An Act Of Trust

[heliopauseentertainments]

Requested anonymously on Tumblr

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Rodimus/Megatron

Characters: Megatron & Rodimus

Warnings: Suggestive comments

Summary: In which Rodimus wants to be sure he’s not overstepping Megatron’s boundaries.

Crossposting: AO3 | Tumblr

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

“You’re being an awfully good sport about this,” Rodimus said, changing out the nozzle on the airbrush. A smaller one would be necessary for the delicate “canvas” he had to work with. “I was sure you’d say ‘no’ or something.”

Megatron huffed, but didn’t actually say anything in response. He just continued to sit there on the stool, his helmet upturned in his hands. Delicate sensory panels lay back against his cranium.

Rodimus had seen them before, but really only in the washracks where removing the helmet was necessary for hygiene. Not that it was strange. That was one of the only times Rodimus removed his own headgear. Grime did not care whether armor was considered part of his body or a hat.

It was not a hat. Megatron’s helmet was a hat.

They were not the same.

After checking that the gold paint canister was inserted correctly, Rodimus leaned up on his toes to get a good look at where he might want to put it on those panels.

They always looked like an excellent home for some personal decoration and if Megatron didn’t want anyone to see, he could just put his helmet back on. It wouldn’t be a problem.

But the covered portions of a mech’s head were… private.

“You can always back out,” Rodimus said, waving the airbrush over one of the panels in practice strokes. “It’s asking a lot.”

“Rodimus, we’ve been interfacing for years.”

Yes, they had, and it was fun.

“That’s not the same as letting me touch your head without your armor on.”

Depressing the button on the airbrush, Rodimus scrunched up his face in concentration as he guided the gold paint across the panel, creating artful swirls that accentuated the natural patterning of the sensory components. The gold glittered against the otherwise plain gray metal.

All the while, he placed his unoccupied hand on Megatron’s shoulder, wanting to reassure his companion that this was safe. He wasn’t going to take advantage of Megatron’s vulnerability.

However, Megatron, a devoted malcontent, continued to complain.

“I live in your home and sleep on your berth.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rodimus tsked. “That’s how I knew I could get you alone for this. Obviously.”

It wasn’t that complicated. Why did Megatron always have to make things complicated? Sometimes things could just be.

Rodimus turned off the airbrush, content with his work on this particular panel. Several more to go.

The sensitive panel twitched from the cold paint as it began to dry in the chilly air of their washroom.

“We jointly file taxes,” Megatron added, pliantly allowing his posture to be adjusted as Rodimus pressed against him to better reach the other sensory panels.

“Now you’re just factually wrong there, Megs.” Rodimus tutted patronizingly.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to quite reach from the ground. A higher position would be necessary to confidently and comfortably continue.

Luckily Megatron had wide shoulders he could just sit on.

Without hesitation, he clambered up the larger’s mech’s back to awkwardly seat himself up high in the narrow gap between Megatron’s neck and gun barrel.

The airbrush’s power cable dangled in ungainly, thick loops over Megatron’s other shoulder and in front of his face as Rodimus got settled.

“No, you file the taxes for me,” Rodimus corrected as he checked the airbrush for any blockages. The last thing he needed was for the paint to spatter and make a mess. A mess was fine usually, but he wanted to do a nice job for the grumpy bastard. “You just also get to file your own taxes at the same time on the same document. Saves time and stuff.”

He didn’t want to deal with the taxes. Taxes sucked. A legal bond just meant he could let Megatron handle it.

“Rodimus, I feel as though you’re overlooking any of the innumerable opportunities where I have shown you both implicit and explicit trust.”

“Yeah, but—“ That wasn’t the same. “You can still—“

“I am aware, yes.” Megatron sighed, Rodimus barely cutting the flow of the paint just in time to avoid catastrophe. The power cable bumped Megatron in the nose in the process. They’d be done here before too long, at least, even if it was entertaining watching his face contort from the haphazard poking. “Just get on with it.”

“What’s the magic word?” Rodimus asked, giving the airbrush a quick shake.

“Please—“

“No, the other one.”

Megatron muttered an unprintable oath before acquiescing.

“Captain.”

Rodimus grinned.

“There we go.”