiveness, I… guess maybe I don’t know what is, but it’s okay now. It’s okay now.”

“It’s okay now,” Megatron echoed automatically, pulling Rodimus into a tight hug, blankets and all.

[heroicn0nsense]

I'm leveling up my marker game, so have some WIP posts for a piece I'm working on for MegaRodWeek.

[heliopauseentertainments]

Bridge Visit

Prompt: Day 2 - Vigilance / Rest

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Rodimus & Megatron

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Summary: In which Rodimus pops by the bridge on night shift.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut

On one hand, having a robust command staff meant there was almost always someone on the bridge to keep operations running smoothly.

On the other hand, Rodimus wished Megatron wouldn’t have picked night shift.

It was that much harder to see Megatron since the big guy usually slept in the afternoon while Rodimus was in command.

That made getting his regular dose of cuddles and attention more difficult than it really needed to be. It had been tricky before they’d moved in together but sharing the same living space hadn’t solved the scheduling problem.

Tonight, however, Rodimus was steadfastly trying to avoid his own recharge cycle until the morning, rather than waiting until the tail-end of the night like he usually did.

For good reason, in his own not-so-humble opinion.

Rodimus stopped in front of the door to the bridge, covering a yawn with his hand.

He wanted to surprise Megatron on shift by visiting.

And by being in the way.

Not that there was much to be in the way of when there was a skeleton crew to avoid collisions and rouse the ship in an emergency.

Maybe he’d be allowed to nap in the office… or on Megatron’s lap.

Probably not his lap. Rodimus felt certain that would get the veto of “inappropriate workplace behavior.”

At least Megatron wouldn’t write him up for it like Magnus would.

A captain shouldn’t be getting written up on his own ship.

That was ridiculous.

Rodimus slapped the access panel, missing entirely and just high-fiving the wall next to the door like a genius.

“Speedrun strats,” he said, to no one.

Another attempt hit the mark, the door to the bridge sliding open.

Crankcase, seated at the main navigation controls, glanced back for a second at the sound of the door before silently returning to his work. Crosscut, at the communication console, didn’t even acknowledge him.

However, Megatron, stationed in the coveted “captain’s chair” that they had more than occasionally bickered over, hadn’t acknowledged him yet. He was slumped forward in his chair, snoring like an engine with a broken fan-belt.

A smile stretched across Rodimus’s face as he tiptoed his way to his partner’s side, arms dramatically out, enhancing his already supreme stealth.

Although the thought of waking him up and joking about Megatron sleeping on the job was quite tempting, Rodimus supposed he could watch the bridge for a bit.

[heliopauseentertainments]

Lights Out

Prompt: Day 7 - Free Day/AU

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Rodimus/Megatron

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content, Sensory Deprivation, Foreplay Gone Poorly (for comedic effect)

Summary: In which Rodimus suggests something a little different.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

"Are you sure you want the lights off?"

A little late to for Megatron to ask that now, given that the room was already dark, Rodimus thought. They had flicked off the lights and had even covered the porthole windows with thick mesh to prevent the intrusion of starlight.

"Absolutely!" Rodimus clapped his hands together, even though he unable to be sure that he wouldn't accidentally smack an unlucky, unseen item between his palms.

"I'm not sure what you're hoping to achieve by this exactly."

All that was visible was the red glow of optics and biolights from where Megatron was seated on the floor. Rodimus had already put blackout tape over his own biolights. Now he just had to apply the tape to his partner, and then they would be ready for fun.

Optics could be turned off when they were actually starting, but the tape was to prevent cheating.

Sure, they could have used blindfolds as well, but this time they had agreed to try without them, using the honor system.

"Overload, obviously."

Duh.

Rodimus shrugged as he unrolled the blackout tape, even though Megatron couldn’t see him like this.

"Yes, but once I find you, that really takes away the challenge, don't you think?” Megatron was such a downer sometimes. “At that point, it just becomes regular lovemaking with our optics off. We could have done that at home."

"It's called 'foreplay.' Look it up.” He sighed. “Also, stop calling it ‘lovemaking.’ That sounds so… cringe. Very unsexy."

And by that point, their arrays with their own bright biolights would be visible anyway. Neither of them were keen to put the blackout tape over such delicate parts of their anatomy. Part of the trick would be keeping panels covered until just the right time.

"You know that I know very well what 'foreplay' is.” True, but not the point that Rodimus had been making. “Besides, I'll still be able to hear you."

"Sure, you will, buddy. Sure, you will."

Rodimus had made the conscious decision to not tell Megatron that he knew about his damaged hearing. He wouldn't mention it and Megatron had yet to mention Rodimus’s own struggles with other things, like keeping on top of his calendar and reports. Rodimus’s relationship with linear time was love-hate at best. In his opinion, their mutual silence on the matter constituted a fair trade.

The odds of Megatron precisely tracking his motions through sound alone were slim. Besides, there was also plenty of furniture still in the habsuite. All sorts of places for sound to bounce off, all sorts of places to hide.

And plenty of random stuff to trip on that they purposefully hadn’t cleared away. An entirely empty room wouldn’t be much of a challenge.

It would be fine, he thought, crossing over to where Megatron waited on the floor.

If anyone tripped, it'd probably be the big guy, which would be fine. He was hard to break. Part of the appeal, really.

"Rodimus, this seems silly."

"It's supposed to be erotic," he answered, pulling the free end of the roll of blackout tape which had managed to stick to itself in the dark when Rodimus hadn’t been minding it.

Besides, in addition to the hoped for eroticism, the dark itself added a fun little sense of danger. Rodimus could pretend he was being chased by a big scary monster. That was always entertaining, especially when he had the best monster he could have hoped for right here, being incredibly well-behaved and patient.

Rodimus ripped off a piece with his teeth and stuck it over the large biolight on Megatron's forearm. With each new piece of the tape in place, the outlines of their frames in the dim glow of biolights and optics began to truly disappear.

"I'm well aware of what it's supposed to be—"

"Though I have to admit, big guy, the backsass is not erotic."

"What a fine accusation from you—"

Rodimus slapped a hand over where he thought Megatron's mouth was, loudly shushing him. Luckily, he mostly got a mouth, but also a bit of nose.

"Not helping, okay? The put downs? Yeah, those aren't sexy. I know you like that kind of thing, but that’s not my jam."

Words like that wreaked havoc on his self-esteem in a way that someone with a mountain of self-confidence like Megatron could just shrug off.

When Rodimus didn't receive an answer, he realized he was still covering Megatron's mouth.

"Oopsie.”

He pulled his hand away, secretly grateful that he hadn't been bitten. Not that he really thought Megatron would bite him out of nowhere, not unless asked.

“So, yeah. We clear on the rules?"

"Understood. Now may we continue?"

"Almost. You still need more tape." Trying not to think about just how much isopropyl alcohol they'd need to dissolve the adhesive later, he went back to slapping tape over every light he could see. "Why do you have such huge biolights anyway? You're using all my tape, you bastard."

The rumble of a heavy, industrial engine turning over in intrigue was his only answer.

"Alright, alright, just keep it behind your panels until you catch me."

--

With their optics off, every sound was so much louder, so much sharper.

From his current hiding place against the side of a cabinet, Rodimus could hear Megatron methodically poking about the room on his knees like an old mech who had lost his corrective lenses.

Unfortunately, Rodimus had expected the search to be less… mechanical and more on intuition. It wasn't as much fun if Megatron wasn't making wild guesses and missteps in the dark. This was less erotic than he had hoped.

Perhaps some… incentive to take risks would be necessary.

Rodimus pulled a light-pen out of his subspace and tossed it across the room where it clattered on the floor.

The tense silence afterward was heavy, as though Megatron were calculating. It too behooved Megatron to be as quiet as possible to sneak up on Rodimus, but given his weight there was a limit to how much he could negate the sound of movement. Remaining still was likely his best weapon.

Rodimus’s spark spun at the thought that perhaps he had just given his position away, rather than creating a diversion. What if at any moment now Megatron realized that Rodimus must have been on the opposite side of the room from the sound? Any second now hands might emerge from the dark and seize him.

Well, being caught was the idea but not quite this soon.

He clambered slowly up the side of the cabinet, trying to pull himself on top of it. He took special care to be as quiet as possible, trying to keep his plating from scraping against the cabinet's surface.

It was tricky to find each handhold with his optics off, feeling around slowly. No wonder this was taking Megatron forever.

If Rodimus was lucky, getting on top of the cabinet would put him up high, well out of Megatron’s potential reach.

Just as long as Megatron remained on his knees, methodically searching the room. If he stood up, Rodimus would need a new plan.

Unfortunately, right as Rodimus finally hauled his weight up onto the top of the cabinet, the entire structure shuddered, rattling loudly against the wall and shattering the fragile silence.

Dammit.

Fear and thrill bloomed simultaneously in his spark.

Across the room, he heard the scraping of heavy armor shifting and growing louder. Megatron was closing in on him.

His only option now was to run for it lest Megatron swipe him clean off the cabinet.

As the sound of his “hunter” approaching came nearer, Rodimus leaped off the cabinet in the direction of the noise, intending to vault right over Megatron. He would be forced to turn around to resume the chase, buying Rodimus more time to think of a better backup plan.

Thoughts of flawlessly sailing right over his lover’s head in the dark evaporated right as he collided hips-first into a massive shoulder, folding forward to dangle against Megatron’s back with his arm hooked around the tank barrel.

Rodimus groaned in defeat, the sense of thrill in his spark now thoroughly extinguished.

“… Best two out of three?”

[heliopauseentertainments]

Allegedly Written In The Stars

Prompt: Day 6 - Sun/Moon

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Rodimus/Megatron

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Summary: In which Megatron is tormented by Rodimus grossly misunderstanding horoscopes and astrology.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

              There was a crackling noise overhead, the public announcement system rousing Megatron from recharge.

However, he found that, oddly, he couldn’t see the ceiling, painted in a starscape. The quilted tarpaulins had been carelessly shoved over his face at some point in during the recharge cycle by Rodimus. While Rodimus was a restless sleeper, he tended to steal the covers, not forcibly distribute them.

That led him to the obvious conclusion that Rodimus had vacated the berth. Early.

Rodimus had gotten up early.

Before he could confirm his suspicions by reaching for abandoned recharge cables next to him, the voice over the PA did that for him.

Rodimus’s voice, eager and altogether too cheery for this hour of the morning, echoed from the ship’s speakers in the dark of their habsuite.

“Good morning, crew! This is your sun captain speaking—“ What? “—with your fortunes for the day.”

What?

No, Megatron thought as he yanked the tarpaulins down from his face, this was some bizarre dream, likely influenced by some innocuous thing he had heard but not actively recalled the other day.

He would simply turn his optics back off, ignore it, and wake up with this all blissfully forgotten, preferably with Rodimus recharging nearby as expected.

Unfortunately, as the universe, no matter which one he was in, seemed to delight in either proving Megatron wrong or otherwise aggravating him.

Rodimus’s voice continued over the speakers.

“Those who were forged or—sorry, created under the sign of Amalgamous will encounter difficulty today with… uh… immutable shapes, but it’s otherwise a good day for triple-changers.”

What utter nonsense.

There weren’t even any triple-changers onboard the Lost Light.

Megatron had never bothered to understand the pattern or associated meanings because, in his opinion, none of it mattered.

Astrology was a pointless exercise is finding patterns where they didn’t exist and trying to exert some measure of control and understanding over an uncaring multiverse. The “art” and its kin predated modern Cybertronian knowledge of how celestial bodies moved but had kept on in some religious sects and the popular imagination.

The only reason Megatron knew as little as he did about the dominant astrological tradition on their homeworld, which was admittedly very little, was that Starscream had a very blessedly brief phase midway through the war where he had become obsessed with the stars associated with the Thirteen.

These stars were allegedly the brightest that could be seen from Cybertron on a dark night without light pollution. One, amusingly enough, was their system’s sun, despite being obligatorily not seen at night.

Starscream, being Starscream, had refused to shut up about it for two entire months. He was lucky that he had lost interest in trying to predict the course of battle by the stars before Megatron had been fed up enough to seriously debate throttling him.

By that point, the war itself had already been flung amongst the stars, making it impossible to consistently “read” the familiar sky anyway.

“If you were created under the sign of Prima, maybe avoid seeking revenge on me today. That would be awesome.”

Who had Rodimus upset this time? That was a very pointed “prophetic” recommendation.

Over the course of the next ten minutes that could have been spent more productively, Rodimus continued giving vague and clearly lazily contrived pronouncements for the crew, going through each of the signs of the original thirteen Primes.

Of course, minus the two that were not talked about, functionally leaving only eleven. Starscream had taken to accusing him to being created under the auspices of one of the unspoken ones and that had been allegedly why he was so “naturally hostile.”

All the while Rodimus read out horoscopes for the crew, derived from Primus knew what, Megatron laid on the recharge slab, covered still in a tangle of neglected tarpaulins, silently letting the absurdity of the entire situation wash over him.

“If you were created under the sign of Solus—like me—then today is going to rock, because absolutely no one is going to get revenge on you today.”

This was just an asinine dream, his processor punishing him for something. Rodimus had never so much as mentioned astrology to him. His mind was just taking one of Starscream’s dreadful former hobbies and supplanting it onto his current partner to torment him.

Megatron rolled over on the recharge slab, checking that his cables were still securely plugged in. Going back to sleep was the only solution.

“Moon captain, if you can hear me, wake up and come to the bridge because I need you to prevent some revenge.”

Given there was only one other captain on the ship, he could only presume that this dream-based Rodimus meant him.

Megatron was not going to obey some disembodied dream voice. He didn’t even need to be up for hours yet. He grumbled meaningless noises of displeasure.

The commlink in his wrist began to ring, just to prove him wrong.

“Rodimus, it’s middle of the night.” As far as shifts and clocks went anyway, given that “day” and “night” were nebulous concepts of convenience when in space. “I’m going back to sleep—“

“Okay, but can you do that after you stop Ultra Magnus from lecturing me about reorganizing his files by color?”

With that missing piece to fill the gaps, the full situation became immediately clear to him.

Rodimus had pulled a prank on Ultra Magnus, realized afterward that would lead to a lecture because he couldn’t remember how to put the files back the way they had been before, and thus hastily devised a scheme to discourage Ultra Magnus from pursuing that lecture.

That would be explain the inexpertly and pointedly generated horoscopes, despite the fact they were in a different universe with vastly different stars.

Clever, if not for the fact that it wouldn’t work.

This was, unfortunately, not a dream, but the regularly scheduled fallout of a life with Rodimus.

[heliopauseentertainments]

Straightforward Choices

Prompt: Day 3 - Cooperation/Disagreement

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Rodimus & Megatron

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Warnings: N/A

Summary: In which Megatron tries to get Rodimus to make a simple decision.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth | Pillowfort

Fic under cut

“Why must everything with you be such an ordeal, Rodimus?”

Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning forward on his arm, elbow propped up on the table in the shared captains’ office.

“It wouldn’t be if you weren’t so obstinate!”

Rodimus waved his arms overhead, a dramatic gesture.

Every single day on this ship was like this, even after all these years, after all they’d been through, after defying fate and escaping, just to stay together.

“How is it obstinate to simply ask you to decide what flavor of fuel you want for lunch?”

Actual command decisions were generally not this fraught any more, not after they had learned to adapt to each other’s command style.

However, mundane, personal decisions remained… challenging.

“There’s too many choices!”

The usual complaint, despite the fact that “flavors” were really whatever they had been able to synthesize from raw materials. Unless one wanted plain fuel, which Megatron preferred.

Simple.

All he needed to submit the order was whatever Rodimus wanted to eat.

“You get the exact same thing from the commissary every single day!”

And he argued about it every single day too.

“What if I don’t want copper filings today?” Rodimus slapped his palms down on the table. “Did you even think about that?”

“No.” Megatron sighed, turning off his optics so he could at least spare himself watching the same spectacle of a tantrum for the umpteenth time this month. “Because that’s not my problem. I don’t dictate what’s available on the menu.”

The poor hapless menu laid askew on the table in front of Rodimus, snubbed as though it had offended the speedster on purpose.

Megatron could hear Rodimus harrumphing and the scrape of plating as his colleague crossed his arms in petulant defiance.

Another deep ventilation, in and out.

“Just like yesterday and the day before that.”

“Fine!” At last. “I’ll have… hm….” Megatron onlined his optics once more to see Rodimus idly poking at the menu, scrolling around it to see if anything caught his eye, as though he were heavily weighing each option. “Hm.”

Any second now.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll have the copper filings again. That’s always solid—Hey! What gives?”

Megatron reached across the table and snatched the datapad holding the menu from Rodimus’s grasp, submitting the order before his colleague could change his mind.

“I didn’t pick an appetizer yet!”

“You never order an appetizer!”

[heliopauseentertainments]

Preferred Provider

Prompt: Day 1 - War/Healing

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Rodimus & Megatron

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Warnings: Medical procedures, mild injuries

Summary: In which Megatron fixes Rodimus up after a hoverboarding accident.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth | Pillowfort

Fic under cut

“Why didn’t you go to Ratchet?” Megatron asked, slowly and deliberately welding a piece of Rodimus’s arm armor back on now that it was free of dents.

It had been simple enough to fix the damage, Megatron thought, having by now patched up worse injuries than dented plating from a hoverboard accident. Rodimus really shouldn’t have given in to Tailgate’s dare to do a “sick kickflip” that had launched him right into the ceiling.

Then again, Megatron doubted Rodimus would have been capable of refusing.

While his colleague had grown more forward-thinking over the years, Megatron couldn’t imagine Rodimus without his trademark impulsive decisions.

Rodimus shrugged, jerking his arm inadvertently. The welding gun jumped as a result, scorching along a tender seam before Megatron could flick off the tool.

A black patch of soot marred the shiny red paint underneath.

“Ow!”

“I told you not to move,” Megatron said, putting the welding gun aside. While not as thorough of an attachment as he would have liked, that join would just have to do until the next time.

Rodimus hissed, blatantly ignoring the reproach as he rubbed his other hand over the scorch mark. The rubbing smeared the soot, broadening the mess. The clear top coat would protect the finish underneath from damage but the streaks were still unsightly.

This sort of thing happened nearly every time Rodimus sought out Megatron’s assistance with repairs, an unfortunately frequent occurrence. He was terrible at keeping still. It was almost as though he were fatally allergic to it.

“Stop. You’re just making it worse for yourself.”

With a sigh, Megatron grabbed a cloth, one of several that had been sacrificed at the altar of hygiene when fixing squirrelly patients like Rodimus, and began gently wiping at the patch of soot from the scorch, spread far larger than necessary thanks to Rodimus’s fidgeting.

In a few moments, the dirt was gone and the plating he’d so carefully repaired shone bright again. The red had always been such a beautiful color. It suited Rodimus, even if he was a walking accident looking for a place to happen.

“You never answered me.” Which had probably been entirely intentional.

“I don’t know. Same day treatment? No referrals?” Rodimus shrugged again, now in no danger since the welding gun was no longer actively being used. He flashed a broad, gleaming grin. “Maybe I’m just a sucker for personalized healthcare.”