Work Text:
Megatron stretches out his sore joints. He'd been hunched over a datapad for joors now, and his frame was starting to feel the effects. With a heavy exvent, he stands and sets his work aside. It's getting late, almost the end of his shift. As he organizes the datapads he'd been working on, he notes that his 'finished' pile is stacked higher than usual. He'd been so focused that he failed to notice that Rodimus has been suspiciously absent for some time.
Desk tidied for his next shift, Megatron steps out into the hallway. He should check on Rodimus, make sure his co-captain hadn't gotten himself into any trouble. After all, prolonged silence from the little Prime usually meant nothing but mischief was in store.
As he makes his way towards Rodimus's office, Megatron notices Ultra Magnus coming from the other direction. It seems like they have the same destination in mind, and this is confirmed when they meet at Rodimus's door.
"Minimus. You've noticed our captain's mysterious lack of presence as well, I take it?"
Ultra Magnus dips his head, used to Megatron and Rodimus using his proper name even when he's in the armor by now. "I did. The bridge has been suspiciously calm for some time now, so I thought it best to check on him. Red Alert says that the door log indicates he's been in his office for quite a while."
Megatron hums softly and raps his knuckles against the door. After a moment with no answer, not even the overzealous crashing of a mech trying to throw himself across the room to the door, the pair decide to intrude. Finding the door unlocked, they step inside. The lights brighten, the motion activation having made them go dim. The pair soon see why.
Rodimus sits at his desk, or rather, he's laying across it. A small stack of datapads (if two can be considered a stack) sit in his outgoing task box, and a third is propped up near his hand. Megatron huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head as Ultra Magnus inspects the datapads.
"Leave it to Rodimus to fall asleep while he's working."
Ultra Magnus hums as Megatron moves around the desk, looking up to watch Megatron set a large, heavy servo against Rodimus's spoiler. His stern expression softens as Rodimus stirs just enough to shift into the touch, mumbling something incoherent. He sets the datapads back down, coming around to join Megatron at Rodimus's other side.
"Two reports finished: an approval of the cargo manifest and a plan for an on-world training exercise. I'm surprised he managed both."
Megatron chuckles as he gently shifts Rodimus off of the desk. With Ultra Magnus's help, they manage to get Rodimus into Megatron's arms, servos clasped underneath the speedster for support. Ultra Magnus stays close, his own digits lingering as he makes sure that Rodimus won't fall backwards.
While Megatron knows that Ultra Magnus is shy in regards to affection, even in private, he sees the closeness for what it is: progress. Rodimus is, to put it bluntly, a very touch starved mech, and his constant requests to be held are starting to acclimate Ultra Magnus to the closeness their relationship desires. Megatron often finds their digits brushing more often or Ultra Magnus's chassis pressing a bit closer when they lean in to examine something together.
Rodimus shifting in his arms breaks Megatron from the reflection. He smiles as his co-captain holds onto him, the jawguard of Rodimus's helm pressed tight against Megatron's chest. From the corner of his optic, Megatron is sure he can see the smallest twitch of a smile on Ultra Magnus's derma. Little miracles every day.
The trio leave the office behind, Megatron being careful of where Rodimus's pedes stick out on either side of his waist so that he doesn't wake from being banged into the wall. Ultra Magnus stays close behind, and Megatron can feel the optics of the armor taking in the sight of him carrying Rodimus through the halls. What is Minimus thinking, he wonder absently.
When they arrive at Rodimus's quarters, Ultra Magnus takes care of the door code. Megatron steps inside, making his way towards Rodimus's recharge slab. He lays the speedster down, careful of his finials and spoiler. He knows how sensitive they are to a hard bump. Once he's made sure Rodimus won't fall off, he turns back to Ultra Magnus.
"You've been awfully quiet. A shanix for your thoughts?"
Ultra Magnus glances at the closed door before his posture softens, the tension falling from his frame. He comes closer, dipping his head and keeping his voice low.
"I was… thinking about this. Us. And Rodimus. The… warmth I feel for the two of you. Before beginning this relationship, I would have woken Rodimus and overseen his completion of his work. Just now, however, I found myself more concerned with how sore his joints will be after falling asleep over his desk."
Megatron smiles softly, taking one of Ultra Magnus's servos in his own. "It's a strange experience to notice the changes in one's self. Does it make you uncomfortable?"
After a moment of thought, Ultra Magnus shakes his head. "I find it jarring in the moment, but I think I like the changes. As much as I try to keep my true self separate from the persona of the armor, this is something that I don't think I could confine to just Minimus Ambus."
Megatron tilts his helm up as Ultra Magnus leans close. The kiss is soft, chaste and tender and full of words just aren't quite enough to bring the point across like physical contact can. When they pull back, their derma are barely a vent apart. Ultra Magnus speaks even softer, voice barely a whisper as their derma brush together with each word.
"I love you both. Painfully so, at times. It's new and, at times, frightening. However, I could never want anything else."
Another soft kiss, though this time Ultra Magnus wraps his arms around Megatron, pulling him close. Megatron shivers in his arms, returning the embrace and offlining his optics to better sink into the moment. Every moment of blessed skinship with Ultra Magnus is a gift, and Megatron is not one to turn down something freely given.
A dreamy sigh off to the side has Megatron's optics back on as Ultra Magnus bolts upright, as though he were a sparkling caught sneaking a snack. From the berth, Rodimus watches them with tired optics, a lazy smile on his derma. He holds his servos up placatingly, seeing that he's made the moment tense.
"Don't let me bother you. Do what you wanna, preferably where I can get a really good look at you both."
Megatron shakes his head and sighs. "Incorrigible. How long have you been watching us? I never took you for a voyeur, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Rodimus shrugs with one shoulder, propped up on his side as he is. "Hey, I mean… you're kinda the ones in my quarters. Shouldn't I get praise for making sure my room's safe and secure for my boyfriends?"
Ultra Magnus shifts his weight at Megatron's side, his faceplate a vibrant flush of embarrassment. While labels are something that the former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord usually finds solace in, Megatron has seen quite the contrary in regards to their relationship with Rodimus. Titles like 'captain' and 'second in command' fight against softer names like 'lover' and 'partner'. Those same words (and many other epithets) come easily to Rodimus, and Megatron finds himself somewhere between. Stepping stones, coercing the three of them deeper into what Ultra Magnus would call 'fraternization' if they were a proper crew and not a band of cosmic runaways and misfits.
Instead of praise, Megatron steps back over to the recharge slab and leans in to give Rodimus a tender kiss. He pulls away when his co-captain tries to get greedy, taking in the pout he recieves with soft admiration. He turns back to Ultra Magnus, taking him by both servos (a feat when one's target is both much larger and actively trying to pull away from the contact) and drawing him closer until Rodimus can reach as well and help coerce Megatron's target into another embrace. This time, Rodimus sits up fully so that he can join, heat radiating off of him and warming both Megatron and Ultra Magnus's chassis.
Moments like this make it so very easy to forget the past. Warm, safe, together. How could they have been anything else, when this feels so natural? There's no war. There's no strife. Just the three of them, watching over their flock of friends and one another.
