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It takes a long time for Ultra Magnus to get comfortable enough to spend the night with Megatron, even without interfacing potentially on the line.
It takes even longer for Minimus to get comfortable enough to make his appearance.
Irreducible Minimus takes the longest.
It happens one evening when Megatron and Minimus both have the same off-shift. Megatron is sitting on his berth, composing a new poem. He won’t tell Minimus what it’s about yet, and Minimus is too awkward to push.
He’s left space for Minimus to curl up beside him. Actually, he’s left space for Ultra Magnus to curl up beside him, if he wishes, and he could. There’s nothing stopping him from staying in the Ultra Magnus armor and joining Megatron on the berth. There’s nothing to stop him from staying in his armor and leaving the room entirely. Megatron doesn’t push. He never pushes.
But Minimus wants to join him on the berth, and he can see the gap between Megatron’s arm and his chest that he’d fit in if he stripped down to Irreducible Minimus, right where he could curl up against Megatron’s chassis and listen to his spark. He wouldn’t even have to disturb him from his poetry.
Leaving the Ultra Magnus armor is something between exposure and escape, in the same way that being Minimus Ambus both relieves his burdens and adds more. He’s not sure whether it’s harder to be Ultra Magnus or Minimus Ambus, and he’s not sure which of the two he likes better. At least Ultra Magnus has a purpose.
Megatron doesn’t comment when Minimus first steps out of the armor, doesn’t even visibly react until the second armor opens too and Irreducible Minimus steps out. Even then, he doesn’t speak. It’s only a slight hitch in his intakes that tells Minimus that he’s been noticed. He wavers then.
Is the lack of reaction positive? Is it Megatron trying to avoid making him feel uncomfortable?
Or would Megatron rather have Ultra Magnus than Minimus Ambus?
There’s a long moment of silence before Megatron shifts his arm slightly to leave a little more of a gap. Minimus clambers up onto the berth and squirms under Megatron’s arm. He’s immediately surrounded by the low idling hum of Megatron’s engines, strong enough to reverberate through his entire frame.
Megatron doesn’t say a word. He keeps typing away on his datapad. Minimus wants to look at what Megatron is writing, but he finds himself immediately warm and comfortable enough that he doesn’t want to move again.
This feels like some kind of trap. Some enticement to be lax in his duties. Ultra Magnus wouldn’t just lay here, surrounded in warm arms and a gentle field and an idling engine.
Minimus Ambus might lay here for awhile, though. Just for a bit.
He stays for longer than a bit. He stays for his entire recharge cycle.
When he wakes, Megatron is still with him, now recharging himself. The datapad is set aside on the nightstand.
Minimus is still Minimus, as small and fragile as he could possibly be. He’s bundled into a massive chest, about as broad as he is tall in this frame. It’s a new experience to be this small compared to his bed partner. Not a bad experience, to be sure, but a new one. Even in recharge, Megatron’s engine and spark are powerful enough that he can still feel them reverberating through his frame. It’s...nice.
With Megatron in recharge, and Ultra Magnus’ duty cycle not beginning for some time yet, Minimus can take a moment to just look at him. Megatron only really looks relaxed when he’s recharging. Does Minimus look like that? That soft? He reaches up to touch Megatron’s cheek. He can’t imagine it. He’s so distracted just examining Megatron that he doesn’t even notice for a moment that blazing red optics are looking at him. He startles, which earns him a soft laugh and a gentle squeeze from those massive arms.
“My apologies. I didn’t meant to startle you. I just wanted to admire you.” One hand goes to cradle the back of Minimus’ head like he’s a sparkling. It should be demeaning or condescending, but Minimus just feels...safe. He leans into the hand and blinks up at Megatron. “I’ve never gotten to hold you like this.” Megatron’s free hand moves to gently pet at Minimus’ side. One of Megatron’s hands could crush Minimus with less than a thought, but Minimus feels no threat.
“It never seemed necessary. The Ultra Magnus armor has all the same sensation and systems, as does my inner armor. To shed them both seemed...superfluous.” Minimus can’t fully restrain a purr as Megatron’s questing fingers find a sensitive spot on his back. Megatron isn’t going to find any transformation kibble, no matter how much he searches. No wheels, no wings. He’s almost expecting Megatron to comment, but he doesn’t say a word, even as Minimus’ purr slowly rises in volume. It doesn’t sound like a proper engine. It’s never going to because it’s not. He doesn’t have an engine.
But he’s not quite ready to tell Megatron that yet. Not when he’s still not sure how comfortable he is with Megatron seeing him even like this.
Minimus is jolted out of his own thoughts by a soft sound from Megatron.
He looks up in surprise.
“You’re cute,” Megatron says, as if he’s apologizing for even thinking it.
Minimus hides his face in Megatron’s chest until Megatron chuckles and resumes petting his back in gentle, soothing strokes.
“Am I going to get to see you like this more often now?” Megatron asks.
Minimus considers as his involuntary purr starts up again.
“Perhaps. If that’s something that you would enjoy?” He risks another look up at Megatron’s face and is surprised to see how soft it is. Almost like when he was recharging.
“I enjoy you however you choose to be,” Megatron leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his helm. “This is just particularly novel.” Minimus can’t fully contain a squeak of surprise when Megatron rolls onto his back and puts Minimus on his chest. Minimus pushes himself up to rest on his elbows so he can look Megatron in the face. “You’re lovely.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Minimus pats at Megatron’s chest but almost falls over when Megatron’s entire chassis shakes with his laughter. Before he can catch himself, he’s caught and drawn in close for a soft kiss. It’s not hard to give in and let himself be held, especially when Megatron can so easily hold him. Megatron himself seems uninclined to put Minimus down when he can keep kissing him instead.
It’s good. It’s warm. It’s safe. It’s strange to feel those at all, stranger still to feel them in his irreducible frame. Strangest to feel them while being held in Megatron’s hands.
“I should let you get ready for your duty cycle,” Megatron says regretfully. Minimus wants to protest as Megatron sets Minimus down on his chest again. He was enjoying being held like that.
“I...perhaps have a bit longer,” Minimus says awkwardly. Megatron laughs, and Minimus’ spark flutters.
“Good. I’m glad.” Minimus purrs as he’s drawn in close again for more kisses.
It’s the first time in Minimus’ time on the Lost Light that Ultra Magnus isn’t exactly ten minutes early for his duty cycle.
Drift smiles at him a little too knowingly when he arrives and Ultra Magnus does his best to ignore him as he reads over the logs from the past duty cycle. They’re sloppy, but not any worse than he expected after Rodimus was left for an entire shift without Megatron or Ultra Magnus supervising him.
He has to force himself to keep a straight face when he finds the note Rodimus left at the end of his report, a little winking face and a “get some, Mags!!!”. He has an entire duty shift; he can’t break composure immediately upon arriving on the bridge. He keeps hold of himself enough to get through his duty cycle, though it gets markedly more difficult when Megatron arrives on the bridge to do some work of his own.
This is a new sensation for him; usually nothing can distract from his work. And perhaps his distraction isn’t as noticeable as he thinks it is, but it feels like how slowly he’s typing must be glaringly obvious. No one comments. Megatron gives him a couple of subtle looks, or perhaps Ultra Magnus is just inventing these looks. It certainly feels like Megatron is watching him. Not in a way that promises harm, but certainly in a way that promises...something. Something that makes it very hard to focus on the paperwork.
Luckily, the crew of the Lost Light provides more than enough distractions to keep Ultra Magnus up to his audials in work through his entire duty cycle. Requests for further provisions for Swerve’s bar, reports of another fight instigated by Whirl, and reminder pings from Rung for their next appointment all come in within the first quarter of Ultra Magnus’ shift.
Megatron leaves the bridge relatively quickly, thankfully. He has work to do in his own office, and reports to review. It’s much easier to attend to his own work with Megatron gone and no longer a distraction. His productivity increases threefold. He just has to finish this shift and then he can go have a talk with Megatron about keeping a professional distance when they’re on duty. Ultra Magnus is surely capable of filling his duties, but it would be irresponsible to not ensure that Megatron can do the same.
His spark nearly stops when he gets a ping from Megatron, wordless but heavy with affection.
His duty cycle feels much longer than usual, even with the steady flow of incoming work. Ultra Magnus has certainly worked for much longer than this without any kind of break, but for some reason he can’t keep himself from longingly checking his chronometer between each piece of work. It’s a new sensation to actually want to be off shift. Without anything to do, there’s no purpose to not be working, but Megatron is waiting for him now.
Megatron is waiting for him.
He’s almost smiling when he leaves his desk.
He goes directly to Megatron’s habsuite, hopeful that he can recharge in Megatron’s berth again. Megatron pings him admittance immediately and Ultra Magnus enters to find Megatron laying back against the head of his berth, reading a datapad. Ultra Magnus wants to shed his armor and become Minimus again, melt into Megatron’s side and recharge like he did before. Ravage, however, seems to have stolen his spot. The cassette opens one glowing optic to regard Ultra Magnus before yawning and curling up again. Ultra Magnus stands awkwardly for a moment until Megatron moves his attention from his datapad to Ultra Magnus.
“I’m glad you came. Did you have a good shift?” He slides his arm out from under Ravage, who grumbles and hops down off the berth.
“Am I going to have to go find somewhere else to recharge again?”
Ultra Magnus stares awkwardly, not entirely sure how to respond. “I apologize for disturbing you,” and he’s not sure if he’s aiming that apology at Ravage, at Megatron, or at the world at large. Ravage yawns widely in response, showing rows of very sharp, well-maintained fangs.
“You’re not very sorry, though, since you’re back.”
“Ravage,” Megatron reaches down to gently catch the cassette by his scruff, “enough.” Ravage rumbles a soft protest, but otherwise quiets. When Megatron releases him with an apologetic scritch of his ears, Ravage stalks out of the room without another word. The door closes behind him and Megatron shakes his head. “I’m sorry about him. He’s...I don’t know. I think he misses Soundwave.”
Ultra Magnus has no idea what to say in response. “Oh, I...should I leave? Perhaps he would rather stay here with you?”
“No, stay. He’ll be alright, and I’ve missed you while you were on shift.” Megatron holds out a hand and Ultra Magnus can’t resist stepping forward and taking it. Megatron’s smile is enough to make his spark flip. Right. He was supposed to speak to Megatron about professionalism and distance while on duty. He was supposed to do that.
“We--” Ultra Magnus finds himself faltering as soon as he looks into Megatron’s optics, “We need to be professional while we are on duty.” Megatron sits up a little more.
“Of course. Have I done something to prompt this discussion?” He’s suddenly serious and focused and Ultra Magnus can’t help but be grateful that Megatron is taking him seriously.
“I--I found myself distracted today while you were on the bridge,” Ultra Magnus admits, and it’s too hard to hold Megatron’s gaze so he looks away. Megatron chuckles.
“Oh. Is that what it is?” Ultra Magnus looks back, prepared to defend himself from what must be imminent mockery, but Megatron doesn’t look like he’s about to make fun of Ultra Magnus. “I’m sorry if I was distracting. I’ll try to keep my field better under control around you, if that would help.” Megatron kisses Ultra Magnus’ knuckles. “Of course we’re going to have to be on duty together. I am Captain and you are Second-in-Command. If my presence is too distracting...” He trails off and Ultra Magnus feels his spark tighten.
“I don’t want to return to a purely platonic relationship,” he says quickly, and is rewarded with a small smile from Megatron.
“Neither do I, but I wanted to give the option.” Megatron rises from his berth to hug Ultra Magnus. It’s still strange, to be hugged in the Magnus armor. At least to be hugged while standing. He’s more used now to being Minimus. Not Irreducible Minimus, but still Minimus. Ultra Magnus hugs Megatron back for a long moment. It’s nice. Megatron is warm and his spark is strong.
“You were working on something before I came in,” Ultra Magnus says quietly without releasing Megatron. “I apologize for disturbing your work.” Megatron laughs.
“You’re never disturbing me. It’s just a poem I’ve been playing with.” He releases Ultra Magnus and sits down on his berth again, picking up his discarded datapad. “It’s been giving me some trouble, but I’m in no hurry.” He settles himself back the way he was before Ultra Magnus arrived, and there’s space there for Ultra Magnus or for Minimus Ambus. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t offer. He just leaves space. Ultra Magnus considers for a moment, and then Minimus Ambus emerges, followed shortly thereafter by Irreducible Minimus. He clambers onto the berth, assisted by a large hand that descends to steady him.
“I need to do maintenance on my armor,” Minimus offers as justification for his appearance, and Megatron makes a politely affirmative sound and scoops Minimus in close to his side. Minimus has datapads of his own he could read, but it’s nice to just be held like this, in against Megatron’s rumbling engine. His own purr starts up in response, soft and irregular in comparison to an engine, but happy. One large hand rubs his back and Minimus finds himself dozing almost immediately.
No. No. He has things he should be doing. He can sit with Megaron and also read datapads and be productive. He can. It takes him a moment too long to move from under Megatron’s hand. He squirms a little and Megatron instantly releases him without comment or complaint. Minimus sits up and slides off the berth again. Ultra Magnus has some datapads in his subspace that Minimus could be reading right now. He climbs up Ultra Magnus’ leg without much thought until he hears a soft sound from Megatron. He looks over to see Megatron watching him with unexpectedly soft optics. Oh. He hurriedly fishes the datapad out of Ultra Magnus’ subspace and comes back over to the berth, where Megatron scoops him back up without having to be asked.
“I have some reports I should review.” Minimus tucks himself back against Megatron’s side, settling the datapad on his lap. Since it’s built for Ultra Magnus, it’s a little large to comfortably use, but Minimus is long used to it. If he props the datapad on his lap, the size isn’t too difficult to manage. Megatron doesn’t comment as Minimus squirms himself into a comfortable position.
They work in companionable silence, and it’s good. Minimus finds himself migrating closer and closer to Megatron until he’s finally scooped up onto Megatron’s lap and settled with his back to Megatron’s belly. He’s still reading his own datapad and Megatron is working on his poetry above Minimus’ head. He should complain about the lack of professionalism and being manhandled, but Megatron is warm and comfortable and as soon as Megatron starts purring Minimus knows he’s done for. This is too good. Megatron is too comfortable and gentle with him. He barely notices when Megatron gently pulls the datapad out of his hands and lays back. The entire world shifts and Minimus finds himself cuddled into a warm chest and very close to recharge.
“Rest well, Minimus.” Megatron rumbles.
Minimus does.
When he wakes up, he finds himself alone in the berth. Or at least. Megatron is gone and Minimus is confused. Right. Megatron is on duty. It’s more mystifying that he could leave without Minimus waking, but he must have been deep in recharge. He sits up and startles as he comes optic to optic with Ravage, who’s curled up in Megatron’s spot.
“He didn’t want to wake you.” Ravage yawns and stretches. “Have you told him yet?”
“Told him what?” Minimus asks blearily. He’s just woken and he’s being subjected to an interrogation.
“Your alt.” That’s enough to startle Minimus into awareness.
“What are you talking about?”
“You were purring in your sleep. That’s not an engine purr. So what are you?” Ravage rolls onto his side, optics unblinkingly fixed on Minimus.
“That isn’t any of your business,” Minimus says awkwardly. Ravage snorts.
“Oh please. You think I’m going to judge your alt? Come on, don’t be stupid.” Minimus puffs up and Ravage watches him. “Or are you worried someone else is going to judge your alt? Like Megatron?”
“Megatron wouldn’t!”
“No, he wouldn’t. So why won’t you tell me?”
Minimus stares at this very stubborn cat. “Why does it matter to you?”
“Because it matters to you, and it’s not going to matter to Megatron.” Ravage paws at Minimus’ leg, the closest part of Minimus he can reach. “You don’t have to use your alt, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
“Then why do I never see you as a mech?” Minimus blurts out. Ravage laughs.
“Why should I be? It makes people uncomfortable to see me as a person when I’m like this, so I’ll make them uncomfortable. Besides, I like this form. It’s comfortable.” Minimus watches Ravage quietly as the cat stretches again. “So? What are you?” Minimus hesitates for one more moment before transforming.
He hasn’t taken this frame in years. He’s so rarely Minimus Ambus, even more rarely Irreducible Minimus, and even when he’s Irreducible Minimus, he never transforms. His frame is almost uncomfortable when he finishes, a small green and white turbofox with bright red optics blinking at Ravage.
“A turbofox, huh? How’d that go over pre-war?” Ravage stands and circles Minimus, sniffing and examining him.
“I was exempt,” Minimus can feel his hackles rising at the examination.
“And no one ever saw you like this anyway because you always wear some kind of armor,” Ravage finishes the explanation without having to be told and sits himself down in front of Minimus. Primus, he’s actually larger than Minimus. “So no one on this ship has ever seen you like this.”
Minimus thinks of Rewind and immediately feels guilty, but he shakes his head. “No”
“You could tell them, you know. They wouldn’t care.” Ravage lays down again, rolling onto his side. “Or you don’t have to. It’s not my problem. But you should tell Megatron.”
“It’s not your business what I do or don’t tell him.” Minimus bristles.
“If you’re going to oust me from my own berth, I’m going to say you have to tell him.”
“That’s not fair!”
“I don’t have to be fair.” Ravage examines one of his paws with very purposeful nonchalance. “Megatron isn’t going to care. He’ll probably think you’re cute.” Somehow that comment is enough to fluster Minimus even more than anything else that Ravage has said.
“Wait--really?”
“Sure. He thinks regular you is cute already.”
There’s a long silence as Minimus considers this, instinctively curling his tail around his feet and hunching down in a mirror of Ravage’s usual loafing pose. Megatron...thinking he’s cute? It’s a reaction he hadn’t anticipated, not that he’d thought it through really before. He hadn’t planned on telling Megatron anytime soon. He shakes his head suddenly as something sinks in.
“Wait, what makes you say that? That he thinks I’m cute?” His ears lay back.
“Of course he thinks you’re cute. You see the way he looks at you?” Ravage laughs. “You’ve got to tell him. Besides, he’ll figure it out eventually.”
“He hasn’t asked me,” Minimus says defensively.
“Well he’s not going to. He’s not stupid. What, d’you think he’s about to ask you if you’re Forged or Cold Constructed too?” Minimus fluffs up in affront as Ravage laughs. “He knows better.”
Minimus doesn’t entirely know what to say to that. He considers this and startles a little when Ravage moves himself to flop down against Minimus’ side, entire frame rumbling with a purr. Minimus sighs heavily and rests his head on his front paws and his tail.
“I haven’t taken this form in...centuries. It feels odd.”
“Here then.” Minimus is startled to hear the soft whirr of a t-cog and he looks over to see a small mech sitting beside him, blinking familiar bright red optics. “I haven’t been like this in probably almost as long.” Ravage reaches out and gently scruffs Minimus with a small silver hand. “So we can both be uncomfortable.” Minimus lets himself be pet. Ravage’s frame means he has some idea of where Minimus might like to be scratched, and he has to admit that it’s nice to have fingers digging into the plating behind his ears.
“I have work I should be doing,” Minimus says drowsily. Just because he’s off-duty doesn’t mean there aren’t things to do.
“Yeah, okay. You can sit here for another minute,” Ravage sounds slightly distracted, and Minimus is about to ask why when the door opens.
“Ravage, you said there was something wrong with Minimus--” Megatron freezes in the doorway and cuts himself off mid-sentence. Minimus freezes, optics flying open and ears pricking toward Megatron.
“Oh? I don’t know, I must have misunderstood. Everything’s fine,” Ravage says innocently. He transforms back into his regular form and hops off the berth. “Isn’t it, Minimus?” Minimus stares up at Megatron mutely. He can feel his hackles rising and his tail puffing up, but he doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t imagined Megatron finding out any time soon, and certainly not like this.
Megatron takes a cautious step into the room, looking unsure. Ravage twines between Megatron’s legs and sits down beside him, looking from Megatron’s face to Minimus’ raised hackles.
“Oh, come on. Megatron, say something nice. Minimus, you know he doesn’t care.”
“Ravage, could you give us a moment.” The phrasing is a question but the tone isn’t. Ravage trots out of the room rather too smugly. Minimus watches him go and very much holds it against him. The door closes and Minimus hunches up even smaller if that’s possible. Megatron is just watching him and Minimus doesn’t know what to say. He considers transforming back. If he transforms, maybe they can just pretend this hasn’t happened. That Megatron doesn’t know.
Minimus knows that he shouldn’t be ashamed. He has nothing to be ashamed of. Functionism is disgusting and objectively incorrect and illogical. He knows this.
He also knows that Dominus devised a test for sentience that would probably exclude Minimus, and in fact himself. Dominus was wrong too, and he knows it, but Minimus can only hunch in as small as possible, ears flat to his helm and tail tucked in. Megatron doesn’t seem to know what to say, which is alarming in and of itself. There’s a moment longer of awkward silence before Megatron steps forward and reaches out to Minimus.
“Minimus. May I?” Minimus shrinks away from that large hand for a moment, but Megatron...Megatron wouldn’t hurt him. He creeps closer to that hand and is rewarded with a hand gently fondling his ears. “I assume you didn’t mean for me to find out like this.”
“No,” Minimus admits, “I didn’t. I didn’t mean to tell you.” He watches Megatron warily as the larger mech moves closer and slides his hands under Minimus to pick him up. Megatron has clearly had experience carrying Ravage, as Minimus is easily settled in his arms against Megatron’s chest. Megatron himself sits down on his berth. “Aren’t you on duty?”
“This is important. Rodimus knows I’ll be back in a moment.” Megatron looks down at Minimus. “I want to make sure that you’re alright.” Minimus fluffs up and doesn’t know what to say as Megatron drops a kiss between his ears. He lets himself be cuddled in strong arms and held against a warm spark and after a moment has to stretch up to nose at Megatron’s face.
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to think less of me. And I know--I know you wouldn’t,” Minimus has to add hastily as Megatron opens his mouth to object. “I know you wouldn’t. but I haven’t told anyone. Only Dominus ever knew. It wasn’t even a secret, after awhile. It was just...I don’t know. Irrelevant. And then I was Ultra Magnus, and I thought...I thought I would never be Minimus Ambus again.” Megatron gently strokes Minimus’ helm and doesn’t complain when Minimus transforms back. It’s more comfortable and familiar to have two legs instead of four. Megatron holds him just as close and nuzzles his face and it’s almost like last night all over again, safe and warm. Megatron lets the silence continue for a long moment before he speaks again.
“I’m sorry that you felt the need to hide your alt mode from me. It would never have influenced my opinion of you. If you’re uncomfortable with it, we never have to speak of it again. I won’t tell anyone.”
Minimus wraps his arms around Megatron’s neck and hugs him. “I don’t know if I’ll ever want to speak of it again. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
“You don’t have to be,” Megatron assures him. “You never have to be.” He kisses Minimus’ helm and holds him close like he’s never going to let him go.
“You should go back to the bridge,” Minimus mumbles against Megatron’s collar faring.
“I will, I promise. Let me be a little negligent in my duties, just this once.” Megatron lays back, cradling Minimus.
Minimus can’t find it in himself to argue. He cuddles in close and purrs. Just this once, it might be okay.
Just this once.