[IDW] Marry Me - Chapter Three
Aug. 25th, 2015 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Another update. Another mix of cuteness and anxiety and humor and tension. Wooo! It's SFW.
Universe: IDW, MTMTE
Characters this chapter: Ultra Magnus, Swerve, Rodimus, Tailgate, Rewind, Whirl, Rung, Skids, Nightbeat
Rated K+ for this chapter
Commission Gift Fic for nothumanafterall.
Rodimus did not, in fact, go to the command deck to speak with Megatron. Instead, his first order of business had been to go to Swerve's bar and announce to every one present that Swerve and Ultra Magnus were getting married and it was every crew member's duty to congratulate the happy couple on sight.
No one believed him. An argument ensued. And so, much to Ultra Magnus' chagrin, did a minor riot.
The moment Ultra Magnus walked through the door with Swerve next to him, there was silence. Not immediately, truth be told, but as the first of the rioters noticed him, it was quickly passed onto the rest until a hushed quiet fell.
Rodimus, center of attention in the middle of the room as he stood on top of the bar, grinned and clapped his hands.
“And there's the happy couple!” he declared, throwing his arms out wide. He could not have been more proud of himself if he tried.
The presence at his side drew closer to Ultra Magnus. He felt a little like wanting to be small himself as they were suddenly the focus of intense scrutiny. They had not prepared for this. Why did Rodimus have to be so impulsive?
“Is it true?” someone shouted and Ultra Magnus traced the query to a small group of mechs in the corner, the loudest of them Smokescreen. No doubt he had been the one to ask. That mech was always looking for trouble.
“Of course it isn't,” Whirl retorted with a scoff. He lazily tossed a glass into the air and an attempt to catch it resulted in failure. When it shattered, Swerve winced. “Rodimus is trying to play another joke.”
“We're not asking you,” Jackpot hissed.
“Let Ultra Magnus answer,” Mainframe added, never one without the other. They were all but attached at the hip, Ultra Magnus had noticed.
“Fine,” Whirl huffed. He pulled out a chair, dragged it closer to Ultra Magnus and Swerve in the doorway, and planted his aft in it. “Well? Is it true?”
The urge to squirm nearly overrode all else. Ultra Magnus cycled a ventilation. All optics were on him, even Swerve's, who no doubt had no idea how to handle this any better than Ultra Magnus did. Curse Rodimus. This was all his fault.
Ultra Magnus cycled his vocalizer with an audible click-click. He nodded.
“Swerve has accepted my proposal,” he said, because that was not a lie. That was true. He'd asked if Swerve was okay with this and Swerve had said 'yes'.
“Therefore,” Ultra Magnus continued as he lifted his hand and made a grab for Swerve, managing to rest it on the minibot's upper back, “We are engaged.”
And oh, Ultra Magnus could not have timed it better. Because Swerve seemed to know, without prompting, to lift his left hand and reach over his shoulder and rest his fingers over Magnus'. They were shaking, Ultra Magnus noticed, but he politely did not comment on it.
This, technically, counted as holding hands. It was something considered intimate, beyond the realm of simple friendship. And, it was something no one had ever witnessed Ultra Magnus do. It said, in clear terms, that he was serious.
Further proving that Swerve was a natural at this, the metallurgist broke into a large, ridiculously goofy grin that all but emanated happiness. No one looking at that smile could think they were anything but sincere.
There was a long moment of stunned silence. It was as if all the atmosphere had been sucked from the room. Over two dozen bots stared at them, long enough for Minimus to start squirming deep within the armor.
And then the bar exploded into noise and motion.
“Congratulations!”
“I can't believe it!”
“Holy slag! You were dating!?”
“Are you slagging me?”
“I didn't even know Ultra Magnus could date. Is that even legal?”
“Never thought I'd see the cycle!”
A tide of mechs came streaming their direction, smiles on their faces, their fields brimming with delight. Ultra Magnus' optics widened. Swerve pushed closer to him, vibrating with alarm.
In the background, Rodimus slowly climbed down from his perch on the table, grinning from audial to audial. No one paid him any further attention.
I will get you for this, Ultra Magnus thought angrily at him. Not that Rodimus could hear him.
Within moments, they were mobbed. Swerve was all but ripped from his hands, swept away by the combined force of Tailgate and Rewind, whose small size had never fooled Ultra Magnus. Though he was more than a little concerned as Whirl went loping after them, pincers clacking together with visible excitement.
Ultra Magnus' own company was more reserved, but only a matter of degrees. Rung had a pleasant smile as he adjusted his glasses. Skids' wide grin hid no small amount of mischief. Nightbeat gave Ultra Magnus an assessing look as though he could find the falsehoods in the creases of Ultra Magnus' dermal plating.
“Congratulations, Ultra Magnus,” Rung said with a felicitous burst of his energy field that was far more pleasant than the barrage others had impressed upon him. “I am very happy for the both of you, though it did come as a surprise.”
He didn't know the half of it.
Ultra Magnus worked his jaw.
“Yes,” Nightbeat said, tapping his chin. “Exactly when did you start dating Swerve?”
Rodimus was going to pay for this.
0o0o0
“You must be so happy!”
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“I know how to keep a secret!”
“We could have helped you!”
“And here I was worried because you weren't flirting!”
Swerve managed a chuckle, as nervous as it was, and held up his hands, not too subtly trying to back away from the onslaught of questions that Tailgate and Rewind were laying into him. That Whirl hovered over the both of them, looking more than a little manic though thankfully not homicidal, only amped up the agitation. It didn't help that he kept click-clacking his pincers with excitement.
What was he supposed to say? Swerve didn't know. They hadn't talked about this!
“It, um, was sudden,” Swerve blurted, his fingers twisting into each other. “The engagement! Was sudden. And so was this.” He swung his arms out wide, motioning to his bar in general. “Kinda wasn't expecting everyone to know about it so soon.”
That, at least, Swerve knew was true. And Primus help him, he couldn't screw this up. He couldn't be the one to blame for everything going south. Where was Ultra Magnus? Why wasn't he here to cast a disapproving frown and make sure Swerve didn't screw up?
Swerve craned his neck, trying to see through the crowd. He thought maybe that was Ultra Magnus behind the bulk of Nightbeat and Cyclonus and Inferno. Rung was there, too, a small orange smear in the middle. And this wasn't helping him at all!
“Why didn't you tell us?” Tailgate asked. He leaned closer to Swerve, hands clasped beneath his chin and if such a thing were real, Swerve imagined he'd have sparks dancing in his visor.
Swerve leaned back. “I... uh...”
“Old Stiff probably made him keep it a secret,” Whirl said, sounding bored. He examined his claws, giving them several click-clicks. “Like he's ashamed or something. Maybe I oughta show him different...?”
“No!” Swerve all but threw himself at Whirl and hoped that he put himself between wherever Ultra Magnus was and Whirl. “It was my idea. Not his. I just didn't want... this!” He spread his arms again, pointing out the sudden noise and flood of people, all of them making this farce suddenly so very real and Swerve was not ready for this.
“That makes sense, I suppose,” Rewind said with a nod of his head. Where was Chromedome? Wasn't he always two steps behind Rewind? “Though I can't believe you kept it a secret for so long.”
“Oh, ha, ha. Yes, I know. I can't keep my mouth shut.” Swerve rolled his optics behind his optical band and laughed. He wondered if it sounded as forced as it felt. And then he took a second look at Rewind. “Wait. Are you recording this?”
“Of course I am!”
Rewind danced backward as Swerve made a grab for him. The datastick waggled a finger in reproach.
“You know that I'm always recording,” he said. “Plus, this is the event of a lifetime! Ultra Magnus! Bonding to a mere metallurgist.” He raised his hands and spread a pretend banner. “Big news!”
Swerve's tanks lurched. He very nearly purged. “I don't think... can we just... it's not...”
Tailgate patted him on the arm. “It's okay. Ventilate, Swerve. It's just now feeling real, huh?”
“More than it ought to,” Swerve admitted, his shoulders slumping. Oh, Primus. There was not enough engex in the world to make this survivable.
He planted a smile on his face, drew to his full height, and prepared to fight for his freedom. “Seriously, though. Thanks for all the congratulations. You guys are great and wonderful and so supportive, wow. Didn't see that coming. But, I have to, you know, get back to Ultra Magnus. I'm sure he's missing me...”
As soon as he could find Ultra Magnus. How hard could it be? The mech stood heads taller than ninety percent of the mechs on the Lost Light and that was without counting the shoulder pauldrons.
Ah! There! A corner! Trust Magnus to find a quiet one. He was currently seated at a table with other equally quiet mechs. Bluestreak, good old Bluestreak, had already served them, though he'd brought Magnus the wrong drink.
Still... objective obtained!
“Slag right, he's missin' ya!” Whirl said with a chortle and a slap to the aft that would have sent Swerve flying if Tailgate hadn't caught his arm. “Go get 'im.”
Swerve tossed Whirl a glare, not that the rotary noticed, and rubbed his aft. That was uncalled for. It stung, too.
“Go on,” Tailgate said, shooing him away. “Whirl's right, at least. You two should be together right now.”
Rewind, having pulled a chair to put between them, offers a double set of thumbs up.
Swerve managed something like a grateful smile and tore himself away, pushing through the increasingly raucous crowd to the far corner. Ultra Magnus probably only had to glare to clear a path, but not Swerve. He was as unnoticeable as the serving drone scuttling about underfoot.
His enthusiasm faltered the closer he got, however. Because they hadn't discussed expectations or proper behavior. He couldn't just throw himself into Ultra Magnus' lap. That would probably be uncomfortable for the both of them. But they were dating. They were engaged. He was expected to be comfortable with some kind of contact, right?
Swerve gnawed on his bottom lip and approached the table, lingering what he hoped was close enough to be noticed, but far enough that he didn't intrude. He thought to call out to Ultra Magnus, but what was appropriate? Should he use a cute name like “dearspark” or something equally stupid? Maybe the often-loathed “Mags.” If he called out to Ultra Magnus as such, would the others find it weird?
Swerve didn't know. His hands started twisting themselves into knots. Uncertainty ate at his field. He shifted back and forth on his pedes and was two seconds away from spinning on a heelstrut and darting back into the crowd. But then Ultra Magnus turned toward him, prompted by Skids perhaps, and the smallest curve of his lips made him look... happy to see Swerve.
Dead.
Swerve was so going to be dead. Because that teensy-tiny smile went straight to his spark where it strobed fuzzy feelings of delight through the rest of his frame. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
“There you are,” Ultra Magnus said and he offered a hand, tilting his frame slightly out of the booth. “Care to join us?” His expression was pleasant but there was an urgency and a question in his optics.
Play the game, those optics seemed to say.
Swerve gathered up his courage, grinned, and took Ultra Magnus' hand, not failing to notice how ridiculous his hand looked next to Magnus'. The hand curled around his fingers and then Swerve squeaked with surprise. Ultra Magnus had pulled him onto the former Enforcer's lap. Or well, halfway on his lap. Swerve only fit on one thigh.
Magnus' arm wound around his waist, which kept him from toppling off, and tilted Swerve back against his chest. He could feel the humming of Magnus' frame against his own, along with the heat of him. Field contact was inevitable, giving Swerve his first taste of the mix of anxiety, exasperation, and concern that was Ultra Magnus' maelstrom of emotion.
Dear Primus.
Now Ultra Magnus was leaning over him, a most intimate action, his frame curled around Swerve's until he was wrapped in Ultra Magnus' presence. This put his mouth tantalizingly close to Swerve's audial, a way that they could speak without anyone overhearing.
“Is this all right?” Ultra Magnus asked, his low vocals purring into Swerve's audial and vibrating throughout his entire frame.
He scrubbed his hands down his thighs, fighting off a shiver. “Yes,” he said and anxiously licked his lips. “I mean, yeah. It's a lot. But I'm fine.” Though it depended on the definition of fine.
Because any other time? Swerve would be golden. He would be over the moon with happiness. He wouldn't be able to stop grinning and touching. But right now? With this agreement looming over his head, he couldn't. He kept crashing back to solid ground every time his protocols reminded him that this wasn't real.
“Are you certain?” Ultra Magnus asked, and the concern in his voice, in his field, that was so very tempting. It was beautiful.
Swerve nodded. “Yes,” he said, and repeated. “Yes, I'm sure.” He didn't know anymore if he was convincing himself or Magnus.
He proved it by resting his own hand over Magnus'. He rubbed his palm over fingers that dwarfed his own, and traced the fine mechanisms of Magnus' knuckles. He pretended he didn't notice that mechs were staring, the impolite ones anyway.
He didn't hear the snickers either. Or the whispers. He didn't feel the dozens of pairs of optics thoroughly fascinated or the fingers pointed their direction.
Nope, his entire focus was on Ultra Magnus. The way their armor fitted together. How warm Ultra Magnus was. How he still didn't have the right drink but Ultra Magnus would consume it because he hated to be wasteful.
Swerve concentrated instead on controlling his own ventilations, so Ultra Magnus couldn't see how rapid they had become. He memorized the weight of Ultra Magnus' arm around his waist. He traced Ultra Magnus' fingers, over and over, and he felt the vibrations of the massive spark against his backplate. He hoped this moment would stay bright and vivid in his memory forever.
“When's the wedding?” Skids was asking, his vocals dim to Swerve.
An energon cube was thrust in his direction, generic engex, not a flavor to be found, but he grabbed it and sucked it down as though it was the purest high grade. It gave him something to do, somewhere else to focus, that way he couldn't frag this up.
“Soon,” Ultra Magnus said and his thumb stroked Swerve's abdominal plate, the tip of it brushing the lowest seam of the armor that guarded his spark.
Swerve shook. A bolt of pleasure zinged straight from the bare brush to the depths of his systems. Heat spread through him in a wave of warmth he couldn't avoid.
He'd spent far too many nights with Ultra Magnus' name on his lips and the shadow of him in Swerve's imaginings. This was not helping.
“We haven't discussed the details,” Swerve dimly heard Ultra Magnus add to his answer. And how like him, to tell the truth about a lie, skirting exact phrasing in order to protect himself.
“The Exelons have graciously invited us to host the reception on their planet,” Ultra Magnus continued. “Apparently, such things are to be celebrated.”
“With parties?” Skids asked, a big grin on his handsome face. He leaned eagerly over the table, doors arched behind him. Getaway was nowhere to be seen, oddly enough. Usually you could hardly separate them.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head. “To my understanding, yes. The Grand Regent said she will contact us later with the details.”
“How kind of them,” Rung said.
“How convenient,” Nightbeat said with a smirk. He had that light behind his optical band that suggested he was very intrigued.
Swerve pressed a little harder against Ultra Magnus, dreading the moment the questions turned toward him. Ultra Magnus' arm was so warm around him. The thrum of his field was so welcome. Swerve's ventilations increased. His spark pulsed louder. It throbbed in his audials.
He went stiff.
Ultra Magnus must have noticed because he leaned over Swerve again. “Your visor is fritzing,” he murmured. “Are you unwell?”
Swerve worked his intake as there appeared to be a lump caught in it. “I lied,” he whispered. His hand squeezed Ultra Magnus' fingers. “I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all. This is too much.”
Was there desperation in his field? Because there ought to be. He was two seconds from throwing himself from Ultra Magnus' lap and pelting out of the room and that wouldn't help their image at all.
“I understand. I will make our excuses. Give me a moment.”
Ultra Magnus' hand never left Swerve's back. But he did straighten and reboot his vocalizer in a subtle way of catching everyone's attention.
“We appreciate your congratulations,” Ultra Magnus said with genuine warmth in his voice. “But there are things that require our attention and we must depart.”
Swerve slid down from Ultra Magnus' lap – he had some dignity left to him! – and planted a smile on his face. His knees were wobbling. He hoped no one noticed.
“Don't worry,” Swerve said. “We'll invite everyone to all the parties and the wedding, of course. You won't miss a thing. Bartender's honor.”
Ultra Magnus rose from the table as well, once again placing his hand against Swerve's upper back. This he used to direct Swerve through the crowd.
“Move quickly,” he urged.
Swerve didn't have to be told twice. He was more than ready to get out of here, to some place quiet where they could finally sit down and talk. Perhaps even call Rodimus to yell at him. Because this awkward situation was all Rodimus' fault and wouldn't you know that their bothersome captain had already skedaddled from the bar? It had better have been to go speak with Megatron.
Or more likely, it was to go cause more trouble.
Whistles followed in their wake. Some of the shouted comments did not bear repeating. Others made Swerve's face burn and his audials cringe. He felt Ultra Magnus getting more and more stiff behind him, as if only the desperate need to flee was what kept him from turning around to deliver citation after citation.
Swerve didn't feel an ounce of relaxation until after they stepped out of the bar and the doors closed behind them, cutting off most of the noise.
“You did well,” Ultra Magnus said.
Swerve blinked, startled. Their rapid pace dwindled to something that was a little more comfortable, though Swerve still had to hurry to keep up with Ultra Magnus' loping stride. The large hand vanished from his back as well and Swerve reminded himself not to miss the warmth.
“I, um, thank you.” Swerve twisted his fingers together and looked down, hoping Ultra Magnus couldn't see how pink his face was. “Sorry I had to get out of there. I didn't know what to do or say and the tension was getting to me.”
“It is all right.” Ultra Magnus, at least, didn't sound angry. “We need to draw some boundaries and delineate the details before we can attempt something like that again. If we have any hope of maintaining this... relationship, then we must be on the same page.”
The hesitation before relationship might as well have been a kick to the aft. Swerve sighed and brushed off the disappointment.
“I understand. Completely. Totally. So when do you want to do this thing? Because eventually, I do have to get back to my bar.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I left Bluestreak in charge and he's a good kid, don't get me wrong, but he doesn't know those idiots like I do.”
“Bluestreak is more than capable. We must discuss the terms now,” Ultra Magnus said and he hung a sharp turn.
Only then did Swerve realize where they were going, toward the Command Deck and Ultra Magnus' private office. He remembered being hauled in there on previous occasions, usually for doing something in his bar without the proper licenses or training.
It was on the tip of his glossa to suggest something a bit more personal, in case anyone was watching or listening in, but the moment came and went. Ultra Magnus certainly knew what was best and the idea of having Ultra Magnus in his hab-suite was... well.
Yeah. Magnus' office was the best place for them to go right now.
“Okay,” Swerve said. “You're the boss, Mags-- I mean, Ultra Magnus. I'll follow your lead.”
Especially since Swerve's one lead was not much of a lead at all. How was he supposed to know how to pretend to be engaged when he hadn't been in a long-term relationship ever? He'd had a few one night stands here and there, most of which were accompanied by him being the one to leave on the early cycle 'walk of shame'.
His one semi-long term experience was with a fellow metallurgist before the war. It last a month before it fell apart and to this day, Swerve didn't know who to blame more. Sure he talked a lot. Not that it was a surprise. Anthem knew that going in. And wasn't Swerve within his right to ask his semi-permanent partner for a bit more equality in the berth?
Anyway. What it boiled down to was that Swerve simply did not have the experience needed to do this the right way, much less fake it. Sure he could ask Rewind for copies of all kinds of romantic dramas and romantic comedies, but Swerve was pretty sure those sappy story lines didn't work in real life. Plus, Rewind would want to know what they were for and like frag Swerve was going to tell him. Not that he could.
“Swerve.”
He startled and looked up. Ultra Magnus had stopped and was staring down at him, his optics lit with concern.
A nervous chuckle escaped Swerve. “Uhhh, no?” he answered, rubbing the back of his cowling.
“It wasn't a 'yes' or 'no' question.” Ultra Magnus frowned. “Are you all right?”
Swerve laughed and waved him off. “I'm fine. I'm fine. You know how I am with long conversations, right? I just hope I stay awake.”
“Mm. Good point.” Ultra Magnus straightened and reached for the keypad by his door. Somehow, Swerve had followed him here in a daze. “I'll make sure to take copious notes and put them on a datapad for you. That way you can study them at your leisure.”
Great.
Swerve popped a grin on his mouth. “That's awful considerate of you, Magnus. I'll, um, I'll do my best.”
Ultra Magnus gestured for him to enter first. “I know that you will.”
Swerve tried not to sigh. Into the office, it was. This was surely to be a titillating conversation.
Well, at least it'll kill the last trickles of arousal he'd been harboring from the moment Ultra Magnus hauled him into his lap. For this, he was going to need as clear a head as he could manage.
He dearly hoped that Rodimus wasn't anywhere else, stirring up more trouble.
****
a/n: More updates to come! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed this fun little story.
Universe: IDW, MTMTE
Characters this chapter: Ultra Magnus, Swerve, Rodimus, Tailgate, Rewind, Whirl, Rung, Skids, Nightbeat
Rated K+ for this chapter
Commission Gift Fic for nothumanafterall.
Marry Me – Chapter Three
Rodimus did not, in fact, go to the command deck to speak with Megatron. Instead, his first order of business had been to go to Swerve's bar and announce to every one present that Swerve and Ultra Magnus were getting married and it was every crew member's duty to congratulate the happy couple on sight.
No one believed him. An argument ensued. And so, much to Ultra Magnus' chagrin, did a minor riot.
The moment Ultra Magnus walked through the door with Swerve next to him, there was silence. Not immediately, truth be told, but as the first of the rioters noticed him, it was quickly passed onto the rest until a hushed quiet fell.
Rodimus, center of attention in the middle of the room as he stood on top of the bar, grinned and clapped his hands.
“And there's the happy couple!” he declared, throwing his arms out wide. He could not have been more proud of himself if he tried.
The presence at his side drew closer to Ultra Magnus. He felt a little like wanting to be small himself as they were suddenly the focus of intense scrutiny. They had not prepared for this. Why did Rodimus have to be so impulsive?
“Is it true?” someone shouted and Ultra Magnus traced the query to a small group of mechs in the corner, the loudest of them Smokescreen. No doubt he had been the one to ask. That mech was always looking for trouble.
“Of course it isn't,” Whirl retorted with a scoff. He lazily tossed a glass into the air and an attempt to catch it resulted in failure. When it shattered, Swerve winced. “Rodimus is trying to play another joke.”
“We're not asking you,” Jackpot hissed.
“Let Ultra Magnus answer,” Mainframe added, never one without the other. They were all but attached at the hip, Ultra Magnus had noticed.
“Fine,” Whirl huffed. He pulled out a chair, dragged it closer to Ultra Magnus and Swerve in the doorway, and planted his aft in it. “Well? Is it true?”
The urge to squirm nearly overrode all else. Ultra Magnus cycled a ventilation. All optics were on him, even Swerve's, who no doubt had no idea how to handle this any better than Ultra Magnus did. Curse Rodimus. This was all his fault.
Ultra Magnus cycled his vocalizer with an audible click-click. He nodded.
“Swerve has accepted my proposal,” he said, because that was not a lie. That was true. He'd asked if Swerve was okay with this and Swerve had said 'yes'.
“Therefore,” Ultra Magnus continued as he lifted his hand and made a grab for Swerve, managing to rest it on the minibot's upper back, “We are engaged.”
And oh, Ultra Magnus could not have timed it better. Because Swerve seemed to know, without prompting, to lift his left hand and reach over his shoulder and rest his fingers over Magnus'. They were shaking, Ultra Magnus noticed, but he politely did not comment on it.
This, technically, counted as holding hands. It was something considered intimate, beyond the realm of simple friendship. And, it was something no one had ever witnessed Ultra Magnus do. It said, in clear terms, that he was serious.
Further proving that Swerve was a natural at this, the metallurgist broke into a large, ridiculously goofy grin that all but emanated happiness. No one looking at that smile could think they were anything but sincere.
There was a long moment of stunned silence. It was as if all the atmosphere had been sucked from the room. Over two dozen bots stared at them, long enough for Minimus to start squirming deep within the armor.
And then the bar exploded into noise and motion.
“Congratulations!”
“I can't believe it!”
“Holy slag! You were dating!?”
“Are you slagging me?”
“I didn't even know Ultra Magnus could date. Is that even legal?”
“Never thought I'd see the cycle!”
A tide of mechs came streaming their direction, smiles on their faces, their fields brimming with delight. Ultra Magnus' optics widened. Swerve pushed closer to him, vibrating with alarm.
In the background, Rodimus slowly climbed down from his perch on the table, grinning from audial to audial. No one paid him any further attention.
I will get you for this, Ultra Magnus thought angrily at him. Not that Rodimus could hear him.
Within moments, they were mobbed. Swerve was all but ripped from his hands, swept away by the combined force of Tailgate and Rewind, whose small size had never fooled Ultra Magnus. Though he was more than a little concerned as Whirl went loping after them, pincers clacking together with visible excitement.
Ultra Magnus' own company was more reserved, but only a matter of degrees. Rung had a pleasant smile as he adjusted his glasses. Skids' wide grin hid no small amount of mischief. Nightbeat gave Ultra Magnus an assessing look as though he could find the falsehoods in the creases of Ultra Magnus' dermal plating.
“Congratulations, Ultra Magnus,” Rung said with a felicitous burst of his energy field that was far more pleasant than the barrage others had impressed upon him. “I am very happy for the both of you, though it did come as a surprise.”
He didn't know the half of it.
Ultra Magnus worked his jaw.
“Yes,” Nightbeat said, tapping his chin. “Exactly when did you start dating Swerve?”
Rodimus was going to pay for this.
“You must be so happy!”
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“I know how to keep a secret!”
“We could have helped you!”
“And here I was worried because you weren't flirting!”
Swerve managed a chuckle, as nervous as it was, and held up his hands, not too subtly trying to back away from the onslaught of questions that Tailgate and Rewind were laying into him. That Whirl hovered over the both of them, looking more than a little manic though thankfully not homicidal, only amped up the agitation. It didn't help that he kept click-clacking his pincers with excitement.
What was he supposed to say? Swerve didn't know. They hadn't talked about this!
“It, um, was sudden,” Swerve blurted, his fingers twisting into each other. “The engagement! Was sudden. And so was this.” He swung his arms out wide, motioning to his bar in general. “Kinda wasn't expecting everyone to know about it so soon.”
That, at least, Swerve knew was true. And Primus help him, he couldn't screw this up. He couldn't be the one to blame for everything going south. Where was Ultra Magnus? Why wasn't he here to cast a disapproving frown and make sure Swerve didn't screw up?
Swerve craned his neck, trying to see through the crowd. He thought maybe that was Ultra Magnus behind the bulk of Nightbeat and Cyclonus and Inferno. Rung was there, too, a small orange smear in the middle. And this wasn't helping him at all!
“Why didn't you tell us?” Tailgate asked. He leaned closer to Swerve, hands clasped beneath his chin and if such a thing were real, Swerve imagined he'd have sparks dancing in his visor.
Swerve leaned back. “I... uh...”
“Old Stiff probably made him keep it a secret,” Whirl said, sounding bored. He examined his claws, giving them several click-clicks. “Like he's ashamed or something. Maybe I oughta show him different...?”
“No!” Swerve all but threw himself at Whirl and hoped that he put himself between wherever Ultra Magnus was and Whirl. “It was my idea. Not his. I just didn't want... this!” He spread his arms again, pointing out the sudden noise and flood of people, all of them making this farce suddenly so very real and Swerve was not ready for this.
“That makes sense, I suppose,” Rewind said with a nod of his head. Where was Chromedome? Wasn't he always two steps behind Rewind? “Though I can't believe you kept it a secret for so long.”
“Oh, ha, ha. Yes, I know. I can't keep my mouth shut.” Swerve rolled his optics behind his optical band and laughed. He wondered if it sounded as forced as it felt. And then he took a second look at Rewind. “Wait. Are you recording this?”
“Of course I am!”
Rewind danced backward as Swerve made a grab for him. The datastick waggled a finger in reproach.
“You know that I'm always recording,” he said. “Plus, this is the event of a lifetime! Ultra Magnus! Bonding to a mere metallurgist.” He raised his hands and spread a pretend banner. “Big news!”
Swerve's tanks lurched. He very nearly purged. “I don't think... can we just... it's not...”
Tailgate patted him on the arm. “It's okay. Ventilate, Swerve. It's just now feeling real, huh?”
“More than it ought to,” Swerve admitted, his shoulders slumping. Oh, Primus. There was not enough engex in the world to make this survivable.
He planted a smile on his face, drew to his full height, and prepared to fight for his freedom. “Seriously, though. Thanks for all the congratulations. You guys are great and wonderful and so supportive, wow. Didn't see that coming. But, I have to, you know, get back to Ultra Magnus. I'm sure he's missing me...”
As soon as he could find Ultra Magnus. How hard could it be? The mech stood heads taller than ninety percent of the mechs on the Lost Light and that was without counting the shoulder pauldrons.
Ah! There! A corner! Trust Magnus to find a quiet one. He was currently seated at a table with other equally quiet mechs. Bluestreak, good old Bluestreak, had already served them, though he'd brought Magnus the wrong drink.
Still... objective obtained!
“Slag right, he's missin' ya!” Whirl said with a chortle and a slap to the aft that would have sent Swerve flying if Tailgate hadn't caught his arm. “Go get 'im.”
Swerve tossed Whirl a glare, not that the rotary noticed, and rubbed his aft. That was uncalled for. It stung, too.
“Go on,” Tailgate said, shooing him away. “Whirl's right, at least. You two should be together right now.”
Rewind, having pulled a chair to put between them, offers a double set of thumbs up.
Swerve managed something like a grateful smile and tore himself away, pushing through the increasingly raucous crowd to the far corner. Ultra Magnus probably only had to glare to clear a path, but not Swerve. He was as unnoticeable as the serving drone scuttling about underfoot.
His enthusiasm faltered the closer he got, however. Because they hadn't discussed expectations or proper behavior. He couldn't just throw himself into Ultra Magnus' lap. That would probably be uncomfortable for the both of them. But they were dating. They were engaged. He was expected to be comfortable with some kind of contact, right?
Swerve gnawed on his bottom lip and approached the table, lingering what he hoped was close enough to be noticed, but far enough that he didn't intrude. He thought to call out to Ultra Magnus, but what was appropriate? Should he use a cute name like “dearspark” or something equally stupid? Maybe the often-loathed “Mags.” If he called out to Ultra Magnus as such, would the others find it weird?
Swerve didn't know. His hands started twisting themselves into knots. Uncertainty ate at his field. He shifted back and forth on his pedes and was two seconds away from spinning on a heelstrut and darting back into the crowd. But then Ultra Magnus turned toward him, prompted by Skids perhaps, and the smallest curve of his lips made him look... happy to see Swerve.
Dead.
Swerve was so going to be dead. Because that teensy-tiny smile went straight to his spark where it strobed fuzzy feelings of delight through the rest of his frame. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
“There you are,” Ultra Magnus said and he offered a hand, tilting his frame slightly out of the booth. “Care to join us?” His expression was pleasant but there was an urgency and a question in his optics.
Play the game, those optics seemed to say.
Swerve gathered up his courage, grinned, and took Ultra Magnus' hand, not failing to notice how ridiculous his hand looked next to Magnus'. The hand curled around his fingers and then Swerve squeaked with surprise. Ultra Magnus had pulled him onto the former Enforcer's lap. Or well, halfway on his lap. Swerve only fit on one thigh.
Magnus' arm wound around his waist, which kept him from toppling off, and tilted Swerve back against his chest. He could feel the humming of Magnus' frame against his own, along with the heat of him. Field contact was inevitable, giving Swerve his first taste of the mix of anxiety, exasperation, and concern that was Ultra Magnus' maelstrom of emotion.
Dear Primus.
Now Ultra Magnus was leaning over him, a most intimate action, his frame curled around Swerve's until he was wrapped in Ultra Magnus' presence. This put his mouth tantalizingly close to Swerve's audial, a way that they could speak without anyone overhearing.
“Is this all right?” Ultra Magnus asked, his low vocals purring into Swerve's audial and vibrating throughout his entire frame.
He scrubbed his hands down his thighs, fighting off a shiver. “Yes,” he said and anxiously licked his lips. “I mean, yeah. It's a lot. But I'm fine.” Though it depended on the definition of fine.
Because any other time? Swerve would be golden. He would be over the moon with happiness. He wouldn't be able to stop grinning and touching. But right now? With this agreement looming over his head, he couldn't. He kept crashing back to solid ground every time his protocols reminded him that this wasn't real.
“Are you certain?” Ultra Magnus asked, and the concern in his voice, in his field, that was so very tempting. It was beautiful.
Swerve nodded. “Yes,” he said, and repeated. “Yes, I'm sure.” He didn't know anymore if he was convincing himself or Magnus.
He proved it by resting his own hand over Magnus'. He rubbed his palm over fingers that dwarfed his own, and traced the fine mechanisms of Magnus' knuckles. He pretended he didn't notice that mechs were staring, the impolite ones anyway.
He didn't hear the snickers either. Or the whispers. He didn't feel the dozens of pairs of optics thoroughly fascinated or the fingers pointed their direction.
Nope, his entire focus was on Ultra Magnus. The way their armor fitted together. How warm Ultra Magnus was. How he still didn't have the right drink but Ultra Magnus would consume it because he hated to be wasteful.
Swerve concentrated instead on controlling his own ventilations, so Ultra Magnus couldn't see how rapid they had become. He memorized the weight of Ultra Magnus' arm around his waist. He traced Ultra Magnus' fingers, over and over, and he felt the vibrations of the massive spark against his backplate. He hoped this moment would stay bright and vivid in his memory forever.
“When's the wedding?” Skids was asking, his vocals dim to Swerve.
An energon cube was thrust in his direction, generic engex, not a flavor to be found, but he grabbed it and sucked it down as though it was the purest high grade. It gave him something to do, somewhere else to focus, that way he couldn't frag this up.
“Soon,” Ultra Magnus said and his thumb stroked Swerve's abdominal plate, the tip of it brushing the lowest seam of the armor that guarded his spark.
Swerve shook. A bolt of pleasure zinged straight from the bare brush to the depths of his systems. Heat spread through him in a wave of warmth he couldn't avoid.
He'd spent far too many nights with Ultra Magnus' name on his lips and the shadow of him in Swerve's imaginings. This was not helping.
“We haven't discussed the details,” Swerve dimly heard Ultra Magnus add to his answer. And how like him, to tell the truth about a lie, skirting exact phrasing in order to protect himself.
“The Exelons have graciously invited us to host the reception on their planet,” Ultra Magnus continued. “Apparently, such things are to be celebrated.”
“With parties?” Skids asked, a big grin on his handsome face. He leaned eagerly over the table, doors arched behind him. Getaway was nowhere to be seen, oddly enough. Usually you could hardly separate them.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head. “To my understanding, yes. The Grand Regent said she will contact us later with the details.”
“How kind of them,” Rung said.
“How convenient,” Nightbeat said with a smirk. He had that light behind his optical band that suggested he was very intrigued.
Swerve pressed a little harder against Ultra Magnus, dreading the moment the questions turned toward him. Ultra Magnus' arm was so warm around him. The thrum of his field was so welcome. Swerve's ventilations increased. His spark pulsed louder. It throbbed in his audials.
He went stiff.
Ultra Magnus must have noticed because he leaned over Swerve again. “Your visor is fritzing,” he murmured. “Are you unwell?”
Swerve worked his intake as there appeared to be a lump caught in it. “I lied,” he whispered. His hand squeezed Ultra Magnus' fingers. “I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all. This is too much.”
Was there desperation in his field? Because there ought to be. He was two seconds from throwing himself from Ultra Magnus' lap and pelting out of the room and that wouldn't help their image at all.
“I understand. I will make our excuses. Give me a moment.”
Ultra Magnus' hand never left Swerve's back. But he did straighten and reboot his vocalizer in a subtle way of catching everyone's attention.
“We appreciate your congratulations,” Ultra Magnus said with genuine warmth in his voice. “But there are things that require our attention and we must depart.”
Swerve slid down from Ultra Magnus' lap – he had some dignity left to him! – and planted a smile on his face. His knees were wobbling. He hoped no one noticed.
“Don't worry,” Swerve said. “We'll invite everyone to all the parties and the wedding, of course. You won't miss a thing. Bartender's honor.”
Ultra Magnus rose from the table as well, once again placing his hand against Swerve's upper back. This he used to direct Swerve through the crowd.
“Move quickly,” he urged.
Swerve didn't have to be told twice. He was more than ready to get out of here, to some place quiet where they could finally sit down and talk. Perhaps even call Rodimus to yell at him. Because this awkward situation was all Rodimus' fault and wouldn't you know that their bothersome captain had already skedaddled from the bar? It had better have been to go speak with Megatron.
Or more likely, it was to go cause more trouble.
Whistles followed in their wake. Some of the shouted comments did not bear repeating. Others made Swerve's face burn and his audials cringe. He felt Ultra Magnus getting more and more stiff behind him, as if only the desperate need to flee was what kept him from turning around to deliver citation after citation.
Swerve didn't feel an ounce of relaxation until after they stepped out of the bar and the doors closed behind them, cutting off most of the noise.
“You did well,” Ultra Magnus said.
Swerve blinked, startled. Their rapid pace dwindled to something that was a little more comfortable, though Swerve still had to hurry to keep up with Ultra Magnus' loping stride. The large hand vanished from his back as well and Swerve reminded himself not to miss the warmth.
“I, um, thank you.” Swerve twisted his fingers together and looked down, hoping Ultra Magnus couldn't see how pink his face was. “Sorry I had to get out of there. I didn't know what to do or say and the tension was getting to me.”
“It is all right.” Ultra Magnus, at least, didn't sound angry. “We need to draw some boundaries and delineate the details before we can attempt something like that again. If we have any hope of maintaining this... relationship, then we must be on the same page.”
The hesitation before relationship might as well have been a kick to the aft. Swerve sighed and brushed off the disappointment.
“I understand. Completely. Totally. So when do you want to do this thing? Because eventually, I do have to get back to my bar.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I left Bluestreak in charge and he's a good kid, don't get me wrong, but he doesn't know those idiots like I do.”
“Bluestreak is more than capable. We must discuss the terms now,” Ultra Magnus said and he hung a sharp turn.
Only then did Swerve realize where they were going, toward the Command Deck and Ultra Magnus' private office. He remembered being hauled in there on previous occasions, usually for doing something in his bar without the proper licenses or training.
It was on the tip of his glossa to suggest something a bit more personal, in case anyone was watching or listening in, but the moment came and went. Ultra Magnus certainly knew what was best and the idea of having Ultra Magnus in his hab-suite was... well.
Yeah. Magnus' office was the best place for them to go right now.
“Okay,” Swerve said. “You're the boss, Mags-- I mean, Ultra Magnus. I'll follow your lead.”
Especially since Swerve's one lead was not much of a lead at all. How was he supposed to know how to pretend to be engaged when he hadn't been in a long-term relationship ever? He'd had a few one night stands here and there, most of which were accompanied by him being the one to leave on the early cycle 'walk of shame'.
His one semi-long term experience was with a fellow metallurgist before the war. It last a month before it fell apart and to this day, Swerve didn't know who to blame more. Sure he talked a lot. Not that it was a surprise. Anthem knew that going in. And wasn't Swerve within his right to ask his semi-permanent partner for a bit more equality in the berth?
Anyway. What it boiled down to was that Swerve simply did not have the experience needed to do this the right way, much less fake it. Sure he could ask Rewind for copies of all kinds of romantic dramas and romantic comedies, but Swerve was pretty sure those sappy story lines didn't work in real life. Plus, Rewind would want to know what they were for and like frag Swerve was going to tell him. Not that he could.
“Swerve.”
He startled and looked up. Ultra Magnus had stopped and was staring down at him, his optics lit with concern.
A nervous chuckle escaped Swerve. “Uhhh, no?” he answered, rubbing the back of his cowling.
“It wasn't a 'yes' or 'no' question.” Ultra Magnus frowned. “Are you all right?”
Swerve laughed and waved him off. “I'm fine. I'm fine. You know how I am with long conversations, right? I just hope I stay awake.”
“Mm. Good point.” Ultra Magnus straightened and reached for the keypad by his door. Somehow, Swerve had followed him here in a daze. “I'll make sure to take copious notes and put them on a datapad for you. That way you can study them at your leisure.”
Great.
Swerve popped a grin on his mouth. “That's awful considerate of you, Magnus. I'll, um, I'll do my best.”
Ultra Magnus gestured for him to enter first. “I know that you will.”
Swerve tried not to sigh. Into the office, it was. This was surely to be a titillating conversation.
Well, at least it'll kill the last trickles of arousal he'd been harboring from the moment Ultra Magnus hauled him into his lap. For this, he was going to need as clear a head as he could manage.
He dearly hoped that Rodimus wasn't anywhere else, stirring up more trouble.
a/n: More updates to come! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed this fun little story.
