Work Text:
Megatron hovers. He looms like the terrorizer he is. Over time, Sunglider has gotten used to him breaching their personal space, of caging them in against tables like he's doing now. Over time, Sunglider's found themselves liking it.
His upgraded frame from miner to walking tank means he can dump a lot of heat outta his vents. So, his abdominal vents keep their back warm whenever he does this, keeps their rotary blades damn near cozy. He's noticed this, of course, and Sunglider's noticed that he's noticed because the heat has ramped up from when he first started.
While at first, him putting his servos either side of them on the table or whatever surface was suffocating and claustrophobic, now there's a sense of safety that comes with it. Something they haven't admitted out loud, no matter how many weird looks and questions their fellow 'bots give them about why they allow Megatron to 'bother' them. With his larger and bulky frame, he tends to hide Sunglider from view, depending. It's nice.
It's a habit now; whether Sunglider is sitting or standing, Megatron is right there. Right behind them— looming, watching, in their space. Sunglider is used to it.
So, Sunglider should be more aware of how they move, of how little space Megatron leaves between them. And yet—as they explain their latest upgrade to the Ark's main cannons—Sunglider turns their helm just to look at him and ends up kissing him instead.
It's just a brush, barely there because of their reaction time but it's enough.
Enough for Sunglider's sensor-net to fizzle, enough for their spark to practically freeze, enough for it all to be obvious.
And Sunglider is surely making it awkward right now, what with their sudden silence and just staring at him and this wasn't supposed to happen at all. Sunglider cares far too much about Megatron—more than they should, admittedly—and they do not want to ruin one of the few relationships they have with their stupid and messed up feelings.
But Primus, kissing him—no matter how brief or accidental—wasn't weird, and Sunglider wants more. They always want more when it comes to him. While Megatron surely takes liberties and pushed their boundaries at the beginning, everything's settled, they've figured each other out; the push and pull that started their relationship is no longer so volatile.
He hasn't gone any further. Which means he did it just to get a reaction—which they never provided—and so it doesn't mean anything. It's just habit now. That's all it is. That's all it's allowed to be. Things are still delicate between the two factions despite a peace treaty, and Sunglider made a promise that they were not going to be the one to ruin it. And maybe they're putting too much importance on Megatron's courting options but the war is still fresh and—
Megatron gently grabs their chin and kisses them. Again.
Soft, gentle pressure against their mouth and yet— and yet Sunglider's spark is about to spin right out of its chamber.
He pulls away just enough to murmur, "Sunglider," quiet and prompting, and Sunglider just moves.
Gripping his raised wrist, they kiss him back. Harder.
Megatron makes a small sound, a delectable sound and then Sunglider is standing, servos grabbing and pulling him closer because any distance between them now is unacceptable. Their stool gets kicked somewhere, Megatron crowds them back against them table, and then he puts them on the table.
Attempts to at least.
Sunglider laughs, half on it-half not as their work is very much still there. His servos are warm and big on their waist, thick arms supporting them and Sunglider looks at him, overwhelmingly giddy.
He's smiling too, small but there and Sunglider swoops in for a peck, before they put their leg back on the ground. It presses their frames together, and Sunglider's servos slide from his helm and down to his curving chest plates.
"How 'bout we take this some place where we won't break anything important?"
"A marvelous idea."
Megatron then scoops Sunglider up into his arms, causing them to laugh once more. Sunglider kisses him again.