The Consequences Of Self-Alienation

[heliopauseentertainments]

Part of the fandomweekly challenges on DreamWidth.

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus, Megatron & Rodimus

Characters: Megatron & Rodimus

Warnings: Ambiguous Relationships

Summary: In which Megatron realizes that perhaps he no longer wants to be alone.

Crossposting: AO3 | Tumblr | fandomweekly entry | Pillowfort

Fic under cut

Megatron had spent his entire life either truly alone or alone in a crowd. There hadn’t been much room in his work to fill the companionship void either as a miner desperate to survive or as a war leader desperate to defeat the enemy. Like right now, as he sat in the captain’s chair on the bridge and calmly observed the goings on, he had always thrown himself into his work, leaving no time for anything more.

The crew went about their duties as usual, unaware of anyone else’s inner lives. As it ought to be. Blaster monitored the communications console while Rodimus, in all of his vivid livery, practically hung over his shoulder, demanding the officer play fun songs over the PA system.

Megatron hadn’t expected his isolation to change when Optimus had actually given him his assignment on the Lost Light. He was on the ship to work towards a defined goal, that was all.

Nothing more.

Already nearly at the end of his life, Megatron assumed, there was little point in attempting to reach for anything else, opportunities long lost to time.

What he hadn’t expected… was the temptation to fill that void of loneliness.

He watched as Rodimus continued to badger Blaster, golden spoiler practically glowing in the bridge’s overhead lighting as he bounced to and fro.

Megatron hadn’t meant to stare, of course, but intentions didn’t generally mean much, did they? No, not ultimately.

Over his months aboard, having settled into a routine, as much as Rodimus pushed and fought, Megatron had come to… appreciate his company. For all of Rodimus’s aggravating behaviors, they had become familiar and comforting, a reminder that all was well.

Even when Rodimus just wanted to complain at him. About him. About everything. Even when Rodimus just wanted to express whatever thought had happened to wander across his processor, bypassing any sort of filter on the way out of his vocalizer. It was… nice, the earnest communication and not being treated like some mythical monster. Rodimus merely treated him like just another mech.

It was almost like having a friend.

He hadn’t had one of those in so long. There had been Soundwave, of course, but the war had gotten in the way. Impactor as well, but that connection had long since died between them.

Megatron, elbow propped up on the armrest of the chair, leaned his face against his fist.

It was captivating to watch Rodimus, whether he was merely interacting with the crew, putting off doing something important, arguing with either him or Magnus, or… anything really. His vivaciousness and petulant temperament were only matched by those loud, optic-catching colors.

However, Rodimus turned around to say something, Primus knew what, and must have noticed him staring, their optics now awkwardly locked.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Unaware of what expression he was making, Megatron declined to respond for the moment. “I know it’s past lunchtime but I am not a cube of energon, my buddy.”

Oh.

He must have been staring hungrily.

Hungry for what though? Friendship? Other intimacy?

Megatron wasn’t sure.

What he did know for sure was that Rodimus, whether purposefully or not, simply by being himself, by being so earnest and unguarded, was tempting Megatron into thinking perhaps, even at this stage in his life, he could have companionship, that was he didn’t have to be alone.

It was easier to ignore the aching void when there was no hope of filling it, and yet now he was being mocked by the possibility.

Not all mechs had that need, to be grounded by companionship. Many mechs went their whole lives without deep connection and still were fulfilled. Megatron had spent so long pretending he was just the same as them.

He knew it was a lie, a lie he told himself and others.

Perhaps he ought to say something, to tell Rodimus that he would like his companionship in some capacity. Even if told “no,” he could then take that rejection and move on.

He sat back up in his chair and shook his head.

“I was just thinking that you ought to let Blaster get back to work.”

Pester me instead.