[Flights of Fancy] Topsy-Turvy 08
Mar. 26th, 2018 06:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: additional warning for some non-graphic, off-screen, egg-laying
Title: 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 Eight
Megatron never found opportunity to apologize to Hot Rod, perhaps because he deliberately did not seek the pretty smol out, and Hot Rod in turn, avoided him completely. Their brief conversation at the Welcoming notwithstanding, they truly had no reason to interact. Frenzy served as effective go-between while Orion was out for carry leave, and that, as they say, was that.
Perhaps it was better this way.
Megatron focused on his duties instead. They were, after all, the only thing which gave him purpose. And he was not a liege who shied away from the difficult work, the drudge work, the menial tasks even. If something needed to be done, and he was around to lend a hand, he did it.
Which was how he found himself becoming a pack mule for Perceptor’s very heavy, very expensive lab equipment. Megatron didn’t know what all it was for, only that it was a gift from the university, who’d updated their own equipment and had no need for this anymore. It made his scientists happy. That was the important thing.
“You can set that box on the floor there. I’ll have Brainstorm unpack it later,” Perceptor directed as he set his own, smaller crate on a table already groaning under the weight of several containers.
Megatron dropped the heavy box as delicately as he could. Still, something rattled inside, and Perceptor gave him a sharp look. Megatron ignored it. If he was going to complain about the quality of Megatron’s service, he could haul the heavy crates himself.
Megatron groaned as he straightened, his spine giving a creak of protest. Megatron rubbed at his back with the heel of his hand. He would be spending a fair amount of time in the hot springs tonight. Could it be that he was getting old? He wasn’t even half Ratchet’s age, and the cranky medic was pretty spry.
Perhaps it was the stress.
“So happy that’s the last of it,” Megatron said. He hoped it didn’t sound like a whine.
Perceptor huffed a laugh. “You’re getting soft in your advanced years, my liege.”
“You’re older than me, Perceptor.” A fact which sometimes galled Megatron. He was neither the oldest nor the wisest, the tallest nor the strongest, or even the most skilled of his flock. Yet, they still called him Liege.
“Ah, but I have a cute smol in my nest who will rub all the aches and pains out of my muscles later,” the scientist replied with a smirk few thought him capable of. Perceptor was usually reserved, but could be quite humorous in the right situation.
Megatron cast Perceptor a sharp look. “Not you, too.”
By Adaptus, was there anyone in his flock who wasn’t going to involve themselves in his love life or lack of one? Had they nothing better to do? Where was the frightened respect most flocks had for their leaders?
No. Scratch the latter. Megatron was glad they did not fear him. Still. He had to wonder.
“Your flock worries about you.” Perceptor pulled out a pad of paper and made a notation on it as though cataloging his new toys. “Of course, we worry about Hot Rod, also.”
Megatron’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a lecture I hear building in your tone?” While Perceptor had foregone all offers to take a leadership position with Megatron, he still offered advice on occasion.
Unlike Ratchet, Megatron did not suspect Perceptor of being an ousted leader on his own. Perceptor did not like to lead. He did, however, have a keen mind for helpful advice. Perhaps he’d been an adviser in another life, scientific or otherwise.
Perceptor’s pen scratched noisily over the paper. “For someone who’s not interested in Hot Rod, you can’t seem to stay away from him.”
Megatron sighed. This again. Though if Orion had noticed, and Perceptor as well, it seemed likely they had a point. They were among the most observant members of Megatron’s flock, excluding Rung. Now if Rung came to Megatron with the same concern, Megatron would have more to say then dismissal.
“We are both members of a small flock in a small aerie. That I am around him is purely by coincidence.”
“Yes, of course.” Perceptor flicked open a box and kept writing. “Which is why you were training him. Why you spoke to him privately. Why you engaged with him at the Welcoming and why you can hardly take your eyes from him anytime you are in a shared space. Not to mention the way your tail feathers start to twitch and your eyes darken in a most unseemly manner.”
Ah. So his, uh, interest in Hot Rod had been noticed. A natural interest to be sure! But it was not helping his case. How could he prove he had no desire for Hot Rod when his own body betrayed him? When desire wasn’t the problem?
Megatron gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He felt chastened, and the heat of it flooded his face.
Perceptor still didn’t look at him. “You can’t behave that way and expect him to believe you’re not interested. It’s contradictory at best and leading him on at worst.”
“Leading him--” Megatron broke off, anger and irritation battling for control inside him as he spluttered. “I’ve told him quite clearly I’m not interested. How does that make me a tease?”
Perceptor arched a feathery eyebrow and looked up at him. “I didn’t call you a tease, though interesting you’d use that word.”
Megatron huffed. “You might as well have.”
“Perhaps that’s because you’re aware of how inconsistent your behavior is.” Perceptor looked back down at his paper, pen moving as he counted. “From where I, and most of your flock are standing, it looks like you’re playing hard to get. No wonder he’s confused.”
Megatron folded his arms over his chest and exhaled. Perceptor was only stating something Megatron had already heard. He knew he was in part to blame. He felt drawn to Hot Rod. Attracted. He couldn’t deny it. And there was a part of him flattered by Hot Rod’s interest.
He wanted, so badly, to throw caution to the wind and accept Hot Rod’s courtship. But he also knew it would be unfair of him to do so. He couldn’t offer his core to Hot Rod when it still belonged to another. He couldn’t give Hot Rod the family he was sure the pretty smol wanted. He couldn’t be a proper mate to anyone.
“What do you suggest?” Megatron asked. He kept his tone soft and sincere. He needed advice.
“Keep your distance. Be polite but removed.” Perceptor circled around the table and peered into another box, his glasses glinting in the light of the lamps. “Delegate your concerns if you have any.”
Megatron scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Or you could make it easier on yourself and follow through with what you obviously want,” Perceptor said with a shrug. His tailfeathers swished across the floor. “The choice is yours.”
“You are singularly unhelpful.”
Perceptor slanted a look in Megatron’s direction. “No one can decide this for you. Or solve it for you. Now bring me that box, would you?”
He was always practical if nothing else.
Megatron sighed and stooped to pick up the box.
~
Perceptor’s words lingered.
Megatron tried his best to abide by them. He kept his distance. He delegated. He made sure that only Frenzy and Rumble delivered papers between himself and Orion. He tasked Soundwave with keeping an eye on Hot Rod.
It would have to be enough.
Difficulties remained.
It was hard not to seek Hot Rod in the crowds. Harder still not to watch, to let his eyes linger on Hot Rod as he smiled or laughed, as he got closer to the others around him. Closer to Starscream. Closer to baras still looking for mates.
Knowing that Hot Rod wanted to court him and wanting to do so in return. Wanting to learn how Hot Rod tasted, the sounds he made. Admitting to himself, and only himself, that he missed Hot Rod teasing him, flirting with him, smiling at him.
Megatron didn’t usually eat breakfast with his flock. Mostly because he couldn’t manage to drag himself out of the nest in time. Early rising was not one of his favorite activities, and besides that, breakfast was always more of a buffet to graze rather than a communal meal.
This morning, he’d changed his routine and sought out his own breakfast. Megatron grabbed an oat muffin and freshly squeezed orange juice. He lingered by the doorway, watching his flock as they nibbled and set out for the day, as the Gathering team met to decide on a field to pluck, and the guards argued over who would have to watch over Hot Rod this time.
Hot Rod, apparently, made a habit of running out on his own, chasing after a sweet scent on the wind, and forgetting to inform the soldiers escorting him and the other Gatherers. Whether or not his forgetfulness was on purpose, the guards couldn’t decide. Not all of them found it cute.
Bulkhead was on escort today. Given his camaraderie with Hot Rod, he ended up volunteering. Or being told to do so. Fortunately, Bulkhead didn’t seem to mind. Especially not when Hot Rod cozied up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The large bara flushed and ducked his head as if shy.
They were an ill match. Or maybe that was the jealousy talking.
Megatron bit into his muffin with a ferociousness it did not deserve. He chewed and swallowed what felt like a tasteless lump.
He felt a presence behind him, darkening the doorway before it slipped inside and lingered like a shadow just beyond Megatron’s peripheral vision. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. He’d missed Soundwave’s wake-up call. No doubt his Speaker had come looking for him.
“Some things are easier said than done,” Megatron murmured, just loud enough to be caught by the harpy behind him, but no other. He didn’t have to clarify. Soundwave knew. Somehow, he always knew.
“Justification not necessary,” Soundwave replied, equally quiet. There was an agreeing chirp, bright and cheerful. He had Laserbeak with him today then.
“It is very necessary.” Megatron sighed and popped the last bit of the muffin into his mouth. He chewed, his gaze wandering over the crowd, but lingering on Hot Rod. “The problem is that I am attracted to him.”
Feathers rustled. “There’s an easy answer to that, boss,” Laserbeak chirred.
“And your brother knows why there isn’t.” Megatron’s fingers tightened around his cup, until it creaked stress at him. He quickly downed the orange juice and set the empty container aside, lest he break it.
Soundwave stepped closer, until he was warmth at Megatron’s side, their feathers brushing. “You fear.”
Megatron sighed. He tore his eyes away from Hot Rod and the jealousy broiling inside him. He had no right to feel it. “You know I do.”
“He’s a good mate,” Soundwave said. “Good liege-consort.”
“Very good,” Laserbeak chirped in agreement.
Megatron’s lips quirked. “Are you giving me your approval?” Soundwave should join the club. It seemed everyone he spoke with was encouraging Megatron. Though Soundwave knew very well why Megatron shouldn’t.
Laserbeak crooned a soft musical note at him. “All of us are.”
Was he truly that pathetic?
Megatron found Hot Rod again. And again and again. As he always did. Eyes drawn back to Hot Rod smiling, laughing. The prettiest smol in the room, with his bright eyes and his brighter feathers. He was so much more than the surface. He was quick and intelligent and lovely, and everything Megatron didn’t know he could want outside of Orion. If there was someone he could see himself mating, someone who could fill the empty spaces left inside of him, that someone was Hot Rod.
He was everything Megatron could love, and what Megatron couldn’t have. Because there was no aerie, no flock, no harpy bara or smol, who’d want a mate as useless as Megatron.
He gnawed on his bottom lip. “I can’t.”
Soundwave rested a hand on his shoulder briefly. “I know,” he said, too soft for the usual rasp to affect his voice. “I also have news to report. Unless you’d rather stay--”
“No. There’s no reason for me to linger.” Megatron turned without a backward glance and faced his Speaker. “Do we need privacy for this news?”
“Not particularly.” On Soundwave’s shoulder, Laserbeak sat, her feet kicking playfully, but her eyes solemn and sympathetic as she watched Megatron.
“Should I be concerned?” Megatron slipped out of the dining hall, and Soundwave followed, falling into step beside him.
“Perhaps. There’s rumor of a military phalanx wandering nearby. They aren’t close enough to be a problem, but it’s suggested they’re looking for something.”
“Or someone,” Megatron murmured. “Who started the rumor?”
Soundwave clasped his hands behind his back, easily matching Megatron’s stride. Laserbeak sat on his shoulder, her balance impeccable as she leaned close to her brother’s ear and murmured to him occasionally.
“Our supplier in Ultrix passed the news along.”
“Any idea their aerie of origin?”
“No.”
Megatron considered. It could be nothing, or it could be something. He offered sanctuary to many harpies who had fled their own flocks or aeries for breaking tradition or leaving their mates or fleeing a terrible fate. He had on at least one occasion refused search parties attempting to retrieve someone.
Any member of Megatron’s flock was free to leave of their own accord anytime they wished. But he objected strongly to anyone attempting to remove one of Megatron’s flock without their consent and by force. Megatron’s flock was small, but they were fierce and strong. Megatron would die before letting any he protected come to harm.
“Assemble a team. Small. Sneaky. Able to defend themselves,” Megatron said as they followed the downward curve of the path, not that Megatron had a particular destination in mind. “We need more information. I’m certain they are coming here, but I want to know why and for who.”
Laserbeak kicked her feet again, mauve feathers fluttering around her ankles. “Done,” she chirped.
“The flock will be safe,” Soundwave agreed.
Megatron believed them. He trusted Soundwave.
This, at least, he could control. Could manage. His conflicting feelings and sense of helplessness were out of hand, but taking care of his flock… that Megatron could do. For now, it would have to be enough.
~~
Terradive went into labor first, laying his egg on a sunny afternoon with no complications and a much relieved Rotor at his side. Ratchet’s crankiness had only reflected his own relief. Now all that remained was to wait for the little one to hatch. Only then would Terradive and Rotor be completely at ease.
Two days later, Radiance laid his egg in the middle of the night, the birth so fast and sudden Windfall hadn’t even had chance to summon Ratchet. Radiance was going to be the envy of every first time carrier now. He’d barely felt a hint of pain.
Smols carried so much easier than baras, which was one of the reasons so many aeries forbade baras from doing so. It was almost unfair, how he’d laid without so much as a whimper.
Only Orion remained, and while he was serene as he waited, Shockwave was an agitated mess who paced and smothered Orion with pampering. Megatron lingered in the periphery, just as concerned, while Ratchet threatened to sedate them both if they didn’t settle down. Megatron and Ratchet had nearly come to blows over that, as Megatron didn’t like Ratchet’s tone, and Ratchet didn’t like being questioned about his medical expertise.
Orion, the most clear-headed of all four of them, had cut the argument in two with a well-placed, well-acted whimper. Megatron leapt to comfort him, he and Shockwave vying to bring Orion something – anything – to ease his discomfort. In the background, Ratchet rolled his eyes and muttered about nannying, but learned to hold his tongue.
Contractions hit Orion before breakfast at the end of the week. It was a toss up who was more relieved: Orion or the three baras hovering around him. Ratchet tossed Megatron out on his arse, and even though Orion had gasped out that Megatron was more than welcome, there were already more hands than needed inside the nest.
Outside of it, Megatron remained. He paced in the corridor, back and forth, wearing a path in the woven branches. Sounds floated out to his ears: Ratchet’s instructions, Shockwave’s loving murmurs, Orion’s little pained sounds of struggle. Megatron’s core ached.
Orion wasn’t the only bara to carry this year, but it was his first attempt. Which meant it was a toss up which of the carries had concerned Ratchet most: Terradive with his miscarries, or Orion with his first. His labor could last for hours. He simply wasn’t built to lay as easily as the smols. His hips were too narrow, his instincts not as strong.
It was early yet. His aerie was starting to waken. Megatron knew he had other things he should do. Responsibilities. Breakfast, for one. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave shouting distance, not so long as Orion labored. He would be too distracted with worry. He had to know Orion would be all right. He trusted Ratchet, but that was neither here nor there.
Megatron couldn’t leave.
So he paced the corridor in front of Orion and Shockwave’s nest, glad that they had one on the interior, where few could see Megatron’s ruffled behavior. It was bad for morale for his flock to see him flustered. Tucked away in the back corner, he had something resembling privacy, so when he whirled on a tarsal talon to continue pacing, it startled him to nearly collide with someone.
Megatron grabbed at the newcomer, steadying him by the shoulders, and looked down into Hot Rod’s bright blue eyes. Hot Rod had a soft smile on his lips, and he was carrying a basket, the top of it covered with a thin towel.
“We have to stop running into each other.” Hot Rod laughed and stepped back, out from under Megatron’s hands and out of reach. “Didn’t realize how sneaky I was.”
Megatron stared at him like he wasn’t sure who he was looking at. His brain felt like it had misfired. Maybe because he was hungry. Maybe because he’d been dragged from a sound sleep to news both alarming and exciting. Maybe because he hadn’t been this close to Hot Rod in weeks, and all the desire had come back in a flood.
Why did Hot Rod have to smell so good? Why did he have to be so pretty? Why did his laugh have to linger in Megatron’s ears, sending a warmth down his spine?
“Soundwave said you might be hungry,” Hot Rod continued, his tone a little uneasy. He held up the basket and flipped back the towel, revealing an assortment of pastries and fruit inside – many of which were Megatron’s favorites. “He’s busy filling in for you. He asked me to bring this.”
In other words, Hot Rod wouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t been asked. As if his appearance here offended Megatron.
He was to blame for that. He’d treated Hot Rod like a leper or an outcast and now Hot Rod behaved as if he were unwanted. The unease in his body language made the guilt heavier.
Soundwave should have known better than to send Hot Rod. Just what was his Speaker thinking? Why hadn’t he sent one of his brothers? Someone who wasn’t the cause of Megatron’s many sleepless nights?
Megatron swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he said as he accepted the basket. “It’s a nice gesture.”
Hot Rod shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. He looked away, to Orion’s curtained door and the noise behind it. “Can’t have our liege going hungry, you know.”
“A missed meal won’t hurt me,” Megatron said in a mild tone. He peered into the basket before he pulled out an apple tart. “Have you eaten?”
Hot Rod chuckled. “Yeah. That’s all for you. I don’t know how long you’re going to be here, so that should last you until dinner.” He tucked his hands behind his back. “There’s a bottle of water in there, too.”
Thoughtful indeed.
Megatron lowered himself down to the wall just to the left of Orion’s door, setting the basket beside him. He dug out the water and tried to make himself eat, despite the anxiety gnawing at his belly.
“Thank you,” he repeated. He winced as a particularly loud groan sent a shiver of worry down his spine.
Hot Rod shuffled his feet, his feathers drifting down, clamping around his body. “Can I bring you anything else or…?”
Megatron looked up at him and fought down the urge to ask for company. He didn’t want to mislead Hot Rod. “No, thank you. I should be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Indecision rippled over Hot Rod’s face. “You don’t look like I should leave you alone, and Soundwave kind of hinted that I shouldn’t.”
Megatron wondered what kind of expression he had to make Hot Rod worry like that. He swallowed down the sigh before he could let it emerge. Soundwave should stop trying to play matchmaker.
“I’m sure.” Megatron picked at the apple tart, flakes of golden crust fluttering into his lap. “There’s nothing I can do here but wait anyway.”
A long cry warbled from the room behind them. It was thus followed by a shout and Ratchet saying something Megatron couldn’t make out through the roar in his ears. He leapt to his feet, basket forgotten and ducked under the curtain without second thought. Worry crested high inside of him. If something had happened to Orion…
“You did great,” Ratchet was saying, his tone gentle for once as he held a cup of water to Orion’s lips. He crouched beside the raised, rumpled nest-berth, looking fatigued, but composed.
Orion was within reach on the nest-berth, his body cradled by Shockwave’s embrace. Shockwave nuzzled the back of his head as he crooned a low, soft song Megatron had never heard before. It was almost like a lullaby.
Orion looked exhausted, his feathers limp and his body equally so. But he cradled a gooey mass against his belly, and through his fingers and the stickiness, Megatron could see the firm oval-shape of an egg.
Orion was fine. Obviously tired, but fine.
Relief whooshed out of Megatron on a long breath, and Orion looked up just then, noticing Megatron right away. He swallowed another sip of water and managed a smile for Megatron as Ratchet stood and moved aside, taking the cup with him.
“You’re still here,” Orion said, his voice crackling the rasp of the exhausted.
“Of course I am.” Megatron knelt by Orion’s side, taking Ratchet’s place. He was careful not to jostle Orion, who had to be hurting. “How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. Achy. Triumphant.” One of Orion’s hands slid away, allowing Megatron to see the egg.
It was beautiful, of course. The swirl of pale blue and green decorating the shell gave hint to the harpy growing within. It didn’t always hold true, but more often than not, shell-color became full-adult hue. It was tiny, too. Tinier than an egg carried and borne by a smol, but Megatron could see none of the usual signs of weakness or illness.
The egg was perfect.
Megatron sagged with relief. “Congratulations.” He held up a hand, fingers curled inward, gesturing to the egg. “May I?”
“Of course,” Shockwave murmured. His head nudged against Orion’s, his hands gentle where they stroked Orion’s sides. “You’re his godsire after all.”
Godsire. It was perhaps the closest he would ever get to a hatchling of his own.
Megatron curved his fingers around the bare patch of egg, feeling the heat and pulse of the life within. The corebeat was strong and vibrant. The little one had the strength of his parents, if not more.
“He will be beautiful,” Megatron murmured before he retracted his hand. He looked up at Ratchet. “How is he really?”
The older bara grunted. Fatigue made his feathers look dull and lifeless, limp as they draped over his body. He’d been on call all week and had delivered two eggs already. Small wonder. Once again, Megatron wondered if it was possible to recruit more healers to join their ranks.
Eventually Kaon would be too large for Ratchet to manage on his own.
“As he said,” Ratchet replied as he swiped at his hands with a towel and gave Megatron a sardonic smile. “Tired and aching, but I’m not seeing any damage. No sign of blood or tearing. Textbook delivery, I’d say.”
“Told you I’d be fine,” Orion said, though it didn’t have as much energy behind it as it should. He slumped tiredly in Shockwave’s arms, shoulders sinking, hands curving more firmly around his egg.
“I can’t help but worry.” Megatron couldn’t hide the fondness in his tone.
Luckily, he didn’t have to. He might never admit how much he loved Orion, but it was safe to show his affection. They were as brothers after all, if nothing else.
Shockwave chuckled. “Our liege worries over everyone.” He nuzzled Orion again and let out a soft sigh of fatigue. “Though you do need your rest, love. We’ve only a week before our little one is no longer immobile and quiet.”
“That’s the truth,” Ratchet grunted. He gathered up his supplies into a basket and turned toward the door. “I prescribe lots of rest and food. You’re both going to need your strength. I’ll come by now and again to check on you.”
“Thank you, Ratchet.” Shockwave reached over Orion, resting his hand on the egg still cradled against Orion’s belly.
The doctor tipped his head. “You’re welcome.” He moved to pass Megatron and paused, something knowing in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something before he shook his head and moved on, departing with a swish through the closed curtain.
“Can I bring you anything?” Megatron asked of the exhausted couple. They wouldn’t be leaving to retrieve anything for themselves anytime soon.
“I think we’re covered.” Shockwave gestured to the overflowing basket of food nearby, and the pitcher of water next to it. “Thank you though.”
Megatron nodded. “You’re welcome. Orion, don’t worry about your duties, they will be handled. Shockwave, I have Perceptor keeping an eye on your experiments.”
The two mates smiled at him with thanks, but Megatron could tell he was losing their attention. Fatigue infected both of them, and they’d started nuzzling one another, lost in their mutual affection.
Megatron excused himself while his core squeezed into a tight ball, happiness and regret tangling into a knot in his belly. He stepped out of Shockwave and Orion Pax’s nest with too many emotions to define.
Hot Rod was gone, but he’d left the basket and water behind. His presence had only added to the tangle.
A wave of something, loneliness and regret perhaps, swept through Megatron. He stooped to gather up the basket, a physical example of Hot Rod’s kindness. Even if had been under Soundwave’s direction.
It was hard to tell which was the heaviest regret these days: the unrequited love for Orion, or the affection he could never enjoy with Hot Rod.
***
a/n: :)
Title: 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.
Megatron never found opportunity to apologize to Hot Rod, perhaps because he deliberately did not seek the pretty smol out, and Hot Rod in turn, avoided him completely. Their brief conversation at the Welcoming notwithstanding, they truly had no reason to interact. Frenzy served as effective go-between while Orion was out for carry leave, and that, as they say, was that.
Perhaps it was better this way.
Megatron focused on his duties instead. They were, after all, the only thing which gave him purpose. And he was not a liege who shied away from the difficult work, the drudge work, the menial tasks even. If something needed to be done, and he was around to lend a hand, he did it.
Which was how he found himself becoming a pack mule for Perceptor’s very heavy, very expensive lab equipment. Megatron didn’t know what all it was for, only that it was a gift from the university, who’d updated their own equipment and had no need for this anymore. It made his scientists happy. That was the important thing.
“You can set that box on the floor there. I’ll have Brainstorm unpack it later,” Perceptor directed as he set his own, smaller crate on a table already groaning under the weight of several containers.
Megatron dropped the heavy box as delicately as he could. Still, something rattled inside, and Perceptor gave him a sharp look. Megatron ignored it. If he was going to complain about the quality of Megatron’s service, he could haul the heavy crates himself.
Megatron groaned as he straightened, his spine giving a creak of protest. Megatron rubbed at his back with the heel of his hand. He would be spending a fair amount of time in the hot springs tonight. Could it be that he was getting old? He wasn’t even half Ratchet’s age, and the cranky medic was pretty spry.
Perhaps it was the stress.
“So happy that’s the last of it,” Megatron said. He hoped it didn’t sound like a whine.
Perceptor huffed a laugh. “You’re getting soft in your advanced years, my liege.”
“You’re older than me, Perceptor.” A fact which sometimes galled Megatron. He was neither the oldest nor the wisest, the tallest nor the strongest, or even the most skilled of his flock. Yet, they still called him Liege.
“Ah, but I have a cute smol in my nest who will rub all the aches and pains out of my muscles later,” the scientist replied with a smirk few thought him capable of. Perceptor was usually reserved, but could be quite humorous in the right situation.
Megatron cast Perceptor a sharp look. “Not you, too.”
By Adaptus, was there anyone in his flock who wasn’t going to involve themselves in his love life or lack of one? Had they nothing better to do? Where was the frightened respect most flocks had for their leaders?
No. Scratch the latter. Megatron was glad they did not fear him. Still. He had to wonder.
“Your flock worries about you.” Perceptor pulled out a pad of paper and made a notation on it as though cataloging his new toys. “Of course, we worry about Hot Rod, also.”
Megatron’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a lecture I hear building in your tone?” While Perceptor had foregone all offers to take a leadership position with Megatron, he still offered advice on occasion.
Unlike Ratchet, Megatron did not suspect Perceptor of being an ousted leader on his own. Perceptor did not like to lead. He did, however, have a keen mind for helpful advice. Perhaps he’d been an adviser in another life, scientific or otherwise.
Perceptor’s pen scratched noisily over the paper. “For someone who’s not interested in Hot Rod, you can’t seem to stay away from him.”
Megatron sighed. This again. Though if Orion had noticed, and Perceptor as well, it seemed likely they had a point. They were among the most observant members of Megatron’s flock, excluding Rung. Now if Rung came to Megatron with the same concern, Megatron would have more to say then dismissal.
“We are both members of a small flock in a small aerie. That I am around him is purely by coincidence.”
“Yes, of course.” Perceptor flicked open a box and kept writing. “Which is why you were training him. Why you spoke to him privately. Why you engaged with him at the Welcoming and why you can hardly take your eyes from him anytime you are in a shared space. Not to mention the way your tail feathers start to twitch and your eyes darken in a most unseemly manner.”
Ah. So his, uh, interest in Hot Rod had been noticed. A natural interest to be sure! But it was not helping his case. How could he prove he had no desire for Hot Rod when his own body betrayed him? When desire wasn’t the problem?
Megatron gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He felt chastened, and the heat of it flooded his face.
Perceptor still didn’t look at him. “You can’t behave that way and expect him to believe you’re not interested. It’s contradictory at best and leading him on at worst.”
“Leading him--” Megatron broke off, anger and irritation battling for control inside him as he spluttered. “I’ve told him quite clearly I’m not interested. How does that make me a tease?”
Perceptor arched a feathery eyebrow and looked up at him. “I didn’t call you a tease, though interesting you’d use that word.”
Megatron huffed. “You might as well have.”
“Perhaps that’s because you’re aware of how inconsistent your behavior is.” Perceptor looked back down at his paper, pen moving as he counted. “From where I, and most of your flock are standing, it looks like you’re playing hard to get. No wonder he’s confused.”
Megatron folded his arms over his chest and exhaled. Perceptor was only stating something Megatron had already heard. He knew he was in part to blame. He felt drawn to Hot Rod. Attracted. He couldn’t deny it. And there was a part of him flattered by Hot Rod’s interest.
He wanted, so badly, to throw caution to the wind and accept Hot Rod’s courtship. But he also knew it would be unfair of him to do so. He couldn’t offer his core to Hot Rod when it still belonged to another. He couldn’t give Hot Rod the family he was sure the pretty smol wanted. He couldn’t be a proper mate to anyone.
“What do you suggest?” Megatron asked. He kept his tone soft and sincere. He needed advice.
“Keep your distance. Be polite but removed.” Perceptor circled around the table and peered into another box, his glasses glinting in the light of the lamps. “Delegate your concerns if you have any.”
Megatron scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Or you could make it easier on yourself and follow through with what you obviously want,” Perceptor said with a shrug. His tailfeathers swished across the floor. “The choice is yours.”
“You are singularly unhelpful.”
Perceptor slanted a look in Megatron’s direction. “No one can decide this for you. Or solve it for you. Now bring me that box, would you?”
He was always practical if nothing else.
Megatron sighed and stooped to pick up the box.
Perceptor’s words lingered.
Megatron tried his best to abide by them. He kept his distance. He delegated. He made sure that only Frenzy and Rumble delivered papers between himself and Orion. He tasked Soundwave with keeping an eye on Hot Rod.
It would have to be enough.
Difficulties remained.
It was hard not to seek Hot Rod in the crowds. Harder still not to watch, to let his eyes linger on Hot Rod as he smiled or laughed, as he got closer to the others around him. Closer to Starscream. Closer to baras still looking for mates.
Knowing that Hot Rod wanted to court him and wanting to do so in return. Wanting to learn how Hot Rod tasted, the sounds he made. Admitting to himself, and only himself, that he missed Hot Rod teasing him, flirting with him, smiling at him.
Megatron didn’t usually eat breakfast with his flock. Mostly because he couldn’t manage to drag himself out of the nest in time. Early rising was not one of his favorite activities, and besides that, breakfast was always more of a buffet to graze rather than a communal meal.
This morning, he’d changed his routine and sought out his own breakfast. Megatron grabbed an oat muffin and freshly squeezed orange juice. He lingered by the doorway, watching his flock as they nibbled and set out for the day, as the Gathering team met to decide on a field to pluck, and the guards argued over who would have to watch over Hot Rod this time.
Hot Rod, apparently, made a habit of running out on his own, chasing after a sweet scent on the wind, and forgetting to inform the soldiers escorting him and the other Gatherers. Whether or not his forgetfulness was on purpose, the guards couldn’t decide. Not all of them found it cute.
Bulkhead was on escort today. Given his camaraderie with Hot Rod, he ended up volunteering. Or being told to do so. Fortunately, Bulkhead didn’t seem to mind. Especially not when Hot Rod cozied up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The large bara flushed and ducked his head as if shy.
They were an ill match. Or maybe that was the jealousy talking.
Megatron bit into his muffin with a ferociousness it did not deserve. He chewed and swallowed what felt like a tasteless lump.
He felt a presence behind him, darkening the doorway before it slipped inside and lingered like a shadow just beyond Megatron’s peripheral vision. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. He’d missed Soundwave’s wake-up call. No doubt his Speaker had come looking for him.
“Some things are easier said than done,” Megatron murmured, just loud enough to be caught by the harpy behind him, but no other. He didn’t have to clarify. Soundwave knew. Somehow, he always knew.
“Justification not necessary,” Soundwave replied, equally quiet. There was an agreeing chirp, bright and cheerful. He had Laserbeak with him today then.
“It is very necessary.” Megatron sighed and popped the last bit of the muffin into his mouth. He chewed, his gaze wandering over the crowd, but lingering on Hot Rod. “The problem is that I am attracted to him.”
Feathers rustled. “There’s an easy answer to that, boss,” Laserbeak chirred.
“And your brother knows why there isn’t.” Megatron’s fingers tightened around his cup, until it creaked stress at him. He quickly downed the orange juice and set the empty container aside, lest he break it.
Soundwave stepped closer, until he was warmth at Megatron’s side, their feathers brushing. “You fear.”
Megatron sighed. He tore his eyes away from Hot Rod and the jealousy broiling inside him. He had no right to feel it. “You know I do.”
“He’s a good mate,” Soundwave said. “Good liege-consort.”
“Very good,” Laserbeak chirped in agreement.
Megatron’s lips quirked. “Are you giving me your approval?” Soundwave should join the club. It seemed everyone he spoke with was encouraging Megatron. Though Soundwave knew very well why Megatron shouldn’t.
Laserbeak crooned a soft musical note at him. “All of us are.”
Was he truly that pathetic?
Megatron found Hot Rod again. And again and again. As he always did. Eyes drawn back to Hot Rod smiling, laughing. The prettiest smol in the room, with his bright eyes and his brighter feathers. He was so much more than the surface. He was quick and intelligent and lovely, and everything Megatron didn’t know he could want outside of Orion. If there was someone he could see himself mating, someone who could fill the empty spaces left inside of him, that someone was Hot Rod.
He was everything Megatron could love, and what Megatron couldn’t have. Because there was no aerie, no flock, no harpy bara or smol, who’d want a mate as useless as Megatron.
He gnawed on his bottom lip. “I can’t.”
Soundwave rested a hand on his shoulder briefly. “I know,” he said, too soft for the usual rasp to affect his voice. “I also have news to report. Unless you’d rather stay--”
“No. There’s no reason for me to linger.” Megatron turned without a backward glance and faced his Speaker. “Do we need privacy for this news?”
“Not particularly.” On Soundwave’s shoulder, Laserbeak sat, her feet kicking playfully, but her eyes solemn and sympathetic as she watched Megatron.
“Should I be concerned?” Megatron slipped out of the dining hall, and Soundwave followed, falling into step beside him.
“Perhaps. There’s rumor of a military phalanx wandering nearby. They aren’t close enough to be a problem, but it’s suggested they’re looking for something.”
“Or someone,” Megatron murmured. “Who started the rumor?”
Soundwave clasped his hands behind his back, easily matching Megatron’s stride. Laserbeak sat on his shoulder, her balance impeccable as she leaned close to her brother’s ear and murmured to him occasionally.
“Our supplier in Ultrix passed the news along.”
“Any idea their aerie of origin?”
“No.”
Megatron considered. It could be nothing, or it could be something. He offered sanctuary to many harpies who had fled their own flocks or aeries for breaking tradition or leaving their mates or fleeing a terrible fate. He had on at least one occasion refused search parties attempting to retrieve someone.
Any member of Megatron’s flock was free to leave of their own accord anytime they wished. But he objected strongly to anyone attempting to remove one of Megatron’s flock without their consent and by force. Megatron’s flock was small, but they were fierce and strong. Megatron would die before letting any he protected come to harm.
“Assemble a team. Small. Sneaky. Able to defend themselves,” Megatron said as they followed the downward curve of the path, not that Megatron had a particular destination in mind. “We need more information. I’m certain they are coming here, but I want to know why and for who.”
Laserbeak kicked her feet again, mauve feathers fluttering around her ankles. “Done,” she chirped.
“The flock will be safe,” Soundwave agreed.
Megatron believed them. He trusted Soundwave.
This, at least, he could control. Could manage. His conflicting feelings and sense of helplessness were out of hand, but taking care of his flock… that Megatron could do. For now, it would have to be enough.
~
Terradive went into labor first, laying his egg on a sunny afternoon with no complications and a much relieved Rotor at his side. Ratchet’s crankiness had only reflected his own relief. Now all that remained was to wait for the little one to hatch. Only then would Terradive and Rotor be completely at ease.
Two days later, Radiance laid his egg in the middle of the night, the birth so fast and sudden Windfall hadn’t even had chance to summon Ratchet. Radiance was going to be the envy of every first time carrier now. He’d barely felt a hint of pain.
Smols carried so much easier than baras, which was one of the reasons so many aeries forbade baras from doing so. It was almost unfair, how he’d laid without so much as a whimper.
Only Orion remained, and while he was serene as he waited, Shockwave was an agitated mess who paced and smothered Orion with pampering. Megatron lingered in the periphery, just as concerned, while Ratchet threatened to sedate them both if they didn’t settle down. Megatron and Ratchet had nearly come to blows over that, as Megatron didn’t like Ratchet’s tone, and Ratchet didn’t like being questioned about his medical expertise.
Orion, the most clear-headed of all four of them, had cut the argument in two with a well-placed, well-acted whimper. Megatron leapt to comfort him, he and Shockwave vying to bring Orion something – anything – to ease his discomfort. In the background, Ratchet rolled his eyes and muttered about nannying, but learned to hold his tongue.
Contractions hit Orion before breakfast at the end of the week. It was a toss up who was more relieved: Orion or the three baras hovering around him. Ratchet tossed Megatron out on his arse, and even though Orion had gasped out that Megatron was more than welcome, there were already more hands than needed inside the nest.
Outside of it, Megatron remained. He paced in the corridor, back and forth, wearing a path in the woven branches. Sounds floated out to his ears: Ratchet’s instructions, Shockwave’s loving murmurs, Orion’s little pained sounds of struggle. Megatron’s core ached.
Orion wasn’t the only bara to carry this year, but it was his first attempt. Which meant it was a toss up which of the carries had concerned Ratchet most: Terradive with his miscarries, or Orion with his first. His labor could last for hours. He simply wasn’t built to lay as easily as the smols. His hips were too narrow, his instincts not as strong.
It was early yet. His aerie was starting to waken. Megatron knew he had other things he should do. Responsibilities. Breakfast, for one. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave shouting distance, not so long as Orion labored. He would be too distracted with worry. He had to know Orion would be all right. He trusted Ratchet, but that was neither here nor there.
Megatron couldn’t leave.
So he paced the corridor in front of Orion and Shockwave’s nest, glad that they had one on the interior, where few could see Megatron’s ruffled behavior. It was bad for morale for his flock to see him flustered. Tucked away in the back corner, he had something resembling privacy, so when he whirled on a tarsal talon to continue pacing, it startled him to nearly collide with someone.
Megatron grabbed at the newcomer, steadying him by the shoulders, and looked down into Hot Rod’s bright blue eyes. Hot Rod had a soft smile on his lips, and he was carrying a basket, the top of it covered with a thin towel.
“We have to stop running into each other.” Hot Rod laughed and stepped back, out from under Megatron’s hands and out of reach. “Didn’t realize how sneaky I was.”
Megatron stared at him like he wasn’t sure who he was looking at. His brain felt like it had misfired. Maybe because he was hungry. Maybe because he’d been dragged from a sound sleep to news both alarming and exciting. Maybe because he hadn’t been this close to Hot Rod in weeks, and all the desire had come back in a flood.
Why did Hot Rod have to smell so good? Why did he have to be so pretty? Why did his laugh have to linger in Megatron’s ears, sending a warmth down his spine?
“Soundwave said you might be hungry,” Hot Rod continued, his tone a little uneasy. He held up the basket and flipped back the towel, revealing an assortment of pastries and fruit inside – many of which were Megatron’s favorites. “He’s busy filling in for you. He asked me to bring this.”
In other words, Hot Rod wouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t been asked. As if his appearance here offended Megatron.
He was to blame for that. He’d treated Hot Rod like a leper or an outcast and now Hot Rod behaved as if he were unwanted. The unease in his body language made the guilt heavier.
Soundwave should have known better than to send Hot Rod. Just what was his Speaker thinking? Why hadn’t he sent one of his brothers? Someone who wasn’t the cause of Megatron’s many sleepless nights?
Megatron swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he said as he accepted the basket. “It’s a nice gesture.”
Hot Rod shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. He looked away, to Orion’s curtained door and the noise behind it. “Can’t have our liege going hungry, you know.”
“A missed meal won’t hurt me,” Megatron said in a mild tone. He peered into the basket before he pulled out an apple tart. “Have you eaten?”
Hot Rod chuckled. “Yeah. That’s all for you. I don’t know how long you’re going to be here, so that should last you until dinner.” He tucked his hands behind his back. “There’s a bottle of water in there, too.”
Thoughtful indeed.
Megatron lowered himself down to the wall just to the left of Orion’s door, setting the basket beside him. He dug out the water and tried to make himself eat, despite the anxiety gnawing at his belly.
“Thank you,” he repeated. He winced as a particularly loud groan sent a shiver of worry down his spine.
Hot Rod shuffled his feet, his feathers drifting down, clamping around his body. “Can I bring you anything else or…?”
Megatron looked up at him and fought down the urge to ask for company. He didn’t want to mislead Hot Rod. “No, thank you. I should be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Indecision rippled over Hot Rod’s face. “You don’t look like I should leave you alone, and Soundwave kind of hinted that I shouldn’t.”
Megatron wondered what kind of expression he had to make Hot Rod worry like that. He swallowed down the sigh before he could let it emerge. Soundwave should stop trying to play matchmaker.
“I’m sure.” Megatron picked at the apple tart, flakes of golden crust fluttering into his lap. “There’s nothing I can do here but wait anyway.”
A long cry warbled from the room behind them. It was thus followed by a shout and Ratchet saying something Megatron couldn’t make out through the roar in his ears. He leapt to his feet, basket forgotten and ducked under the curtain without second thought. Worry crested high inside of him. If something had happened to Orion…
“You did great,” Ratchet was saying, his tone gentle for once as he held a cup of water to Orion’s lips. He crouched beside the raised, rumpled nest-berth, looking fatigued, but composed.
Orion was within reach on the nest-berth, his body cradled by Shockwave’s embrace. Shockwave nuzzled the back of his head as he crooned a low, soft song Megatron had never heard before. It was almost like a lullaby.
Orion looked exhausted, his feathers limp and his body equally so. But he cradled a gooey mass against his belly, and through his fingers and the stickiness, Megatron could see the firm oval-shape of an egg.
Orion was fine. Obviously tired, but fine.
Relief whooshed out of Megatron on a long breath, and Orion looked up just then, noticing Megatron right away. He swallowed another sip of water and managed a smile for Megatron as Ratchet stood and moved aside, taking the cup with him.
“You’re still here,” Orion said, his voice crackling the rasp of the exhausted.
“Of course I am.” Megatron knelt by Orion’s side, taking Ratchet’s place. He was careful not to jostle Orion, who had to be hurting. “How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. Achy. Triumphant.” One of Orion’s hands slid away, allowing Megatron to see the egg.
It was beautiful, of course. The swirl of pale blue and green decorating the shell gave hint to the harpy growing within. It didn’t always hold true, but more often than not, shell-color became full-adult hue. It was tiny, too. Tinier than an egg carried and borne by a smol, but Megatron could see none of the usual signs of weakness or illness.
The egg was perfect.
Megatron sagged with relief. “Congratulations.” He held up a hand, fingers curled inward, gesturing to the egg. “May I?”
“Of course,” Shockwave murmured. His head nudged against Orion’s, his hands gentle where they stroked Orion’s sides. “You’re his godsire after all.”
Godsire. It was perhaps the closest he would ever get to a hatchling of his own.
Megatron curved his fingers around the bare patch of egg, feeling the heat and pulse of the life within. The corebeat was strong and vibrant. The little one had the strength of his parents, if not more.
“He will be beautiful,” Megatron murmured before he retracted his hand. He looked up at Ratchet. “How is he really?”
The older bara grunted. Fatigue made his feathers look dull and lifeless, limp as they draped over his body. He’d been on call all week and had delivered two eggs already. Small wonder. Once again, Megatron wondered if it was possible to recruit more healers to join their ranks.
Eventually Kaon would be too large for Ratchet to manage on his own.
“As he said,” Ratchet replied as he swiped at his hands with a towel and gave Megatron a sardonic smile. “Tired and aching, but I’m not seeing any damage. No sign of blood or tearing. Textbook delivery, I’d say.”
“Told you I’d be fine,” Orion said, though it didn’t have as much energy behind it as it should. He slumped tiredly in Shockwave’s arms, shoulders sinking, hands curving more firmly around his egg.
“I can’t help but worry.” Megatron couldn’t hide the fondness in his tone.
Luckily, he didn’t have to. He might never admit how much he loved Orion, but it was safe to show his affection. They were as brothers after all, if nothing else.
Shockwave chuckled. “Our liege worries over everyone.” He nuzzled Orion again and let out a soft sigh of fatigue. “Though you do need your rest, love. We’ve only a week before our little one is no longer immobile and quiet.”
“That’s the truth,” Ratchet grunted. He gathered up his supplies into a basket and turned toward the door. “I prescribe lots of rest and food. You’re both going to need your strength. I’ll come by now and again to check on you.”
“Thank you, Ratchet.” Shockwave reached over Orion, resting his hand on the egg still cradled against Orion’s belly.
The doctor tipped his head. “You’re welcome.” He moved to pass Megatron and paused, something knowing in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something before he shook his head and moved on, departing with a swish through the closed curtain.
“Can I bring you anything?” Megatron asked of the exhausted couple. They wouldn’t be leaving to retrieve anything for themselves anytime soon.
“I think we’re covered.” Shockwave gestured to the overflowing basket of food nearby, and the pitcher of water next to it. “Thank you though.”
Megatron nodded. “You’re welcome. Orion, don’t worry about your duties, they will be handled. Shockwave, I have Perceptor keeping an eye on your experiments.”
The two mates smiled at him with thanks, but Megatron could tell he was losing their attention. Fatigue infected both of them, and they’d started nuzzling one another, lost in their mutual affection.
Megatron excused himself while his core squeezed into a tight ball, happiness and regret tangling into a knot in his belly. He stepped out of Shockwave and Orion Pax’s nest with too many emotions to define.
Hot Rod was gone, but he’d left the basket and water behind. His presence had only added to the tangle.
A wave of something, loneliness and regret perhaps, swept through Megatron. He stooped to gather up the basket, a physical example of Hot Rod’s kindness. Even if had been under Soundwave’s direction.
It was hard to tell which was the heaviest regret these days: the unrequited love for Orion, or the affection he could never enjoy with Hot Rod.
a/n: :)
