[IDW] Marry Me - Chapter Two
Aug. 21st, 2015 01:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: So today was supposed to be a second attempt to start up flash fic friday for August, but I know I'm going to run out of time to write and post them so FFF is pushed back to September. This one I WILL do. No matter what.
Until then, have another update! ^_^ Maybe even two if I can find the time. Enjoy!
Universe: IDW, MTMTE
Characters this chapter: Ultra Magnus, Swerve, Rodimus, Perceptor, Brainstorm, Alien OCs
Rated K+ for this chapter
Warnings only for some rather depressing thoughts from Swerve.
Commission Gift Fic for nothumanafterall.
“I still say this is most coincidental,” the Grand Regent said as she rose to her feet, every bit of her filled to the brim with disappointment. “But the laws are clear. We must stay the execution in the face of this revelation. Now...” Her gaze affixed itself to Ultra Magnus'. “When is the wedding?”
Ultra Magnus' engine rumbled. More lies would have to be told. He did not like this. He did not like this at all.
“Two weeks,” Rodimus supplied, certain to be fully investing himself in this. There was a twinkle in his optics that did not bode well for anyone. “And while he's busy making the, uh, preparations, I need to be there. To maintain order. And stuff.”
How precise. Ultra Magnus glared at his captain. At this rate, they would see the ruse in a matter of moments. Rodimus was not at all skilled in the art of subterfuge. Then again, neither was Ultra Magnus.
The Grand Regent stared at the both of them, suspicion all but wafting from her translucent dermal layer. “Very well,” she said. “But I can hardly let you go without taking precautions.” Her eyes flicked to one of the soldiers guarding Rodimus.
He snapped to attention, turned on a heel, and quit the room. No doubt he'd been sent to fetch something that would ensure Rodimus' cooperation. Ultra Magnus did not know what it was, but he was certain Perceptor or Brainstorm could make short work of it. The crew would not be happy, but a quick exit from Exelon-Five was now necessary.
“Surely you don't intend to keep him imprisoned throughout the duration of our preparations?” Ultra Magnus asked.
“Of course not.” Grand Regent Prixa's smile turned what Ultra Magnus could only describe as wicked. “But we are not unfamiliar with handling your kind. We have learned how to invoke certain measures.”
Ultra Magnus did not like the sound of that. Neither, apparently, did Rodimus. He froze in his chair, not even the chains rattling.
“What kind of measures?” he asked.
“Rodimus, your transgression ensures that not only do you have very little rights, but that they are within their right to effect whatever means necessary to keep you in your place,” Ultra Magnus stated. He hoped to forestall any reckless acts on Rodimus' part.
Do not screw this up, he wanted to yell, but he couldn't. Not in front of the Exelons who could decide at any moment that this was all a farce and pull the trigger on that cannon pointed at Rodimus' head. As annoying as Rodimus could be, Ultra Magnus still wanted him to keep his head. That way he could strike it later. Perhaps beat some sense into him.
Where was Ratchet when they needed him?
Rodimus harrumphed, but he sat back in his chair.
An uncomfortable silence descended. Ultra Magnus resisted the urge to fidget so instead he pulled the datapad back out and began to read it once more. He was determined to find some loophole, some misplaced semi-colon, that would get them out of this ridiculous mess.
The soldier returned, carrying some sort of box which he presented to the Grand Regent. Her smile widened even further as she opened the box, revealing a thick metal band with a locking clasp and hinge.
“Now,” she all but purred. “You may release our prisoner.”
The sinking feeling in Ultra Magnus' spark grew heavier. In fact, it settled in his tanks as the soldiers unlocked Rodimus' chains and let him rise. He knew, without having to ask, where that band would go.
His suspicions were confirmed when the Grand Regent clasped it around Rodimus' throat with a cheerful chirrup. Ultra Magnus heard the click-whirr of a mechanism locking into place. He also knew a tracking collar when he saw one. He had no doubt the glowing lines running through it – like biolights – indicated that it was full of explosives.
“You may return to your ship,” the Grand Regent said, something in her tone hinting of smugness. “But should you attempt to leave, this will activate.” She tapped a finger against the front of the collar though Rodimus was quick to flinch away. “It is a necessary insurance, I am afraid.”
Her words were apologetic, but her tone lacked sincerity.
“Explode?” Rodimus repeated with a skreel of static in his vocals. “What do you mean, explode?”
Ultra Magnus took him by the elbow, pulling him toward the door. “We understand,” he said. “Thank you for your consideration.” He all but thrust Rodimus out the door ahead of him.
“We will want to celebrate your engagement, of course,” the Grand Regent said, forcing Ultra Magnus to pause in the open doorway. He turned toward her to acknowledge her statement.
She moved back behind her desk, gracefully sliding into her seat. “Parties and the like. I'll contact you with further details.” Her smile could have been matched by a Sharkticon.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head. “Of course,” he said. “Much obliged.” He hurried out before she could place any further burden upon them.
The Grand Regent still managed the last word.
“Congratulations,” she said right before the door slid shut behind them.
It clicked into place, leaving Rodimus and Ultra Magnus staring at each other. Or glaring in Ultra Magnus' case. He was Not Happy and he wanted his captain to know it.
Rodimus grinned. “Before you say anything--”
“To the ship,” Ultra Magnus said, his words clipped. “Now.”
And yes, Rodimus outranked him, but in this moment, he did not. In this very moment right here, Ultra Magnus had deemed himself the one in charge and Rodimus was to march his flame-painted aft back to the Lost Light before Ultra Magnus booted him there.
Ultra Magnus did not speak, because he knew if he did, it would be unpleasant. He needed time to formulate a response that was coherent and not a sharp chastisement. Rodimus did not respond well to chastisement. It made him more belligerent rather than less.
Rodimus broke the silence as they arrived at the Lost Light. “Now,” he said. “I know what you're thinking.”
“No,” Ultra Magnus bit out through a clenched jaw. “I don't think you do. I must protest--”
Rodimus patted him on the arm. “Relax, Magnus. It'll be fine.” He grinned and winked, which failed considering the glaringly obvious collar around his throat. “Percy will take a look at this thing, disarm it in two seconds flat, we'll call everyone back to the ship and break atmo before the Exelons even see what's coming. Piece of oilcake.”
Ultra Magnus twitched. “I do not approve of telling falsehoods. More so, I do not approve of antagonizing one of the few planets who do not despise our kind.”
“I could always legitimately bond you and Swerve if it makes you feel better.”
He ground his denta and heard a skreeling sound that was not pleasant. “That is not the better solution either.”
“You have to learn to flow with it, Magnus,” Rodimus insisted. “It'll all work out. You'll see.”
Ultra Magnus twitched harder.
It would not, in fact, work out.
Four hours later, Perceptor made a “hmm” noise that was not indicative of a positive outcome. His optic narrowed as he thumbed his chin.
“Hmm,” he repeated.
“Tell me you can take it off,” Rodimus begged. He was starting to sound panicked.
Ultra Magnus could not blame him. His bravado started to falter the longer Perceptor examined it. Even Brainstorm had declared it impossible and he was normally one to hold back until Perceptor had issued his verdict. First Aid had taken one look at the thing and said that he wasn't a bomb expert, it wasn't wired into Rodimus' frame, there was nothing he could do.
“Hmm,” Perceptor said again.
“Perceptor!”
“No,” Perceptor finally answered as he drew back. “I cannot remove it at this time. I would, however, like to run a few tests. But I suggest you prepare yourself for the possibility that in two weeks, you are going to die.”
Rodimus stared at him. “You are the smartest mech on this ship.”
“Hey!” Brainstorm interjected.
“Between the two of you, the combined intelligence in this room consists of more than eighty percent of the overall scientific intelligence on this ship,” Rodimus continued.
“Perhaps closer to ninety,” Perceptor corrected.
Rodimus flailed his arms. “And all you can tell me is that there is nothing you can do?”
“No,” Perceptor said. “I indicated I would need to run more tests. Would you like me to attempt to remove it now with a seventy percent chance it explodes? Or later once I've run some simulations and acquired a better success rate?”
Rodimus stared at Perceptor for long enough that Ultra Magnus thought he was seriously considering the options. He squinted with one optic and then the other before he whirled toward Ultra Magnus, planting his hands on his hips. He smiled brightly and Ultra Magnus' spark took up permanent residence in his tanks.
“Well,” Rodimus said. “It looks like it's time for plan B. So do you want to call Swerve or shall I?”
0o0o0
The cheerful chirp of his comm woke Swerve from recharge and he fell out of the berth from surprise. As he lay there on the floor, spark racing and his head aching, he answered the comm without bothering to check the sender's ID.
He would later regret that hastiness.
“Swerve!” Rodimus said with a cheerful clip to his vocals. “We're in need of your expertise so why don't you hop on down to my office and give me a hand. You’re not busy, right?”
Busy? Why of course not. He was only recharging and after that he figured he might as well get to the super invigorating task of wandering around the Lost Light to see if anyone minded him tagging along.
“No,” Swerve answered as he hauled himself to his feet and brushed off his plating. There were several unpleasant streaks on his legs, but who would notice. “I'll be there in a minute.”
“Great! See you soon!”
The comm ended and Swerve cycled a ventilation. He looked around his quarters, stared at the empty berth opposite him, checked his energon levels, and found no reason to delay. He headed for Rodimus' office and wondered what crazy thing Rodimus needed him for this time. More metallurgy knowledge? Hah.
When he arrived, Ultra Magnus and Rodimus were the only ones present and Swerve's spark did that little flutter it always did when he saw the former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord.
Swerve planted a smile on his face, hoped he wasn't in trouble for something again, and said, “You called?”
“Come in, come in,” Rodimus said, urging him with a come-hither gesture. “Have a seat.”
There was one empty chair so Swerve headed to it, edging around Ultra Magnus' knees so as not to inadvertently brush him. Ultra Magnus did not like scuffs.
“No, no, no,” Rodimus said, waving his hands. “Not there!”
Swerve squeaked when Rodimus swooped over, picked him up as though he wasn't two-thirds the co-captain’s side, and deposited him in Ultra Magnus' lap.
Um.
Swerve froze. Dear Primus, don't let his vents kick on. That would be beyond mortifying.
“Yep, right there!” Rodimus declared and formed a rectangle with his fingers, squinting with one optic at both of them. His smile was a special brand of Rodimus mischief. “Yep. That's a happy couple.”
Happy couple?! Swerve gaped at Rodimus like an Insecticon in high beams.
Swerve felt himself being lifted again as Ultra Magnus set him in the empty chair next to Ultra Magnus, leaving Swerve's head spinning. What in Primus' name was going on?
“Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus chastised with his trademark frown. “That was uncalled for.”
Rodimus leaned back against the desk, looking proud of himself. And what was around his neck? It looked clunky and uncomfortable and – it contained explosive devices? What in Primus' name?!
“Why do you have a bomb around your neck?” Swerve asked. He hopped his chair back by several feet, the legs screeching over the metal floor. It was a pretty big bomb, too, judging by the composition of it.
“It's a long story,” Rodimus began.
“He did a foolish thing and now he's due to be executed unless we can figure out a way to remove the collar,” Ultra Magnus interjected. He sat on his chair, the frown lines deeper on his face, his palms flat on this thighs.
Swerve resisted the urge to stare at him.
Rodimus palmed his face. “You have no talent for storytelling,” he muttered before clapping his hands together and returning his attention to Swerve. “In short, yes, that is what happened. The Exelons want to execute me but luckily, Ultra Magnus knows how to speak legalese and managed to buy us some time. That's where you come in.”
Swerve's optics rounded. “You're going to be what?”
“Executed,” Ultra Magnus supplied and he worked his jaw, optics narrowing. His hands kneaded harder against his thighs. “Unless we figure out a solution.”
Swerve choked on his next breath. He waved his hands through the air.
“I'm a metallurgist,” he said. “Not a bomb disposal expert. I can't disarm a bomb. Not that I've ever tried because I don't want to blow up. But that doesn't mean I want to try. Why don't you ask Brainstorm? He's the weapons expert here.”
Rodimus stared at him.
Ultra Magnus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I don't need you to disarm it,” Rodimus said. “I need you to marry Ultra Magnus.”
… What?
Swerve's optical band reset. All of the air left his vents in a whoosh. His fans stalled. His face heated, surely it was bright crimson now. He reset his audials because he hadn't heard what he thought he heard.
“Um,” Swerve said, his gaze sliding toward Ultra Magnus whose face was buried behind his palm. The blue mech could not be more frozen if he tried. “Can you repeat that? Because I could have sworn that you want me to... um... Ultra Magnus?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. His fingers tangled together, forming knots.
“Perhaps, Rodimus, you should start from the beginning,” Ultra Magnus said.
Yes. The beginning. That might help. Because Swerve was beyond confused.
Not that Rodimus' explanation made much more sense. He signed up for a race that he won which, as it turned out, meant he was now next in line for the throne. The Exelons did not like this. The rules stated that the only way to be rid of unwanted successors was to kill them. The only workaround Ultra Magnus could find was to delay the execution, which would give them enough time to find another solution.
The bomb around Rodimus' neck had been the hiccup in the plan. Now they had to go through with the marriage for real in order to keep up the pretenses. Or at least pretend to be going through with a marriage.
“Um.” It was all Swerve could say in the face of that much ridiculousness.
All the mechs on the Lost Light and they'd picked Swerve for this? He felt he should be flattered and in fact, he was. It didn't matter that the engagement was false. Ultra Magnus had picked him! Ultra Magnus had noticed him.
“And as it turns out,” Ultra Magnus continued, the tension refusing to leave his frame, “the Exelons had been subtly investigating us. They already knew that there was only one member of our crew that my fiance could possibly be.”
“That was you, by the way,” Rodimus said with a grin and a little chuckle. He leaned back against his desk, folded his arms over his chest. He crossed one leg over the other at his ankle joints. “Congratulations.”
Swerve's hope popped like a burst bubble. His smile never faltered, but realization rang through him like a bell of doom.
“Oh,” he said.
No other choice, huh? Well that was significantly less awesome. This fake engagement idea was growing more unsavory by the second.
“I see,” Swerve added and lapsed into silence again. He was, for once, bereft of words. How was he supposed to respond to that?
Thank you for getting stuck with me? I'm sorry that I was the only option you had? This is unfortunate for all of us, but let's make do?
“Anyway,” Rodimus continued, clapping his hands together again. He squinted one optic shut and pointed his fingers toward Swerve, “I'd really like to not die so if you could help me out here, that would be great.”
Swerve fiddled with his fingers and cast another sideways look at Ultra Magnus, but the other mech was staring intently at the wall as though he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Sure,” Swerve managed, planting a grin on his face. “I mean, it's for a good cause, right? And I'm all about good causes. I don't want to see you dead either. Plus, there's no harm in pretending.”
The part of him that wanted to shout 'yes!' to the stars was quickly buried down deep. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to read the eagerness in his field. That would be, well, worse than embarrassing. It would be humiliating, and Swerve's had quite enough of that as of late, thank you very much.
Ultra Magnus twitched.
Rodimus grinned.
“Great! So you're in and Magnus is in and of course, I'm in. Now we just have to make sure the rest of the crew isn't. Right?”
Ultra Magnus stiffly nodded. “No one beyond this room can know that we are perpetuating a r-- ru-- tactical maneuver,” he said. “Else I have no doubt that not only will the Exelons execute Rodimus immediately, but they will most likely execute anyone else directly involved for attempting to circumvent the consequences of Rodimus' actions.”
Swerve gulped. Not only would he have to pretend to be engaged to Ultra Magnus, but there was an element of risk to himself as well? He wasn't sure which part was worse!
He couldn't even tell anyone it wasn't real. He would have no one to talk to, no one to whine about the unfairness of it all. How hard was it going to be to tell himself this wasn't real if he couldn't tell anyone else?
“I mean it, Swerve,” Rodimus said, attempting to be stern. “No talking. No running your mouth. No whispering. No talking to anyone unless you're telling them how much you and Ultra Magnus are in love and can't wait to get married. Got me?”
“Got it,” Swerve managed to force out.
He slid another aside look to Ultra Magnus who hadn't unwound in the least. If anything, Ultra Magnus looked more tense than before.
“Are you, um, are you okay with this?” Swerve asked, absolutely not fidgeting in his seat as he internally begged Ultra Magnus not to thoroughly decimate him.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head. “It is what must be done,” he said. “For Rodimus' sake and now, for both of ours.”
Right. Necessity. Duty. Honor. All that slag.
Not, Swerve glumly thought, because he had any interest in Swerve at all. Just twist the energon knife a little deeper, Magnus.
“That's great. That's wonderful. We're all in agreement here!” Rodimus gave them both a thumbs up, his grin stretching from audial to audial. “That's, well, that's fantastic. So I guess I’m going to go now, deliver the awesome news to Megatron, and you two can, I dunno, play nice?” He winked.
“There are terms and expectations we must discuss,” Ultra Magnus agreed. He turned in his chair toward Swerve, optics assessing him from head to foot. “If we are to be at all successful in this endeavor, we must all be on the same page.”
Rodimus strode forward and patted them each on a shoulder. “I knew I could count on you both. I'll even give you some privacy.”
He all but strutted toward the door; Swerve stared longingly in his wake. Without Rodimus to serve as a buffer, that was going to be more than awkward.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Rodimus said as he keyed open the door and whirled back toward them. He walked backward out of the office. “I'm the only one allowed to 'face on my desk, got me?”
Swerve spluttered.
Ultra Magnus frowned.
The door shut before either of them could formulate a response: a denial on Swerve's part or a recitation of the Autobot code on Ultra Magnus'.
This left them alone. Staring at each other. Or rather, Swerve was staring at Ultra Magnus, immediately missing Rodimus in the awkward silence that fell.
“So...” he began, and planted a bright smile on his face. “You do this often? Get engaged? Or, you know, only when Rodimus is in mortal danger. Which is pretty often, I'm coming to learn. He's like a magnet for trouble.”
Ultra Magnus sighed and scrubbed his palms down his thighs. “It is an unfortunate situation,” he said gravely. “We shall have to make the most of it. But only if you are comfortable, Swerve.”
It wasn't like he had much other choice, right? Either he helped or Rodimus' head exploded and well, that was a lot worse outcome than a fake engagement. A broken spark would mend with time but not an exploded head. That much explosive? Would probably kill anyone in the room with him too. That was some powerful stuff.
“Yeah, sure. Let's do this thing. I'm good with it. Are you good with it? Because, you know, we should both be comfortable, right? Otherwise they'll probably be able to tell we aren't really engaged if you flinch or something.”
“Indeed.” Ultra Magnus nodded slowly, his field loosening from its tight furl so that Swerve could get a taste of it.
There was no excitement in his field. Swerve tried not to let himself get too disappointed. This was only pretend. He would have to keep reminding himself of this, else he might get in too deep.
“So,” Swerve said brightly. “Rules. Regulations. Plans. You have them, I'll bet. I'm sure you don't want to wing it. I mean, I'm not the best at improvisation but if you want me to try, I'll give it a go.” His legs kicked out.
Ultra Magnus turned fully toward him. “We should leave very little to chance,” he said. “It is important that we understand our... relationship, down to the tiniest detail.”
“Right.” Swerve nodded, his spark palpitating at the thought.
A relationship with Ultra Magnus. It was like a dream come true, except not, because eventually he would wake up and it would prove to be not real after all.
This was such a terrible idea.
“What should we talk about first?” Swerve asked.
But Ultra Magnus wasn't looking at him anymore. He was tilting his head, optics narrowed, and then he lifted a hand, pressing it to his audial.
“One moment please,” he said.
Ah, a comm. Well, that was not surprising.
Swerve resisted the urge to whistle, a new trick Chromedome had taught him, and waited. He watched Ultra Magnus' expressions from his peripheral vision and watched them go from neutral to exasperation and finally, irritation.
“I understand. I will be there shortly.” He dropped his hand and rose to his feet with a sigh. “There is a disturbance in your bar. We must go.”
Swerve slid to the floor. “What about our conversation?”
“It must wait. This takes precedence as I can't reach Megatron.”
Great.
Swerve trailed after his fiance, trying to ignore his growing dread. How could a day be both terrible and awesome simultaneously?
Was it too late for a do-over?
***
a/n: I had so much fun writing this. Ultra Magnus was far easier than Swerve, however, and Rodimus is such a little shit, but I love him anyway.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. This is self-beta'ed so if I missed any errors, I won't mind if you point them out.
Until then, have another update! ^_^ Maybe even two if I can find the time. Enjoy!
Universe: IDW, MTMTE
Characters this chapter: Ultra Magnus, Swerve, Rodimus, Perceptor, Brainstorm, Alien OCs
Rated K+ for this chapter
Warnings only for some rather depressing thoughts from Swerve.
Commission Gift Fic for nothumanafterall.
Marry Me – Chapter Two
“I still say this is most coincidental,” the Grand Regent said as she rose to her feet, every bit of her filled to the brim with disappointment. “But the laws are clear. We must stay the execution in the face of this revelation. Now...” Her gaze affixed itself to Ultra Magnus'. “When is the wedding?”
Ultra Magnus' engine rumbled. More lies would have to be told. He did not like this. He did not like this at all.
“Two weeks,” Rodimus supplied, certain to be fully investing himself in this. There was a twinkle in his optics that did not bode well for anyone. “And while he's busy making the, uh, preparations, I need to be there. To maintain order. And stuff.”
How precise. Ultra Magnus glared at his captain. At this rate, they would see the ruse in a matter of moments. Rodimus was not at all skilled in the art of subterfuge. Then again, neither was Ultra Magnus.
The Grand Regent stared at the both of them, suspicion all but wafting from her translucent dermal layer. “Very well,” she said. “But I can hardly let you go without taking precautions.” Her eyes flicked to one of the soldiers guarding Rodimus.
He snapped to attention, turned on a heel, and quit the room. No doubt he'd been sent to fetch something that would ensure Rodimus' cooperation. Ultra Magnus did not know what it was, but he was certain Perceptor or Brainstorm could make short work of it. The crew would not be happy, but a quick exit from Exelon-Five was now necessary.
“Surely you don't intend to keep him imprisoned throughout the duration of our preparations?” Ultra Magnus asked.
“Of course not.” Grand Regent Prixa's smile turned what Ultra Magnus could only describe as wicked. “But we are not unfamiliar with handling your kind. We have learned how to invoke certain measures.”
Ultra Magnus did not like the sound of that. Neither, apparently, did Rodimus. He froze in his chair, not even the chains rattling.
“What kind of measures?” he asked.
“Rodimus, your transgression ensures that not only do you have very little rights, but that they are within their right to effect whatever means necessary to keep you in your place,” Ultra Magnus stated. He hoped to forestall any reckless acts on Rodimus' part.
Do not screw this up, he wanted to yell, but he couldn't. Not in front of the Exelons who could decide at any moment that this was all a farce and pull the trigger on that cannon pointed at Rodimus' head. As annoying as Rodimus could be, Ultra Magnus still wanted him to keep his head. That way he could strike it later. Perhaps beat some sense into him.
Where was Ratchet when they needed him?
Rodimus harrumphed, but he sat back in his chair.
An uncomfortable silence descended. Ultra Magnus resisted the urge to fidget so instead he pulled the datapad back out and began to read it once more. He was determined to find some loophole, some misplaced semi-colon, that would get them out of this ridiculous mess.
The soldier returned, carrying some sort of box which he presented to the Grand Regent. Her smile widened even further as she opened the box, revealing a thick metal band with a locking clasp and hinge.
“Now,” she all but purred. “You may release our prisoner.”
The sinking feeling in Ultra Magnus' spark grew heavier. In fact, it settled in his tanks as the soldiers unlocked Rodimus' chains and let him rise. He knew, without having to ask, where that band would go.
His suspicions were confirmed when the Grand Regent clasped it around Rodimus' throat with a cheerful chirrup. Ultra Magnus heard the click-whirr of a mechanism locking into place. He also knew a tracking collar when he saw one. He had no doubt the glowing lines running through it – like biolights – indicated that it was full of explosives.
“You may return to your ship,” the Grand Regent said, something in her tone hinting of smugness. “But should you attempt to leave, this will activate.” She tapped a finger against the front of the collar though Rodimus was quick to flinch away. “It is a necessary insurance, I am afraid.”
Her words were apologetic, but her tone lacked sincerity.
“Explode?” Rodimus repeated with a skreel of static in his vocals. “What do you mean, explode?”
Ultra Magnus took him by the elbow, pulling him toward the door. “We understand,” he said. “Thank you for your consideration.” He all but thrust Rodimus out the door ahead of him.
“We will want to celebrate your engagement, of course,” the Grand Regent said, forcing Ultra Magnus to pause in the open doorway. He turned toward her to acknowledge her statement.
She moved back behind her desk, gracefully sliding into her seat. “Parties and the like. I'll contact you with further details.” Her smile could have been matched by a Sharkticon.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head. “Of course,” he said. “Much obliged.” He hurried out before she could place any further burden upon them.
The Grand Regent still managed the last word.
“Congratulations,” she said right before the door slid shut behind them.
It clicked into place, leaving Rodimus and Ultra Magnus staring at each other. Or glaring in Ultra Magnus' case. He was Not Happy and he wanted his captain to know it.
Rodimus grinned. “Before you say anything--”
“To the ship,” Ultra Magnus said, his words clipped. “Now.”
And yes, Rodimus outranked him, but in this moment, he did not. In this very moment right here, Ultra Magnus had deemed himself the one in charge and Rodimus was to march his flame-painted aft back to the Lost Light before Ultra Magnus booted him there.
Ultra Magnus did not speak, because he knew if he did, it would be unpleasant. He needed time to formulate a response that was coherent and not a sharp chastisement. Rodimus did not respond well to chastisement. It made him more belligerent rather than less.
Rodimus broke the silence as they arrived at the Lost Light. “Now,” he said. “I know what you're thinking.”
“No,” Ultra Magnus bit out through a clenched jaw. “I don't think you do. I must protest--”
Rodimus patted him on the arm. “Relax, Magnus. It'll be fine.” He grinned and winked, which failed considering the glaringly obvious collar around his throat. “Percy will take a look at this thing, disarm it in two seconds flat, we'll call everyone back to the ship and break atmo before the Exelons even see what's coming. Piece of oilcake.”
Ultra Magnus twitched. “I do not approve of telling falsehoods. More so, I do not approve of antagonizing one of the few planets who do not despise our kind.”
“I could always legitimately bond you and Swerve if it makes you feel better.”
He ground his denta and heard a skreeling sound that was not pleasant. “That is not the better solution either.”
“You have to learn to flow with it, Magnus,” Rodimus insisted. “It'll all work out. You'll see.”
Ultra Magnus twitched harder.
It would not, in fact, work out.
Four hours later, Perceptor made a “hmm” noise that was not indicative of a positive outcome. His optic narrowed as he thumbed his chin.
“Hmm,” he repeated.
“Tell me you can take it off,” Rodimus begged. He was starting to sound panicked.
Ultra Magnus could not blame him. His bravado started to falter the longer Perceptor examined it. Even Brainstorm had declared it impossible and he was normally one to hold back until Perceptor had issued his verdict. First Aid had taken one look at the thing and said that he wasn't a bomb expert, it wasn't wired into Rodimus' frame, there was nothing he could do.
“Hmm,” Perceptor said again.
“Perceptor!”
“No,” Perceptor finally answered as he drew back. “I cannot remove it at this time. I would, however, like to run a few tests. But I suggest you prepare yourself for the possibility that in two weeks, you are going to die.”
Rodimus stared at him. “You are the smartest mech on this ship.”
“Hey!” Brainstorm interjected.
“Between the two of you, the combined intelligence in this room consists of more than eighty percent of the overall scientific intelligence on this ship,” Rodimus continued.
“Perhaps closer to ninety,” Perceptor corrected.
Rodimus flailed his arms. “And all you can tell me is that there is nothing you can do?”
“No,” Perceptor said. “I indicated I would need to run more tests. Would you like me to attempt to remove it now with a seventy percent chance it explodes? Or later once I've run some simulations and acquired a better success rate?”
Rodimus stared at Perceptor for long enough that Ultra Magnus thought he was seriously considering the options. He squinted with one optic and then the other before he whirled toward Ultra Magnus, planting his hands on his hips. He smiled brightly and Ultra Magnus' spark took up permanent residence in his tanks.
“Well,” Rodimus said. “It looks like it's time for plan B. So do you want to call Swerve or shall I?”
0o0o0
The cheerful chirp of his comm woke Swerve from recharge and he fell out of the berth from surprise. As he lay there on the floor, spark racing and his head aching, he answered the comm without bothering to check the sender's ID.
He would later regret that hastiness.
“Swerve!” Rodimus said with a cheerful clip to his vocals. “We're in need of your expertise so why don't you hop on down to my office and give me a hand. You’re not busy, right?”
Busy? Why of course not. He was only recharging and after that he figured he might as well get to the super invigorating task of wandering around the Lost Light to see if anyone minded him tagging along.
“No,” Swerve answered as he hauled himself to his feet and brushed off his plating. There were several unpleasant streaks on his legs, but who would notice. “I'll be there in a minute.”
“Great! See you soon!”
The comm ended and Swerve cycled a ventilation. He looked around his quarters, stared at the empty berth opposite him, checked his energon levels, and found no reason to delay. He headed for Rodimus' office and wondered what crazy thing Rodimus needed him for this time. More metallurgy knowledge? Hah.
When he arrived, Ultra Magnus and Rodimus were the only ones present and Swerve's spark did that little flutter it always did when he saw the former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord.
Swerve planted a smile on his face, hoped he wasn't in trouble for something again, and said, “You called?”
“Come in, come in,” Rodimus said, urging him with a come-hither gesture. “Have a seat.”
There was one empty chair so Swerve headed to it, edging around Ultra Magnus' knees so as not to inadvertently brush him. Ultra Magnus did not like scuffs.
“No, no, no,” Rodimus said, waving his hands. “Not there!”
Swerve squeaked when Rodimus swooped over, picked him up as though he wasn't two-thirds the co-captain’s side, and deposited him in Ultra Magnus' lap.
Um.
Swerve froze. Dear Primus, don't let his vents kick on. That would be beyond mortifying.
“Yep, right there!” Rodimus declared and formed a rectangle with his fingers, squinting with one optic at both of them. His smile was a special brand of Rodimus mischief. “Yep. That's a happy couple.”
Happy couple?! Swerve gaped at Rodimus like an Insecticon in high beams.
Swerve felt himself being lifted again as Ultra Magnus set him in the empty chair next to Ultra Magnus, leaving Swerve's head spinning. What in Primus' name was going on?
“Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus chastised with his trademark frown. “That was uncalled for.”
Rodimus leaned back against the desk, looking proud of himself. And what was around his neck? It looked clunky and uncomfortable and – it contained explosive devices? What in Primus' name?!
“Why do you have a bomb around your neck?” Swerve asked. He hopped his chair back by several feet, the legs screeching over the metal floor. It was a pretty big bomb, too, judging by the composition of it.
“It's a long story,” Rodimus began.
“He did a foolish thing and now he's due to be executed unless we can figure out a way to remove the collar,” Ultra Magnus interjected. He sat on his chair, the frown lines deeper on his face, his palms flat on this thighs.
Swerve resisted the urge to stare at him.
Rodimus palmed his face. “You have no talent for storytelling,” he muttered before clapping his hands together and returning his attention to Swerve. “In short, yes, that is what happened. The Exelons want to execute me but luckily, Ultra Magnus knows how to speak legalese and managed to buy us some time. That's where you come in.”
Swerve's optics rounded. “You're going to be what?”
“Executed,” Ultra Magnus supplied and he worked his jaw, optics narrowing. His hands kneaded harder against his thighs. “Unless we figure out a solution.”
Swerve choked on his next breath. He waved his hands through the air.
“I'm a metallurgist,” he said. “Not a bomb disposal expert. I can't disarm a bomb. Not that I've ever tried because I don't want to blow up. But that doesn't mean I want to try. Why don't you ask Brainstorm? He's the weapons expert here.”
Rodimus stared at him.
Ultra Magnus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I don't need you to disarm it,” Rodimus said. “I need you to marry Ultra Magnus.”
… What?
Swerve's optical band reset. All of the air left his vents in a whoosh. His fans stalled. His face heated, surely it was bright crimson now. He reset his audials because he hadn't heard what he thought he heard.
“Um,” Swerve said, his gaze sliding toward Ultra Magnus whose face was buried behind his palm. The blue mech could not be more frozen if he tried. “Can you repeat that? Because I could have sworn that you want me to... um... Ultra Magnus?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. His fingers tangled together, forming knots.
“Perhaps, Rodimus, you should start from the beginning,” Ultra Magnus said.
Yes. The beginning. That might help. Because Swerve was beyond confused.
Not that Rodimus' explanation made much more sense. He signed up for a race that he won which, as it turned out, meant he was now next in line for the throne. The Exelons did not like this. The rules stated that the only way to be rid of unwanted successors was to kill them. The only workaround Ultra Magnus could find was to delay the execution, which would give them enough time to find another solution.
The bomb around Rodimus' neck had been the hiccup in the plan. Now they had to go through with the marriage for real in order to keep up the pretenses. Or at least pretend to be going through with a marriage.
“Um.” It was all Swerve could say in the face of that much ridiculousness.
All the mechs on the Lost Light and they'd picked Swerve for this? He felt he should be flattered and in fact, he was. It didn't matter that the engagement was false. Ultra Magnus had picked him! Ultra Magnus had noticed him.
“And as it turns out,” Ultra Magnus continued, the tension refusing to leave his frame, “the Exelons had been subtly investigating us. They already knew that there was only one member of our crew that my fiance could possibly be.”
“That was you, by the way,” Rodimus said with a grin and a little chuckle. He leaned back against his desk, folded his arms over his chest. He crossed one leg over the other at his ankle joints. “Congratulations.”
Swerve's hope popped like a burst bubble. His smile never faltered, but realization rang through him like a bell of doom.
“Oh,” he said.
No other choice, huh? Well that was significantly less awesome. This fake engagement idea was growing more unsavory by the second.
“I see,” Swerve added and lapsed into silence again. He was, for once, bereft of words. How was he supposed to respond to that?
Thank you for getting stuck with me? I'm sorry that I was the only option you had? This is unfortunate for all of us, but let's make do?
“Anyway,” Rodimus continued, clapping his hands together again. He squinted one optic shut and pointed his fingers toward Swerve, “I'd really like to not die so if you could help me out here, that would be great.”
Swerve fiddled with his fingers and cast another sideways look at Ultra Magnus, but the other mech was staring intently at the wall as though he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Sure,” Swerve managed, planting a grin on his face. “I mean, it's for a good cause, right? And I'm all about good causes. I don't want to see you dead either. Plus, there's no harm in pretending.”
The part of him that wanted to shout 'yes!' to the stars was quickly buried down deep. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to read the eagerness in his field. That would be, well, worse than embarrassing. It would be humiliating, and Swerve's had quite enough of that as of late, thank you very much.
Ultra Magnus twitched.
Rodimus grinned.
“Great! So you're in and Magnus is in and of course, I'm in. Now we just have to make sure the rest of the crew isn't. Right?”
Ultra Magnus stiffly nodded. “No one beyond this room can know that we are perpetuating a r-- ru-- tactical maneuver,” he said. “Else I have no doubt that not only will the Exelons execute Rodimus immediately, but they will most likely execute anyone else directly involved for attempting to circumvent the consequences of Rodimus' actions.”
Swerve gulped. Not only would he have to pretend to be engaged to Ultra Magnus, but there was an element of risk to himself as well? He wasn't sure which part was worse!
He couldn't even tell anyone it wasn't real. He would have no one to talk to, no one to whine about the unfairness of it all. How hard was it going to be to tell himself this wasn't real if he couldn't tell anyone else?
“I mean it, Swerve,” Rodimus said, attempting to be stern. “No talking. No running your mouth. No whispering. No talking to anyone unless you're telling them how much you and Ultra Magnus are in love and can't wait to get married. Got me?”
“Got it,” Swerve managed to force out.
He slid another aside look to Ultra Magnus who hadn't unwound in the least. If anything, Ultra Magnus looked more tense than before.
“Are you, um, are you okay with this?” Swerve asked, absolutely not fidgeting in his seat as he internally begged Ultra Magnus not to thoroughly decimate him.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head. “It is what must be done,” he said. “For Rodimus' sake and now, for both of ours.”
Right. Necessity. Duty. Honor. All that slag.
Not, Swerve glumly thought, because he had any interest in Swerve at all. Just twist the energon knife a little deeper, Magnus.
“That's great. That's wonderful. We're all in agreement here!” Rodimus gave them both a thumbs up, his grin stretching from audial to audial. “That's, well, that's fantastic. So I guess I’m going to go now, deliver the awesome news to Megatron, and you two can, I dunno, play nice?” He winked.
“There are terms and expectations we must discuss,” Ultra Magnus agreed. He turned in his chair toward Swerve, optics assessing him from head to foot. “If we are to be at all successful in this endeavor, we must all be on the same page.”
Rodimus strode forward and patted them each on a shoulder. “I knew I could count on you both. I'll even give you some privacy.”
He all but strutted toward the door; Swerve stared longingly in his wake. Without Rodimus to serve as a buffer, that was going to be more than awkward.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Rodimus said as he keyed open the door and whirled back toward them. He walked backward out of the office. “I'm the only one allowed to 'face on my desk, got me?”
Swerve spluttered.
Ultra Magnus frowned.
The door shut before either of them could formulate a response: a denial on Swerve's part or a recitation of the Autobot code on Ultra Magnus'.
This left them alone. Staring at each other. Or rather, Swerve was staring at Ultra Magnus, immediately missing Rodimus in the awkward silence that fell.
“So...” he began, and planted a bright smile on his face. “You do this often? Get engaged? Or, you know, only when Rodimus is in mortal danger. Which is pretty often, I'm coming to learn. He's like a magnet for trouble.”
Ultra Magnus sighed and scrubbed his palms down his thighs. “It is an unfortunate situation,” he said gravely. “We shall have to make the most of it. But only if you are comfortable, Swerve.”
It wasn't like he had much other choice, right? Either he helped or Rodimus' head exploded and well, that was a lot worse outcome than a fake engagement. A broken spark would mend with time but not an exploded head. That much explosive? Would probably kill anyone in the room with him too. That was some powerful stuff.
“Yeah, sure. Let's do this thing. I'm good with it. Are you good with it? Because, you know, we should both be comfortable, right? Otherwise they'll probably be able to tell we aren't really engaged if you flinch or something.”
“Indeed.” Ultra Magnus nodded slowly, his field loosening from its tight furl so that Swerve could get a taste of it.
There was no excitement in his field. Swerve tried not to let himself get too disappointed. This was only pretend. He would have to keep reminding himself of this, else he might get in too deep.
“So,” Swerve said brightly. “Rules. Regulations. Plans. You have them, I'll bet. I'm sure you don't want to wing it. I mean, I'm not the best at improvisation but if you want me to try, I'll give it a go.” His legs kicked out.
Ultra Magnus turned fully toward him. “We should leave very little to chance,” he said. “It is important that we understand our... relationship, down to the tiniest detail.”
“Right.” Swerve nodded, his spark palpitating at the thought.
A relationship with Ultra Magnus. It was like a dream come true, except not, because eventually he would wake up and it would prove to be not real after all.
This was such a terrible idea.
“What should we talk about first?” Swerve asked.
But Ultra Magnus wasn't looking at him anymore. He was tilting his head, optics narrowed, and then he lifted a hand, pressing it to his audial.
“One moment please,” he said.
Ah, a comm. Well, that was not surprising.
Swerve resisted the urge to whistle, a new trick Chromedome had taught him, and waited. He watched Ultra Magnus' expressions from his peripheral vision and watched them go from neutral to exasperation and finally, irritation.
“I understand. I will be there shortly.” He dropped his hand and rose to his feet with a sigh. “There is a disturbance in your bar. We must go.”
Swerve slid to the floor. “What about our conversation?”
“It must wait. This takes precedence as I can't reach Megatron.”
Great.
Swerve trailed after his fiance, trying to ignore his growing dread. How could a day be both terrible and awesome simultaneously?
Was it too late for a do-over?
a/n: I had so much fun writing this. Ultra Magnus was far easier than Swerve, however, and Rodimus is such a little shit, but I love him anyway.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. This is self-beta'ed so if I missed any errors, I won't mind if you point them out.
