[Flights of Fancy] Topsy-Turvy 07
Mar. 19th, 2018 06:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Topsy-Turvy
Universe: Flights of Fancy
Characters: Megatron/Rodimus, Soundwave, Shockwave/Orion Pax, Drift/Perceptor, Starscream, Ensemble
Rating: M
Enticements: Harpyformers AU, Sexual Content, Romance, Unrequited Love, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn
Summary: If asked, Liege Megatron of the Kaon Aerie would say his life was perfect. With a content, growing flock to manage, he had nothing to worry about. Loneliness was part of a Liege’s life, he’d decided. Until the bright-spirited Hot Rod comes along, determined to be the exception to the rule.
Chapter Seven
Sleep tormented Megatron.
He tossed and turned in a nest-berth suddenly far too large and cold. His body ached, and not just because he’d spent the day hunched over his desk. He burned with an inner flame, a need he refused to handle because he should have more control than this. He would not orgasm to thoughts of Hot Rod writhing beneath him, to the sweet cries of the beautiful smol, or the burn of ecstasy in Hot Rod’s eyes.
If he slept, it was in fitful snatches.
Soundwave had no need to wake him. Megatron was up before the sun rose, his head throbbing and his eyes raw and scratchy. He stared out at encroaching dawn, lips pressed to a thin line, indecision clawing at the back of his throat.
He wanted advice. He couldn’t go to Orion. Not for this and especially not with Hot Rod now being Orion’s designated assistant.
Megatron sighed. He spun on a tarsal and headed back to his office. He wouldn’t call it hiding, but it was close to it. If he buried himself in paperwork, maybe he could get distracted enough not to gnaw on his problems over and over.
At least, that was the plan.
He had an unsatisfying breakfast of too-old cranberry scones and washed it down with lukewarm water. He gnawed on the too-hard scones to keep from grinding his teeth. He kept reading the same scroll over and over, because the words wouldn’t settle in his head. He rubbed at his temples until his finger joints ached.
A shadow darkened his doorway. Megatron half-expected it to be Soundwave, with another chiding look and something resembling a better breakfast. Barring that, he thought it might be one of the twins or Ravage with an armful of more work.
He did not expect to look up and see Orion duck through the door, his belly visibly round. His eyes were bright, like one who was gravid and delighted to be so. Which was no doubt apt. If they had been back in Crystal City, Orion would not have been allowed to carry. His mate, who would have been a smol, would have that task.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” Megatron said as he rushed to stand, his stool toppling behind him and a few documents fluttering at the abrupt movement. He scrambled to grab them, and knocked over his inkpot.
He stared, aghast, as dark stain spilled over his entire stack of completed paperwork. All which would now have to be carefully re-penned and marked.
Orion chuckled and appeared to magic a towel out of thin air. “How can I rest when it’s clear how much you need me?”
He shooed Megatron away, lifted the soaked papers before they could ruin the others, and expertly cleaned up the mess without getting so much as a drop on himself.
It was unseemly.
Megatron sighed and focused on moving his inkpot far away and stacking the rest of the work somewhere safer. “You should have sent someone. I would have come to you.”
“I needed the exercise.” Orion tossed the ink-stained towel into the bin. It would be collected and washed later. “Besides, you know who my assistant is, and I couldn’t very well have sent him here after last night.”
Megatron’s shoulders slumped. “My the rumor mill travels fast.”
“Indeed it does.” Orion offered him a smile, but it was sympathetic rather than cruel. He stood a little higher, one hand resting over his belly. “One might blame Soundwave’s siblings. Or one might blame a very frustrated and confused smol who has been simultaneously sulking and seething in my office.”
Probably both then.
Megatron swallowed a sigh and hurried to offer Orion his chair, moving it out from behind the cramped confines of his desk. It wouldn’t do for Orion to crouch on the small stool Frenzy and Rumble used to reach Megatron’s desk.
“I can stand for a few minutes, Megatron,” Orion said with an exasperated roll of his eyes, but he took the offer anyway. “I’m not an invalid. I’m egg-heavy.”
“Never let it be said I’m not a gracious host.” Perhaps he hadn’t completely escaped his Crystal City roots. He could no more let an egg-heavy Orion stand then he could let a not egg-heavy Orion stand.
Not the primeling. Not the prince. Any harpy – bara or smol – would be honored to give up their seat to their future Prime.
Orion chuckled. “I didn’t intend to stay that long but if you insist.” He wiggled to get comfortable, hand still resting over his belly, and despite all that, the look he leveled on Megatron was serious. Chastising almost.
“Do you want to tell me why my assistant is in a mood?”
“I thought he told you already?” Megatron started shuffling the papers on his desk. They were in disarray after all. He needed to tidy immediately.
“I wanted to hear your version.”
Megatron pressed his lips together. Orion had a way of talking, a neutrality to his tone, that left one feeling open and unjudged. Orion was always fair in everything he did. But he also had complete faith in people, and believed there was always a silver lining. Optimism was where Orion excelled.
He couldn’t understand why Megatron had yet to mate. He didn’t understand why Megatron wouldn’t accept Hot Rod. He would never know the reasons because Megatron would never tell him.
“I noticed he was alone,” Megatron said, choosing his words carefully. “It was very late. As liege, I was concerned. I wanted to make sure he had somewhere to sleep. I also needed to apologize for my behavior in an earlier… discussion.” He paused as shame prickled his face with heat. “I made the mistake of several assumptions. I owe him another apology.”
Orion made a noncommittal noise. “I see.”
Megatron felt the weight of Orion’s rebuke in those two words. “I will apologize once emotions have cooled.”
“Apologies are never wasted,” Orion agreed, but there was a cutting force behind his eyes, that for a shade, were a near match for Hot Rod’s. “If I were to ask you a question, would you answer me honestly?”
“Of course.” He didn’t even have to think about it.
Orion leveled him with a look. “You truly do not desire Hot Rod?”
Megatron winced before he could cast a mask over it. His core thumped in his chest, screaming danger at him. “Desire is not the problem,” he hedged.
“Then why not accept his courtship?”
“It’s complicated.” He found it safer to stare at his desk, at the haphazard stacks of documents, many of which contained Orion’s neat script. Swooping lines and tight circles and little dotted letters. It was so familiar to him, a memory of home he’d been able to bring with him.
“Is there someone you have feelings for?”
He’d promised to answer honestly.
“You don’t have to tell me who.”
Megatron breathed in and out. He nudged a paper aside with the tip of his forefinger. “Yes.”
Orion’s voice stayed warm and sympathetic. “It must truly be complicated then, for you to care for someone you think you cannot have. There is no one in this flock who doesn’t love their liege.”
“That is part of the problem.” Megatron lifted his gaze back to Orion’s, hating and appreciating the sympathy he saw in his oldest and dearest friend’s eyes. “I can’t return Hot Rod’s affections, Orion, but that doesn’t mean I am lonely or unfulfilled. I am satisfied with what I have.”
“You deserve more than a life of solitude, Megatron.” Orion’s voice was quiet. Concerned.
It hurt to hear. Orion had treated him like an older brother when they were fledglings and young adults. Nowadays, he’d shifted to viewing Megatron like an errant younger sibling. Either way, he’d always looked to Megatron as family.
It felt a betrayal, sometimes, to look at Orion and feel the unrequited love burning him from the inside out. An abject betrayal of the pure affection Orion carried for him.
“I am liege. I am never truly alone.” Megatron managed a smile, small though it was. He knew something larger wouldn’t convince Orion. They knew each other too well.
“There are different kinds of solitude. You will always have your flock, yes, but you need someone at your side. Someone to support you, especially in private, so you don’t always have to be strong,” Orion replied, his words eerily echoing Hot Rod’s.
The guilt returned afresh. Megatron had overreacted to Hot Rod. He’d assumed and attacked Hot Rod out of personal frustration.
Megatron wanted, and he couldn’t have, and it seemed he was doomed to a lifetime of the same.
He dipped his head. “As always, your advice helps to clear the muddle from my mind.”
“You know I will support you always. But I also want to see you happy.” Orion stroked a hand over his belly, his gaze softening. “We left Crystal City for a reason. I’ve found my joy since then. I want the same for you, my brother.”
“And I will. Eventually.” Megatron tried for a nonchalant shrug. “When the time is right. Whenever that might be.”
Orion nodded. “Very well. I won’t keep pestering you about it.” He paused and tilted his head. “I won’t pretend to understand your complications, so long as you are aware you’re being quite unfair to Hot Rod.”
Megatron blinked. “How so? He’s made his overtures, I’ve refused him. I can’t be any more clear.”
“Your refusals sound more like maybes, Megatron. It’s quite obvious you’re attracted to him. You can’t blame him for being confused when you push him away at the same time you get closer to him.”
Megatron stared. Orion had spoken plainly to him, but the words didn’t make sense. It took all he had not to drop his jaw. “Are you calling me a tease?”
Orion outright chuckled. “Only because I can get away with it. And only because I’m not sure you know entirely what you’re doing.”
Megatron frowned. “I think you’re opinion of this situation is skewed. I have, quite plainly, refused Hot Rod’s affections. Any other kindness on my part is being misconstrued as I am only attempting to look after my flock as any liege should.”
“Be that as it may, it would hurt no one if you were… more aware of yourself and your words around Hot Rod. For both of your sakes,” Orion conceded with a tip of his head. There was chastisement in his tone once again, but he managed it so gently, so politely, it was hard to take offense.
Megatron sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been raised a soldier, not a public servant. His speech remained rough around the edges as a result. But he would heed Orion’s advice.
“I will keep my distance,” he conceded. “And I will learn to master my words.”
“I already know you will.” Orion beamed at him, like a fledgeling who successfully passed his exams. “Believe it or not, I actually didn’t come to berate you about your relationship with Hot Rod.”
Megatron failed to stop a snort. “Oh?” He let tension drain from his body, now that the conversation topic had shifted.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew you were allowed to miss work to attend the welcoming ceremony at the end of the week.” Orion chuckled softly, humor brightening his eyes the way it always did, and Megatron’s breath caught in his throat.
Megatron grinned in reply. “I’m allowed, am I? Shall I revise the chain of command again? Let everyone know who really runs things around here?”
Orion leveraged himself to his feet, the chair rocking behind him. “It can be our little secret.” He winked playfully. “I couldn’t very well make you miss it. There are two more joining our flock.”
“Three,” Megatron corrected. He grinned with a lot of teeth. Very proud teeth. “Terradive is carrying, too. He’s been keeping it quiet, wanting to wait until the ceremony to announce it.”
“Really? That’s wonderful!” Orion’s eyes lit up, his feathers fluffing around him with glee. “Oh, he and Rotor must be delighted.”
“Very.”
Terradive’s carry would be the mated couple’s first. Well, first successful. Both Terradive and Rotor were baras and both had struggled to conceive and carry beyond the first month. Repeated miscarries had nearly drained them both of hope.
This little one would be their miracle.
Megatron’s grin widened. “But it’s our little secret. No one else knows outside of Ratchet and Soundwave.”
“Because of course, Soundwave knows everything.” Orion chuckled and rubbed his belly thoughtfully. He nibbled on his bottom lip. “It is a good year for miracles.”
Happiness and jealousy collided. They formed a lump in his throat, one Megatron forced a smile around. He was delighted Orion had found his joy. He didn’t even resent Shockwave for it.
Grief had no place here. He’d learned to mourn this loss a long time ago.
“Yes,” Megatron agreed. “It is.”
~
The end of the week arrived sooner than Megatron expected. He did not find opportunity to seek out Hot Rod and apologize. Partially because he’d become so busy finalizing preparations for the welcoming ceremony, and in part because Hot Rod suddenly became difficult to find.
If Megatron put a word on it, he’d say Hot Rod was avoiding him. Which was probably for the better. Distance could only help.
The Welcoming arrived and with it, the entire atmosphere around the aerie changed. The overall sense of activity doubled, and the energy shifted to festive and cheerful, chasing away the last of the cool season doldrums. New additions to the flock were always celebrated, especially when they were young.
The Welcoming was less ceremony and more celebration, but this would be the first year they had more than a single birth to celebrate. Three hatchlings from a single mating season! It was unprecedented for Megatron’s tiny flock. It was laughable, compared to the dozens, hundreds even, of other flocks.
But here, every new harpy was precious.
The egg-heavy carriers sat upon their throne of choice, sire at their side, glowing with pride. One by one, the residents of Kaon Aerie arrived to present them a gift, usually something hand-made to assist in the raising of the hatchling. Blankets, teething rings, toys, scratching blocks, et cetera. Given their trade agreement with the humans, they now had even more new and unusual things to offer as gifts.
The food preparers had worked tirelessly this week, crafting and baking trays of treats and brewing ciders and meads. Someone had taken the time to string brightly colored streamers all around the interior of the ground floor, and little lights glowed in a rainbow of colors. They were powered by a solar battery, another benefit of their trading with the local humans.
A trio of musicians played in the corner, but they would be spelled from time to time by a small music player plugged into a solar battery. For now, the lovely song of flute, drums, and voice joined in harmony carried through the air. Cyclonus, for all his rough appearance, had a wonderful singing voice.
The celebration was in full-swing, here after dark with the lanterns adding to the glow of the multicolored lights and the low murmur of conversation just audible below the music.
The three carriers were arranged around the atrium floor, with Terradive holding court over the largest crowd. The entire flock had mourned with Terradive during he and Rotor’s multiple miscarries. Now, the mated couple would have no shortage of congratulations.
Orion and Shockwave had a huddle of their own, Shockwave standing just behind Orion, his hands on Orion’s shoulders and beaming with pride and delight. Orion’s soft smile glowed with his own happiness as one hand rested on the roundness of his belly. A small pile of gifts had already accumulated in the large basket next to him. Megatron knew more would come.
Megatron had already extended his congratulations to Terradive and Rotor, giving them a small teething block for the fledge he’d carved by hand. He’d congratulated Radiance and Windfall as well, who as of yet, were the only mated couple in Megatron’s flock who were both smols. This was only their second season as mates, and their first child. They’d received a hand-carved teething block as well.
Megatron’s gift for Orion and Shockwave was a little more personal. He didn’t want to present it in front of the crowd, however, so he held on to it and focused on making the rounds. He kept to the periphery of the gathering, keeping an eye on his flock.
They clustered together in small groups, chatting and laughing, smiling and eating. Contentment radiated from his flock as a whole, and Megatron couldn’t be more proud.
His eyes found Hot Rod in the crowd, tucked in a corner with Bulkhead and Maximus and Rung. Hot Rod was laughing as he nudged Bulkhead with an elbow, and the large bara ducked his head, rubbing the back of it as if embarrassed. Hot Rod grinned at him, eyes as blue as a sunny spring day. He leaned in close to Bulkhead again, highlighting the height difference between them.
Hot Rod’s forehead would barely graze Bulkhead’s shoulder. He was a third Bulkhead’s mass. Their colors clashed horribly. Hot Rod was far too bright, too brilliant, to stand next to Bulkhead’s dull olive and tan highlights.
“Stare any harder and you’re gonna set ‘em on fire.”
Megatron startled at the comment and laugh bubbling up from behind him. He gathered his composure over his shoulders and turned slowly, rather than whip around in an offended spin.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said smoothly, recognizing the lazy drawl as belonging to Whirl, a bara who had come to them from the Crystal City Aerie, not but a few years after Megatron had left, point of fact.
A blue so pale he was nearly white, the feathertips blackened as though dipped in ash, Whirl was just a shade too dull to be classed as a smol. He was tall, almost taller than Megatron, but he lacked the mass that many others of similar height had. He was sleek and gangly, all long limbs and feathers, his body covered in scars which were evidence of a lifetime of military service.
The adorable grey and blue fledgeling clinging to his shoulder and watching Megatron with solemn eyes always softened Whirl’s fierce facade. It was impossible to feel threatened when Skydive chirped from the concealment of his carrier’s feathers.
Whirl cackled. “Sure ya don’t.” One hand lifted, forefinger curling to tip a knuckle under his fledgeling’s chin. Skydive blinked slowly and nuzzled his carrier’s finger, yet his gaze never left Megatron.
He was a wary child. He’d been born here in Kaon, but something in Skydive’s quiet demeanor spoke of the sire Megatron had never met. Whirl didn’t speak of him and ignored questions about him. Whirl had come to Kaon about to start his second month of carry, and boldly asked for a home. He’d been tired, worn down by his travels especially in such a draining part of his carry and for a bara as well, but he hadn’t appeared abused or mistreated.
Megatron did not know what had driven Whirl from Crystal City, nor did he ask. That was Whirl’s business alone to share. He’d been welcomed, just like any other.
Whirl fit in well here. And Skydive would, too.
“Ya know Bulkhead ain’t got no interest in the kid, right?” Whirl continued with an all-knowing smirk. “He’s still waitin’ on that stupid zing of his.”
Megatron shook his head. “There is nothing stupid about believing in soul mates. It’s what brings Bulkhead comfort.”
Whirl barked a laugh and nuzzled his fledgeling again. “He ain’t never gonna find his soulmate lingering around here. We’re the smallest flock in all of Cybertron. If ya ask me, it’s just an excuse.”
“For what?”
“To stay outta something painful.” Whirl’s tone softened then, his pale yellow eye shifting down to Skydive. “It ain’t worth it.”
Megatron folded his hands behind his back, the feathers of his wings trailing along the floor. “You cannot look at Skydive like that and expect me to believe it wasn’t worth it.”
“Sky’s worth everything,” Whirl retorted with a sharp look Megatron’s direction, one just shy of disrespectful. “But what I had ta give up, what I left behind, this sharp crack deep down inside o’ me. I can’t blame Bulk for wantin’ to avoid that.” Whirl plucked Skydive from his shoulder and offered the fledge to Megatron.
Skydive making grabby hands for Megatron made it impossible to resist him. So Megatron accepted the little one, tucking Skydive against his chest with a single hand. Skydive snuggled close, head pressed over Megatron’s core.
“I know ya understand, boss,” Whirl said.
Megatron stroked down Skydive’s back as the fledge warbled a few nonsense words. Skydive had some limited speech, but often devolved into hatchling garble. “What do you mean?”
“No one looks at kid fire the way ya do and does nothin’ about it if they don’t already know what it is to burn.”
Megatron looked up at Whirl, but Whirl had crossed his arms, his lip curled in a small smile as he stared across the room. He was watching Hot Rod and Bulkhead, but there was something in his expression Megatron couldn’t name. A mixture of envy and regret, perhaps longing as well.
“There may be some truth in what you say,” Megatron said at length.
“Heh. I know there is.” Whirl rubbed the pad of his thumb over Skydive’s head. “Keep bit for awhile if ya want. I see a table fulla mead callin’ for me.”
Megatron chuckled. “Careful. I may keep him forever.”
“I’d never let that happen.” Whirl bared his teeth in a show of sharp canines, sharper than many in Megatron’s flock kept. “Ain’t no one ever takin’ him from me. No one.” There was an edge of something there, hinting to whatever it was Whirl had escaped upon leaving Crystal City.
Megatron inclined his head. “Of course.” He gestured to the treats and drinks with his free hand. “Go. Treat yourself. I’ll watch over Skydive for you.”
Whirl sketched a salute. “Don’t have to tell me twice, boss.” He winked and spun toward the tables laden with food and drink, nothing of the earlier dark sitting on his shoulders.
Impulse struck Megatron. “Whirl?”
The other bara paused and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
Megatron held Skydive a little tighter. “The one who burned you… do you still love him?”
Whirl laughed, dark and deprecating. “Always,” he said. “I never stopped.” He scraped a hand over his head, briefly smoothing down the crest of feathers. “That’s the thing about the fire. It’s a curse.”
“So it is,” Megatron murmured.
He doubted Whirl heard him, but the other bara barked a laugh and headed back for the table of goodies, squirming between Mirage and Tracks to do so. Mirage said something to Whirl, likely a rebuke, but Whirl just laughed and plucked Chase from Mirage’s shoulder, plopping the bright blue and white fledge onto his own.
It took a flock…
Hatchlings never lacked for love in Megatron’s flock. There was always someone present to care for them, look after them, make them understand that they were loved and welcome and accepted no matter what.
Skydive squirmed in his arms before settling again, and Megatron stroked a hand down the fledge’s back. He looked over the crowd again.
Unintentionally, he found Hot Rod once more, no longer with Bulkhead. He’d moved to the small grouping of Perceptor, Drift, and Starscream now. The newcomer to Megatron’s flock had an arm across Hot Rod’s shoulders and was leaning heavily against him. Hot Rod didn’t seem to mind, if the grin and laugh were any indication.
A squirm took up residence in Megatron’s belly. It was not jealousy.
Megatron made himself look elsewhere. He glanced in Orion and Shockwave’s direction, where the cluster of congratulating flock had disappeared. Now was his chance.
Orion was admiring the weave of a small basket someone had gifted him when Megatron arrived. Shockwave stood behind him still, but he’d half-turned, deep in conversation with Brainstorm about something that went so far above Megatron’s head, it might as well be orbiting Cybertron.
“Looks like you have gathered quite the bounty.” Megatron tipped his head in congratulations, a note of body language that seemed universal across all harpykind.
Orion beamed with delight, his entire face aglow. “Indeed, I have. I think we have everything we might need and more.” He chuckled and set the small basket into a larger one overflowing with gifts. He spotted, as many new carriers did, the little one clutching Megatron’s chest. “And who do you have?”
Megatron lifted his hand so more of Skydive was visible. “My favorite.”
“Ah. Skydive.” Orion leaned forward and Megatron obliged, so that he might reach easier. “You look good holding a fledgeling,” Orion added as he held a forefinger to the little one who had slipped into a doze against Megatron’s chest.
Skydive burbled a sound of annoyance and snuggled harder into Megatron’s feathers, hands tightening where they clutched him.
“You say that because your nesting instincts grow stronger by the day,” Megatron teased to hide the sharp stab of pain in his core.
“Mmm. Perhaps.” Orion settled back, a soft smile on his lips. “You deserve a family, Megatron. You deserve this happiness. Maybe I’m nesting. Or maybe I just want to see my dearest friend as full of joy as I am.” He rested a hand over his belly, so round that like most carriers, he was forced to waddle nearly everywhere.
Megatron returned the soft smile. “I am happy, Orion. How can I not be, leading a flock such as this.” He couldn’t imagine, back in Crystal City, being allowed to walk around with someone else’s fledge cradled against his chest. Not as a soldier, a guardian tasked to defend the primeling with his own life if that came necessary.
“There are different measures of happiness,” Orion murmured as he leaned back, into the cradle of Shockwave’s arm as Shockwave’s attention drifted back to him.
“My liege.” Shockwave dipped his head in greeting. “Ah, Skydive. I won’t tell Whirl you stole him if you don’t.”
Megatron chuckled. “Whirl passed him onto me, if you must know. I promise I’m not stealing him.” He supposed his affection for the little one was not as hidden as he thought. “Also, I thought you should know, I do have a gift for you. It simply wasn’t practical to haul it here. It waits in your nest.”
“You did too much, didn’t you?” Orion said with an exasperated, if not fond sigh. His blue crest feathers twitched. “You know you don’t have to give me anything special. I’m just Orion.”
He would never be just Orion.
“You are that and more, love.” Shockwave brushed a kiss over the crown of Orion’s head, nuzzling his tufts of feathers. “Thank you, Megatron. I’m sure it will be lovely, whatever it is.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m allowed to spoil whoever I like, thank you very much.” Megatron forced out a small laugh as his peripheral vision caught others heading their way, no doubt to congratulate Orion and Shockwave. “Congratulations again, you two. I can’t wait to see him.”
Their matching smiles made the tight knot in his belly loosen. It would always hurt, Megatron knew, but he was genuinely happy for them. Genuinely relieved to see Orion be himself, be filled with joy, rather than weighted down by the expectations his sire had placed on him.
Megatron took the opportunity to excuse himself and returned to wandering the crowd. The trio of musicians had stepped down in favor of the music player, allowing them a much needed break. Megatron snagged a tartlet from the well-grazed refreshment table.
His circles took him near Hot Rod’s little group, unchanged from earlier. They were all four sipping on mead. No, correction. Three sipped on mead; Hot Rod held a bowl of raspberries, a rare treat they usually had to trade with the university humans to acquire. His lips were stained pink by the berries.
Megatron drifted close enough to capture Drift’s attention before he realized what he was doing.
“Megatron!” Drift waved him over, gesturing with his cup. “Come help us break the tie.”
Megatron planted a neutral expression on his face and joined them. “Am I an arbiter now?” he asked teasingly. “Perhaps I should consider adding such as we grow as a flock.”
“We’re not that big yet.” Drift laughed and clung to Perceptor’s side, wobbling a bit on his feet. Someone had imbibed a bit too much of the mead apparently.
Megatron chuckled. “There is yet time.” He tipped his head in greeting to everyone, even as he found himself squeezed between Hot Rod and Drift, fully aware of Hot Rod at his side, smelling sweet and warm. “And what it is you need me to vote on?”
“It’s stupid,” Hot Rod said, rolling his eyes, but there was amusement in his voice. “I said that Ratchet is the oldest member of the flock, and Drift agrees with me.”
“Meanwhile Perceptor and I both know that while Ratchet acts like he’s older than Adaptus himself, it’s actually Rung who holds the title of supreme elder here,” Starscream said with a huff. He jostled Hot Rod with his elbow.
Megatron laughed. It truly was a ridiculous discussion to have. “Well, we don’t have such a title here, but I can tell you the truth.” He leaned in close, because the last thing he needed was for Ratchet to overhear him. “You are all wrong. Cyclonus is older than Rung by a full year, and Ratchet by nearly a decade.”
Four sets of eyes rounded in surprise.
“My. Someone is aging well,” Starscream finally said, appreciation in his eyes as he glanced Cyclonus’ direction. “Would that we could all appear so… robust.”
Hot Rod burst into laughter. “Careful, Star. You’re sounding a bit hungry there.”
Starscream rolled his eyes. “Nothing of the sort. Cyclonus is far from my type. I simply know how to appreciate a good landscape.”
Perceptor, however, had the gleam of interest in his eyes. “Cyclonus is from Tetrahex, yes?” he said, though it came across less of a question and more of a request for confirmation. “Is it not--”
“--rumored to be the birthing ground of all harpies? Why yes it is.” Starscream sipped at his mead. “How interesting. I wonder if Cyclonus would mind a few questions.”
Hot Rod playfully slapped Starscream’s arm. “Hey, no scientific investigating! You promised we’d go exploring tomorrow.”
“There’s time for both,” Starscream purred in reply.
“Exploring?” Megatron asked and hoped he didn’t sound jealous. “Outside of the aerie?”
“Relax, sir.” Drift patted Megatron’s arm. Or at least he attempted to. The first two tries were a miss. “I’m going with them. Perceptor, too. They’ll be safe.”
“They can take care of themselves,” Starscream said with a huff, but there was something about the look in his eyes that suggested he was honored by the concern expressed for him.
Skydive made a sound then, a cross between a whine and a chirp. Megatron looked down as the fledge started to wriggle, his eyes opening and looking around them as if confused. He looked up at Megatron and yawned, tiny claws digging into Megatron’s chest.
“Awake again, I see.” Megatron loosened his hold so Skydive could climb if he so wished. “Are you hungry, little one?”
Skydive’s blunt tarsals dug into Megatron’s feathers. “Hungry!” he confirmed and nuzzled Megatron’s chest, like the adorable little ball of grey fluff that he was. “Where’s Care?”
“Your carrier is around here somewhere. Would you like me to find him?” Megatron asked.
“No. Here’s fine. Hungry!” Skydive looked up at him, eyes big and pleading and impossible to resist.
“Do you like raspberries?” Hot Rod leaned in close, his breath smelling sweet and seductive. He brushed against Megatron’s arm, the brief touch sending a wave of heat through Megatron’s body.
He swallowed a groan.
Skydive wriggled around and reached for the bowl in Hot Rod’s hand. “Yes, please.”
Hot Rod laughed and popped one of the raspberries into Skydive’s mouth. “I guess I can share if it’s with you.”
Starscream snorted and crossed his arms. “And yet when I tried to have one, you nearly bit my finger off.” He arched a brow.
“You’re not an adorable hatchling,” Hot Rod retorted with a flick of his tailfeathers.
Were they flirting?
Hot Rod fed Skydive another raspberry, and Skydive made grabby hands at him, as though he wanted Hot Rod to hold him instead. Probably because Hot Rod had the food. Megatron tried not to feel betrayed.
“I am adorable whether I’m a hatchling or not,” Starscream retorted.
Perceptor arched an eyebrow as he sipped on his own mead. “Adaptus save me, I cannot sit through this discussion again.”
“What? Were you arguing over which of you is the more attractive?” Megatron asked.
“Yes,” Perceptor said, while the three smols fervently denied it in unison. Frankly, Megatron was more inclined to believe Perceptor.
“There’s no argument,” Drift said as he curled into Perceptor’s side, nuzzling his mate’s throat. “No need to. Right, only one?”
“I’ve told you once already I’m not participating in such a puerile discussion.” Nevertheless, Perceptor’s arm slid around Drift, his hand resting neatly on his mate’s hip.
Hot Rod popped another raspberry into Skydive’s mouth. “So when are you two going to try for one of these?” he asked, changing the subject.
“We’re not,” Perceptor replied as Drift nodded.
“Hatchlings and fledges are adorable, don’t get us wrong, we just don’t want one for ourselves,” Drift added with a little shrug. He nipped at Perceptor’s throat, and Perceptor patted his hip in soft chastisement.
Megatron’s eyebrows climbed toward his crown. This was the first he’d heard of this. Not that they were required to tell anyone, and neither were they required to reproduce if they didn’t want to. It was just rare to hear, especially from a couple mated as long as they were. Though he supposed it made sense.
They’d been together for at least a decade. By now, most couples would have had at least one hatchling, if not two.
“Neither of us have any interest in raising a hatchling. We don’t have the time or the dedication, and we feel it is the sort of thing we cannot undergo with anything less than one-hundred percent of our devotion.” Perceptor’s arm tightened around Drift. “We are too familiar with neglect to do otherwise.”
Starscream nodded with understanding. “Then you’re in the perfect flock. I can’t imagine any other accepting your decision.”
“Reproduction is one of many methods of control exerted by the leaders of other aeries,” Perceptor agreed. He sipped again at his mead before offering the cup to Drift.
“Oh, Adaptus,” Hot Rod rolled his eyes and sighed. “If you two are going to start talking ethics again, I’m going to steal Drift and run away.”
Drift snorted. “I like the ethics talk.”
“Of course you do.” Hot Rod looked up at Megatron with big, pleading blue eyes. “You’ll save me, won’t you, Megatron?” If there was any uncertainty, any discomfort considering their last conversation, Hot Rod didn’t show it.
The urge to give Hot Rod everything and more flew up inside of him. Megatron had to claw and bite it down, shove it deep, under the dark and dim.
He forced a chuckle out. “Well, it is something of my duty as liege to rescue any of my flock who need it.”
Skydive squirmed in his arms, making more urgent sounds, before he climbed up Megatron’s chest and peered over his shoulder. “Want carrier,” he chirped as he half-sprawled over Megatron’s shoulder and tucked his head against Megatron’s neck.
“Seems like the little one needs rescuing first,” Starscream observed in an even tone. He sipped on his mead and gave Megatron a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Too bad, Hot Rod. Guess you’re stuck with the science. Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”
Hot Rod’s lower lip popped out, his eyes going liquid. “You’re so mean.”
“And yet you like me anyway.” Starscream tapped Hot Rod on the nose, giving him a little indulgent smile. “Or maybe I don’t have room in my nest for a little lost smol anymore...”
At least worry about where Hot Rod had spent the one night was no longer needed. Apparently, he’d found another nest to take him in.
“Did I say ‘mean’? I meant ‘nice’. You’re the nicest, kindest, prettiest smol I’ve ever seen.” Hot Rod held a raspberry up to Starscream’s lips. “I’ll even share my berries with you. See?”
“Want carrier,” Skydive repeated with a bit of a whine.
It gave Megatron the excuse he needed to walk away and not watch Hot Rod feed Starscream a raspberry. Or the way Starscream playfully nipped Hot Rod’s fingers.
“You four have fun,” Megatron said as he turned to leave, one hand cupping Skydive in case the hatchling lost his grip.
Hot Rod’s giggling seemed to chase him. To grip his ears and his core and try to grab him back. Megatron’s insides twisted with heat. He thought of Hot Rod lying beside him, curled with him, delicately feeding him berry by berry.
He shoved the mental image away and went in search of Whirl.
****
a/n: the UST continues ;)
Universe: Flights of Fancy
Characters: Megatron/Rodimus, Soundwave, Shockwave/Orion Pax, Drift/Perceptor, Starscream, Ensemble
Rating: M
Enticements: Harpyformers AU, Sexual Content, Romance, Unrequited Love, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn
Summary: If asked, Liege Megatron of the Kaon Aerie would say his life was perfect. With a content, growing flock to manage, he had nothing to worry about. Loneliness was part of a Liege’s life, he’d decided. Until the bright-spirited Hot Rod comes along, determined to be the exception to the rule.
Sleep tormented Megatron.
He tossed and turned in a nest-berth suddenly far too large and cold. His body ached, and not just because he’d spent the day hunched over his desk. He burned with an inner flame, a need he refused to handle because he should have more control than this. He would not orgasm to thoughts of Hot Rod writhing beneath him, to the sweet cries of the beautiful smol, or the burn of ecstasy in Hot Rod’s eyes.
If he slept, it was in fitful snatches.
Soundwave had no need to wake him. Megatron was up before the sun rose, his head throbbing and his eyes raw and scratchy. He stared out at encroaching dawn, lips pressed to a thin line, indecision clawing at the back of his throat.
He wanted advice. He couldn’t go to Orion. Not for this and especially not with Hot Rod now being Orion’s designated assistant.
Megatron sighed. He spun on a tarsal and headed back to his office. He wouldn’t call it hiding, but it was close to it. If he buried himself in paperwork, maybe he could get distracted enough not to gnaw on his problems over and over.
At least, that was the plan.
He had an unsatisfying breakfast of too-old cranberry scones and washed it down with lukewarm water. He gnawed on the too-hard scones to keep from grinding his teeth. He kept reading the same scroll over and over, because the words wouldn’t settle in his head. He rubbed at his temples until his finger joints ached.
A shadow darkened his doorway. Megatron half-expected it to be Soundwave, with another chiding look and something resembling a better breakfast. Barring that, he thought it might be one of the twins or Ravage with an armful of more work.
He did not expect to look up and see Orion duck through the door, his belly visibly round. His eyes were bright, like one who was gravid and delighted to be so. Which was no doubt apt. If they had been back in Crystal City, Orion would not have been allowed to carry. His mate, who would have been a smol, would have that task.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” Megatron said as he rushed to stand, his stool toppling behind him and a few documents fluttering at the abrupt movement. He scrambled to grab them, and knocked over his inkpot.
He stared, aghast, as dark stain spilled over his entire stack of completed paperwork. All which would now have to be carefully re-penned and marked.
Orion chuckled and appeared to magic a towel out of thin air. “How can I rest when it’s clear how much you need me?”
He shooed Megatron away, lifted the soaked papers before they could ruin the others, and expertly cleaned up the mess without getting so much as a drop on himself.
It was unseemly.
Megatron sighed and focused on moving his inkpot far away and stacking the rest of the work somewhere safer. “You should have sent someone. I would have come to you.”
“I needed the exercise.” Orion tossed the ink-stained towel into the bin. It would be collected and washed later. “Besides, you know who my assistant is, and I couldn’t very well have sent him here after last night.”
Megatron’s shoulders slumped. “My the rumor mill travels fast.”
“Indeed it does.” Orion offered him a smile, but it was sympathetic rather than cruel. He stood a little higher, one hand resting over his belly. “One might blame Soundwave’s siblings. Or one might blame a very frustrated and confused smol who has been simultaneously sulking and seething in my office.”
Probably both then.
Megatron swallowed a sigh and hurried to offer Orion his chair, moving it out from behind the cramped confines of his desk. It wouldn’t do for Orion to crouch on the small stool Frenzy and Rumble used to reach Megatron’s desk.
“I can stand for a few minutes, Megatron,” Orion said with an exasperated roll of his eyes, but he took the offer anyway. “I’m not an invalid. I’m egg-heavy.”
“Never let it be said I’m not a gracious host.” Perhaps he hadn’t completely escaped his Crystal City roots. He could no more let an egg-heavy Orion stand then he could let a not egg-heavy Orion stand.
Not the primeling. Not the prince. Any harpy – bara or smol – would be honored to give up their seat to their future Prime.
Orion chuckled. “I didn’t intend to stay that long but if you insist.” He wiggled to get comfortable, hand still resting over his belly, and despite all that, the look he leveled on Megatron was serious. Chastising almost.
“Do you want to tell me why my assistant is in a mood?”
“I thought he told you already?” Megatron started shuffling the papers on his desk. They were in disarray after all. He needed to tidy immediately.
“I wanted to hear your version.”
Megatron pressed his lips together. Orion had a way of talking, a neutrality to his tone, that left one feeling open and unjudged. Orion was always fair in everything he did. But he also had complete faith in people, and believed there was always a silver lining. Optimism was where Orion excelled.
He couldn’t understand why Megatron had yet to mate. He didn’t understand why Megatron wouldn’t accept Hot Rod. He would never know the reasons because Megatron would never tell him.
“I noticed he was alone,” Megatron said, choosing his words carefully. “It was very late. As liege, I was concerned. I wanted to make sure he had somewhere to sleep. I also needed to apologize for my behavior in an earlier… discussion.” He paused as shame prickled his face with heat. “I made the mistake of several assumptions. I owe him another apology.”
Orion made a noncommittal noise. “I see.”
Megatron felt the weight of Orion’s rebuke in those two words. “I will apologize once emotions have cooled.”
“Apologies are never wasted,” Orion agreed, but there was a cutting force behind his eyes, that for a shade, were a near match for Hot Rod’s. “If I were to ask you a question, would you answer me honestly?”
“Of course.” He didn’t even have to think about it.
Orion leveled him with a look. “You truly do not desire Hot Rod?”
Megatron winced before he could cast a mask over it. His core thumped in his chest, screaming danger at him. “Desire is not the problem,” he hedged.
“Then why not accept his courtship?”
“It’s complicated.” He found it safer to stare at his desk, at the haphazard stacks of documents, many of which contained Orion’s neat script. Swooping lines and tight circles and little dotted letters. It was so familiar to him, a memory of home he’d been able to bring with him.
“Is there someone you have feelings for?”
He’d promised to answer honestly.
“You don’t have to tell me who.”
Megatron breathed in and out. He nudged a paper aside with the tip of his forefinger. “Yes.”
Orion’s voice stayed warm and sympathetic. “It must truly be complicated then, for you to care for someone you think you cannot have. There is no one in this flock who doesn’t love their liege.”
“That is part of the problem.” Megatron lifted his gaze back to Orion’s, hating and appreciating the sympathy he saw in his oldest and dearest friend’s eyes. “I can’t return Hot Rod’s affections, Orion, but that doesn’t mean I am lonely or unfulfilled. I am satisfied with what I have.”
“You deserve more than a life of solitude, Megatron.” Orion’s voice was quiet. Concerned.
It hurt to hear. Orion had treated him like an older brother when they were fledglings and young adults. Nowadays, he’d shifted to viewing Megatron like an errant younger sibling. Either way, he’d always looked to Megatron as family.
It felt a betrayal, sometimes, to look at Orion and feel the unrequited love burning him from the inside out. An abject betrayal of the pure affection Orion carried for him.
“I am liege. I am never truly alone.” Megatron managed a smile, small though it was. He knew something larger wouldn’t convince Orion. They knew each other too well.
“There are different kinds of solitude. You will always have your flock, yes, but you need someone at your side. Someone to support you, especially in private, so you don’t always have to be strong,” Orion replied, his words eerily echoing Hot Rod’s.
The guilt returned afresh. Megatron had overreacted to Hot Rod. He’d assumed and attacked Hot Rod out of personal frustration.
Megatron wanted, and he couldn’t have, and it seemed he was doomed to a lifetime of the same.
He dipped his head. “As always, your advice helps to clear the muddle from my mind.”
“You know I will support you always. But I also want to see you happy.” Orion stroked a hand over his belly, his gaze softening. “We left Crystal City for a reason. I’ve found my joy since then. I want the same for you, my brother.”
“And I will. Eventually.” Megatron tried for a nonchalant shrug. “When the time is right. Whenever that might be.”
Orion nodded. “Very well. I won’t keep pestering you about it.” He paused and tilted his head. “I won’t pretend to understand your complications, so long as you are aware you’re being quite unfair to Hot Rod.”
Megatron blinked. “How so? He’s made his overtures, I’ve refused him. I can’t be any more clear.”
“Your refusals sound more like maybes, Megatron. It’s quite obvious you’re attracted to him. You can’t blame him for being confused when you push him away at the same time you get closer to him.”
Megatron stared. Orion had spoken plainly to him, but the words didn’t make sense. It took all he had not to drop his jaw. “Are you calling me a tease?”
Orion outright chuckled. “Only because I can get away with it. And only because I’m not sure you know entirely what you’re doing.”
Megatron frowned. “I think you’re opinion of this situation is skewed. I have, quite plainly, refused Hot Rod’s affections. Any other kindness on my part is being misconstrued as I am only attempting to look after my flock as any liege should.”
“Be that as it may, it would hurt no one if you were… more aware of yourself and your words around Hot Rod. For both of your sakes,” Orion conceded with a tip of his head. There was chastisement in his tone once again, but he managed it so gently, so politely, it was hard to take offense.
Megatron sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been raised a soldier, not a public servant. His speech remained rough around the edges as a result. But he would heed Orion’s advice.
“I will keep my distance,” he conceded. “And I will learn to master my words.”
“I already know you will.” Orion beamed at him, like a fledgeling who successfully passed his exams. “Believe it or not, I actually didn’t come to berate you about your relationship with Hot Rod.”
Megatron failed to stop a snort. “Oh?” He let tension drain from his body, now that the conversation topic had shifted.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew you were allowed to miss work to attend the welcoming ceremony at the end of the week.” Orion chuckled softly, humor brightening his eyes the way it always did, and Megatron’s breath caught in his throat.
Megatron grinned in reply. “I’m allowed, am I? Shall I revise the chain of command again? Let everyone know who really runs things around here?”
Orion leveraged himself to his feet, the chair rocking behind him. “It can be our little secret.” He winked playfully. “I couldn’t very well make you miss it. There are two more joining our flock.”
“Three,” Megatron corrected. He grinned with a lot of teeth. Very proud teeth. “Terradive is carrying, too. He’s been keeping it quiet, wanting to wait until the ceremony to announce it.”
“Really? That’s wonderful!” Orion’s eyes lit up, his feathers fluffing around him with glee. “Oh, he and Rotor must be delighted.”
“Very.”
Terradive’s carry would be the mated couple’s first. Well, first successful. Both Terradive and Rotor were baras and both had struggled to conceive and carry beyond the first month. Repeated miscarries had nearly drained them both of hope.
This little one would be their miracle.
Megatron’s grin widened. “But it’s our little secret. No one else knows outside of Ratchet and Soundwave.”
“Because of course, Soundwave knows everything.” Orion chuckled and rubbed his belly thoughtfully. He nibbled on his bottom lip. “It is a good year for miracles.”
Happiness and jealousy collided. They formed a lump in his throat, one Megatron forced a smile around. He was delighted Orion had found his joy. He didn’t even resent Shockwave for it.
Grief had no place here. He’d learned to mourn this loss a long time ago.
“Yes,” Megatron agreed. “It is.”
The end of the week arrived sooner than Megatron expected. He did not find opportunity to seek out Hot Rod and apologize. Partially because he’d become so busy finalizing preparations for the welcoming ceremony, and in part because Hot Rod suddenly became difficult to find.
If Megatron put a word on it, he’d say Hot Rod was avoiding him. Which was probably for the better. Distance could only help.
The Welcoming arrived and with it, the entire atmosphere around the aerie changed. The overall sense of activity doubled, and the energy shifted to festive and cheerful, chasing away the last of the cool season doldrums. New additions to the flock were always celebrated, especially when they were young.
The Welcoming was less ceremony and more celebration, but this would be the first year they had more than a single birth to celebrate. Three hatchlings from a single mating season! It was unprecedented for Megatron’s tiny flock. It was laughable, compared to the dozens, hundreds even, of other flocks.
But here, every new harpy was precious.
The egg-heavy carriers sat upon their throne of choice, sire at their side, glowing with pride. One by one, the residents of Kaon Aerie arrived to present them a gift, usually something hand-made to assist in the raising of the hatchling. Blankets, teething rings, toys, scratching blocks, et cetera. Given their trade agreement with the humans, they now had even more new and unusual things to offer as gifts.
The food preparers had worked tirelessly this week, crafting and baking trays of treats and brewing ciders and meads. Someone had taken the time to string brightly colored streamers all around the interior of the ground floor, and little lights glowed in a rainbow of colors. They were powered by a solar battery, another benefit of their trading with the local humans.
A trio of musicians played in the corner, but they would be spelled from time to time by a small music player plugged into a solar battery. For now, the lovely song of flute, drums, and voice joined in harmony carried through the air. Cyclonus, for all his rough appearance, had a wonderful singing voice.
The celebration was in full-swing, here after dark with the lanterns adding to the glow of the multicolored lights and the low murmur of conversation just audible below the music.
The three carriers were arranged around the atrium floor, with Terradive holding court over the largest crowd. The entire flock had mourned with Terradive during he and Rotor’s multiple miscarries. Now, the mated couple would have no shortage of congratulations.
Orion and Shockwave had a huddle of their own, Shockwave standing just behind Orion, his hands on Orion’s shoulders and beaming with pride and delight. Orion’s soft smile glowed with his own happiness as one hand rested on the roundness of his belly. A small pile of gifts had already accumulated in the large basket next to him. Megatron knew more would come.
Megatron had already extended his congratulations to Terradive and Rotor, giving them a small teething block for the fledge he’d carved by hand. He’d congratulated Radiance and Windfall as well, who as of yet, were the only mated couple in Megatron’s flock who were both smols. This was only their second season as mates, and their first child. They’d received a hand-carved teething block as well.
Megatron’s gift for Orion and Shockwave was a little more personal. He didn’t want to present it in front of the crowd, however, so he held on to it and focused on making the rounds. He kept to the periphery of the gathering, keeping an eye on his flock.
They clustered together in small groups, chatting and laughing, smiling and eating. Contentment radiated from his flock as a whole, and Megatron couldn’t be more proud.
His eyes found Hot Rod in the crowd, tucked in a corner with Bulkhead and Maximus and Rung. Hot Rod was laughing as he nudged Bulkhead with an elbow, and the large bara ducked his head, rubbing the back of it as if embarrassed. Hot Rod grinned at him, eyes as blue as a sunny spring day. He leaned in close to Bulkhead again, highlighting the height difference between them.
Hot Rod’s forehead would barely graze Bulkhead’s shoulder. He was a third Bulkhead’s mass. Their colors clashed horribly. Hot Rod was far too bright, too brilliant, to stand next to Bulkhead’s dull olive and tan highlights.
“Stare any harder and you’re gonna set ‘em on fire.”
Megatron startled at the comment and laugh bubbling up from behind him. He gathered his composure over his shoulders and turned slowly, rather than whip around in an offended spin.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said smoothly, recognizing the lazy drawl as belonging to Whirl, a bara who had come to them from the Crystal City Aerie, not but a few years after Megatron had left, point of fact.
A blue so pale he was nearly white, the feathertips blackened as though dipped in ash, Whirl was just a shade too dull to be classed as a smol. He was tall, almost taller than Megatron, but he lacked the mass that many others of similar height had. He was sleek and gangly, all long limbs and feathers, his body covered in scars which were evidence of a lifetime of military service.
The adorable grey and blue fledgeling clinging to his shoulder and watching Megatron with solemn eyes always softened Whirl’s fierce facade. It was impossible to feel threatened when Skydive chirped from the concealment of his carrier’s feathers.
Whirl cackled. “Sure ya don’t.” One hand lifted, forefinger curling to tip a knuckle under his fledgeling’s chin. Skydive blinked slowly and nuzzled his carrier’s finger, yet his gaze never left Megatron.
He was a wary child. He’d been born here in Kaon, but something in Skydive’s quiet demeanor spoke of the sire Megatron had never met. Whirl didn’t speak of him and ignored questions about him. Whirl had come to Kaon about to start his second month of carry, and boldly asked for a home. He’d been tired, worn down by his travels especially in such a draining part of his carry and for a bara as well, but he hadn’t appeared abused or mistreated.
Megatron did not know what had driven Whirl from Crystal City, nor did he ask. That was Whirl’s business alone to share. He’d been welcomed, just like any other.
Whirl fit in well here. And Skydive would, too.
“Ya know Bulkhead ain’t got no interest in the kid, right?” Whirl continued with an all-knowing smirk. “He’s still waitin’ on that stupid zing of his.”
Megatron shook his head. “There is nothing stupid about believing in soul mates. It’s what brings Bulkhead comfort.”
Whirl barked a laugh and nuzzled his fledgeling again. “He ain’t never gonna find his soulmate lingering around here. We’re the smallest flock in all of Cybertron. If ya ask me, it’s just an excuse.”
“For what?”
“To stay outta something painful.” Whirl’s tone softened then, his pale yellow eye shifting down to Skydive. “It ain’t worth it.”
Megatron folded his hands behind his back, the feathers of his wings trailing along the floor. “You cannot look at Skydive like that and expect me to believe it wasn’t worth it.”
“Sky’s worth everything,” Whirl retorted with a sharp look Megatron’s direction, one just shy of disrespectful. “But what I had ta give up, what I left behind, this sharp crack deep down inside o’ me. I can’t blame Bulk for wantin’ to avoid that.” Whirl plucked Skydive from his shoulder and offered the fledge to Megatron.
Skydive making grabby hands for Megatron made it impossible to resist him. So Megatron accepted the little one, tucking Skydive against his chest with a single hand. Skydive snuggled close, head pressed over Megatron’s core.
“I know ya understand, boss,” Whirl said.
Megatron stroked down Skydive’s back as the fledge warbled a few nonsense words. Skydive had some limited speech, but often devolved into hatchling garble. “What do you mean?”
“No one looks at kid fire the way ya do and does nothin’ about it if they don’t already know what it is to burn.”
Megatron looked up at Whirl, but Whirl had crossed his arms, his lip curled in a small smile as he stared across the room. He was watching Hot Rod and Bulkhead, but there was something in his expression Megatron couldn’t name. A mixture of envy and regret, perhaps longing as well.
“There may be some truth in what you say,” Megatron said at length.
“Heh. I know there is.” Whirl rubbed the pad of his thumb over Skydive’s head. “Keep bit for awhile if ya want. I see a table fulla mead callin’ for me.”
Megatron chuckled. “Careful. I may keep him forever.”
“I’d never let that happen.” Whirl bared his teeth in a show of sharp canines, sharper than many in Megatron’s flock kept. “Ain’t no one ever takin’ him from me. No one.” There was an edge of something there, hinting to whatever it was Whirl had escaped upon leaving Crystal City.
Megatron inclined his head. “Of course.” He gestured to the treats and drinks with his free hand. “Go. Treat yourself. I’ll watch over Skydive for you.”
Whirl sketched a salute. “Don’t have to tell me twice, boss.” He winked and spun toward the tables laden with food and drink, nothing of the earlier dark sitting on his shoulders.
Impulse struck Megatron. “Whirl?”
The other bara paused and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
Megatron held Skydive a little tighter. “The one who burned you… do you still love him?”
Whirl laughed, dark and deprecating. “Always,” he said. “I never stopped.” He scraped a hand over his head, briefly smoothing down the crest of feathers. “That’s the thing about the fire. It’s a curse.”
“So it is,” Megatron murmured.
He doubted Whirl heard him, but the other bara barked a laugh and headed back for the table of goodies, squirming between Mirage and Tracks to do so. Mirage said something to Whirl, likely a rebuke, but Whirl just laughed and plucked Chase from Mirage’s shoulder, plopping the bright blue and white fledge onto his own.
It took a flock…
Hatchlings never lacked for love in Megatron’s flock. There was always someone present to care for them, look after them, make them understand that they were loved and welcome and accepted no matter what.
Skydive squirmed in his arms before settling again, and Megatron stroked a hand down the fledge’s back. He looked over the crowd again.
Unintentionally, he found Hot Rod once more, no longer with Bulkhead. He’d moved to the small grouping of Perceptor, Drift, and Starscream now. The newcomer to Megatron’s flock had an arm across Hot Rod’s shoulders and was leaning heavily against him. Hot Rod didn’t seem to mind, if the grin and laugh were any indication.
A squirm took up residence in Megatron’s belly. It was not jealousy.
Megatron made himself look elsewhere. He glanced in Orion and Shockwave’s direction, where the cluster of congratulating flock had disappeared. Now was his chance.
Orion was admiring the weave of a small basket someone had gifted him when Megatron arrived. Shockwave stood behind him still, but he’d half-turned, deep in conversation with Brainstorm about something that went so far above Megatron’s head, it might as well be orbiting Cybertron.
“Looks like you have gathered quite the bounty.” Megatron tipped his head in congratulations, a note of body language that seemed universal across all harpykind.
Orion beamed with delight, his entire face aglow. “Indeed, I have. I think we have everything we might need and more.” He chuckled and set the small basket into a larger one overflowing with gifts. He spotted, as many new carriers did, the little one clutching Megatron’s chest. “And who do you have?”
Megatron lifted his hand so more of Skydive was visible. “My favorite.”
“Ah. Skydive.” Orion leaned forward and Megatron obliged, so that he might reach easier. “You look good holding a fledgeling,” Orion added as he held a forefinger to the little one who had slipped into a doze against Megatron’s chest.
Skydive burbled a sound of annoyance and snuggled harder into Megatron’s feathers, hands tightening where they clutched him.
“You say that because your nesting instincts grow stronger by the day,” Megatron teased to hide the sharp stab of pain in his core.
“Mmm. Perhaps.” Orion settled back, a soft smile on his lips. “You deserve a family, Megatron. You deserve this happiness. Maybe I’m nesting. Or maybe I just want to see my dearest friend as full of joy as I am.” He rested a hand over his belly, so round that like most carriers, he was forced to waddle nearly everywhere.
Megatron returned the soft smile. “I am happy, Orion. How can I not be, leading a flock such as this.” He couldn’t imagine, back in Crystal City, being allowed to walk around with someone else’s fledge cradled against his chest. Not as a soldier, a guardian tasked to defend the primeling with his own life if that came necessary.
“There are different measures of happiness,” Orion murmured as he leaned back, into the cradle of Shockwave’s arm as Shockwave’s attention drifted back to him.
“My liege.” Shockwave dipped his head in greeting. “Ah, Skydive. I won’t tell Whirl you stole him if you don’t.”
Megatron chuckled. “Whirl passed him onto me, if you must know. I promise I’m not stealing him.” He supposed his affection for the little one was not as hidden as he thought. “Also, I thought you should know, I do have a gift for you. It simply wasn’t practical to haul it here. It waits in your nest.”
“You did too much, didn’t you?” Orion said with an exasperated, if not fond sigh. His blue crest feathers twitched. “You know you don’t have to give me anything special. I’m just Orion.”
He would never be just Orion.
“You are that and more, love.” Shockwave brushed a kiss over the crown of Orion’s head, nuzzling his tufts of feathers. “Thank you, Megatron. I’m sure it will be lovely, whatever it is.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m allowed to spoil whoever I like, thank you very much.” Megatron forced out a small laugh as his peripheral vision caught others heading their way, no doubt to congratulate Orion and Shockwave. “Congratulations again, you two. I can’t wait to see him.”
Their matching smiles made the tight knot in his belly loosen. It would always hurt, Megatron knew, but he was genuinely happy for them. Genuinely relieved to see Orion be himself, be filled with joy, rather than weighted down by the expectations his sire had placed on him.
Megatron took the opportunity to excuse himself and returned to wandering the crowd. The trio of musicians had stepped down in favor of the music player, allowing them a much needed break. Megatron snagged a tartlet from the well-grazed refreshment table.
His circles took him near Hot Rod’s little group, unchanged from earlier. They were all four sipping on mead. No, correction. Three sipped on mead; Hot Rod held a bowl of raspberries, a rare treat they usually had to trade with the university humans to acquire. His lips were stained pink by the berries.
Megatron drifted close enough to capture Drift’s attention before he realized what he was doing.
“Megatron!” Drift waved him over, gesturing with his cup. “Come help us break the tie.”
Megatron planted a neutral expression on his face and joined them. “Am I an arbiter now?” he asked teasingly. “Perhaps I should consider adding such as we grow as a flock.”
“We’re not that big yet.” Drift laughed and clung to Perceptor’s side, wobbling a bit on his feet. Someone had imbibed a bit too much of the mead apparently.
Megatron chuckled. “There is yet time.” He tipped his head in greeting to everyone, even as he found himself squeezed between Hot Rod and Drift, fully aware of Hot Rod at his side, smelling sweet and warm. “And what it is you need me to vote on?”
“It’s stupid,” Hot Rod said, rolling his eyes, but there was amusement in his voice. “I said that Ratchet is the oldest member of the flock, and Drift agrees with me.”
“Meanwhile Perceptor and I both know that while Ratchet acts like he’s older than Adaptus himself, it’s actually Rung who holds the title of supreme elder here,” Starscream said with a huff. He jostled Hot Rod with his elbow.
Megatron laughed. It truly was a ridiculous discussion to have. “Well, we don’t have such a title here, but I can tell you the truth.” He leaned in close, because the last thing he needed was for Ratchet to overhear him. “You are all wrong. Cyclonus is older than Rung by a full year, and Ratchet by nearly a decade.”
Four sets of eyes rounded in surprise.
“My. Someone is aging well,” Starscream finally said, appreciation in his eyes as he glanced Cyclonus’ direction. “Would that we could all appear so… robust.”
Hot Rod burst into laughter. “Careful, Star. You’re sounding a bit hungry there.”
Starscream rolled his eyes. “Nothing of the sort. Cyclonus is far from my type. I simply know how to appreciate a good landscape.”
Perceptor, however, had the gleam of interest in his eyes. “Cyclonus is from Tetrahex, yes?” he said, though it came across less of a question and more of a request for confirmation. “Is it not--”
“--rumored to be the birthing ground of all harpies? Why yes it is.” Starscream sipped at his mead. “How interesting. I wonder if Cyclonus would mind a few questions.”
Hot Rod playfully slapped Starscream’s arm. “Hey, no scientific investigating! You promised we’d go exploring tomorrow.”
“There’s time for both,” Starscream purred in reply.
“Exploring?” Megatron asked and hoped he didn’t sound jealous. “Outside of the aerie?”
“Relax, sir.” Drift patted Megatron’s arm. Or at least he attempted to. The first two tries were a miss. “I’m going with them. Perceptor, too. They’ll be safe.”
“They can take care of themselves,” Starscream said with a huff, but there was something about the look in his eyes that suggested he was honored by the concern expressed for him.
Skydive made a sound then, a cross between a whine and a chirp. Megatron looked down as the fledge started to wriggle, his eyes opening and looking around them as if confused. He looked up at Megatron and yawned, tiny claws digging into Megatron’s chest.
“Awake again, I see.” Megatron loosened his hold so Skydive could climb if he so wished. “Are you hungry, little one?”
Skydive’s blunt tarsals dug into Megatron’s feathers. “Hungry!” he confirmed and nuzzled Megatron’s chest, like the adorable little ball of grey fluff that he was. “Where’s Care?”
“Your carrier is around here somewhere. Would you like me to find him?” Megatron asked.
“No. Here’s fine. Hungry!” Skydive looked up at him, eyes big and pleading and impossible to resist.
“Do you like raspberries?” Hot Rod leaned in close, his breath smelling sweet and seductive. He brushed against Megatron’s arm, the brief touch sending a wave of heat through Megatron’s body.
He swallowed a groan.
Skydive wriggled around and reached for the bowl in Hot Rod’s hand. “Yes, please.”
Hot Rod laughed and popped one of the raspberries into Skydive’s mouth. “I guess I can share if it’s with you.”
Starscream snorted and crossed his arms. “And yet when I tried to have one, you nearly bit my finger off.” He arched a brow.
“You’re not an adorable hatchling,” Hot Rod retorted with a flick of his tailfeathers.
Were they flirting?
Hot Rod fed Skydive another raspberry, and Skydive made grabby hands at him, as though he wanted Hot Rod to hold him instead. Probably because Hot Rod had the food. Megatron tried not to feel betrayed.
“I am adorable whether I’m a hatchling or not,” Starscream retorted.
Perceptor arched an eyebrow as he sipped on his own mead. “Adaptus save me, I cannot sit through this discussion again.”
“What? Were you arguing over which of you is the more attractive?” Megatron asked.
“Yes,” Perceptor said, while the three smols fervently denied it in unison. Frankly, Megatron was more inclined to believe Perceptor.
“There’s no argument,” Drift said as he curled into Perceptor’s side, nuzzling his mate’s throat. “No need to. Right, only one?”
“I’ve told you once already I’m not participating in such a puerile discussion.” Nevertheless, Perceptor’s arm slid around Drift, his hand resting neatly on his mate’s hip.
Hot Rod popped another raspberry into Skydive’s mouth. “So when are you two going to try for one of these?” he asked, changing the subject.
“We’re not,” Perceptor replied as Drift nodded.
“Hatchlings and fledges are adorable, don’t get us wrong, we just don’t want one for ourselves,” Drift added with a little shrug. He nipped at Perceptor’s throat, and Perceptor patted his hip in soft chastisement.
Megatron’s eyebrows climbed toward his crown. This was the first he’d heard of this. Not that they were required to tell anyone, and neither were they required to reproduce if they didn’t want to. It was just rare to hear, especially from a couple mated as long as they were. Though he supposed it made sense.
They’d been together for at least a decade. By now, most couples would have had at least one hatchling, if not two.
“Neither of us have any interest in raising a hatchling. We don’t have the time or the dedication, and we feel it is the sort of thing we cannot undergo with anything less than one-hundred percent of our devotion.” Perceptor’s arm tightened around Drift. “We are too familiar with neglect to do otherwise.”
Starscream nodded with understanding. “Then you’re in the perfect flock. I can’t imagine any other accepting your decision.”
“Reproduction is one of many methods of control exerted by the leaders of other aeries,” Perceptor agreed. He sipped again at his mead before offering the cup to Drift.
“Oh, Adaptus,” Hot Rod rolled his eyes and sighed. “If you two are going to start talking ethics again, I’m going to steal Drift and run away.”
Drift snorted. “I like the ethics talk.”
“Of course you do.” Hot Rod looked up at Megatron with big, pleading blue eyes. “You’ll save me, won’t you, Megatron?” If there was any uncertainty, any discomfort considering their last conversation, Hot Rod didn’t show it.
The urge to give Hot Rod everything and more flew up inside of him. Megatron had to claw and bite it down, shove it deep, under the dark and dim.
He forced a chuckle out. “Well, it is something of my duty as liege to rescue any of my flock who need it.”
Skydive squirmed in his arms, making more urgent sounds, before he climbed up Megatron’s chest and peered over his shoulder. “Want carrier,” he chirped as he half-sprawled over Megatron’s shoulder and tucked his head against Megatron’s neck.
“Seems like the little one needs rescuing first,” Starscream observed in an even tone. He sipped on his mead and gave Megatron a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Too bad, Hot Rod. Guess you’re stuck with the science. Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”
Hot Rod’s lower lip popped out, his eyes going liquid. “You’re so mean.”
“And yet you like me anyway.” Starscream tapped Hot Rod on the nose, giving him a little indulgent smile. “Or maybe I don’t have room in my nest for a little lost smol anymore...”
At least worry about where Hot Rod had spent the one night was no longer needed. Apparently, he’d found another nest to take him in.
“Did I say ‘mean’? I meant ‘nice’. You’re the nicest, kindest, prettiest smol I’ve ever seen.” Hot Rod held a raspberry up to Starscream’s lips. “I’ll even share my berries with you. See?”
“Want carrier,” Skydive repeated with a bit of a whine.
It gave Megatron the excuse he needed to walk away and not watch Hot Rod feed Starscream a raspberry. Or the way Starscream playfully nipped Hot Rod’s fingers.
“You four have fun,” Megatron said as he turned to leave, one hand cupping Skydive in case the hatchling lost his grip.
Hot Rod’s giggling seemed to chase him. To grip his ears and his core and try to grab him back. Megatron’s insides twisted with heat. He thought of Hot Rod lying beside him, curled with him, delicately feeding him berry by berry.
He shoved the mental image away and went in search of Whirl.
a/n: the UST continues ;)
