Megatron laughs softly. "I doubt that the stains will come out of that," he says, but allows himself to be cared for, even as it occurs to him how strange it is that he doesn't know how to be comforted. He does know how to give comfort; he was endlessly gentle with Ravage after his surgery, and there have been other times...but when it's his turn to accept it, does he really not even know how?
"Roses of ice. How lovely. I don't think that I am beautiful, though I once was. But I have tried to write beautiful things about pain and war. Sometimes I do it too well, though, and all they see is the beauty." He lowers his voice, which he knows is hilarious because they're absolutely alone. "I wrote a poem about holding Ravage while he fell asleep after we victory-fucked at the end of a siege...and some people think it's about adopting a war orphan."
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dancing_serpent
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-12 04:59 am (UTC)"Roses of ice. How lovely. I don't think that I am beautiful, though I once was. But I have tried to write beautiful things about pain and war. Sometimes I do it too well, though, and all they see is the beauty." He lowers his voice, which he knows is hilarious because they're absolutely alone. "I wrote a poem about holding Ravage while he fell asleep after we victory-fucked at the end of a siege...and some people think it's about adopting a war orphan."
He sighs. "You're being so good to me."