"Beloved." Megatron sighs. "I didn't think you wanted me to fix anyone. I'm not...I'm not in that line of work, and the fixes I know won't work on organics. It's just that you asked about insights. I have plenty of insights into the problems of soldiers. But as I told you before, children are outside my experience; I'm prepared to love them, and I'm sworn to protect them; but I haven't the first idea how their minds work. You've got my sympathy for all of them anyway."
He kisses Loki's throat again. "The candle, though. Yes, that is a comfort. You would have loved him, too, I think. He was sly and funny and ruthless and brilliant. He used to proofread my earliest writings. We fell in love because we both loved books, living in a place where most of the people we knew could barely read. He was the first person ever to read my poetry. Some people I've known would disapprove of it if they knew, because he was so much older than me. But he understood me, and was proud of me, and I don't remember the first time I ever interfaced, but I remember the first time with him as if it had happened yesterday. It took me such a long time to convince him, even though he wasn't ill yet, then, that someone as young and beautiful as I was then could want him.
"I often wonder what he'd think of me now. He told me often enough in those days that I was too idealistic, and too forgiving, and that Orion--who at that time was only a friend, a correspondent I'd never met--and I were going to have to understand that the changes we wanted to see would mean war. I wasn't ready to accept that until the day they nearly destroyed me, and he died. I can't believe I ever thought I wouldn't have to be a murderer. But I found out that killing was a whole lot easier than I had ever thought it could be after that, and that in fact, I had a talent for it."
He's calmer now, though suddenly feeling quite tired. "You know as much about this, now, as Ravage does, and he's my amica. More than Orion did." He needs to lie down, for a moment at least, and lies back on the ground, tugging Loki down with him with quiet pleading in his optics, and then he kisses him: thoroughly, but not with fierce hunger or urgency, more for close comfort and to anchor himself in the present than anything else. Here, they are together, and everything's as fine as it will ever be. Here, in the Nexus, under different stars. Here, where he doesn't have to be or do anything other than love and be loved.
He'll go back to the ship, but he doesn't want to. He finds it strangely hard to care about the Knights of Cybertron or their justice. The people there don't need him. Except for Minimus, he's alone there, really.
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He kisses Loki's throat again. "The candle, though. Yes, that is a comfort. You would have loved him, too, I think. He was sly and funny and ruthless and brilliant. He used to proofread my earliest writings. We fell in love because we both loved books, living in a place where most of the people we knew could barely read. He was the first person ever to read my poetry. Some people I've known would disapprove of it if they knew, because he was so much older than me. But he understood me, and was proud of me, and I don't remember the first time I ever interfaced, but I remember the first time with him as if it had happened yesterday. It took me such a long time to convince him, even though he wasn't ill yet, then, that someone as young and beautiful as I was then could want him.
"I often wonder what he'd think of me now. He told me often enough in those days that I was too idealistic, and too forgiving, and that Orion--who at that time was only a friend, a correspondent I'd never met--and I were going to have to understand that the changes we wanted to see would mean war. I wasn't ready to accept that until the day they nearly destroyed me, and he died. I can't believe I ever thought I wouldn't have to be a murderer. But I found out that killing was a whole lot easier than I had ever thought it could be after that, and that in fact, I had a talent for it."
He's calmer now, though suddenly feeling quite tired. "You know as much about this, now, as Ravage does, and he's my amica. More than Orion did." He needs to lie down, for a moment at least, and lies back on the ground, tugging Loki down with him with quiet pleading in his optics, and then he kisses him: thoroughly, but not with fierce hunger or urgency, more for close comfort and to anchor himself in the present than anything else. Here, they are together, and everything's as fine as it will ever be. Here, in the Nexus, under different stars. Here, where he doesn't have to be or do anything other than love and be loved.
He'll go back to the ship, but he doesn't want to. He finds it strangely hard to care about the Knights of Cybertron or their justice. The people there don't need him. Except for Minimus, he's alone there, really.