Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Leaves on a river
Race pebbles skimming downstream
Both know weightlessness

“Rodimus, I need to tell you something.” I've prepared myself for this moment for days, weeks no doubt.

Passing my sword back, he squints at me. “It’s not serious, is it?”

I am physically, mentally and spiritually focussed. My chakras are parallel parked. Rarely has it been necessary to place myself in a state of calm like this. “No, but I feel like-”

“Am I gonna have to do stuff, Drift?” Rod asks, exasperated. “That's all I need to know.”

“… I … I just feel like I can tell you anything.” I smile with reassurance. It's okay that he's interrupting. Perhaps I'm just phrasing it wrong. The way I started this conversation is concerning him. I was naive.

“Okaaaay. Right. Well, you know, I'm… I'm glad you can tell me anything,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. That's the only sign I need.

I cut straight to the point. I don't want him to lose interest. “You know how you wanted me to show you how to fight with a sword?”

“I know how you begged me.”

“Because you can't solely rely on guns! It's not enough. And I knew you'd enjoy it. Which… you did?”

“Yeah, I did actually. Swords are cool. Cool like guns.”

“Well…” I pause to compose myself one last time. This is the moment where everything changes. “...I would like… to become… your sword.”

“You want to be my sword?” His voice is… judgemental.

Maybe I just need to explain more. “Yes. I would like to change my alt mode to become a sword. And I want you to wield me.”

His face is frozen on the edge of puzzled disgust, while his eyes search around for what he could be missing. What have I done wrong? What have I… done…

“I dunno man, that seems a bit freaky even for us. You'd be all small and I'd be holding you. I don't get it. Why bother? I don't mind touching you or anything but I just…” His voice fades away.

All I have ever wanted is to be held by Rodimus Prime.

We fight together, we high five, we fist bump. I write his speeches, bring him energon, touch up his paint. He smiles with joy and cries with pain, and I hold him through all of it. Is it so wrong for me to want something closer? Something so viscerally intimate with the man I adore above all others?

My aura is diluted by his returning voice, and I'm glad he can't perceive it.

“That was a good training sesh today though. Same time next week?” He raises an open hand and grins, lips wide, cheeks high, eyes bright. I see that face when I blink. That same resplendent grin that cuts down all doubts, gently reminding me who to be. I'm happy again.

I grin back. “Same time next week.” I slap my hand against his, and the clanging follows me down the corridors. We can talk about this next week.

Chapter Text

Curiosity -
A growth that petals faster
In the shade of trees

He's alone. “Lord Megatron, may I speak with you?” This large room - just him?

“Do not be so formal, Deadlock. Of course you can speak with me.” Strategising for the insurgence. “You performed magnificently in battle today.” I did? “You deserve commendation.” I did. This was my fourth fight since being branded as a Decepticon. My violence was finally unmatched.

“Yes - the battle today. That’s what I wanted to talk about.” He’s waiting. Patient. Expectantly. “Your alt mode, sir. I wasn't aware you had changed it.”

Caught off guard. Wasn't expecting that question.“It’s a relatively recent change. I did not realise you hadn't seen it. I should have made you aware. But you performed brilliantly for your first time holding me.”

Holding me.

I cough. “Ahem, yes, thank you, sir.”

“What was it you wanted to ask me?” Fear isn't something I recognise much anymore. And I struggle with kindness too. He looks kind. He's smiling after all. That means ‘kind’, right? Sometimes.

“Why… would you choose to become a hand gun?”

Smile a bit wider now. That means more kindness, yeah? And his eyes are doing it too. Kind. “It's simple. It increases my power.”

“But your gun shots hold the same strength.” Looked the same to me. All burned the same.

A small laugh too now. Something funny I did? “No. Not my attack power. The power of my leadership. Because it conveys absolute trust in my forces.” He stands up, walks over, comes close. Almost touching. A threat? “I am not above any of you and I never will be. Even new blood like you is no less valuable than this movement's founder. We are equal. I am a leader but I am not a tyrant.”

An impulse. I tell myself I like following those now. “With respect, sir, I'm not talking about the kind of things you write in your books.”

He's surprised. I am too. “This is unusual for you, Deadlock. I'm used to you being incurious.”

“Do you need me to be curious?”

“I would like you to be. You deserve to think for yourself.”

“Then I am curious about your new alt mode.”

He puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I glance quickly at it. I do feel reassured by him. Very much. “It is a new alt mode. Nothing else.”

I keep tugging at this loose cable. “Nothing else?”

He looks at me with concentration. “Did you want something else?”

Another impulse. It was effective last time. “I guess I just liked having you in my hands, Oh Glorious Leader.”

He frowns and takes his hand back. “Don't speak to me like that, Deadlock. It demeans both of us.”

It's frustrating; the confusion of learning who to trust again. “You keep telling me how to speak. I thought we were on the same level.”

“We are. And I do not speak to you like that.”

One last impulse for the day. “You could.”

He smiles affectionately. “You're new here. You'll settle in. Please take rest before the next conflict.”

I leave. I did like having him in my hands. I've never held a man so close and gripped him so tightly, not without intent to harm.

Perhaps it would be nice the other way around…

Chapter Text

Still lake and salt sea
Reflect and sway peacefully
Moved by their pasts

It was a foolish thing to ask. Putting my relationship with Rodimus in harm’s way for a perversion. It was impure. No - it was blasphemous! I deserve whatever comes next.

But, as hard as I try not to…

I still want it. I still want to be held. I've only known one other person who wanted it too. And he's here on this ship. I can make the best of this circumstance.

I knock on his habsuite door. Moments later, it opens. When he sees my face, he is surprised, but hides it behind a welcoming smile.

On instinct, I cannot make eye contact. It's hard to tell myself he is good now. Good like me. But eventually, my eyes do meet his. “Evening, Megatron. May I speak with you?”

“Yes, of course, Drift. Come in.” His voice still has some of that deep appeal to me. I try to silence it as I cross the boundary into his space.

The door closes behind me. His room is the same size as everyone else's, making it appear unliveable for him. I break the ice by commenting on it.

“I know all habsuites are a fixed sized on board, but this room seems too small for you.”

He smiles. I wonder if he's finding this awkward too. “Yes, perhaps, but I've had much worse. We both have. In the mines, personal space was not allowed. This is indulgent in its own way. Also, and keep this between you and me, but I can still use mass displacement. Makes the room more comfortable.”

‘Keep this between you and me’? What does he think we are? “If you want to make the room more comfortable, you could have some possessions in it.”

His relaxed smile ebbs for the first time. “I have none. Many have been lost to time. And anything I do have remains on Cybertron. In police possession. After all, I am a war criminal. I was not allowed to bring anything on board.”

“Oh. I see,” I reply sympathetically. “Yes. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yes, it does make sense.” He is so skilled at performing with his mannerisms, but I can see it when I look closely. The color of sadness. “Anyway, would you like to sit?” He gestures to the two beds. No one will mind if I take the second bed.

Sitting with my swords on is impossible. I remove them first and rest them beside me. We sit across from each other. “No possessions, no room mate. Do you get bored?”

“You know as well as I do that there is rarely a dull day on this ship. There's always something going on or going wrong. I enjoy moments of quiet when they come.” He’s emotionally turbulent. So many times since I've been here, I've felt his aura's palette shift from a warm joy to deep despair, and the colours falling in between. “Also… You know better than most that I am not very welcome here. You were the same recently, weren't you?”

“Because I was a Decepticon? No, most of that negative energy towards me has dissipated.”

“Sorry, no, I was referring to the Overlord incident. I heard you were forced from the ship.”

“Ah. Yes. Yes, I was.”

“That can't have been easy. I regret the part I played in that.”

We become silent, as if in separate but conjoined meditation. It lasts only a few more moments. I would not have been able to bear it much longer.

“I know you aren't here for the company. What was it you came to speak to me about?”

“Your alt mode,” I say quickly, before I change my mind.

He looks confused. “Yes?”

“Why did you choose it?”

“No one else has ever asked me that before.” He squints to inspect for deeper meaning in my question. “I chose to take back this alt mode as an emancipation from my past. It was once necessary for work, but now, that life and many of my other lives are behind me. I decided to reclaim it, not as a tool of function or war, but as a body I find comfortable.”

“Oh. You're a tank currently?”

“Yes.” His reply has a subtle intelligence. He knew my assumption in coming here. But still, he looks at me with pained nostalgia. “It's been many years since I was a gun.”

“Ah. My apologies.” I feel too uncomfortable to stay in this room. “I'll be on my way.” I stand to leave.

“Wait, Drift.” He says, hurriedly. He sounds concerned for me. “I seem to remember you asking me that question years ago. Were you not satisfied with my answer then?” It's scary to think we both remember that ancient conversation so vividly.

Witnessing a landmine, we tiptoe around the topic. “Your answer felt… incomplete.”

Pensively, he answers. “I was disingenuous. For all my talk of being an honest leader, there were some things I kept to myself. It's part of the role I had, and I don't regret that.”

I say nothing.

“What do you really want to talk about, Drift?”

I say nothing.

“I know we've had a fraught past, but I would be very glad if you could think of me as a safe place to express yourself, free of judgement.” I feel like we are starting from zero. Bare foundations. I would rather not be here.

Speaking with Megatron is hard. A reminder of a cauterised wound in my past. Something I would like to erase or atone for. And strangely, I can feel the same sombre energy radiating from him. I am a scar in his past. Another piece of damning evidence in the case against his morality. A manipulated, bruised after image.

However, this compulsion is too oppressive. My new alt mode is secretly prepared. I have to reveal my soul and some part of me regrettably realises that other than Rodimus, Megatron is the person on ship I know the most. We have too much history.

I sit back down. “I've not heard of any other Cybertronian with an alt mode like your gun form. One explicitly used only to be held by another person.”

Dutifully, he listens.

“I… I want- I would like to become a sword.”

“Interesting,” he says, sensitively. “Why is that?”

“I want someone to…” -my voice wavers- “…to hold me.”

I'm comforted by his lack of judgement. He seems to understand. “How long have you wanted that?”

“I think you know how long.”

Again, quietly, and with so much reassurance, he says, “I have my theory, but it's better to hear it plainly from you than to theorise.”

“Part of me has wanted this since I met you and knew it was possible. I wanted to be a gun at first, back when I still called myself… but then that changed when I discovered these.” Reaching to my side, I lift the shimmering, holy blade. “Divine pieces of metal, much like ourselves.” My voice is charged. “I want to become one.” Breathlessly, and with finality, I say, “I want someone to use me.”

I look over and Megatron's eyes flare up too. Yes, his aura has certainly changed to excitement. He shares my sentiment. I feel lightheaded. How disgusting for us to have something depraved in common. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Drift.” He contemplates. “I believe I can help you, if you like. If you'll-”

“How do you mean ‘help’?”

He pauses. “How would you feel if I held you as a sword?”

Quickly repressing that, I answer, “no, no, that's not what I came here for. I just wanted advice.”

He is sympathetic. “Ah. My apologies. I was jumping the gun. Are you absolutely set on being held by Rodimus?"

I twitch shamefully. I am transparent. Have I always been? “He… he is my first choice, yes.”

“And you already asked him?”

I shift uncomfortably and close my eyes. “Yes.”

“Then I am sorry for what I am about to say, Drift, but you should give up on that desire.” Despite the tenderness of his voice, it feels like a blunt hit.

“W-what?!” There's a crack in my heart which I'm trying to fill with numbing anger.

He looks soft. “It saddens me to see someone like you with so much potential wasting your energy on someone who will never reciprocate.”

“How can you say that?”

“Inside, deep down, you know it's true. Rodimus will not give you what you need.”

Megatron gives me space to speak, but there is nothing I want to say. “Let's not do anything today. You should go to your own quarters and spend some time alone considering. Meditate on it. And know that I've heard you and I am glad to talk about this more.” He reaches forward and holds my hand. I'm conflicted by how easily I let him take it. “As true equals.”

Chapter Text

Following instinct
Not unlike watching plants wilt
In time for Winter

Joints. Wheels. Head. Spark. Weak points. Hit them accurately. Every time. But I still do target practice in the training grounds. Every day. Can't get rusty.

I look over at other weapons on the rack. Axes. Maces. Spears. Knives. Swords. All useless.

Picking a sword up, I turn it over in my hands, admiring my new reflection. This brand new body. Larger, stronger, fitted for war. His gift. Even my eyes aren't mine now. I can't really recognise who I was. Makes it hard go back. Makes it harder to want to.

I look past the mirror and at the sword itself. I suppose melee weapons do have appeal, but I can't see myself ever touching them. I swing it around but I feel no attachment to it’s movements.

Footsteps approach. “Thinking of trying a new weapon, Deadlock?” He's late.

“Ah. Megatron." I smile at company I enjoy. So little of that around here. “No, of course not. I prefer my guns. I've never understood the appeal of close range weaponry when a gun will end a conflict before the adversary can get close.” I put the sword back.

Megatron's smile widens as he gets closer. Heh, that smile doesn't look so kind. He picks up a knife from the rack. “Yes, guns will certainly kill a foe before they can get the chance to hurt you.” Pausing for only a short moment, he slams me to the ground, pressing my limbs with his weight and throttling my neck with one hand. Frantically, I struggle thrashing the small amount I can. I hate this feeling: the weakness. I look up. He brings the knife to my face, scrapes some teasing scratches there. “But what if they're already close?” he asks, leaning closer. His face is so close.

I writhe my hands around, trying to twist my gun to face him, but it's useless. He squeezes my wrist to empty the gun from my grip, replacing it with the knife. He's right. I would be able to sever some important cables like this. A life or death advantage.

Lesson learned, Megatron releases me and stands, extending a hand downwards. I take it. “That is why it's important to be proficient in multiple forms of combat. Long range, alt mode, close quarters, hand to hand. If you neglect any of them, an enemy who knows more than you will always exploit that weakness. You and your guns will never be enough.”

I feel my neck. Notice the dents on my wrists. My new body feels a little more broken in. Comfortable. I won't forget being held down like that soon. The rest of today's training has a reignited spice. “I didn't know you knew how to do anything but shoot that big, messy canon on your arm.”

Megatron smirks. He likes the sassiness I give him. Puts him at ease, in mind of Starscream and the like, letting him know I'm harmless, and that lets me get close. Ensures a safe place right at his side.

“Centuries of toil in the mines makes you very effective at swinging a pickaxe and steadying a drill. The principles carry over. And I promise you, when the strikes turned to uprisings, those tools could spill that energon back into the mines they came from.” His eyes flash with reminiscence. “Now, let's not waste the time we have. You're getting better at adjusting to the recoil.”

“Thank you. Yes, I would like to try with longer range targets. With my eyes and hands combined with your power, the two of us will have explosive sniping potential.”

“Good. I like the sound of that.” He transforms and claims position in my hands. He's warm. I take a few steps and kneel at the sniping point. Get my scope attachment. Screw it onto him, slowly. He's smaller than a sniper rifle. Requires more dexterity. I adjust my hands. Feel the heat radiating from him. He's silent through all of it. Usually is. I put my eye to the scope. Aim down him. My face is so close. I smell hydrogen priming in the magazine. Practically taste it. I exhale for steadiness, see the moisture condense on his body. Refocus. Act like I didn't see my breath beading. Exhale again. Grip tighter. Pull his trigger. Aaaand.

Chapter Text

Wisdom found within
Runs clear as the river
Shallow as the bed

Inhale love. 2. 3. 4.

Hold. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Exhale hate. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Inhale.

The incense is soothing. The crystals are purifying. This sitting position directs my energy.

Hold.

But somehow, my aura is still muddied. I’m vibrating on an undistilled wavelength. My energy sounds so wrong.

Exhale.

I don't know how Megatron can make such unspeakable claims about Rodimus. That was completely uncalled for. To criticise Rodimus! He's my… my…

Inhale.

Rodimus was the one who believed in me when I needed it most. When no one else would after I chose to become an Autobot. I would be nothing without him.

Hold.

One day, he'll see me as I see him. He's so beautiful to me. So special. So many people judge Rodimus harshly. Not me though.

Exhale.

So I won't hold it against Megatron for saying what he said. Rodimus is complicated. If you haven't spent the time and energy learning to understand him, to understand our relationship, then I can see why it may seem odd. It's just a bit odd.

Inhale.

Ratchet. Gasket. Megatron. Wing. And now Rodimus. They all knew I was special before I did. I feel blessed to be so loved. To not have to be alone. To be held in the sparks of so many.

Hold.

I hold them all in my spark because-

Exhale.

Because they can't hold me.

In-

None of them will hold me.

In-

Why won't they hold me too?

In-

Do I not deserve-

Inh-

“Inside, deep down, you know it's true. Rodimus will not give you what you need.”

Inhale.

My mistake was not being mentally prepared to see Megatron again.

Hold.

The past is better left there.

Exhale.

I can't breathe with the heavy incense hanging around. I need to get out of this room.

Chapter Text

First light of sunrise
And the next flake of snowfall
Set in contention

“Just coming in, Deadlock?” Megatron greets me as I exit the flight grounds.

“Yes, Megatron.”

“Where have you been?” He says it as if to induce guilt.

“Out on a mission.”

“On another mercenary mission, I take it?” He always knows.

“Yes, Megatron."

“I assume that's how you've amassed the large sum of money you have?” That too. He always knows. Soundwave's work.

“Yes, Megatron.”

“What are your plans for the money?” He asks, preventing me from walking closer to base. This is an interrogation. “I require your full honesty.”

“I have none, Megatron.”

“No plans to abandon the Decepticons?” A jolt of fear momentarily refreshes me.

“No! No, of course not, Megatron. Never.”

He assesses. “...Good. That is a relief. You are too valuable for me to lose you, Deadlock.” The war is taking a toll on us. Megatron appears strong through everything, but sometimes I feel him quake in my hands before and after he fires. At least he has me to steady him. “Please, tell me if anything is bothering you and you are considering… straying.”

“Megatron, you have to know I would never consider leaving. I hold our cause above anything in my life. Nothing else matters but this. Please know that.”

He smiles with assured pride. “Good. I was simply making sure. There have been some deserters after all, and I would hate to count you among them. I do not treat traitors well.”

“As you shouldn't, Megatron.”

He approves. He then becomes inquisitive again. “Then for what reason are you amassing a fortune?”

“Reason? Does there need to be one? I put my good skills to use removing Autobots no matter what I am doing. It is all in benefit of ending this war. The money is just… proof of purchase.”

“Ha! Ha ha ha! What an elegant way of phrasing it. Yes, I am glad to have someone so loyal and passionate close at hand. Allies like you are precious, Deadlock.” He receives a comm. Takes a moment to respond. I watch him. He begins to walk to the base entrance, urging me to follow.

He finishes his conversion. Returns his attention to me. “But that being said, I think you should consider what you will do with all that money once this war is won. For the first time in your life, you'll have the opportunity to do what you want. What will you do?”

“I…” I shake my head. “...I haven't really considered. What will you do, sir?”

He stops walking, turns back to me, grinning. “An end to war is not the end of this story. We've expended so much effort tearing down a corrupt system and washing away its defendants, all for the opportunity to rebuild it how I want: truly just.” He stares into me. His eyes hold me down.

“Then that is what I want, Megatron.”

He smiles lovingly. “I mean it with my whole spark, Deadlock. Precious. Now let's use this day to get another step closer to ending this war.”

I walk alongside him. It is good to be precious.