willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

Inside, the establishment was slower than he’d expected, both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he wouldn’t have to concern himself with any who might take offense with his Decepticon sigil, but there was also no buffer of chattering customers. Damn his inconsistent hours.

At least, these were the concerns that ran through his mind until he found Rung cleaning a table. Everything seemed to stall when Rung looked up at him. He was here. He seemed to light from within as he approached, and Megatron had to remind himself that he was in fact able to move as well, taking the offered hand in his with a light bow.

“I am indeed. Thank you for your invitation, I apologize for my lateness. And for the… cryptic nature of my messages.” He smiled, feeling much smaller than he was. “I hope my visit isn’t keeping you from anything, Rung.”

“I can forgive you for your lateness since you eventually showed up.” Rung chuckled quietly and let out a relieved vent when their fingers touched. His smaller hands splayed a moment and did their best to curl around the large thick digits that could easily have swallowed him whole. “As for being cryptic… I’m rather fond of puzzling things out. So even if it was a touch frustrating at first trying to tell who it was for certain, it was well worth the mystery, Megatron.”

“Megatron?” The tank behind the bar looked stunned, confused as he took a step to the side to get a good look at this mech.

Rung stepped closer to the big mech then, his stance protective even as his smile was friendly as ever. He didn’t want to scare off Attrition since they were friends but he wouldn’t stand for the ex Decepticon looking at Megatron in a poor way.

“You’re not keeping me from anything. Did you want me to get you a drink?”

His claws curled around Rung’s hands, so much smaller than his own. They didn’t feel fragile, and though contact with someone he’d never met in person should have unnerved him, Megatron found himself reluctant to let go. Was it the honest excitement in his field? The way he’d touched him without hesitation? Either way, his own field, normally held taut to his frame relaxed in the face of such a welcome, reaching towards the smaller mech in turn.

Hearing his name from the bar caught him off-guard. Megatron’s optics flicked to the bartender, and he understood. A large tank, that particular combination of surprise and fear… a former Decepticon, face to face with his former leader. Or at least, a version of him. Megatron dropped his gaze back to Rung, releasing his hands.

“…A drink would be wonderful. Something thick, if possible.” Before Rung could walk back to the bar, the warlord lowered his voice, so that the bartender might not hear. “And if there is a way I may convince that one I’m not about to shoot him, I will gladly do it.”

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

Megatron waited until he was alone on the bridge to key in the coordinates himself. As the green glow lit his plating, he felt a rare trepidation. How many monsters had he faced, how many battles had he charged into, confident and sure? 

And now a little orange mech with glasses and a smile was giving him pause. 

This was ridiculous. He was Lord Megatron, High Protector of Cybertron, Leader of the Decepticons… but where he was going, none of that mattered. Perhaps that was why he hesitated. Stripped of his titles, bereft of battlefields, Megatron was another former Decepticon soldier in a world where none would recognize him but two who had already seen past his mantle and welcomed the mech beneath.

Bolstered by the reminder of his friend’s support, Megatron stepped through the ground bridge and found himself at the door of the Fragged Up Frigate. He was so impressed by the creative use of a downed ship that the warlord almost knocked, before remembering that this is a public establishment. With another centering ventilation cycle, he stepped inside.

Attrition was behind the bar while Rung was cleaning off tables, looking tired but happy about how the day had progressed so far. The little orange bot straightened up when he heard the door open, confused as to why someone was coming in so late but figuring that it must be a straggler wanting one last drink for the night. He froze, however, when he saw that it was a familiar bot with a bit of an unfamiliar frame. Large and silver, he had to know just who this was.

His vents caught in his throat and he took a few steps towards Megatron, slowly smiling and offering his hand. His field snapped around him with an eager energy that he couldn’t repress and Rung had to keep himself from rushing over to Megatron.

“You’re here…”

Inside, the establishment was slower than he’d expected, both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he wouldn’t have to concern himself with any who might take offense with his Decepticon sigil, but there was also no buffer of chattering customers. Damn his inconsistent hours.

At least, these were the concerns that ran through his mind until he found Rung cleaning a table. Everything seemed to stall when Rung looked up at him. He was here. He seemed to light from within as he approached, and Megatron had to remind himself that he was in fact able to move as well, taking the offered hand in his with a light bow.

“I am indeed. Thank you for your invitation, I apologize for my lateness. And for the… cryptic nature of my messages.” He smiled, feeling much smaller than he was. “I hope my visit isn’t keeping you from anything, Rung.”

Megatron waited until he was alone on the bridge to key in the coordinates himself. As the green glow lit his plating, he felt a rare trepidation. How many monsters had he faced, how many battles had he charged into, confident and sure? 

And now a little orange mech with glasses and a smile was giving him pause. 

This was ridiculous. He was Lord Megatron, High Protector of Cybertron, Leader of the Decepticons… but where he was going, none of that mattered. Perhaps that was why he hesitated. Stripped of his titles, bereft of battlefields, Megatron was another former Decepticon soldier in a world where none would recognize him but two who had already seen past his mantle and welcomed the mech beneath.

Bolstered by the reminder of his friend’s support, Megatron stepped through the ground bridge and found himself at the door of the Fragged Up Frigate. He was so impressed by the creative use of a downed ship that the warlord almost knocked, before remembering that this is a public establishment. With another centering ventilation cycle, he stepped inside.