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Megatron knew that when he returned to his home dimension he’d almost definitely be executed.
Deep down, he was sure Rodimus was aware of it, too, but that didn’t stop the Prime – his Prime – from trying to stop Prowl.
Megatron’s hand came down on Rodimus’ shoulder gently.
“It’s alright Rodimus,” he said kindly, “I already knew what my fate would be.”
“But you-,” Megatron cut Rodimus off with a hand wave.
“Rodimus, not even five million more years of doing good could make up for what I did to our people,” he told him sadly. He heard Prowl snort derisively behind Rodimus, but ignored it, although Rodimus shot the mech a venomous look over his spoiler.
“So that’s it then?” Rodimus asked him, and his voice was hollow, far sadder than his Prime should ever sound.
“I knew returning to this dimension would mean death,” Megatron told him, bringing his other hand up to rest on Rodimus’ shoulder with its mate.
“Then why did you come back?” Rodimus asked him, voice strained.
“It’s what I deserve and we both know it Rodimus,” Megatron said, a tad more sternly now, although just as gentle.
“… I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Rodimus replied mutinously.
“No one’s asking you to,” Megatron reassured him.
“… If I don’t see you again after this, I want one last thing from you,” Rodimus told him.
Megatron could see the familiar glint of determination in the mech’s optics, could see the way he held back his tears.
“Anything, my Prime,” Megatron replied softly.
At the title, so softly spoken, so sweetly murmured, Rodimus began to cry silently.
“Will you kiss me?” he asked, his voice trembling, “I’d hoped I’d have enough time to do it more than once, but if I never see you again, I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing I had the chance to ask and I let it pass by.”
“Oh Rodimus,” Megatron’s serene facial expression crumpled just a bit. “Of course,” he said, “if I could, I’d kiss you every day for the next five million years, and the five million after that.”
“Then stop talking and do it, old man,” Rodimus said, trying to pretend they weren’t both crying now.
So, he did.
He swept his fiery Prime up and into a passionate kiss. There were no tongues or teeth involved, just the chaste press of their lips and the warmth of their mingled tears.
Though it only lasted seconds, it felt like forever. For just a moment, it was as though they lived through the ten million years Megatron had promised and past that, living and loving for all eternity.
And then they pulled away. Rodimus was set back down on his feet. He looked lost, unmoored in a flood of emotions. Megatron gently brushed away Rodimus tears, but more replaced them.
“I won’t ask you not to cry for me,” he said, “I’ll only ask that you move on with your life, and continue to be your kind, passionate self. I am certain I won’t be the last person you love.”
“You’re it for me, Megatron,” Rodimus replied brokenly, “I don’t think I can ever love someone as much as I love you. I just wish I had realized it before it was too late.”
“For what it’s worth, the time I spent with you and our crew was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” Megatron said, “even after spending more than 700 years in that other world, I still thought of you every day.”
Before Rodimus could respond, Megatron pulled a piece of worn gold from his subspace. Rodimus didn’t even have to do more than glance at it to know what it was.
“You kept that stupid thing for over 700 years?” he asked, laughing wetly.
“Of course,” Megatron said, “it was my only link to you.”
He pressed the Rodimus Star into the hands of its namesake, curling them gently around it and then bringing those hands up to sweetly kiss them.
“I kept it to remember you by, and now I want you to keep it to remember me,” Megatron said.
“I don’t think I could ever forget you,” Rodimus said, truthfully, but he still tucked the star away where it would be safe.
Megatron leaned down and kissed Rodimus again, pressing gentle lips to his forehead and cheeks, and one last kiss to his lips, just a quick brush.
“I love you, Rodimus Prime,” he said, “you are the brightest star I have ever met, and I am grateful for the time I was able to spend in your orbit. The warmth in your spark is unparalleled by any other. Please, don’t let that warmth die out. The world deserves many more millions of years with you in it.”
“I won’t Megs,” Rodimus swore, finally wiping away his tears, “I’ll keep going, just like I always have. I won’t let this be what breaks me.”
“I know,” Megatron replied, smiling, “you’re far too stubborn for that.”
Finally, Megatron had cuffs placed on him and was led away towards the transport that was there for him. Prowl looked visibly uncomfortable and both of them took great satisfaction in that.
As they passed by Ultra Magnus, Megatron paused. Prowl, who knew full well he couldn’t actually force Megatron to move if he didn’t want to, was frustrated.
“Take care of him, Magnus,” he said, “I’m counting on you.”
“Of course, captain,” Ultra Magnus replied even as Megatron continued moving.
~
Megatron and Rodimus were alone for the first time since they had quantum jumped.
They stood together on the bridge, looking out into the endless void of space. The rest of the crew were either in recharge or getting overcharged at Swerve’s, leaving the two co-captains in a calm silence.
“Megs, can I ask for something from you?” Rodimus broke the silence, turning to his partner-in-crime of a sort.
“Anything, Rodimus,” Megatron replied softly.
The way Megatron said his name, so softly, so sweetly, Rodimus couldn’t help but blush.
“Will you kiss me?” he asked, his voice trembling, “I wasn’t certain if I was reading you right, but if I am, I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing I had the chance to ask and I let it pass by.”
“Oh Rodimus,” Megatron’s serene facial expression morphed into an affectionate smile. “Of course,” he said, “if I could, I’d kiss you every day for the next five million years, and the five million after that.”
“Then stop talking and do it, old man,” Rodimus said, beaming back at him.
So, he did.