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“Megatron,” Minimus said, picking up another datapad from the library slot wall, and examining its title “Would you hold this for me, please?”
The green mech extended his arm with a separate datapad in his hold towards Megatron, gaze unmoving.
Megatron looked at his servo for a second, not processing the mech request for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time he was asked for a favor. Not casually, at least- he could recall a few times when his subordinates would ask him to do something helpful, he'd punish them for asking for such a useless thing.
He took the datapad wordlessly, Minimus seemingly too invested in his work to notice Megatron's reaction, or perhaps, lack thereof. Let alone the fact that he'd just asked another mech to do something for him, not out of pure necessity. That aline was out if character for Minimus, who seemed determined to do everything himself all the time.
It took a few more datapads in his servos before Minimus realized what he'd asked of him. He paused as he set the last one on and retracted his arm like he was worried Megatron would snatch it from him. He blinked and began taking the small pile of datapads himself, which Megatron, confused, helped set them in the minibots servos.
“I apologize, I got carried away,” Minimus said, thanking him with a nod, before he took off ever so slightly faster than usual.
Megatron brushed it off, not wanting to press as to why Minimus was apologizing for something so minor. It likely wouldn't occur again, considering the Second in Command's intense self discipline and propensity to panic over small social cues missed. So he thought nothing of it.
Until it happened again.
They were in the middle of a supply loading and realized their calculations were off, and they landed with much more product than intended. Minimus was helping reorganize the supply dock to support the extras, demanding the mechs there move things according to his plan.
He didn't remember when Minimus first told him to hold or move or lift something, but at some point he realized he was being ordered around the same way the rest of the team were, like he wasn't the co-captain or, more notably, a war criminal meant to be on trial for his crimes against Cybertronian society. He was doing regular work with everyone else, and not from the servos of an oppressive system. From someone he considered his equal.
If anyone else had asked this of him, he'd consider crushing their helm with one servo, or maybe he'd punch them hard enough for them to require emergency operation. But for some reason the order, coming from Minimus, didn't bother him. If anything, he was almost honored.
“Left, Megatron,” He shouted over the machinery, and Megatron traced the voice to his place on the catwalk above the dock, where the minibot had the best view.
Even with the item he held blocking his own view of the mech, he could almost imagine what Minimus looked like in the moment. Standing as straight as usual, servos behind his back, or pointing around to direct him, his moustache twitching as he spoke. As solid and unwavering as ever.
He took a step to the left as requested and waited for his next demand, feeling slightly embarrassed at the scenario he was in. Not embarrassed, actually. Something else. Something familiar. He felt it often with the mech.
He chose not to think about it.
“More,” Minimus said, and he followed suit, stepping again, the massive container on his shoulder threatening to dig into his neck cables.
“Higher, put it on the topmost crate-” Megatron easily lifted it and slid it into place on the top of a wide tower of boxes.
“Yes, that's fine,” Minimus said, his voice making a small crack, perhaps at the volume he was speaking at. “That should be it. Thank you, Megatron.”
Megatron nodded up at him, allowing himself an inkling of a smile along with it as he watched the smaller mech begin to descend the ladder from the catwalk to the floor.
Megatron looked around the area and couldn't help but admire their work. He thanked the other mechs he passed as he approached Minimus (rather than being grateful for the comment, most looked almost startled, as if the idea of it was inconceivable. Not that he blamed them.)
Minimus climbed down the last few rungs, his small frame ever as graceful in movement as ever. Megatron found his gaze lingering as the mech took his stance on the floor, posture straight and his face neutral.
“This will have to do,” Minimus sighed. “It's not ideal but I won't keep the crew any longer.”
He looked at the work again. It seemed pretty much perfect to him; straight stacks and clear walkways, not a stray crate in sight.
“Ever the perfectionist, aren't you?” He teased the smaller mech. Minimus’s face softened just an increment with amusement.
“Not quite, though I appreciate the compliment.”
Since then, Minimus had been asking for small favors more and more.
He'd ask for him to grab something from high up for him, or request his strength for normally easy tasks.
Megatron quick grew accustomed to it, to a point where he once had the mech in his servos, holding him up to attach the "ornaments" On the "tree", which was apparently an earth tradition.
He couldn't help but nite how warm his batting waist was, and how his servos could encompass it entirely between the two.
He was thinking if this event as they found themselves in a new predicament. One that was decidedly very inconvenient.
Minimus was practically fuming.
Being locked in his own office seemed to be eating the mech alive, as it was actively preventing him from completing his work, which was everywhere else on the ship but here.
He only had Megatron in for a moment while he helped him reshelve his books to accommodate him even when he was out of the Magnus armor (which was growing increasingly common.) But clearly, someone found it funny to emergency lock the room from the outside. And based on Rodimus's nonchalant reaction to his comm for help, it could very well be the captain himself.
Minimus was pacing the room as Megatron made himself comfortable, sitting on Minimus's recharge slab. He couldn't find himself as frustrated as the smaller mech. For one, his shift wouldn't start for a few more hours, and secondly, it gave him an excuse to spend more time with the green minibot.
The twitch of his facial insignia and deep frown lines told him that Minimus was thinking, probably looking through protocol overrides to see which he can perform to open the doors again from within.
“I fear we might just have to wait for the crew, Minimus,” Megatron tried to reason. Minimus sighed but continued his pace, holding his chin thoughtfully.
“My shift will be over by then, and I have too much to do,” Minimus argued; the frustration laced in his tone was barely concealed.
“Yes well, since Rodimus is likely the culprit, the work would then become his to do, correct?” Megatron reasoned. Minimus shot him a light glare, no real heat behind it.
“And trust him with scheduling? No thank you,” He replied, brow arched. Megatron reflected on this and agreed. Knowing the red speedster, he'd probably schedule two of the most destructive bots on the ship to work on the quantum engines. And at point, they might as well stay locked in the habsuit, and simply await their fate.
As he examined the room for anything useful, he spotted the vent. It was small and high on the wall, and would barely fit half of Megatron's arm… but perhaps Minimus…
He shut down the thought. The idea of asking that of him felt disrespectful. Besides, Minimus would probably have to take off his secondary armor as well, and he certainly didn't want to make the mech uncomfortable.
Still, his mind unhelpfully wandered to the idea of holding his small frame up, watching him crawl in, half his torso still out and wiggling through the gap.
“Megatron.”
He snapped his gaze back to the minibot, who was still pacing thoughtfully.
“Yes?” He asked, trying not to look too long at the smaller mech.
“Could you attempt to break the door down?” He asked, his tone more a suggestion than a genuine question. Megatron tried not to let his pride show at the fact that Minimus could trust he'd be capable of it.
“If that's what you wish,” He answered, shoving down a smile fighting for control of his face. Standing, he faced the door just steps away.
He rolled his shoulders in preparation, and cracked his knuckles- hopefully his aging (and slowly dying) body could handle the same it used to.
“I'll warn you, it is fortified. In case of emergency, it's built to withstand the strength of the Magnus armor,” Minimus warned. He nodded his response, before reeling his fist back, and throwing a forceful swing in the center of the door.
He removed his fist to see a dent. He frowned and flexed his servo. Usually, most doors would have a hole through it already, or at least a deep tear in the metal at the impact. Minimus wasn't lying, this was fortified.
“What's this thing made of? Primus,” Megatron asked, turning to the smaller mech again. But as they locked eyes, he noticed the energon pink tint to Minimus's faceplates. He quickly looked away, clearing his intake.
“I'm not certain,” He stammered. “Try again, would you?”
He slowly turned, optics lingering on the smaller bot. Either his optics were playing tricks on him, or Minimus seemed almost… flustered.
He swallowed and threw his fist again, harder this time, and the impact reverberated in his arm painfully. Ignoring the pain, he examined the dent again. It was deeper, but it seemed it could be more difficult than he imagined.
Steam escaped his plating as he shook his arm out, hoping the ache would cease as he loosened his joints, which popped and hissed under his plating.
He turned back to him and noticed that bright pink hue again- we're his optics brighter than before? Megatron opened his mouth to ask… something, though he wasn't sure what. Minimus beat him to it.
“Don't continue if it hurts- I'm sure there's another way out,” He said, his optics lingering just a millisecond too long, and began to fidget with his own servos, nervously.
Oh… oh. Megatron felt his own faceplates flush. If he was right, this would be the first time in… well, who knew how long, since someone was admiring his strength like that. Not that his strength wasn't admired often, but he couldn't remember the last he felt… excited about it. Nor when he had exhibited such strength before a private audience.
Ignoring the warning, Megatron swung with the other arm again, before Minimus could finish. Rarely did he let his pride consume him like this, but something in him really wanted to prove his strength to him. Maybe just to prove Minimus wasn't overestimating his ability.
Or maybe to show him that he was determined to fulfill his order. Since when did he take orders from other mechs?
Since he came along, I suppose.
The dent was only incrementally deeper, but the metal was wearing thin- he could feel it. He reeled for another before-
“Stop,” Minimus demanded, and Megatron found himself withdrawing at the stern tone, as if it was his knee jerk reaction. “I don't think it'll budge, even with your strength.”
“What else might you suggest, then?” He asked, almost looking for an excuse to keep trying. Or maybe for another reason to prove his strength elsewhere, and keep those bright red optics on him.
“Well,” Minimus looked away, trying to conceal his nervous tone. “Ahem. There is a vent,” He began, and Megatron's optics jumped to it immediately. He suddenly felt hotter than usual as he realized his original idea might actually be executed.
“Would you fit?” He asked, looking the smaller mech up and down. “And more importantly, would you be comfortable with it?”
Minimus, as if he weren't pink enough, blushed harder yet and sighed.
“Will you help me or not?” He asked, almost frustrated. Megatron found it charming.
“Yes,” He replied without thinking. Why wouldn't he? Aside from the intimate nature of holding his irreducible form in his servos as Minimus would entrust him with his whole frame.
Minimus sighed again, but nodded curtly. Before he knew it, his red optics dimmed and the armor went stiff, before his even smaller frame began to emerge.
His movements were slow and much less graceful than Megatron was accustomed to from the mech, as if he struggled from inexperience. The larger mech found it hard not to find endearing.
Now, just tall enough to stand at Megatron's knee, the smaller mech looked bare and vulnerable. He'd have to be more careful than he was used to, handling such a small frame.
“Help me up,” He ordered, and Megatron was all too quick to comply. Extending his servo, he allowed Minimus to climb on, using his thumb as leverage. He settled into a crouch to brace for the lift, and Megatron almost worried his servo would be too hot for his passenger to handle- his whole frame felt molten.
As he settled his hand below the vent, Minimus finally stood, and looked down at him nervously.
“I'm not certain I will fit. If I get stuck, you may have to help me out,” And as much as he tried to keep his composure, Megatron could sense the uneasiness radiating off him.
“Are you sure you're comfortable with this?” He asked, frowning slightly. He certainly wouldn't want him uncomfortable, or stuck (even if the idea of helping pull him out, holding his waist with one servo, and the other supporting his legs, watching him struggle against him-)
“I'm certain, and stop questioning me,” He stated hotly, as if frustrated that Megatron doubted him.
He couldn't help but imagine asking again, just to frustrate him more so he could see that cute expression he'd have. But he wisely kept silent, and allowed the smaller mech to begin scrambling into the vent.
Hauling himself up, his torso slid in with little resistance, and his legs began kicking out for purchase to crawl in further. Megatron lifted his arm more, and Minimus stammered a thank you that made his helm spin. He lifted his leg up as he pulled himself up, and for a second Megatron had to look away. He was sure the minibot wouldn't appreciate him staring, and he certainly didn't need his frame to get even hotter. He could only hope that Minimus didn't notice his fans spinning louder by the second.
With the first leg in, he propelled himself forward as much as he could, until it was only his aft and other leg outside the vent.
If this were a different setting, and if Minimus felt the way he did in the moment, he could see this ending very differently. He kept his intake shut.
“Megatron.”
Maybe if the vent we're actually a recharge slab… and if it was at waist level...
“Megatron.”
And maybe if he'd spent the last few hours with him in an old diner somewhere, just the two of them. And perhaps they'd been talking and laughing all night before stumbling back to his place-
“Megatron!”
He snapped out of it, suddenly very embarrassed at what his mind unknowingly conjured up. How long had he been calling his name?
“Apologies- what do you need?” He asked, clearing his intake.
“D-don't scare me like that,” He nearly whimpered. “I thought you fell into recharge for a moment,” He squirmed again, his last leg dangling just above his open palm. “I need you to lift your servo higher- and hurry, I'm slipping-”
Megatron obliged quickly and the sudden leverage kicked an “oomph” from the minibot. He swallowed hard as he watched him push off the servo now, his other leg propelling him deeper into the vent, and pulling the rest of him through.
A few quiet curses came from the vent, along with some scuffled shuffling, and the light whirr of overworking fans.
“Are you alright in there?” He asked, unable to see him now.
“It's pretty narrow for a vent,” Minimus commented, somewhat breathless. “Not up to code. I can make it.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, trying to ignore the thought of the sight he'd be met with if he had to intervene.
“No- just stay there in case I need to go back,” He said, his usual demanding tone was unstable with strain,
“Of course,” he replied.
More shuffling, growing more distant, followed by grunts and huffs at the exertion of threading himself through such a narrow opening. Megatron tried to focus on the task at hand.
A loud crash came from inside, and Megatron instinctively peaked into the vent.
“What was that?” He asked, before realizing the vent was empty. He frowned. “Minimus?”
“I'm in the hall,” a quieter voice came. “Hold still, I'm bypassing the locks.”
Megatron sighed in relief.
It didn't take long to unlock, and the next thing he knew, Minimus was asking him to help him lock Rodimus in the brig for his stunt.
And Megatron found himself complying with ease, and a soft smile. He liked to, for Minimus.