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Megatron huffs quietly to himself as he searches through Ultra Magnus’ immense collection of datapads. It’s not that they aren’t organized, but their organization is clearly of Magnus’ own invention and thus completely incomprehensible to Megatron.
He just needs to find one datapad of communiques. Just one. Ultra Magnus is off duty and he hadn’t wanted to disturb him, knowing that Magnus kept his office in meticulous order and thus, apparently incorrectly, assuming it would be relatively simple to find what he wanted.
Out of sheer frustration, he opens a random drawer and pulls out the first datapad he finds. Ah. A communique! Buoyed by this slight success, Megatron continues searching through the same drawer. He’s looking for an older communication, so he reaches to the back of the drawer and pulls out another random datapad just to see if it’s organized by date. He does, of course, leave a hand in the drawer to mark its place. Now, all he needs to do is check the date...which is smack dab in the middle of the war. Megatron can’t fully contain a groan. Of course Ultra Magnus not only kept all of his wartime work, but brought it with him onto the Lost Light. He’s about to replace the datapad, give up, and call Ultra Magnus, when the names of the corresponding mechs catch his eye.
Ultra Magnus. Hardly a surprise.
And Sixshot.
One of Megatron’s deadliest warriors, destroyer of worlds, Sixshot.
Megatron can’t help but just sit there and scroll through the messages for a minute. They’re not hostile in any sense of the word. If anything, just...normal. Messages friends would send to each other. Friends, or...he turns off the datapad.
“Sir, are you in need of assistance?”
Megatron looks up, startled to see that Ultra Magnus has entered the room and is frowning at him in confusion.
“My apologies; I was looking for communication records from that incident on the organic world that ended with Rodimus accidentally offering to marry himself to the local leader. I was hoping to determine the exact verbiage used so as not to repeat the incident, but I found this.” Megatron holds up the datapad in question. Magnus’ face shows immediately that Megatron has no need to clarify what datapad he has found. “Can you explain this to me?”
“No, sir. I cannot.” Ultra Magnus reaches for the datapad and Megatron releases it without a struggle. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Just...can you tell me why? I didn’t read much of it, but those messages weren’t hostile.”
“I don’t know, sir. I cannot offer adequate explanation.” Magnus won’t meet Megatron’s eyes. “We shouldn’t have been communicating at all, but...”
“But?” Megatron prompts gently. The war is over. There is no punishment he could even possible give for any of this. He hopes Ultra Magnus understands as much.
“But we were lonely, or at least I was, and it felt as if he was too.” Ultra Magnus caresses the screen of the datapad with his thumb before he leans over and carefully files it back away.
“Are you two still in communication?” Megatron asks.
“No, sir, not for a long time now.” Ultra Magnus sounds...sad. Megatron can’t bring himself to push any further. “Shall I find the datapads for which you were searching?” And just like that, Ultra Magnus is back to business, tone as brisk as usual.
“Yes, thank you, Magnus.” Megatron takes the liberty of resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “And...maybe I hope that you are not so lonely here on the Lost Light?”
That question earns him a smile. “Never, sir. Now let me find you that datapad.”