[IDW] Marry Me - Chapter Six
Sep. 14th, 2015 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Universe: IDW, MTMTE
Characters this chapter: Ultra Magnus, Swerve, Alien OCs
Rated K+ for this chapter
Still more Swerve sadness and another panic attack. And a chance taken.
Commission Gift Fic for nothumanafterall.
Mood Music/Soundtrack
It was meant to be a casual event. That did not make Swerve any more relaxed. Clearly, the Exelons did not understand the meaning of the term casual.
The bar and restaurant was three times larger than his own on the Lost Light. Almost every crew member from the ship was here and Exelons were everywhere. There were decorations as far as the optics could see in the forms of streamers and confetti and bright dancing lights. The bar was filled with music and laughter and was packed to the brim.
Swerve inched closer to Magnus, which both helped and worsened his anxiety. If he hadn't forced himself to memorize all the rules Magnus had given him, he would have promptly forgot them all.
Primus. He couldn't do this.
“Shall we find a table?” Ultra Magnus asked. His hand was a warm presence on Swerve's back. He was keenly aware of it.
“Sure,” Swerve said. Because if they didn't sit down, he was going to fall down. His legs were wobbling.
He let Ultra Magnus lead him, which ended up being a complete circuit of the entire room, as though purposefully putting them on display. He finally chose an empty table near a window, out which they could see the whole city and the Lost Light in the distance. Ultra Magnus pulled out a chair for Swerve and then slid into his own right next to Swerve but closer to the window.
“I told Rodimus to be distracting,” Ultra Magnus said in a low tone. He leaned in close to do so, his vocals resonating in Swerve's audial. The brush of heat from his ventilations seemed to ignite Swerve's sensory net. “It should help keep all but the nosiest from bothering us.”
Swerve worked his intake. He fought off a shiver. “Well, that's a relief.”
If there was one thing Rodimus excelled at, it was making a spectacle of himself. And he was already doing so. Swerve could see him on the other side of the room, holding court with a gathering of mecha and Exelons alike. He was laughing and gesturing, probably telling some fictional story.
Ultra Magnus slung an arm across the back of Swerve's chair, his fingers brushing Swerve's shoulder. The point of contact left a buzzing warmth in Swerve's haptic net.
“And what are we supposed to do?” Swerve asked, casting the hand a briefly nervous glance. He didn't mind Ultra Magnus touching him. He simply wasn't used to it.
“Show everyone how madly in love we are,” Ultra Magnus said with a straight face.
Right. Should be easy.
And well, whether or not it was depended on who you asked. Small talk was easy. Swerve knew enough about Ultra Magnus' likes and dislikes to start a casual conversation about music. They chatted about topics like paint jobs and alt-mode top speeds and holomatter holograms.
Problems arose, however, when four Exelons stopped by to introduce themselves. The majority of them were government officials and Swerve had no clue on the proper protocol to talk with them. So he didn't. He kept his mouth shut, smiled when they seemed to make a joke, and gradually leaned closer and closer to Ultra Magnus.
A server came by to take their drink order and like an idiot, Swerve blurted out both his and Magnus' before Magnus could even speak. But their current visitor thought it was adorable and said as much.
Swerve blushed. Ultra Magnus responded with dignity, his hand brushing the back of Swerve's neck and Swerve tried not to melt into his chair.
“You clearly know a lot about each other,” the tax supervisor or whatever he claimed to be said. He'd introduced himself as Alexi and his multiple eyes darted between them. “A keen understanding is essential for a fully-functional, well-balanced relationship.”
“I agree,” Ultra Magnus said. “Communication is key.”
“Oh, yeah. We talk a lot,” Swerve said. He planted an enormous smile on his face. “About everything. No secrets between us.”
His hands fiddled in his lap. Did it make him look nervous or confident? He didn't know. The place settings in front of them were crooked. It had to be bothering Ultra Magnus. Was he pretending not to notice for the sake of the ruse?
Swerve reached out to correct them.
“That is good to hear,” Alexi said. “We believe strongly in the sanctity of a union. It is never something that should be undertaken lightly.”
“We agree,” Ultra Magnus said, his tone a bit tight. And small wonder. Did that lack of an official Autobot Code at the moment make this easier or harder for him?
The server returned with their drinks. Swerve accepted one and made to pass Ultra Magnus his, only to frown. Something looked off with the color. It wasn't right.
“I don't think the blend of this is correct,” Swerve said, peering closer at it. He gave it a tentative sniff and cringed. Yep. Way too sweet.
The server frowned and reached for it. “I'll have the bartender remix it.”
Swerve handed it back and then slid out of his chair. “No, that's okay. I'll do it myself. I know how he likes it anyway.”
“That would be inappropriate, sir. I couldn't possibly--”
“No, it's fine.” Swerve waved a hand of dismissal as the server followed after him, all but bleeding distress. “You can go help someone else, I've got this.”
He paused, something occurring to him, and turned toward the table. “I'll be right back,” Swerve told Ultra Magnus.
This, at least, he could do. Making drinks? Was his thing. Polite conversation with the local officials? Was not.
Ultra Magnus cycled his optics. “All right,” he said, a touch of confusion in his vocals.
Satisfied, Swerve worked his way through the crowd to the large and fully-stocked bar on the other side of the room. Seriously, he was at once jealous of it. True they were serving a more varied clientele, but their engex selection far outstripped his own. They had additives and flavors he'd never heard of. Maybe he could convince them to send him home with some so he could experiment.
“Don't mind me,” Swerve said as he ducked under the hinged shelf and eased behind the bar. “Just gonna make a drink and I'll be out of your way.”
The bartender looked at him, blinking. “Um. Guests generally aren't allowed back here,” he said, multiple arms multitasking in a manner that Swerve envied. Did each arm have a mind of its own or something?
“It's okay. I'm a bartender,” Swerve assured him and he planted his hands on his hips. He stared up at the massive selection.
He knew exactly what he needed to make Magnus' drink, but he was itching to play with the other stuff he saw. How much would it cost to get his bar on the Lost Light this stocked? Did Mirage have some of these rarer ingredients? How did they taste?
“That's not really...” The bartender trailed off and then peered at him. “You're the one who's engaged, aren't you?”
Swerve's faceplate heated as he pulled down the ingredients he needed. “Yes.” He gazed across the bar where he could just barely make out Ultra Magnus through the press of customers. He was still deep in conversation with the locals.
“Thought so.” The bartender squinted at him, eyes flicking from Swerve's head to his feet as though measuring him. “Isn't he a little big for you?”
Swerve choked on a ventilation and then burst into laughter. “That's, um, that's not how it works.”
Would it be too-much-information if he said he liked the size? And that, technically, Ultra Magnus was two sizes? And that Swerve liked both of them? Or that he'd often imagined what it would be like to be with either of them?
“Ah, I see. I apologize.”
Swerve waved it off. “Nothing we hadn't heard before. Cybertronians come in all shapes and sizes which we've come to learn isn't really the universal standard.” Which to Swerve was pretty weird in itself. Then again, most of the species they'd encountered had been organic. He supposed that limited things.
Maybe he'd ask Perceptor about it. Not now. Or for the next two weeks. Or while Perceptor was trying to keep Rodimus' helm from exploding. But a topic for a later date.
Swerve finished mixing up Ultra Magnus' drink and held it up to the light, admiring it. Perfect color and a quick sniff confirmed it held the perfect scent, fresh and tart.
“Is that all you needed?” the bartender asked.
“It is. Thanks. Hope I didn't offend you.” Swerve closed up the bottles on everything he used and returned them to their proper place. “It's just that Ultra Magnus is very particular about what he drinks and it's a kind of point of pride for me.”
“Oh, no. You're fine.” The bartender smiled at him. “I think it's pretty adorable actually. Good luck with your wedding.”
“Thanks!”
Swerve returned the grin and ducked back out of the bar. Once again, he picked his way through the crowd, having to duck around Exelon and Cybertronian alike. Ultra Magnus was deep in conversation when Swerve returned, but he looked up as Swerve set the drink on the table and scooted it close to him.
“You didn't have to go through the trouble,” Ultra Magnus said as he accepted the drink and took a sip of it. Pleasure bloomed in his field, which made Swerve grin. “But thank you all the same. This is delicious.”
Swerve climbed back into his chair. “Anything for you, Mags.” He beamed. He meant it.
“You two are so adorable,” one of the Exelons sitting across from them said.
The ones present now were different than the ones who had been here earlier. But they were probably more of the same, people Swerve had no idea how to talk to.
“Thank you,” Swerve said.
“It is a relief to finally be public about our relationship,” Ultra Magnus said. His hand slipped from the back of the chair to Swerve's back. “The secrecy, while necessary, was beginning to wear.”
Swerve leaned back against Ultra Magnus' arm. He intended to soak up all the physical contact he could. He even dared reach up and pat Magnus' hand, an action within the list of acceptable public displays.
Part of Swerve wanted Ultra Magnus to put him back on his lap. Another part of Swerve was glad that Magnus didn't. It was as embarrassing as it was arousing and right now, he couldn't reconcile the two.
“How long?”
“A year,” Swerve answered. He gave Ultra Magnus a shy smile. “We spent some time in Hedonia, things got out of hand, and well, it gave me the opportunity to see another side of him. After that, I wanted to know more.”
“There was an... incident,” Ultra Magnus added with a small, embarrassed cough. “This journey has been nothing if not eventful.”
“I understand you've had many adventures. Is this the first time anyone of your crew will take part in a bonding?”
Swerve nodded. “Yes. Some of us have gotten pretty close over the months and there are a few of us already bonded. But this is the first official wedding.”
“You know, I'm quite curious,” one of the officials said. She leaned forward on the table, the elbows of her primary arms balanced against the edge. “What is a Cybertronian wedding like?”
“It is personal,” Ultra Magnus explained. “It is different for each couple. Some like grand, ostentatious affairs. Others like smaller, more intimate gatherings.”
“And you?” she asked.
Ultra Magnus tapped the back of Swerve's chair. “I'm letting Swerve handle the details. We like simple and elegant.”
“Very nice,” another Exelon said with a nod. “What is the ceremony like? Do you exchange vows? Make promises? What kind of traditions do you have?”
“There are many.” Ultra Magnus shifted his weight, adjusting the fall of his arm across the back of Swerve's chair. “Often they are based on a mech's city of origin.”
“I was forged in Ibex,” Swerve offered. “We weren't much for pretentious ceremonies there. Very basic. Wrote our own vows and stuff.”
He slid a glance toward Ultra Magnus but he had nothing further to offer. It was as if the details were of no interest to him.
“What about bonding?” Another Exelon asked. “I have heard that you Cybertronians share... what do you call them? Embers?”
“Sparks,” Swerve corrected. He patted his chestplate. “It's our, um, you organics call them souls. Our lifeforce. And yeah, bonding usually means we touch sparks.”
“Isn't that dangerous?”
“It can be. But it's worth it.” Swerve looked at Ultra Magnus again, hoping for some agreement. For something.
Nothing.
The Exelon smiled. Swerve didn't know his name. He'd missed the arrival and introduction of these three.
“Do you have plans for after the wedding?” he asked as though he were full of questions. Seriously, Swerve felt a bit like they were being interrogated here. Which, come to think of it, was probably the point. “Will you continue on your quest or will you leave the ship?”
“Leave? Oh, no. We couldn't possibly do that. We've made a commitment,” Ultra Magnus said. He looked flabbergasted at the very thought of leaving. “The both of us.”
Swerve nodded when optics shifted their direction. “The quest is important. We started it together, we'll end it together.” He managed a smile.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head in agreement.
“But isn't it irresponsible?” the female Exelon asked. Her sharp fingernails rapped on the table top. “For the second in command to be bonded to someone aboard the ship? To have that kind of liability?”
“There are always risks,” Ultra Magnus replied. And then he didn't elaborate.
Swerve squirmed in his chair. Couldn't he have thought of a better, more romantic response? “We were at war for a long time,” he blurted out, capturing their attention. “And we decided we wanted to take that chance. Because, it's worth it, you know. Love is.” He touched Ultra Magnus' hand again, reassuring himself.
“How very true,” one of the males purred. His face lit up as he nudged the Exelon next to him. “And it's very romantic to think that way.”
The Exelon closest to the table leaned forward, something in her gaze cutting Swerve to his spark. “And children? Do your kind have such a thing?”
Swerve chuckled nervously. “Not in the traditional sense. Not like organics do.”
“Cybertronians are never children,” Ultra Magnus answered. He took a long sip of his engex. “There were only two methods to create new Cybertronian life and now both are lost to us.”
“That's very sad,” one of the males murmured.
Nods of agreement arose from the Exelons.
Not a whiff of sadness to be found from Ultra Magnus. Every answer had been given very matter of fact, stated as though he were reading from a list. It probably had been. The same relationship guideline that Ultra Magnus had given Swerve and was using to direct their actions.
Raucous laughter arose from the other side of the room. Swerve looked to see Rodimus performing some kind of odd dance. Or something. He was being an effective distraction, not that he attracted the attention of the Exelons currently interrogating Swerve and Ultra Magnus.
Brainstorm, too, was nearby, Swerve noticed. He was tucked away in a corner with two other Exelons, both the serious, studious type. Maybe more scientists? Maybe Brainstorm was thinking ahead, getting them drunk enough to spill some information about the type of explosive they'd used on Rodimus' collar. Smart.
Swerve glanced around the room quickly, hoping to spy Tailgate or Rewind, maybe someone who he could convince to come over here and save him from this conversation. But, no. Cyclonus was unlikely to attend a party like this which meant Tailgate was likely to be with him. Rewind was probably too busy filming. Or maybe he and Chromedome opted for some alone time. They were still working out the particulars of their new and old relationship.
“We are confident that we will succeed in our quest, however,” Ultra Magnus said, drawing Swerve's attention back to the conversation at hand. “It is our hope that the Knights know of a means to help us repopulate.”
“Perhaps then you will be able to have children, or at least mentor the newly... born?” The Exelon sounded uncertain as he searched for the proper term.
“Forged,” Swerve corrected, but then he wasn't sure either. “Or constructed maybe?” He snuck a glance at Ultra Magnus, hoping for clarification.
“You would be better asking someone more familiar with the lore,” Ultra Magnus answered. He shifted his weight. “The idea of raising children doesn't appeal to me, but perhaps that is only because I have no experience with it.”
Swerve tried not to let his disappointment show. Granted, he'd never given much thought to children or mentoring before. It wasn't really something that came up. But Magnus' lack of enthusiasm was disappointing.
His lack of enthusiasm about everything was disappointing.
Swerve's shoulders slumped. It honestly seemed like Ultra Magnus wasn't as invested in this. Was he biased in thinking so? Did the Exelons wonder who was happier with the marriage? Were Ultra Magnus' reactions acceptable?
They weren't to Swerve. Bare minimum, that seemed to be the Ultra Magnus standard for his answers. There was no enthusiasm, no excitement. He might as well be talking about duty or something equally bland.
Duty. Maybe that's all it was. Duty and responsibility. It would never be anything more than that.
Swerve wrung his fingers together. His engine revved; his ventilations too rapid for his comfort. No. He had to keep himself together. He was being ridiculous.
“Swerve?”
Ultra Magnus' hand rested on his back. He leaned in toward him, face writ with concern. The bulk of his frame blocked out most of Swerve's view of the Exelons, but he did not miss how one of them subtly leaned closer, blatantly eavesdropping.
Swerve shook his helm. “It's nothing.” He tried to smile. It didn't work so well. It felt like his spark was breaking though he knew good and well it had no reason to.
This was all fake. He couldn't seem to convince himself of it.
Ultra Magnus frowned. He turned his attention back to the Exelons. “Would you excuse us, please?” he asked. “We need a moment.”
“Of course. Take what time you need.”
The Exelons watched them and Swerve couldn't decide if they were sympathetic or eager to see proof that all was not well between the engaged couple. No doubt the Exelons hoped to catch them in a lie.
Ultra Magnus rose to his pedes, his hand gentle as it shifted from the chair to Swerve's back. “Swerve?”
Miserable, Swerve slid from his chair. “I'm coming,” he mumbled.
It felt like everybody was watching as they skirted the edges of the room and headed for a side door. Magnus had to duck to get through it. His large hand remained at Swerve's back, warm and present, and his field betrayed nothing.
Swerve's anxieties doubled. He was screwing this up and everyone was going to know it was a ruse because he couldn't tell the difference between something that was real and that was fake.
Outside the bar, the hallway was quiet and private and that didn't make it any better. Swerve's fingers tangled together. His ventilations came faster and sharper.
Ultra Magnus knelt down, putting them on a more even keel, and that courtesy somehow made it better and worse. “What is wrong?” he asked. His concern even felt genuine.
That was unfair.
Swerve shoved his palm in front of his optical band. “Primus, you're going to think I'm an idiot or something.”
“I will not. If something has upset you, then let me know so that I can fix it.” Ultra Magnus reached for his other hand and Swerve let him take it. He let Magnus' thumb stroke across the palm of it, almost transfixed by the platonic motion. “Our circumstances are difficult enough without me causing you discomfort. Will you tell me what's wrong?”
Swerve released a shuddering ventilation. “Okay,” he said, but he refused to look at Ultra Magnus. He was too embarrassed. “When we talked about expectations and stuff, we talked about our engagement and everything, but we didn't talk about the wedding. Or after the wedding. Or... or what this really means in the long run. And this kind of thing is serious, you know, a wedding. But you act like you don't even care.”
It spilled out of him in a rush, a non-sensible blurt that was half-reality and half-pretend and was there a difference anymore? He'd let himself fall in deep and look where it had gotten him: alone in the hallway with Ultra Magnus while Swerve could barely string a coherent sentence together.
Ultra Magnus blinked. His fingers squeezed Swerve's hand. His field projected nothing but genuine concern.
“Of course I care,” Ultra Magnus replied. “I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't care.”
Swerve froze.
Of course.
Ultra Magnus was in character. He thought Swerve was in character, too. People were probably watching them, on camera or peering around corners. Swerve couldn't be real because he was playing a part. What was he thinking, actually getting invested in this?
“It's the public attention, isn't it?” Ultra Magnus, still soothing, still the perfect partner and Swerve's spark ached to hear it. “I know you don't like being under this much scrutiny, but we have less than two weeks.”
Swerve's vents hitched. Two weeks.
“I want to marry you,” Ultra Magnus continued, the epitome of a consoling partner. “Isn't that what matters?”
“Yes,” Swerve cried. “It is.”
He didn't have words to explain what he did next. Maybe it was the moment. Maybe it was his own emotions betraying him. Maybe it was that sweetly concerned look on Ultra Magnus' face, so close to his own.
Maybe it twas the thought that he might not get another chance.
Swerve didn't know.
But it was a moment where all logic flew out the window. He closed the distance between he and Magnus, what little distance there was, and he kissed him. He pressed his lips to Magnus' in front of whoever happened to be watching, and he stole a kiss. It was what engaged partners were supposed to do, right?
Except they hadn't discussed this. They'd agreed to casual touching, to handholding, perhaps the occasional nuzzle. But not kissing. Swerve had taken what he'd not been given. No matter how sweet it was, it was wrong.
He broke off the kiss, guilt sweeping in to mingle with the agitation that had made itself home in his spark.
Ultra Magnus stared at him, lips slightly parted.
“I'm... I'm sorry,” Swerve whispered, miserable to the core of his spark. “I shouldn't have done that.”
Ultra Magnus' helm bowed a fraction. His fingers tightened and then relaxed around Swerve's hand.
“Let... um, let me go and I'll see myself to the brig,” Swerve added, suddenly afraid of what Magnus might say. Of the disgust he might see in Magnus' optics.
“We have to stay,” Ultra Magnus finally said, but his vocals were low, barely audible to anyone but the two of them. “It is part of the plan. And I cannot leave Rodimus in there without supervision.”
“But--”
“We will discuss this later,” Ultra Magnus interrupted, a bit more firmly. His field brushed Swerve's, but it wasn't as full of rage as he would have expected. Instead there was surprise? Confusion? “For now we must return to the party. Will you be all right?”
Swerve forced a systems check and managed a wobbly smile. “Yeah,” he said. “This is all a game, right? I just have to play my part.”
Ultra Magnus gave him a long look, but he squeezed Swerve's hand and rose to his full height. “We both do.”
After all, it was only a game.
****
a/n: Ups and downs, that's what's going on with the emotions here, and it's only going to get more complicated from here. That clue bat we've been waiting for? Ultra Magnus is going to be hit with it rather soon. ;)
As always, I do hope you enjoyed and feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Characters this chapter: Ultra Magnus, Swerve, Alien OCs
Rated K+ for this chapter
Still more Swerve sadness and another panic attack. And a chance taken.
Commission Gift Fic for nothumanafterall.
Mood Music/Soundtrack
Marry Me – Chapter Six
It was meant to be a casual event. That did not make Swerve any more relaxed. Clearly, the Exelons did not understand the meaning of the term casual.
The bar and restaurant was three times larger than his own on the Lost Light. Almost every crew member from the ship was here and Exelons were everywhere. There were decorations as far as the optics could see in the forms of streamers and confetti and bright dancing lights. The bar was filled with music and laughter and was packed to the brim.
Swerve inched closer to Magnus, which both helped and worsened his anxiety. If he hadn't forced himself to memorize all the rules Magnus had given him, he would have promptly forgot them all.
Primus. He couldn't do this.
“Shall we find a table?” Ultra Magnus asked. His hand was a warm presence on Swerve's back. He was keenly aware of it.
“Sure,” Swerve said. Because if they didn't sit down, he was going to fall down. His legs were wobbling.
He let Ultra Magnus lead him, which ended up being a complete circuit of the entire room, as though purposefully putting them on display. He finally chose an empty table near a window, out which they could see the whole city and the Lost Light in the distance. Ultra Magnus pulled out a chair for Swerve and then slid into his own right next to Swerve but closer to the window.
“I told Rodimus to be distracting,” Ultra Magnus said in a low tone. He leaned in close to do so, his vocals resonating in Swerve's audial. The brush of heat from his ventilations seemed to ignite Swerve's sensory net. “It should help keep all but the nosiest from bothering us.”
Swerve worked his intake. He fought off a shiver. “Well, that's a relief.”
If there was one thing Rodimus excelled at, it was making a spectacle of himself. And he was already doing so. Swerve could see him on the other side of the room, holding court with a gathering of mecha and Exelons alike. He was laughing and gesturing, probably telling some fictional story.
Ultra Magnus slung an arm across the back of Swerve's chair, his fingers brushing Swerve's shoulder. The point of contact left a buzzing warmth in Swerve's haptic net.
“And what are we supposed to do?” Swerve asked, casting the hand a briefly nervous glance. He didn't mind Ultra Magnus touching him. He simply wasn't used to it.
“Show everyone how madly in love we are,” Ultra Magnus said with a straight face.
Right. Should be easy.
And well, whether or not it was depended on who you asked. Small talk was easy. Swerve knew enough about Ultra Magnus' likes and dislikes to start a casual conversation about music. They chatted about topics like paint jobs and alt-mode top speeds and holomatter holograms.
Problems arose, however, when four Exelons stopped by to introduce themselves. The majority of them were government officials and Swerve had no clue on the proper protocol to talk with them. So he didn't. He kept his mouth shut, smiled when they seemed to make a joke, and gradually leaned closer and closer to Ultra Magnus.
A server came by to take their drink order and like an idiot, Swerve blurted out both his and Magnus' before Magnus could even speak. But their current visitor thought it was adorable and said as much.
Swerve blushed. Ultra Magnus responded with dignity, his hand brushing the back of Swerve's neck and Swerve tried not to melt into his chair.
“You clearly know a lot about each other,” the tax supervisor or whatever he claimed to be said. He'd introduced himself as Alexi and his multiple eyes darted between them. “A keen understanding is essential for a fully-functional, well-balanced relationship.”
“I agree,” Ultra Magnus said. “Communication is key.”
“Oh, yeah. We talk a lot,” Swerve said. He planted an enormous smile on his face. “About everything. No secrets between us.”
His hands fiddled in his lap. Did it make him look nervous or confident? He didn't know. The place settings in front of them were crooked. It had to be bothering Ultra Magnus. Was he pretending not to notice for the sake of the ruse?
Swerve reached out to correct them.
“That is good to hear,” Alexi said. “We believe strongly in the sanctity of a union. It is never something that should be undertaken lightly.”
“We agree,” Ultra Magnus said, his tone a bit tight. And small wonder. Did that lack of an official Autobot Code at the moment make this easier or harder for him?
The server returned with their drinks. Swerve accepted one and made to pass Ultra Magnus his, only to frown. Something looked off with the color. It wasn't right.
“I don't think the blend of this is correct,” Swerve said, peering closer at it. He gave it a tentative sniff and cringed. Yep. Way too sweet.
The server frowned and reached for it. “I'll have the bartender remix it.”
Swerve handed it back and then slid out of his chair. “No, that's okay. I'll do it myself. I know how he likes it anyway.”
“That would be inappropriate, sir. I couldn't possibly--”
“No, it's fine.” Swerve waved a hand of dismissal as the server followed after him, all but bleeding distress. “You can go help someone else, I've got this.”
He paused, something occurring to him, and turned toward the table. “I'll be right back,” Swerve told Ultra Magnus.
This, at least, he could do. Making drinks? Was his thing. Polite conversation with the local officials? Was not.
Ultra Magnus cycled his optics. “All right,” he said, a touch of confusion in his vocals.
Satisfied, Swerve worked his way through the crowd to the large and fully-stocked bar on the other side of the room. Seriously, he was at once jealous of it. True they were serving a more varied clientele, but their engex selection far outstripped his own. They had additives and flavors he'd never heard of. Maybe he could convince them to send him home with some so he could experiment.
“Don't mind me,” Swerve said as he ducked under the hinged shelf and eased behind the bar. “Just gonna make a drink and I'll be out of your way.”
The bartender looked at him, blinking. “Um. Guests generally aren't allowed back here,” he said, multiple arms multitasking in a manner that Swerve envied. Did each arm have a mind of its own or something?
“It's okay. I'm a bartender,” Swerve assured him and he planted his hands on his hips. He stared up at the massive selection.
He knew exactly what he needed to make Magnus' drink, but he was itching to play with the other stuff he saw. How much would it cost to get his bar on the Lost Light this stocked? Did Mirage have some of these rarer ingredients? How did they taste?
“That's not really...” The bartender trailed off and then peered at him. “You're the one who's engaged, aren't you?”
Swerve's faceplate heated as he pulled down the ingredients he needed. “Yes.” He gazed across the bar where he could just barely make out Ultra Magnus through the press of customers. He was still deep in conversation with the locals.
“Thought so.” The bartender squinted at him, eyes flicking from Swerve's head to his feet as though measuring him. “Isn't he a little big for you?”
Swerve choked on a ventilation and then burst into laughter. “That's, um, that's not how it works.”
Would it be too-much-information if he said he liked the size? And that, technically, Ultra Magnus was two sizes? And that Swerve liked both of them? Or that he'd often imagined what it would be like to be with either of them?
“Ah, I see. I apologize.”
Swerve waved it off. “Nothing we hadn't heard before. Cybertronians come in all shapes and sizes which we've come to learn isn't really the universal standard.” Which to Swerve was pretty weird in itself. Then again, most of the species they'd encountered had been organic. He supposed that limited things.
Maybe he'd ask Perceptor about it. Not now. Or for the next two weeks. Or while Perceptor was trying to keep Rodimus' helm from exploding. But a topic for a later date.
Swerve finished mixing up Ultra Magnus' drink and held it up to the light, admiring it. Perfect color and a quick sniff confirmed it held the perfect scent, fresh and tart.
“Is that all you needed?” the bartender asked.
“It is. Thanks. Hope I didn't offend you.” Swerve closed up the bottles on everything he used and returned them to their proper place. “It's just that Ultra Magnus is very particular about what he drinks and it's a kind of point of pride for me.”
“Oh, no. You're fine.” The bartender smiled at him. “I think it's pretty adorable actually. Good luck with your wedding.”
“Thanks!”
Swerve returned the grin and ducked back out of the bar. Once again, he picked his way through the crowd, having to duck around Exelon and Cybertronian alike. Ultra Magnus was deep in conversation when Swerve returned, but he looked up as Swerve set the drink on the table and scooted it close to him.
“You didn't have to go through the trouble,” Ultra Magnus said as he accepted the drink and took a sip of it. Pleasure bloomed in his field, which made Swerve grin. “But thank you all the same. This is delicious.”
Swerve climbed back into his chair. “Anything for you, Mags.” He beamed. He meant it.
“You two are so adorable,” one of the Exelons sitting across from them said.
The ones present now were different than the ones who had been here earlier. But they were probably more of the same, people Swerve had no idea how to talk to.
“Thank you,” Swerve said.
“It is a relief to finally be public about our relationship,” Ultra Magnus said. His hand slipped from the back of the chair to Swerve's back. “The secrecy, while necessary, was beginning to wear.”
Swerve leaned back against Ultra Magnus' arm. He intended to soak up all the physical contact he could. He even dared reach up and pat Magnus' hand, an action within the list of acceptable public displays.
Part of Swerve wanted Ultra Magnus to put him back on his lap. Another part of Swerve was glad that Magnus didn't. It was as embarrassing as it was arousing and right now, he couldn't reconcile the two.
“How long?”
“A year,” Swerve answered. He gave Ultra Magnus a shy smile. “We spent some time in Hedonia, things got out of hand, and well, it gave me the opportunity to see another side of him. After that, I wanted to know more.”
“There was an... incident,” Ultra Magnus added with a small, embarrassed cough. “This journey has been nothing if not eventful.”
“I understand you've had many adventures. Is this the first time anyone of your crew will take part in a bonding?”
Swerve nodded. “Yes. Some of us have gotten pretty close over the months and there are a few of us already bonded. But this is the first official wedding.”
“You know, I'm quite curious,” one of the officials said. She leaned forward on the table, the elbows of her primary arms balanced against the edge. “What is a Cybertronian wedding like?”
“It is personal,” Ultra Magnus explained. “It is different for each couple. Some like grand, ostentatious affairs. Others like smaller, more intimate gatherings.”
“And you?” she asked.
Ultra Magnus tapped the back of Swerve's chair. “I'm letting Swerve handle the details. We like simple and elegant.”
“Very nice,” another Exelon said with a nod. “What is the ceremony like? Do you exchange vows? Make promises? What kind of traditions do you have?”
“There are many.” Ultra Magnus shifted his weight, adjusting the fall of his arm across the back of Swerve's chair. “Often they are based on a mech's city of origin.”
“I was forged in Ibex,” Swerve offered. “We weren't much for pretentious ceremonies there. Very basic. Wrote our own vows and stuff.”
He slid a glance toward Ultra Magnus but he had nothing further to offer. It was as if the details were of no interest to him.
“What about bonding?” Another Exelon asked. “I have heard that you Cybertronians share... what do you call them? Embers?”
“Sparks,” Swerve corrected. He patted his chestplate. “It's our, um, you organics call them souls. Our lifeforce. And yeah, bonding usually means we touch sparks.”
“Isn't that dangerous?”
“It can be. But it's worth it.” Swerve looked at Ultra Magnus again, hoping for some agreement. For something.
Nothing.
The Exelon smiled. Swerve didn't know his name. He'd missed the arrival and introduction of these three.
“Do you have plans for after the wedding?” he asked as though he were full of questions. Seriously, Swerve felt a bit like they were being interrogated here. Which, come to think of it, was probably the point. “Will you continue on your quest or will you leave the ship?”
“Leave? Oh, no. We couldn't possibly do that. We've made a commitment,” Ultra Magnus said. He looked flabbergasted at the very thought of leaving. “The both of us.”
Swerve nodded when optics shifted their direction. “The quest is important. We started it together, we'll end it together.” He managed a smile.
Ultra Magnus inclined his head in agreement.
“But isn't it irresponsible?” the female Exelon asked. Her sharp fingernails rapped on the table top. “For the second in command to be bonded to someone aboard the ship? To have that kind of liability?”
“There are always risks,” Ultra Magnus replied. And then he didn't elaborate.
Swerve squirmed in his chair. Couldn't he have thought of a better, more romantic response? “We were at war for a long time,” he blurted out, capturing their attention. “And we decided we wanted to take that chance. Because, it's worth it, you know. Love is.” He touched Ultra Magnus' hand again, reassuring himself.
“How very true,” one of the males purred. His face lit up as he nudged the Exelon next to him. “And it's very romantic to think that way.”
The Exelon closest to the table leaned forward, something in her gaze cutting Swerve to his spark. “And children? Do your kind have such a thing?”
Swerve chuckled nervously. “Not in the traditional sense. Not like organics do.”
“Cybertronians are never children,” Ultra Magnus answered. He took a long sip of his engex. “There were only two methods to create new Cybertronian life and now both are lost to us.”
“That's very sad,” one of the males murmured.
Nods of agreement arose from the Exelons.
Not a whiff of sadness to be found from Ultra Magnus. Every answer had been given very matter of fact, stated as though he were reading from a list. It probably had been. The same relationship guideline that Ultra Magnus had given Swerve and was using to direct their actions.
Raucous laughter arose from the other side of the room. Swerve looked to see Rodimus performing some kind of odd dance. Or something. He was being an effective distraction, not that he attracted the attention of the Exelons currently interrogating Swerve and Ultra Magnus.
Brainstorm, too, was nearby, Swerve noticed. He was tucked away in a corner with two other Exelons, both the serious, studious type. Maybe more scientists? Maybe Brainstorm was thinking ahead, getting them drunk enough to spill some information about the type of explosive they'd used on Rodimus' collar. Smart.
Swerve glanced around the room quickly, hoping to spy Tailgate or Rewind, maybe someone who he could convince to come over here and save him from this conversation. But, no. Cyclonus was unlikely to attend a party like this which meant Tailgate was likely to be with him. Rewind was probably too busy filming. Or maybe he and Chromedome opted for some alone time. They were still working out the particulars of their new and old relationship.
“We are confident that we will succeed in our quest, however,” Ultra Magnus said, drawing Swerve's attention back to the conversation at hand. “It is our hope that the Knights know of a means to help us repopulate.”
“Perhaps then you will be able to have children, or at least mentor the newly... born?” The Exelon sounded uncertain as he searched for the proper term.
“Forged,” Swerve corrected, but then he wasn't sure either. “Or constructed maybe?” He snuck a glance at Ultra Magnus, hoping for clarification.
“You would be better asking someone more familiar with the lore,” Ultra Magnus answered. He shifted his weight. “The idea of raising children doesn't appeal to me, but perhaps that is only because I have no experience with it.”
Swerve tried not to let his disappointment show. Granted, he'd never given much thought to children or mentoring before. It wasn't really something that came up. But Magnus' lack of enthusiasm was disappointing.
His lack of enthusiasm about everything was disappointing.
Swerve's shoulders slumped. It honestly seemed like Ultra Magnus wasn't as invested in this. Was he biased in thinking so? Did the Exelons wonder who was happier with the marriage? Were Ultra Magnus' reactions acceptable?
They weren't to Swerve. Bare minimum, that seemed to be the Ultra Magnus standard for his answers. There was no enthusiasm, no excitement. He might as well be talking about duty or something equally bland.
Duty. Maybe that's all it was. Duty and responsibility. It would never be anything more than that.
Swerve wrung his fingers together. His engine revved; his ventilations too rapid for his comfort. No. He had to keep himself together. He was being ridiculous.
“Swerve?”
Ultra Magnus' hand rested on his back. He leaned in toward him, face writ with concern. The bulk of his frame blocked out most of Swerve's view of the Exelons, but he did not miss how one of them subtly leaned closer, blatantly eavesdropping.
Swerve shook his helm. “It's nothing.” He tried to smile. It didn't work so well. It felt like his spark was breaking though he knew good and well it had no reason to.
This was all fake. He couldn't seem to convince himself of it.
Ultra Magnus frowned. He turned his attention back to the Exelons. “Would you excuse us, please?” he asked. “We need a moment.”
“Of course. Take what time you need.”
The Exelons watched them and Swerve couldn't decide if they were sympathetic or eager to see proof that all was not well between the engaged couple. No doubt the Exelons hoped to catch them in a lie.
Ultra Magnus rose to his pedes, his hand gentle as it shifted from the chair to Swerve's back. “Swerve?”
Miserable, Swerve slid from his chair. “I'm coming,” he mumbled.
It felt like everybody was watching as they skirted the edges of the room and headed for a side door. Magnus had to duck to get through it. His large hand remained at Swerve's back, warm and present, and his field betrayed nothing.
Swerve's anxieties doubled. He was screwing this up and everyone was going to know it was a ruse because he couldn't tell the difference between something that was real and that was fake.
Outside the bar, the hallway was quiet and private and that didn't make it any better. Swerve's fingers tangled together. His ventilations came faster and sharper.
Ultra Magnus knelt down, putting them on a more even keel, and that courtesy somehow made it better and worse. “What is wrong?” he asked. His concern even felt genuine.
That was unfair.
Swerve shoved his palm in front of his optical band. “Primus, you're going to think I'm an idiot or something.”
“I will not. If something has upset you, then let me know so that I can fix it.” Ultra Magnus reached for his other hand and Swerve let him take it. He let Magnus' thumb stroke across the palm of it, almost transfixed by the platonic motion. “Our circumstances are difficult enough without me causing you discomfort. Will you tell me what's wrong?”
Swerve released a shuddering ventilation. “Okay,” he said, but he refused to look at Ultra Magnus. He was too embarrassed. “When we talked about expectations and stuff, we talked about our engagement and everything, but we didn't talk about the wedding. Or after the wedding. Or... or what this really means in the long run. And this kind of thing is serious, you know, a wedding. But you act like you don't even care.”
It spilled out of him in a rush, a non-sensible blurt that was half-reality and half-pretend and was there a difference anymore? He'd let himself fall in deep and look where it had gotten him: alone in the hallway with Ultra Magnus while Swerve could barely string a coherent sentence together.
Ultra Magnus blinked. His fingers squeezed Swerve's hand. His field projected nothing but genuine concern.
“Of course I care,” Ultra Magnus replied. “I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't care.”
Swerve froze.
Of course.
Ultra Magnus was in character. He thought Swerve was in character, too. People were probably watching them, on camera or peering around corners. Swerve couldn't be real because he was playing a part. What was he thinking, actually getting invested in this?
“It's the public attention, isn't it?” Ultra Magnus, still soothing, still the perfect partner and Swerve's spark ached to hear it. “I know you don't like being under this much scrutiny, but we have less than two weeks.”
Swerve's vents hitched. Two weeks.
“I want to marry you,” Ultra Magnus continued, the epitome of a consoling partner. “Isn't that what matters?”
“Yes,” Swerve cried. “It is.”
He didn't have words to explain what he did next. Maybe it was the moment. Maybe it was his own emotions betraying him. Maybe it was that sweetly concerned look on Ultra Magnus' face, so close to his own.
Maybe it twas the thought that he might not get another chance.
Swerve didn't know.
But it was a moment where all logic flew out the window. He closed the distance between he and Magnus, what little distance there was, and he kissed him. He pressed his lips to Magnus' in front of whoever happened to be watching, and he stole a kiss. It was what engaged partners were supposed to do, right?
Except they hadn't discussed this. They'd agreed to casual touching, to handholding, perhaps the occasional nuzzle. But not kissing. Swerve had taken what he'd not been given. No matter how sweet it was, it was wrong.
He broke off the kiss, guilt sweeping in to mingle with the agitation that had made itself home in his spark.
Ultra Magnus stared at him, lips slightly parted.
“I'm... I'm sorry,” Swerve whispered, miserable to the core of his spark. “I shouldn't have done that.”
Ultra Magnus' helm bowed a fraction. His fingers tightened and then relaxed around Swerve's hand.
“Let... um, let me go and I'll see myself to the brig,” Swerve added, suddenly afraid of what Magnus might say. Of the disgust he might see in Magnus' optics.
“We have to stay,” Ultra Magnus finally said, but his vocals were low, barely audible to anyone but the two of them. “It is part of the plan. And I cannot leave Rodimus in there without supervision.”
“But--”
“We will discuss this later,” Ultra Magnus interrupted, a bit more firmly. His field brushed Swerve's, but it wasn't as full of rage as he would have expected. Instead there was surprise? Confusion? “For now we must return to the party. Will you be all right?”
Swerve forced a systems check and managed a wobbly smile. “Yeah,” he said. “This is all a game, right? I just have to play my part.”
Ultra Magnus gave him a long look, but he squeezed Swerve's hand and rose to his full height. “We both do.”
After all, it was only a game.
a/n: Ups and downs, that's what's going on with the emotions here, and it's only going to get more complicated from here. That clue bat we've been waiting for? Ultra Magnus is going to be hit with it rather soon. ;)
As always, I do hope you enjoyed and feedback is welcome and appreciated!
