The Nemesis’ medbay lights were dim, the low hum of the engines the only sound breaking the stillness.

Megatron sat on the edge of the examination berth, plating still dented from the canyon fight. He’d waved off Knock Out’s fussing hours ago, claiming he’d handle repairs himself.

He hadn’t gone to his quarters.

He’d been waiting.

When Soundwave finally appeared, his steps were deliberate — neither rushed nor hesitant. He stopped just inside the door, visor gleaming faintly in the half-light.

“You should be in recharge,” Megatron said.

“Correction: We should be in recharge.”

Megatron’s mouth quirked. “But you came here instead.”

Soundwave tilted his helm. “Reason: Clarification required.”

Megatron set aside the tool he’d been pretending to work with. “Clarify, then.”

Soundwave stood in silence for a moment — then finally said: “Recent actions indicate emotional bias in your decisions. Query: Is this tactical manipulation… or genuine?”

The warlord’s optics narrowed slightly. “You believe I would use affection as a weapon against my own?”

“Probability exists,” Soundwave said evenly. “History supports the possibility.”

Megatron rose to his full height, stepping into the narrow space between them. “History also shows that I have never spared a soldier’s life more than once.”

Soundwave didn’t move. “Observation: You have spared mine repeatedly.”

“And I will continue to do so,” Megatron said, voice low, “because my… affection for you is no tactic. It is an unfamiliar truth I am learning to bear — and I will not pretend otherwise.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the ship around them.

Soundwave’s visor dimmed, then brightened again. “Acknowledged.”

Megatron’s gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. He reached out — not the commanding grip of the battlefield, but a careful, deliberate touch — resting one clawed hand on Soundwave’s arm.

Soundwave leaned in slightly. Just enough.

Their lips met briefly — a quiet press of metal against metal, more a statement than an indulgence. It wasn’t heated or desperate. It was simply there. A promise made physical.

“Well, finally.”

They broke apart instantly, both turning toward the door where Starscream stood, one brow ridge arched so high it nearly vanished into his helm.

“I was wondering when the two of you would get over your… whatever this is,” he said, waving a dismissive claw. “Do try not to make it a distraction before the next battle.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed to burning slits. “Starscream…”

The Seeker immediately took a prudent step back. “Oh, I’m going, I’m going! Just don’t expect me to keep this quiet.”

The door hissed shut behind him.

Soundwave looked back at Megatron. “Concern: Information spread.”

“Let him,” Megatron said, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “I have no intention of hiding this any longer.”

For once, Soundwave didn’t disagree.

By the next rotation, the Nemesis was practically vibrating with rumors.

Starscream had clearly wasted no time — every corridor, every energon dispenser stop, every comm channel crackled with the same whispered speculation:

Megatron and Soundwave.

Some Decepticons smirked behind their battle masks. Others eyed Soundwave with new wariness, unsure how close was too close to their leader’s favor. Even Knock Out, normally unflappable, raised an amused optic ridge when Soundwave entered the medbay for a pre-mission check.

“Careful,” the medic said slyly, “you’re trending.”

Soundwave said nothing, visor reflecting the crimson glow of the room.

In the command center, Megatron stood over the tactical display, Starscream at his side and looking unbearably smug. The warlord’s tone was businesslike, but his optics tracked Soundwave’s entrance as if it were the most important movement in the room.

“Briefing,” Megatron began, voice carrying easily. “Autobot forces have seized a communications relay at the edge of the Dead Wastes. They will attempt to use it to intercept our transmissions. We will not permit this.”

Soundwave took his place at the console. “Recommendation: Jam all outgoing signals.”

“Indeed,” Megatron said, a small nod of approval that Starscream immediately noticed and filed away with a smirk.

The mission began cleanly — until the Autobots revealed their own intelligence.

From the shadows of the relay’s access corridor, Mirage’s voice drifted again over the comm. “So the rumors are true… The mighty Megatron with a soft spot.”

Megatron’s claw tightened around his fusion cannon.

“Careful, Soundwave,” Mirage continued, “your commander might not be able to think straight if I put a hole in you first.”

Soundwave’s tentacles twitched, but his stance never faltered.

The battle that followed was brutal and precise.

Mirage’s attempts to bait Megatron fell flat — every movement they made in combat was calculated, sharpened, efficient. If anything, the Autobots’ distraction tactics made them more focused, more dangerous.

At one point, when an explosive charge detonated too close to Soundwave, Megatron didn’t hesitate to intercept the blast with his own frame. The shockwave rang through the corridor — and the Autobots, seeing their plan fail, retreated with heavy losses.

Back aboard the Nemesis, Soundwave followed Megatron into the armory to return their weapons. The rest of the crew avoided the space, giving them rare privacy.

“Observation: Increased exposure to others’ speculation,” Soundwave said.

Megatron glanced over his shoulder. “Let them speculate. I am not ashamed of my truth — or of you.”

For a moment, Soundwave stood still, processing the words. Then, quietly: “Acknowledged.”