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handoverthekawaii · 11 months

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We Go Together | Homelander x You | Chapter 1

Taglist: @hom3landr

It’s a crisp spring day in New York. Parents all over town are probably scheduling park play dates for their little ones, and restauranteurs are likely dragging tables out of winter storage to take advantage of the sun and the breeze. Part of you wishes you could be at one of those restaurants, sipping coffee or nibbling on a bagel as the city moves around you. But, today, you’re on the move yourself — it’s Friday, the end of your first week as a full-time employee at Vought International.

Well, KIND OF a full-time employee, you think to yourself as your train pulls up to the platform. You’ve landed a job in the Hero Management Department, but it’s only a temporary position (“Just to fill in some unexpected gaps in Vought’s workforce,” the hiring manager had said, whatever that means.) But a temp job is still a job, and surely you’ll have enough time at the company to accomplish what you’re going there to do.

The rider seated next to you is watching the news on his laptop, without headphones of course. Since it’s not like you have a choice anyway, you halfway pay attention as the subway trundles toward Midtown Manhattan.

21 dead as protests erupt in the Middle East… Ecoterrorist group Viridi Aurora claims responsibility for Vatican blackouts… The headlines are pretty bleak, so part of you is relieved when the man switches over to VNN’s coverage of the Vought Hero Draft.

Before long, you find yourself standing on the sidewalk in front of Vought Tower. A security check and a crowded elevator ride later, you make it to your workstation just in time to clock in. The morning passes by quickly — you work on some travel reimbursement forms, then attend a sexual harassment prevention seminar alongside other new Vought employees.

You decide to make your move around three o’clock. All week long, you’ve been using your morning and afternoon breaks to roam the hallways of Vought Tower’s many floors. Yesterday morning you finally found what you’d been looking for: a simple white door in a sterile, featureless hallway.

“Personnel File Storage,” it says on the door in painted block lettering. And even though the door is warped and the lettering has started to peel, the door is secured with a deadbolt lock attached to a shiny, black keycard reader.

You’ve revisited the door multiple times since you initially located it, puzzling over how you might gain entry. Swiping your own keycard would be a horrible idea — even if the door opened, Vought security staff would know right away that you’d trespassed somewhere you weren’t meant to be.

But your walks have also led you past a keycard station in the IT Department’s warren of cubicles. It looks like an employee is intended to staff the station at all times, but you’ve never seen anyone there. With a little luck, you should be able to encode a keycard giving you access to the room, conduct your business there, and leave the card behind at the station before anyone catches on. How hard could it be?

So there you are, standing in front of “Personnel File Storage” with a freshly minted keycard in hand. Trying to steady your arm from trembling, you swipe the card through the reader — but instead of a click of the lock, instead you are greeted with a blinking red light. Access denied.

For a split second, you have no idea what to do. Did I fuck the card up? you think to yourself as, just for good measure, you swipe it again. Once again, access denied.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline coursing through your veins but, after the third try, your temper flares. “OPEN, GODDAMMIT!” you whisper to yourself as you kick the door in frustration.

“I doubt you can kick open that door wearing those shoes.” [continued in AO3]

#ao3 writer #fanfic #the boys #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #the homelander #homelander x y/n

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cuprohastes · 1 year

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Lunch In Space Part 5

To be fair, the two Tsin med-tech were being really quite considerate. It's a Tsin thing.

The Tsin eat their honored dead, and thus, the question of whether they could persuade the Human Admin team to let me be dinner was kind of an indicator of high regard.

Either that or the Caf was out of Grottled Greebs and they were snacky.

They also were the techs there to keep the medbay hardware running and not the people who were allegedly treating my case of non-fatal death, so they get a pass on not noticing I was still alive.

The fact I was sitting up without any large chunks falling off told me that the how-to revival guide had been used and nobody had tried throwing hot water on me.

The actual medical team arrived in short order, no doubt alerted by one of the machines that was attached, or possibly by the brief screaming fit from the Tsin.

After an hour or so I was feeling much better, and me and my new tech buddies were shooting the breeze about the station, which had stopped falling apart.

"It's the space squid." I told them.

They politely indicated that I was obviously deranged.

"No really... Say did they bring in all the stuff that was with me? There were a couple of busted batteries."

"I dunno. I guess?" Said one who I'd decided to call Gnax, since that was what he introduced himself as. The other was Gwingbit, by which I determined they were a small male and a small female. Large females traditionally get descriptive names like Walks-In-Sunlight, over in Admin.

Gnax pulled out a tablet and held it in his upper right hand and checked. "Yeah. We grabbed everything in case... you know."

In case it turned into an inquest.

"Sure but uuuuh, you really need to grab those batteries before they get recycled, they may still have evidence - the same thing that got the station got me".

Gnax scampered out eagerly. I got the feeling he was excited to be part of the big story and that his day-to-day wasn't very interesting. While he did that, Gwingbit sidled closer. For someone who looks vaguely like a four armed pangolin with ears way too close to their nose, the body language is often surprisingly human.

"So uh, you know Strong-Like-Sunlight?" She said.

"I cannot say I do... or," I said getting a suspicion, "I might not know that name?"

Gwingbit muttered, "Dave The Human".

Oh right, Dave's actually a Large Female - Not that they're much bigger than the Small females. The names don't really translate well, so it's a sort of... For Dumb Humans label. Tsin have four genders, and I have very politely never asked about how that works.

I never thought of Dave as anything but one of the Daves, but from what I know, I suspect she's actually kind of all that and a purple breadroll by Tsin standards.

"Oh, I'll tell her you said hi!" I told Gwingbit making her day, and then clammed up because Gnax trundled back with a cart, upon which were the smashed batteries.

I had a vague memory of trying to feed my space squid one before going under.

The induced hypothermia pretty much conserved my oxygen and power past the projected point of death, but reading between the lines, everything was tapped out by the time the rescue drone caught up. I got lucky.

We peered at the batteries, and the two Tsin made subtle "crazy human" gestures at each other, so I grabbed one and peered into it. Nothing.

I picked up the other... well well! I dug my thumbs in and eased the already split case open, and lo and behold, there was my little buddy the space squid, tentacles curled, evidently napping after having snacked on the good stuff.

Gnax said something that the translator declined to provide a translation for but it was probably "oh snap" or "Gosh!".

"Who's the crazy human now, huh?!" I said with glee then screamed and dropped Squiddy because he just unfurled and tentacled my fingers a bit.

He tucked and rolled and we stuffed him in a plastic storage tub. I dropped the battery in and then we all looked at each other and felt dumb because this guy and his friends had eaten the station apart, so maybe a little plastic tub was not the impermeable barrier we hoped.

Squiddy on the other hand explored a bit, using it's little silvery tentacles to pet around the tub while we watched and made videos, then went back to nibbling the splayed open battery.

We could see the little grinder it was using to snarf down little flakes.

I was very glad it was a dry battery or we might have had a nasty leak.

And about then, Raxy came screaming in.

You ever heard an Atrix screaming? Not reccomended. For a start, when you see a little guy on his own, it means that things are bad. And I knew Raxy so this was going to be something bad happening to someone I knew.

I knew it was Raxy, he was still wearing his jumper. I - in my spiffy paper pants and shirt - leapt off the bench and almost twisted an ankle.

"Where's Gondy?!" I screeched and Raxy grakked at me, about a tenth of which I got, and hit turbo mode, doing a u-turn and heading out.

I am a highly trained EVA specialist. I can tell a "Timmy fell down the Well" scenario, and I was already moving.

"Call the emergency response team" I yelled as I hurled after the small lizard. There was only really going to be one thing this could be - Gondy was hurt or in trouble.

Three turns and a sprint later he hit one of the bulkheads to a damaged section. The airlock was closed, but through the window I could see Gondy floating just beyond the airlock door on the other side. She was feebly pawing at her helmet which... Grak in a basket, it was cracked and leaking!

I yanked the lever for the airlock, closing the far door and crash equalised the pressure, hauling the door open before the atmosphere had stopped being misty and ploughed in, bare-foot into the freezing cold room to take a closer look.

I was sure Gondy was still alive but I could see she was in a bad way. I couldn't tell if it was an impact or one of the space squid.

"Where's the emergency team?!" I screamed - Gnax was screaming into his tablet and Gwingbit was hauling the emergency cart towards us.

Well, clearly this was not going fast enough and given the fairly traumatic colours Raxy was displaying, he shared my opinion.

I looked him in the eye and said with a calmness I didn't feel; "I'm going out." And then scooped the little guy up and bowled him out the airlock and pulled the door shut, panted deep and hard while I braced... and blew the atmosphere.

OK so things got unpleasant fast. When you crash dump the air out of an airlock, it vents both up and and down from the station, not out the door.

It takes about ten seconds and then the door lock releases and it automatically opens - It's designed on the assumption that if you just pulled the lever for an emergency vent, you really need to get out fast. Think Fire.

Anyway about now my hands were swelling up, and it felt like I was drowning - Pretty much the case since I was screaming, and my lungs were filling with a froth, which itself was expanding and evaporating.

Top tip: Don't try and hold your breath when you depressurise. It will kill you even worse than vacuum exposure, and that's saying something.

In low pressure, water boils and freezes at the same time and I was exhaling all the water that had been keeping my tissues nice and plump.

You don't want to know what it felt like on my eyes. Or my skin.

About now I had maybe thirty seconds before I was dead. Maybe half that before i lost the ability to move.

I lunged and wrapped my arms around Gondy's leg, hauled her into the airlock by yanking back as hard as I could.

As she slid in and the gravity field hooked her she hit the floor and slid... I already was staggering over, mostly blind and kind of hooked my forearm around the big emergency lever: Designed for anyone in a spacesuit to operate: Thank my lucky stars it was, because my hands were swollen up too far to use my fingers.

I wondered why I was still screaming, and realsied the door was shut and the air was flooding back in. I yawped like crazy to equalise the pressure on my ears, tongue swollen up kind of hilariously. I mean I'd laugh but I was having problems breathing around it. Come to think of it, it might be because I just blew out a lot of tiny blood vessels in my lungs too. I wondered if my lungs might be filling with blood.

The inner door opened to show two horrified Tsin. I walked past them and then passed out mid step.

When I woke up, I felt like I'd been sand blasted and there were a lot of tubes in places that didn't normally have tubes.

There's a joke about nurses installing new holes in you if you're not polite and at some point I must have said something bad about coffee, because someone had come along and punched an exciting number of new orifices into me.

I also had a fanclub.

My two adoring Tsin were practically glued to my side, and Gwingbit was making those soft little chirps which is the Tsin way of beaming so wide the top of your head comes off.

"You guys really are space orcs!" She squeeped. "Nobody believes it. you walked into a vacuum, like..." she waved. "If I didn't have the video, they'd never believe it! You're like a... a... I don't know! In one day you got hit so hard it tore the docking rail off, then you discovered the things that ate all the seals on the modules... And then you ran out of air and got frozen and just got up from being dead. And and and then you walked into space and just grabbed Atrix..."

"She's called Gondolier Dottirsdottir. Picked it this morning" I rasped. Wow. This morning? Less than 10 hours ago.

"... and Strong-Like-Sunlight came in to see you..." Gwingbit added. Ah. There we go.

They saved Gondy. Her helmet got cracked by high velocity crap that punched through the wall, stunning her and giving her a slow leak. I don't know how much longer she had but when they got her helmet off, she'd already taken some damage to her eye and face.

Luckily, not more damage than we can deal with, though she was blind in one eye for a month.

I got off lightly! My skin peeled off like a sunburn and I had to spend time on a ton of steroids and on extra oxygen since I slightly freeze dried most of my lungs and throat.

As for the space squid? As near as we can tell they're a Von Neumann machine. They mine, replicate and use a distributed network. They might even be smart, if you get enough together!

When they hit the station they just saw a big lump of something useful and started by stripping out all the most useful things they could find. Which largely was the stuff that held the place together.

There's a frequency they don't like. They poured off the station like you wouldn't believe once we blipped it at them. Who figured that out I don't know.

As for me? Now I just have to live with everyone wearing t-shirts that say "EVA 43: Just Going Out."

They couldn't have used my name?

#HASO #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #Humans being weird little guys #EVA 43 #Lunch in space #Lunch in space part 5 #atrix #tsin

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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I need to talk about a difficult topic. Stash storage. I currently have 3 large air-tight storage bins full of self-striping sock yarn. It is a pain to dig through. I have managed to keep the stash at 3 bins because I put Knit Picks' website on my browser's blacklist whenever they come out with new Felici colorways but it's a challenge.

I'm in a new place where the best spot to keep my yarn is in a trundle bed where the mattress would normally go, so it's about 6" tall and the length and width of a twin mattress. I'm thinking vacuum seal bags but they're all SO BIG. I really want a bunch of vacuum seal bags I can put like 4-10 skeins of yarn in that are clear so I can just see at a glance which bag has what I want and open it without having to deal with 40 skeins of yarn in a bag meant for a king size comforter.

Do you or your readers have any suggestions or other storage solutions for my mountain of sock yarn that I can definitely quit collecting any time I want?

Knit faster! Duh!

I hear cloves deter pests nearly as well as toxic mothballs and much better than lavender. My current storage isn't sealed well enough, so I'm contemplating what pest deterrents I can store in it till I have time to use up my stash.

But as for under-bed storage... I've seen long rolling clear bins, including extra-low ones.

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kivaember · 5 months

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YES RUBICON REUNION OLD MAN YAOI Walter comes to Michigan like 'I'm here to discuss G13 Raven.' And Michigan knows damn well he's just here to angst. He also knows that Walter cant resist him--

there are a few old man yaoi anons in my inBOX BUT YOU GET THE LUCKY DRAW OF. i'm writing the pwp. here's a teaser wip bc ofc i can't help but do. fucking. worlbuilding. oeugh.

On the outskirts of Brigid, the provincial capital of the southern Belius region, the Redguns had set up their permanent base of operations within an industrial brewery complex.

The deep, underground cellars that had once stored Rubiconian ale were now reinforced bunkers for ammunition and other dangerous substances, and the large, sprawling warehouses that had been used for ale storage prior to interstellar shipment had been converted into field garages for the Redgun’s ACs. What had once been a rustic perimeter of ornate fencing and lush gardens were now towering Bremer walls, steel-reinforced concrete that had regular patrols of both foot soldiers and MTs. Floodlights lit up the cracked road that snaked its way towards the complex, and its entrance had not one, but two tetrapod MTs standing guard, their robotic hands carrying heavy-duty gatling guns - keeping to the Dafeng maxim of “material superiority”.

It made for an imposing sight, but Walter didn’t let a single shred of apprehension show as his transporter trundled towards that militarised outpost. His ride was fairly ubiquitous to the Rubicon of today: a BAWS-produced MRAP vehicle, heavy on the armour and designed to survive mostly landmines or peripheral explosions. If you weren’t rolling around in a heli-transporter or some sort of mech, then the BAWS MRAP (known ‘affectionately’ as the Pillbug) was the only safe way to travel on Rubicon.

His driver was one of the men Carla had ‘loaned’ him when he and C4-621 had landed on Rubicon. Her most ‘reliable’ men, she had sworn, and thus far Walter begrudgingly admitted he had no issue with them so far. Yeah, they spent their recreational time huffing Coral fumes or trying to get high from Coral-infused mealworms (with varying levels of success), but on the job - that being, repairing and maintaining C4-621’s AC and the garage, as well as collecting supply drops and doing other various chores - they functioned well enough. So long as they did that much, that was all Walter cared about.

They were also fairly blase about practically everything. A hired merc off-world might’ve been sweating bullets driving up towards a military outpost that had more guns than a Furlong Dynamics warship pointing at them - but Carla’s RaD guy? He was smoking away, both hands tapping away at the steering wheel as the vehicle’s radio blasted out something that resembled dubstep, of all things. Not a single care or worry in his head.

“Turn the radio off,” Walter muttered as their vehicle slowed to a halt in front of the outpost’s checkpoint. “The Redguns aren’t known for their taste in music.”

“Got it, Boss-man,” his driver drawled, obligingly muting the music and rolling the window down. A blast of arctic cold air immediately swept into the vehicle, but Walter suppressed a shiver.

A heavily-armed guard approached the opened vehicle, dressed in tundra fatigues and their face concealed behind a balaclava and snow goggles, their hands grasping a frost-coated heavy assault rifle. Despite their imposing appearance, though, they seemed very relaxed.

“ID,” they said flatly.

Walter leaned forwards, resting a hand against the back of his driver’s seat as he held up his ID: his old Furlong Dynamics AC pilot one. Though it had been taken almost forty years ago, Walter had to admit that he’d lucked out on the genetics lottery and aged fairly well. His resemblance to the youthful Walter Kohler on the ID was clear.

“Michigan’s expecting me,” Walter said as the guard took the ID to closely scrutinise it. “I’m the handler of the independent mercenary, Raven.”

The guard nodded and turned away slightly, accessing the walkie talkie hooked onto the front of their fatigues. Though they spoke quietly, Walter could still hear them over the loud growl of the vehicle and the whistling wind.

“...yeah, Walter Kohler… the boss is expecting- right, okay. Got it…”

The guard turned back to face them and handed Walter his ID. “You’re clear to go in. Just you, though. Your driver’ll have to come back to pick you up when you’re done.”

“Fine.” Walter pocketed his ID and climbed out.

The ground was nothing but icy slush, but Walter kept his balance as he stepped away from the vehicle and shut the heavy door. He banged the side of the vehicle with his cane, and slowly the MRAP reversed away from the checkpoint. Walter didn’t wait to watch it leave, he just turned back to the guard.

“Gotta go through security,” the guard said, pointing towards the checkpoint. Next to the large gates meant for vehicles, there was a small door leading into the attached building. “You’ll be given a pass, so no one thinks you’re some spy. Though…”

The guard’s gaze lingered on his cane, slowly dragging up to take him in as a whole. “I doubt anyone’ll think you a threat, old man.”

#fanfic ramblings #armored core 6 #armored core #handler walter #me like time to establish redgun lore before i get to the #checks notes #raunchy pwp where walter gets his back blown out by michigan

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polygonal-trees · 2 years

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Human Hospitality

Summary: Dot and Megatron's friendship begins with a bucket of cold water in a dusty old warehouse. Hurt/comfort because I am physically incapable of writing anything else :')

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Also on AO3

Dot drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the tow tractor made its slow, trundling way through the military base. Strapped on tight to the trailer behind her was a led-lined crate, stamped in bold red with 'caution: hazardous material'. Inside was a small stack of energon cubes.

Outside, in the loneliest corner of the base, well away from her colleagues and superiors, Dot rolled her eyes and sighed.

Her mod didn’t improve when she finally reached the warehouse. It was the oldest on site and barely up to code, more a place to shove random junk than a proper storage facility. Dot hopped out of the tractor cab, hauled the doors open with a squeal of rusty hinges, and grimaced at the feeling of hot, stagnant air that rolled over her like a wave. The windows were clearly too small to do much good without proper electric ventilation, and there didn't seem to be so much as a battery powered desk fan. Sweat broke out on Dot's upper lip as she got back inside the tractor and continued inside, deciding not to close the doors behind her.

Around the corner of a few hastily stacked crates, the warehouse opened up. All the junk had been pushed to the sides to make room for a barren desert of scuffed grey concrete, and in the middle lay the base’s guest of honour: Megatron himself.

He was curled up on his side, one arm pillowing his head and the other tucked close to his chest. Dot could hear the thrum of his enormous engine above that of the tractor's, but it was subdued, almost quiet. He stirred as she approached, opening his enormous eyes to scowl with displeasure. They seemed dimmer than usual, the red less piercing. But most tellingly of all, he'd taken his helmet off. Dot could see a row of ridges encircling the top of his head.

To anyone on base who'd been wondering if transformers could get sick, they had their answer. Just like every other living thing – and every other computer, for that matter – they weren't immune to viruses, and this one had knocked the mighty Megatron flat on his big grey metal ass.

“Oh,” Megatron grunted, a faint static crackle in his voice, “it’s one of you.”

“Nice to see you too,” Dot said dryly.

Dot pulled up in front of him and cut the tractor's engine, slowly squeezing the steering wheel for a moment as she watched the giant in front of her. Dot may have been one of the few humans who worked closely with transformers, but that didn't mean they were her friends. In fact she'd only spoken to Megatron a handful of times, and he’d always struck Dot as arrogant, aloof, and several other words she was trying to phase out of her vocabulary for the sake of her son. It didn’t matter if he was technically on her side, being alone with him always made Dot feel a little… tense.

Steeling herself, Dot left the relatively safety of the tractor cab and unhitched the trailer.

"Lunch time," she said lamely, knocking on the top of the crate.

Megatron shifted a little, visibly unimpressed. "And here I thought it might be something useful," he grumbled. “Like a patch for this fragging headache.”

“If you’d rather starve I can arrange that,” Dot bit back.

The corner of Megatron’s mouth twitched, fighting either a smile or a snarl.

“Now I remember,” Megatron purred. “You’re the feisty one.”

Dot bristled. “I’m the one who gets the job done,” she said coldly. “And I’ll have you know I’m the third highest ranking officer on his site,” Dot snapped. And I should be the first, she thought bitterly.

That did earn her a smile – or rather a sneer. Too many of those not-quite-teeth.

“Oh of course, that’s why you’re here running errands instead of something more worthwhile. Why don’t you cure this virus as well if you’re so competent?”

That struck a nerve. Worse, Dot couldn’t think of an immediate counter that didn’t sound like an excuse, and she could tell by the growing smirk on Megatron’s face that she’d already run out of time.

Megatron watched her flounder and chuckled, but it wasn’t a nice sound. Too much like metal going through a shredder.

“My boss is a jerk,” Dot said finally, looking away. “I had one kid and now he’s decided I’m not good for anything else.”

“You… what?”

Dot looked back at Megatron. He was still scowling, but he looked puzzled. Something about what she’d said seemed to have genuinely thrown him.

“I took time off to make another, smaller human,” said Dot, not in the mood for an impromptu class on human biology.

Megatron’s frown faded. “You’re a blacksmith?”

Dot shrugged helplessly. “Sure, if that’s what you guys call it.”

“Oh.” Megatron didn’t seem to have a comeback. He looked at Dot with the most honest, open expression she’d ever seen on him before. “I haven’t met a blacksmith in over four million years,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Then his eyes hardened.

“You’ve done your job,” he grunted, sounding more tired than angry, “now leave me in peace.”

Dot hesitated. When she’d agreed, reluctantly, to do the job, she had fully intended on being in and out as quickly as possible. She’d only ever thought of Megatron as a dangerous, violent, pain in the ass, but… she’d seen that hint of softness now.

Megatron's engine kicked into a low, rumbling growl. It would've been a lot more intimidating if he'd been sitting up and towering over her, but he seemed reluctant to move. Against her better judgement, Dot felt a pang of sympathy. If her allies made her wait out the flu in an old closet, well… she wouldn’t be happy either.

Dot looked Megatron over with an assessing gaze. He seemed cold, but the air above his head shimmered faintly, like the freeway in summer – was it the same as when malware made a computer overheat? That must be uncomfortable. He looked uncomfortable, lying on bare concrete without even a blanket or a pillow. Dot knew transformers didn't need the same cushy comforts as humans but this still seemed like a less-than-ideal set up for rest and recovery. Hadn’t the Autobots considered that?

To be honest, Dot didn’t think the Autobots had considered much at all. When the higher-ups had asked why they needed to quarantine the giant alien robot and not the giant alien robots themselves, the answer they'd got back sounded hollow and flimsy to Dot. Something about differently coded immune systems – an annoyance for Decepticons could be lethal to Autobots and vice versa. Smelled like bullcrap to Dot, but she didn't have the medical, engineering, or computer science degree to prove it.

Dot waited another second before taking a slow step forward, aware of the hands that could reduce her to paste, but trusting that they wouldn’t. Megatron watched, guarded but curious, as if wondering what this ‘feisty’ human would do next.

Dot still wasn't sold on ‘good guy’ Megatron. She didn't see how anyone who'd waged war for so long could make such a change. But at the same time… Dot understood the desire to do the right thing, even if it wasn't easy.

Besides, he looked so put out and pathetic it was honestly a bit uncomfortable.

“How do you feel?” she asked, softening her voice.

Megatron rolled his eyes and huffed. "Oh, I feel sublime," he grumbled. "My central processor's overheating, my core temperature dropped to prevent my helm from melting, and I'm trapped in his dust box because the Autobot medic didn't think to make compatible anti-viral software. Everything aches. This is exactly what I had in mind when I negotiated the ceasefire."

Dot inched a little closer. "Can I do anything to help?"

"No," Megatron snapped.

Dot threw her hands up in exasperation. "Men!" she exclaimed, tenderness forgotten. "I swear, you're the same in every species – complain all you like, but as soon as someone tries to make it better, you're back at it with the tough guy routine." She cocked her hip, folded her arms, and hit Megatron with her best Mom Stare. It was still a work in progress, but he didn't need to know that.

"Do you need anything?" she asked firmly.

Megatron stared.

Dot stared back.

Megatron kept staring.

Dot stared harder.

Megatron was the first to look away.

"A cold compress would be nice," he mumbled.

Dot fought a smug smile. "I'll see what I can do," she said, getting back in the tractor. "Try to eat while I'm gone, ok? At least half a cube."

Obviously the base didn’t have a transformer-sized compress, but she got a clean sponge, a bucket of fresh water, and a few cups of ice from the staff lounge.

She returned to the warehouse to find Megatron propped up on one elbow, idly swirling half a cube of energon around with his other hand. He had the presence of mind to toss back the rest before Dot could get too close, muttering something disparaging about 'medgrade'. He eyed the bucket with distaste as Dot got out of the tractor, but he must have been feeling worse than he’d let on because he lay down again without complaint.

"Sorry I can’t give you the five star experience," Dot said anyway.

"As if I'd expect more from a human," Megatron grumbled.

"You're lucky you're under the weather, big guy,” Dot muttered under her breath, soaking the sponge and squeezing it out.

She hesitated a moment. She hadn't fully realised just how close she'd be getting to Megatron's face. Never one to back down, however, Dot pressed the sponge gently to the heated metal forehead, watching faint trails of steam evaporate.

It hit her suddenly how familiar the motion was. Robby had come down with a bug only a few days before Dot was due to go back to work, and she'd stubbornly extended her leave because of it. Maybe that was why she'd been shunted aside, but she'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Megatron closed his eyes and sighed, great metal body relaxing with a hydraulic hiss.

"Higher," he mumbled, ever demanding. Dot rolled her eyes and did as he said, re-wetting the sponge and moving it to the edge of the ridges. They shuddered faintly, Megatron's breathing hitched, and then they slowly unfurled with gentle clicks and creaks. Tall metal panels, tapered like petals on a flower. They looked… not rusty, but lined. As though they'd been folded for a long time.

"Thank you," Megatron breathed, so softly Dot barely heard him.

"Don't mention it, Megs," she said, "just get well soon."

#transformers earthspark #earthspark #transformers fanfiction #maccadam #my writing

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