A Chaotic Neutral

At first, they dated in secret.

This did not bother Orion in the slightest. He had no interest in seeing his face splashed in the tabloids, or having the newscasters speculate on his relationship with Rodimus. He liked that their shift from friendship to romance was something few were aware of. It felt like a secret between the two of them, a gift they shared.

It was a part of Rodimus he did not have to give the rest of Cybertron.

It also helped that Orion had no interest in his own life bearing further scrutiny or being put under the microscope. He liked his relative anonymity, save the brief moment of celebrity he experienced when it was revealed he’d verified a Blade of Time. The ruckus from that came and went in a matter of months, as soon as a new scandal from one of the Senators cropped up.

Orion was glad to be left alone, left to concentrate on his work at the Archives, and the building relationship between he and Rodimus, who was ‘not a Prime’ when they were alone together, per Rodimus’ request.

It was astonishingly easy to move from friendship to romance. There was less awkwardness than Orion expected. He found himself reaching to touch Rodimus, and Rodimus leaning in to the touch as though they had always been so physically affectionate. They held hands often, or leaned into one another’s space. There was rarely a moment their fields weren’t knitted together when they were in proximity.

Rodimus was the perfect gentlemech.

Contrary to his reputation, and contrary to the remarks made by those infuriating newscasters, Rodimus was polite and respectful. He didn’t push. He always asked. He kept his touches chaste, his kisses chaste, everything chaste.

A little too chaste in Orion’s opinion.

Frustratingly chaste.

They had been friends for over a year. They were officially courting one another for several months now, and yet Rodimus’ lips had not touched his since the day of their mutual confession. Rodimus was keen to kiss his palm, the back of his hand, a brush of his mouth over Orion’s cheek, but nothing further.

His hands never strayed, never wandered into flirtatious territory.

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