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As soon as the lift doors closed behind him, Trailbreaker sighed and slumped back against the wall. Every orn he was grateful for how close Tower Psi of Iacon was to the Temple and the Parliament buildings that surrounded it, and for the half-breem of quiet solitude as Mirage’s private lift rose sedately to the uppermost three levels of the tower. Working as Personal Aide to the new Prime was far more satisfying than working for Sentinel had ever been, but just as exhausting.
He composed himself as the lift neared its destination; Mirage didn’t like to see the evidence of how draining the triple shifts he worked each orn were. When the lift doors opened again with a quiet chime, he was standing straight, with a small smile and softly glowing visor. Mirage wasn’t there to greet him, of course—he never was—but he would be watching from somewhere in the lofty penthouse as Trailbreaker went through his usual routine.
He wiped his feet with the fresh dustcloth by the entrance first, so he wouldn’t track anything through the suite, then gave the rest of his frame a few cursory swipes as well. He left the cloth on its bar; it had taken Mirage nearly seven orns, in the beginning, to convince him that it was all right to leave things for the servants to clean up, as that was what they were paid to do, but he accepted it as the way things were done here, now.
Once he was clean, his next stop was the outlandishly lavish kitchenette where all the various energons, coolants, and mineral additives were kept. He poured a simple cube of midgrade for himself—Mirage always told him that he was welcome to something more exotic, but Trailbreaker never had been much for indulgence—and then prepared a plate of goodies and a blended mix for Mirage.
Once those were set on a tray for easy transport, he had one more thing to do. His collar, a light, soft strip of some processed organic material, hung by its buckle from a peg above the cube disposal chute. He took it down and buckled it around his cervical column with a few smooth, practiced motions. It was comfortable, having long since yielded its stiff shape to fit him perfectly in a way that a collar of Cybertronian origin never would. He revelled in the feel of it, the way it shifted slightly with every movement to remind him it was there, and he had only one responsibility while he wore it.
He lifted the tray, taking care to balance it properly so nothing would spill, and took one step out of the kitchenette. There he paused, and called quietly, “Mirage?”
“In the upper loft, Trailbreaker,” came Mirage’s reply, echoing through the huge open spaces of the penthouse. “Use the stairs, please.”
Trailbreaker braced himself; it was a strenuous climb after a long orn at the Prime’s side, but the results would be worth it. “Of course,” he said pleasantly.
By the time he arrived at the top of the wide spiralled staircase, the struts and actuators in his legs ached. Mirage waved him into what they called the room with the view, where the noble was sitting quietly, slim legs tucked demurely to the side while he looked out over the Diplomatic Garden.
“How was your orn?”
Trailbreaker sighed, setting the tray of energon down on the low table next to the wide armchair Mirage had chosen.
“Busy. Optimus is very popular already, but of course every gift still has to be checked.”
“Of course,” Mirage agreed.
He reached across to pick up Trailbreaker’s cube of midgrade, and Trailbreaker lowered himself to his knees on the floor beside him, then sat back on his heels. His joints groaned with the movement, but Trailbreaker shuttered his visor with relief. It felt good, incredibly good, to be off his feet, and what tension had remained after collaring himself bled away.
“I wish you would take an orn for yourself every once in a while,” Mirage said, stroking his helm gently. “You work too much, Trailbreaker.”
It was an argument they’d had countless times over the vorns; Trailbreaker hummed noncommittally because he was far too tired to say the same old words. He could practically hear Mirage’s frown, and he sighed.
“I did take a shift off last rotation for my appointment with Geargrinder.”
“How fitting that you should take five joors out of your busy schedule of working yourself to death to go see your medic,” Mirage said dryly. “Hush, I know you don’t want to argue,” he continued when Trailbreaker opened his mouth to protest. “Drink. You need your energy.”
Mirage cradled Trailbreaker’s helm and lifted the cube of midgrade to Trailbreaker’s lips. Trailbreaker relaxed, melting into the touch, and parted his lips to let the energon flow into his mouth as Mirage slowly tilted the cube. Everything was so simple here, in Mirage’s tower. As long as he was wearing his collar he didn’t have to do anything but relax and let the noblemech take care of him.
He drank steadily, and when the cube was empty Mirage set it aside, then wiped a stray drop of energon from the corner of Trailbreaker’s mouth.
“Rust stick?” Mirage offered.
Trailbreaker brought his visor back online and smiled up at him. “You know I don’t eat those.”
Mirage chuckled and took a rust stick for himself from the plate of goodies. “One of these orns I’ll convince you. Come here.”
Trailbreaker shuffled closer on his knees, then leaned back against the chair, stretched out his legs, and tilted his helm back to look at Mirage.
“Do you need a polish tonight?” Mirage asked, smiling down at him and gently stroking his cheek.
Trailbreaker hummed, offlining his optics and leaning into the touch. “No, I think my finish will be fine for another orn. I’d like just to recharge next to you tonight.”
“We can do that,” Mirage said. “We’ll go once I’ve finished refuelling, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Trailbreaker let his visor fall back offline, smiling. He could hear the soft hum of Mirage’s systems from here, a sound which had lulled him into peaceful recharge more times than he could count.
Mirage continued to pet him as he refuelled, hand brushing lightly over Trailbreaker’s helm, his shoulders, and what little of his chest he could reach from his perch on the chair. Trailbreaker’s engine throttled up to a low, purring idle. By the time Mirage finished refuelling, Trailbreaker’s systems were already halfway to powered down.
“Hey,” the noble whispered, sliding out of the chair to crouch beside him. “Are you awake?”
“Mmph,” Trailbreaker said, lighting his visor to a dim glow.
Mirage smiled. “Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to get up; we’ll recharge here tonight.”
“Ummh,” Trailbreaker agreed.
“And I’ll help you in the washracks when you wake up, okay?” Mirage said, curling up in his lap and leaning into the larger mech’s broad chassis. “You always feel better after a wash.”
He got no further response; Trailbreaker had already dropped into recharge.