A tired Rung sneaks into Megatron’s room and crawls up to sleep in his berth with him.

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

Megatron’s tension melts away as he spots Rung, helping him up into his arms with a warm smile. Leaning back, his optics don’t leave the orange mech, the back of his claw reverently brushing over the glass of Rung’s chest.

“I can’t say how wonderful it is to see you like this again, Rung…”

“Ah, heh. I’m glad then to hear they’re doing well… Mmm…” Megatron hummed happily as they kissed, his smile decidedly lovestruck as they parted. What a lovely night this was turning out to be.

The poem’s imagery was peaceful and soothing, and when he closed his optics he could see it all dancing there. “Lovely… made infinitely lovelier by your voice. Whose is this? I may know them.”

“It’s actually Rodimus.” Rung explained fondly. “He’s always needed help with his speeches so I could tell. If I’m not mistaken, he wrote it about a mech he had a crush on.”

There was a soft sigh from him and he shakes his head a little. Pressing the book into Megatron’s hands, he cuddles close and grins. “Your turn.”

“Speeches… He’s the captain, then?” Ah he could tell it was love poetry. That tone translated in every language, no matter the skill level. When Rung hands him the book his optics widen minutely, but he chuckles and lays his free hand over his dear companion’s back, a gentle blanket. “Of course.” Flipping to a random page, Megatron reads it over quickly before reading it aloud.

“Face by face, voice by voice, servo by servo raised to greet or strike or surrender. Thousands, millions. I’ve frames enough to paper the sky and half of them are you. What a beautiful sky it is.” Megatron pauses, holding Rung closer. “I can draw your face in my sleep, hear your voice there too. Your servo is always open for me to grasp. There will always be more to record, but you will always be my muse.”

“Whoever wrote this has been with their partner for some time. Touching.”

A tired Rung sneaks into Megatron’s room and crawls up to sleep in his berth with him.

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

Megatron’s tension melts away as he spots Rung, helping him up into his arms with a warm smile. Leaning back, his optics don’t leave the orange mech, the back of his claw reverently brushing over the glass of Rung’s chest.

“I can’t say how wonderful it is to see you like this again, Rung…”

“I’ve missed you. And I brought something…” Rung smiles as he holds up a book of poetry. It looks new with some unknown author. “it’s recently published. Rodimus got together some of the mech’s on the Lost Light and had them all write something. They’re selling copies and the proceeds are to help rebuild cybertron.”

He doesn’t recognize the name, but he knows the Lost Light. The one from his own universe, and from Rung’s.

“I quite like collaborative work, thank you! If our shanix translate across the universe, I’d gladly take a few more… Would you do me the honor of reading an excerpt for me? Or shall we save that for a night when you are not as sorely in need of recharge?” Megatron had seen those dimmed optics, Rung’s slowed movement as he helped him climb.

“I am amenable to either, so long as I can keep holding you close.”

“I’m fairly certain it does translate. I would have to get in contact with the mech doing the publishing though. It’s fairly popular despite the fact that most other races aren’t too keen on Cybertronians. I think they find it fascinating that such a ‘barbaric war like race’ could make poetry.” Rung snorted and opened the book, finding a passage he rather liked. Kissing Megatron briefly, he made himself comfortable. “And I can sleep in a little bit.”

Clearing his vocalizer, he stroked his thumb across the print, recognizing the somewhat clumsy wording and knowing who was behind it.

“A sun, never dimming, always floating lost in time. Searching for something he doesn’t know, until his light shines on you. Dirtied, sullied and broken, how could the sun know that under layers of cracked and cobbled armor are seeds that can blossom. Together working at working through the sections that would smoother to bring around something more beautiful.”

“Ah, heh. I’m glad then to hear they’re doing well… Mmm…” Megatron hummed happily as they kissed, his smile decidedly lovestruck as they parted. What a lovely night this was turning out to be.

The poem’s imagery was peaceful and soothing, and when he closed his optics he could see it all dancing there. “Lovely… made infinitely lovelier by your voice. Whose is this? I may know them.”

A tired Rung sneaks into Megatron’s room and crawls up to sleep in his berth with him.

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

Megatron’s tension melts away as he spots Rung, helping him up into his arms with a warm smile. Leaning back, his optics don’t leave the orange mech, the back of his claw reverently brushing over the glass of Rung’s chest.

“I can’t say how wonderful it is to see you like this again, Rung…”

“I’ve missed you. And I brought something…” Rung smiles as he holds up a book of poetry. It looks new with some unknown author. “it’s recently published. Rodimus got together some of the mech’s on the Lost Light and had them all write something. They’re selling copies and the proceeds are to help rebuild cybertron.”

He doesn’t recognize the name, but he knows the Lost Light. The one from his own universe, and from Rung’s.

“I quite like collaborative work, thank you! If our shanix translate across the universe, I’d gladly take a few more… Would you do me the honor of reading an excerpt for me? Or shall we save that for a night when you are not as sorely in need of recharge?” Megatron had seen those dimmed optics, Rung’s slowed movement as he helped him climb.

“I am amenable to either, so long as I can keep holding you close.”

A tired Rung sneaks into Megatron’s room and crawls up to sleep in his berth with him.

Megatron’s tension melts away as he spots Rung, helping him up into his arms with a warm smile. Leaning back, his optics don’t leave the orange mech, the back of his claw reverently brushing over the glass of Rung’s chest.

“I can’t say how wonderful it is to see you like this again, Rung…”

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.”

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”

Megatron shakes his helm, disagreeing. “Both of us, figuratively. …One of us literally, perhaps.”

Blinking in surprise, the revelation gets a laugh. “Maybe he’ll leave me alone in his confusion! Get out of my frame and inhabit some other gladiator for a change…”

Oh come on! Why settle for less when you’ve had the best, right? (Bee dropped his voice to a low murmur.) That’s what Rung thinks, and he’s got good taste in mechs~

His shoulders shake with more laughter as he curls over Bee, briefly touching his cheek faring to the minibot’s helm.

“That he does! That he does, my friend. How is he?”

Still a little fatigued, but physically? He’s back to his beautiful self. Even back to having spark glass instead of the safety shield!

I heard from Smokescreen that Soundwave’s healing, but not awake. What about Laserbeak? Does he need anything I can get him?

“I can’t wait to see him again. He told me how much he hated that shielding…”

Megatron’s smile falters a bit. “Laserbeak has been understandably shaken by this whole experience. He spends most of his time docked into Soundwave, getting used to the new sensations. Laserbeak, you can hear this. Is there anything you’d like?”

Soundwave’s chest chirps and beeps.

“…What in the Pit is a scrabble?”

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.”

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”

Megatron shakes his helm, disagreeing. “Both of us, figuratively. …One of us literally, perhaps.”

Blinking in surprise, the revelation gets a laugh. “Maybe he’ll leave me alone in his confusion! Get out of my frame and inhabit some other gladiator for a change…”

Oh come on! Why settle for less when you’ve had the best, right? (Bee dropped his voice to a low murmur.) That’s what Rung thinks, and he’s got good taste in mechs~

His shoulders shake with more laughter as he curls over Bee, briefly touching his cheek faring to the minibot’s helm.

“That he does! That he does, my friend. How is he?”

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.”

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”

Megatron tenses uncomfortably, both from remembering the oozing yellow ichor that had covered their plating, and from his own poor choice of words. Of course his friend knew what it felt like. The arm Bee is holding wraps instinctively around him, still careful not to use too much pressure.

“…All the time. We’re still here, and no demon, god or other such monster can change that.” He smirks. “We’re made of strong stuff, you and I.”

One of us more than the other one.

(Bee leans against that arm and wraps his own arm around it the best he can, for some solid comforting pats.) Literally and figuratively.

… you know who’s gonna freak out?

You know sometimes those weeks we “go away” and there are diety guys in our bodies?

He’s gonna be in your body like “… do I have the right house?”

Megatron shakes his helm, disagreeing. “Both of us, figuratively. …One of us literally, perhaps.”

Blinking in surprise, the revelation gets a laugh. “Maybe he’ll leave me alone in his confusion! Get out of my frame and inhabit some other gladiator for a change…”

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.”

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”

I hope Singer’s taking pictures of the in-progress! Seeing you convert back in real time is a trip. Imagine the slide show version.

(Bee climbs up to sit with him and offer him some mild-tasting treats. He casually holds Megatron’s inactive hand.)

It’s good to see you wearing the right colors again. Or, like, not wearing the WRONG colors at least.

Singer rubs the back of his helm, self-conscious. “Well! O-of course anything recorded as far as Lord Megatron’s recovery would be strictly confidential, I would never think about releasing any documents or photos without his permi-”

“It’s fine, at least with him.” Megatron squeezes Bumblebee’s much smaller hand, savoring one of the treats. It might be mild, but with all the medical-grade he’s been fed it tastes wonderful. He sighs, content.

“It feels much better as well. Have you ever rusted? Your plating feels like it’s crawling whenever you move.”

(Bee shudders.) Yeah it… (Bee’s tank wrenches at the memories.) It was the thing eating the planet, remember? The cult in the old building, and the monster…

(Oh no… those memories were under higher guard than he thought. Even brushing up against them is enough to make Bee’s body start hurting, and he shuts that thought down fast.)

B-but we’re better now! We’re both getting better, all the time.

Megatron tenses uncomfortably, both from remembering the oozing yellow ichor that had covered their plating, and from his own poor choice of words. Of course his friend knew what it felt like. The arm Bee is holding wraps instinctively around him, still careful not to use too much pressure.

“…All the time. We’re still here, and no demon, god or other such monster can change that.” He smirks. “We’re made of strong stuff, you and I.”

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.”

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”

I hope Singer’s taking pictures of the in-progress! Seeing you convert back in real time is a trip. Imagine the slide show version.

(Bee climbs up to sit with him and offer him some mild-tasting treats. He casually holds Megatron’s inactive hand.)

It’s good to see you wearing the right colors again. Or, like, not wearing the WRONG colors at least.

Singer rubs the back of his helm, self-conscious. “Well! O-of course anything recorded as far as Lord Megatron’s recovery would be strictly confidential, I would never think about releasing any documents or photos without his permi-”

“It’s fine, at least with him.” Megatron squeezes Bumblebee’s much smaller hand, savoring one of the treats. It might be mild, but with all the medical-grade he’s been fed it tastes wonderful. He sighs, content.

“It feels much better as well. Have you ever rusted? Your plating feels like it’s crawling whenever you move.”

( Bee has leftovers! Megatron will have some snacks now. ) How goes the surgeries?

Megatron is still a little groggy when Bee arrives, but Singer is happy to let him in. “He’s doing well! I’m hesitant to do too much at once, his reaction to being sedated can be uh… violent, the longer he’s been under. I’ve ah, learned to dodge.”

The warlord’s sitting up with the help of a support, sharp points and rust sanded and reshaped throughout his frame. His chestplate and abdominal vents have been replaced entirely for a properly fitted and fully functioning set. He’s still much larger than he’s meant to be and clearly Not Right, but at least he’s entirely silver again, down to base metal.

When he sees Bee, Megatron slowly grins. “Ah, progress… Slow but sure, so I’m told. You’re a welcome sight to wake up to.”