AN: Thank you guys again for such an enthusiastic response! ;_; You all are really great, and it makes me so happy to see your reviews! BALFHRYS. I also really loved those silly pictures on tumblr-thanks JenKristo and Hiro P. for those silly pictures! they really warmed my heart, and thank you as well for all the props from Iwanita and Domenic and all the reblogs and likes! Aghslrbsy. You guys are too much. *heart*
This chapter is very introspective, so there's not a whole lot of action or interaction, but I really wanted to write Soundwave's state of mind, and we'll get to see a bit of his past! Hopefully that will be interesting. Also there are some plot strings set up here. Schemey Starscream is schemey. So. Yes. What am I even doing in this author's note. I am just rambling now. Uh.
Oh! Someone did ask about… THE PORN. Well obviously since the kink here is courtship and seduction (and this IS a tfanonkink fill) the big payoff will be near the end, but I have a few things planned before then. I'm thinking maybe at its soonest we might see some slight hanky panky around chapter four maaaybe? We'll see. The plot's going to come before the porn on this one, and I'm going to really put some effort into the courtship itself, so hopefully that will be enjoyable to read!
Squicks in this chapter: A little bit of mechpreg mention, mostly near the end, but it's very vague. Also, beware of the Return of the Return of Gratuitous Capitalization.
Chapter 2: Synchronicity
Soundwave did as he was instructed and returned to his quarters immediately. Subconsciously, he felt the tug of duty calling him away, but Megatron had relieved him of his everyday responsibilities so that he might consider his… new ones. So.
So.
He sat on the edge of his berth, and then immediately stood, pacing back and forth in the room. Such an outward display of agitation was quite rare for Soundwave, but under the highly unusual circumstances he found himself in, he decided not to suppress his reactions. As a matter of fact, he figured that it would actually be a good time to immerse himself in such emotions and carefully analyze how he felt about his current situation. Soundwave was not a mech who relied on his gut, preferring to let calm analysis and logic dictate his course of action.
This was why, as soon as the shock and confusion faded, the very first notion that entered his processor was, very simply, that he was a logical choice for Megatron. Frankly, the more he thought of it, the more he realized that he was the most logical choice for a Bondmate. That wasn't to say that any other option wouldn't have been suitable. Megatron could have chosen Starscream if he had wanted an intense partner. Their chemistry was volatile, and would certainly require both of them to constantly be adapting to one another, but it could work. Such a Bonding would be one of the most unusual harmonies that Soundwave had ever considered, but Megatron was known for carving his own path. It was no secret that the two of them sparked off one another.
It was also no secret that the two of them had shared a berth once or twice.
Considering that made Soundwave aware of a sudden rising trepidation in regards to that, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He could address them later.
Starscream was every bit as ambitious and ruthless as Megatron. He had the same potential to be cruel. Soundwave could be cold and merciless, but he was seldom needlessly violent. Starscream and Megatron both were passionate creatures, at times taken to giving in to their own whims. Soundwave very seldom let his emotions get the better of him. Starscream and Megatron were both so very alike. If they'd Bonded, their harmony would be a never-ending crescendo, full of fury and zeal. Soundwave had been observing the two of them (as he observed everyone) for a while now.
So what sort of harmony would he and the leader of the Decepticons make? He had never considered himself as a potential match for his Lord, and now turned over the particulars of their natures in his processor. Megatron was dynamic, vicious, willing to charge out and take what he wanted. Soundwave was reserved, calm, and preferred to orchestrate events to his liking rather than to alter them directly.
Where Megatron was violent, Soundwave was calm. Where Megatron was impetuous, Soundwave was careful. They would balance one another. The weaker notes of Megatron's spark would find richness in the steady thrum of Soundwave's, and the quieter chimes of Soundwave's would be fortified by the roar of his Lord's. Balance. True harmony. When he thought of the sort of Bond Megatron might have with his second-in-command, he thought of a whirling inferno that was so fierce it would burn itself out. But he… could provide his Lord with a more lasting resonance.
And that, Soundwave supposed, had been the deciding factor. Megatron had weighed the outcomes and had chosen a potential Bond that was most likely to last. Soundwave could appreciate that, in his dry, detached way. Megatron would not have to worry about Soundwave's loyalty or his dedication. He never had before.
Appreciating the logical aspect of the choice was fine, well, and good, but underneath that calm acceptance, that dry rationalization, something was welling in Soundwave that he could not deny nor exactly control. It was pride. Fierce, unwavering pride.
Soundwave genuinely revered his Lord. He had dedicated himself to the Decepticon cause, to Lord Megatron's leadership, wholly and fully. He had remained loyal when others would have given up. He had never faltered, never wavered, and in that Megatron had found a desirable quality, and Soundwave was condemned to the Pit if there wasn't something so intensely gratifying about having his loyalty acknowledged in so fulfilling a manner.
Loyalty was one thing, however. Desire was another. Soundwave paused in his restless pacing and cocked his head. He did look up to Megatron. He calmly and rationally acknowledged his Lord's many good qualities. Megatron was very crafty, in a brutal sort of way. He had an innate canniness that did not stem from a life in the well-cultured halls of Iacon. His intelligence had always been his own, resonating from his very Spark, the brightest light in the dark depths of the Kaon laboring pits. Sometimes his tendency to rush headlong into things he didn't fully understood ended badly, but oftentimes his audacity paid off. Megatron did not let anything stop him from achieving what he wanted. He'd even defeated his own death, in a way.
There was something undeniably magnetic about such determination, the very same determination that had seen an unnamed miner declare himself warlord. Megatron was charismatic. He drew greatness to him and wore it like a garment. The more Soundwave considered it, the more he had to admit to himself that it was a bit… well, appealing.
Perhaps he was letting current circumstances cloud his judgment, but if that was the case, perhaps it was appropriate to allow them to do so. If Soundwave had ever begun to develop an embryonic attraction towards his Lord, he had long since suppressed it. He had a greater duty to his faction, and besides, it had always seemed that Megatron's eye had been firmly caught by Starscream. With the barriers of competition and propriety removed, how did he feel? What would it be like to be the focus of all that grandeur, that vicious cunning, those countless eons of determination and grim struggle?
Soundwave shivered involuntarily.
What would it be like to be desired by that being, a being who knew you better than perhaps anyone, and wanted you for it? What would it be like to be joined with that fierce and unwavering spark, to be invited to be part and particle of such magnificence? To be called to serve in such a way, and be served in return?
Soundwave felt his internal temperature take a spike the likes of which it hadn't seen in eons.
Well, okay, that was one question answered. Or… a few, actually. Soundwave was honored, flattered, and glad. It seemed a weak word for the momentous occasion, but it was the most fitting. He decided to himself that he was pleased with the offer, and it had only taken him about an hour of pacing and intense cogitation to figure it out. He was going to have to get better at this "getting in touch with his emotions" thing. It was a start, though.
Of course, it wasn't only his own feelings that Soundwave had to consider. He sent a silent command to eject to both of his symbionts. Laserbeak immediately detached from his chest, and he held out an arm for her to perch on. The plates of his back, between his shoulders, began to shift and swivel in a complicated dance of dully-flashing metal, and a moment later Ravage sprang free, landing lightly on the floor.
True telepathy does not use words. It is an infinitely more elegant means of communication. It is less like speaking and more like a song. A song contains many parts, all of them working together to form one harmonious whole. Each thread is woven in a complicated pattern with one another, sometimes rising and falling in unison, sometimes finding a wealth of meaning in what should be cacophonous chaos. A song is direct-it flows straight to the listener's soul and delivers its message all at once, a punch of raw meaning straight to the soul.
So, similarly, does telepathy convey multiple complex sensations all at once. Sensory input can be conveyed (the pain of an old wound) as well as emotions of times past (the gentle joy of an old, half-forgotten moment of familial warmth), or simple memories. Abstract sensations that words can only fumble blindly with can be shared straight from spark to spark. Telepathy is a complicated symphony, and next to it, language seems a sad substitute.
Soundwave asked his symbionts, in that same poetically intricate manner, what they thought of all of this.
Laserbeak was the first to respond. She sent back a burst indicating pride, in a secondhand sort of way. She was very pleased that Megatron had recognized her host as a superior choice, and underlaid the thought with currents of eagerness that Soundwave had been chosen for the task of producing an heir.
Ravage chimed in, sharing these thoughts as he carefully stepped around his host, gazing up with narrow yellow optics. Soundwave was certainly pleased that his symbionts were welcoming of the idea of his bearing a sparkling, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit embarrassed at how eager they seemed.
Furthermore, Laserbeak approved of Megatron. She sent an image to Soundwave, a memory she had plucked from his very processor. It was of a moment years and years ago, on the blasted surface of Cybertron, when Lord Megatron had extended a single mighty arm for her to perch on while she delivered a report. The memory hummed like a plucked string as it was given to Soundwave. She had felt honor when he offered her his very arm, given her his attention, trusted her intelligence. Honor and pride.
Soundwave synchronized his thoughts with his smallest and eldest of symbionts, and let the sense of honor ring through both of their sparks. They were in accord.
Ravage sat on the floor before Soundwave, his long tail resting in a lazy arc on the ground, the tail-tip flicking idly. He waited with feline patience while Soundwave and Laserbeak communicated, and then silently delivered his own opinion of the proceedings. Ravage was more inclined to be aloof than Laserbeak, but Soundwave was not surprised by this. Ravage had been spawned as a feline, after all, and some natures were truly universal.
He first sent a memory to Soundwave, a memory of Megatron as he had been seen from Ravage's own point of view. Back on Cybertron, Soundwave had been in control of many Minicons. Some of them, like Ravage and Laserbeak, were sparked symbionts, and some of them were mindless, insectoid scuttling things. It was no secret that Megatron had disliked them. The memory was a clear picture of the disgust in Megatron's face as he stared at Soundwave, who, at the time, had been bristling with the bodies of Minicons, all of them latched onto his (then much bulkier) exoskeleton.
Distrust, Ravage sent along the link. Anger. Soundwave did not yet respond, but rather waited patiently. Ravage had been furious at the way Megatron looked at his host, at the disdain he had felt for Soundwave's subversive methods. That, however, had been early in the war.
Next he sent another memory, a more recent one. It was well into the heart of the war, the fury and fire, where one could not be sure if they would live to see the next day. Megatron had been standing on a cliff side, watching the destruction of some unnamed Autobot settlement. Ravage had been standing at Soundwave's side.
Soundwave recognized the memory. The mission had been one in which Ravage had played a significant part. He had scouted ahead and disabled the defenses of the small camp, relying on his stealth to sneak in and out unnoticed. The Autobots had been defenseless when the attack had come. Soundwave synchronized with his symbiont, and the two memories overlapped, replaying together through the link from two different perspectives.
"Why does he not wear our symbol?" Megatron had asked without looking. Soundwave had silently and electronically queried him for further clarification, and Megatron had turned (two different viewpoints, one of them watching Megatron turn to look down at the ground, and the other finding itself the subject of those intense red eyes) and looked to Ravage. "Your Minicon. I do not see the emblem anywhere on him."
Ravage had tilted his head slightly, as had Soundwave. The two perspectives slid sideways in unison. Megatron grinned slightly, baring the tips of his pointed denta, apparently amused by the synchronicity he saw between host and symbiont rather than disgusted. He then said, simply, "See to it that your Minicon is branded tonight."
Megatron had not come out and said it, but Ravage was a shrewd creature, and he knew what those words had meant. Acknowledgement, Ravage sent through the link, "He," not "it." There had been no disgust in their Lord's eyes when he looked to Ravage in the light of the burning Autobot settlement. There had been a sort of strange curiosity, as if he had been seeing Ravage for the first time. He had come a long way from the fiercely scowling creature near the beginning of the war. Though he had never said he would, he had given Soundwave and his symbionts a chance.
Laserbeak's response had been much more jubilant, much more eager than Ravage's assessment, but the feline's final say in the matter could be summed up in two simple words. Good enough.
Amusement flickered through the link and Soundwave knelt, reaching out with his free hand and simply placing it on Ravage's angular helm, between the pointed ear finials. A low rumbling purr emanated from within the feline's deep-chested figure, and for a moment the three of them sat in near-silence, synchronizing, letting the mutual acceptance filter through all of their processors. All three of them were at peace with this proposal. All of them welcomed it.
It had been a trying day so far, and it was bound to be a confusing and rocky courtship, but at the very least, Soundwave was in accord with those most important to him. For a few moments, in that quiet room, despite the distant dimness of their dead homeworld, despite the dangers this planet presented to the future of the Decepticon cause, despite the ache in Soundwave's spark for two symbionts that were not there with him, the three of them felt content.
And then Knock Out pinged Soundwave and told him that his appointment had been set up, and that he would see Soundwave the next morning.
Apprehension poured abruptly through Soundwave. He straightened, and vented slowly in resignation, silently commanding both Ravage and Laserbeak to return. As they maneuvered themselves in place, he commed Knock Out back. Though he had accepted Lord Megatron's offer at the ceremony, it was this decision that would truly seal his fate.
"Request: acknowledged."
The day passed. Work had to be done, as usual, but in between the execution of regular duties, there was, of course, endless talk about the proceedings of the morning. One could hardly escape it. Some of the drones hadn't even had the decency to use private comms, but merely chattered amongst one another for all the crew to hear.
It hadn't taken long for all of it to get on Starscream's nerves.
He was grateful for the respite at the end of the day, when he could retreat to his private quarters. To say he was furious would be an understatement. He was livid. He had been humiliated. Megatron had known very well what he had been doing, leading the whole crew on like that! He had been made a fool of in front of officer and drone alike. He was so angry that he could hardly stand to think about it, and when Starscream was angry, he did one of three things to cool himself down. One of these was to take out his aggressions on someone else, and another was simply to go flying. The third option was to monologue.
He paced his quarters at the end of the day, his wings twitching in irritation. "He cannot be serious," the seeker growled, "this has to be some sort of plot." He paused, staring at the far wall of his quarters, his posture drawn up high and rigid, tapping at his cheek plating with a single slender, sharp digit. "But what?"
Once again he continued pacing. "He has to know that this will not work out. Soundwave is…" he struggled for words. "He is mindless. He is nothing more than a walking shell." Another pause. "I think."
Frankly, there wasn't a lot that Starscream knew about Soundwave. He made it a point to keep well-informed on his fellow officers (his competition, he thought to himself privately), but most of what he knew about Soundwave came from their direct interactions, and he had never been given a reason to think that there was anything more complicated that mindless calculations going on behind that faceless mask. There was talk that Soundwave had even deleted his emotional sub processes in order to be a more efficient soldier. Some officers even accepted this as fact. Starscream wasn't so sure, but he hadn't witnessed anything to make him believe otherwise.
Sure, he knew and understood that Soundwave was a sparked individual, but that didn't mean scrap. Starscream had known plenty of sparked individuals who barely deserved to be called Cybertronians for all the life they'd had during his time among them before the war. Most of them had been politicians.
"He is not stupid. I know that much about him," Starscream growled to himself, his voice lowering, taking on a brooding, growling quality. He knew the same story that everyone knew of Megatron and Soundwave's first meeting, but other than that, his past was admittedly a mystery. "Maybe it would be prudent for me to learn more about our Third In Command."
He wasn't suggesting, of course, that Megatron had made an error. Of course not. He was just doing his duty as second-in-command. He certainly wasn't looking to find anything incriminating about Soundwave. Of course not. "But if I happen to find something there that might make our leader question the wisdom of his choice, that would be most… unfortunate indeed."
"What would, sir?"
Starscream jerked and turned, staring into the impassive visor of a Vehicon. He hadn't heard it enter, which could only mean it had done so while he was talking to himself. By the Pit, he hated it when that happened. He reasoned to himself that maybe it would happen less if he didn't monologue quite so much. "Nothing. Nothing at all." He stared suspiciously at his subordinate, which was holding a cube of energon as well as a calibration kit for his weekly maintenance. "Exactly how long were you…?"
"Um. I just got here," the drone said nervously. It had a deep voice, as did most of the drones, and it was plainly a little nervous. Though it didn't really have a face, he got the strangest sensation that it was staring intently at him.
"Well? Don't just stand there," the Seeker commanded, "Set them down."
Steve hurried to obey Starscream's imperative, setting the supplies down on the nearest surface. He owed two Eradicons a favor for the swap that had allowed him to be here tonight. He didn't know what he was thinking. Earlier he had just been consumed with enthusiasm, but now, standing in Starscream's presence, he couldn't imagine that he had ever thought he would say anything. He was silent as he set the cube down and unlatched the maintenance kit. Starscream stood in brooding silence at the other end of the room.
"What do you think of Lord Megatron's choice?" Starscream's voice startled Steve, and he paused, looking back towards the Air Commander, who was facing away from him.
The drone looked back to the gently-glowing container. He wanted to say that it was for the best, because he earnestly believed it was. Megatron and Starscream were too much for one another. They would hurt each other, maybe even destroy each other, if they let themselves be drawn to one another. He wanted to say something to soothe Starscream's wounded pride, to reassure him that he was still desirable, that he was still a fascinating and compelling mech, but he couldn't force the words out. A wave of self-loathing rose up in the drone's spark. "I wasn't there, but I heard about it. Quite a surprise, sir." Idiot, he said to himself. Of all the responses he could have given, he had to go with the safe one, the useless one.
"I cannot help but wonder if such a choice is truly in our Lord's best interests. What do you know about Soundwave?" Starscream looked boredly over his shoulder. It was clear he wasn't expecting an earnest answer. He was merely bouncing his thoughts off of his servant. He was expecting some sort of banal, mindless reply, perhaps. He was expecting what Steve had given him so far.
"Not much," was his initial, obedient response. Something imperceptible shifted in the harmony of his spark in that one moment, and after a brief hesitation, Steve surprised himself by going on, "Lord Megatron probably knows more than any of us." That got Starscream's attention. The Seeker turned and glared across the room at his servant. It was probably not a good idea to be on the receiving end of a stare so sharp from the notoriously moody Air Commander, but Steve met it unwaveringly. His spark was racing. Oh, that was stupid, that was so stupid, he thought to himself giddily, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it, not for an instant. "I don't think even he's done any digging, though."
The stare did not exactly soften, but it did hint of vague murderous impulses less, which Steve took as a good sign. "Perhaps it would be wise to do this… 'digging' that you propose."
The Nemesis was carrying an unusual cargo for a warship-information. There were plenty of records that had been taken from Cybertron that hadn't yet been fully processed, simply because there was neither time nor need to wade through years' worth of financial reports, census investigations, and the like. If there was anything in those files, it wouldn't have been difficult for Soundwave to delete them. But even that would be something mildly suspicious. Steve suspected that Starscream was just trying to soothe his wounded pride, grasping at straws. Steve didn't have it in him to deny Starscream the chance, though, even if he thought it was a fool's errand.
It wasn't as if Starscream could do so without Soundwave noticing. Officers were watched closely, especially Starscream. The Air Commander knew it. He sneered, shaking his head, covering up the hopelessness of his endeavor by simply disdaining that it would be worth his time. "Though I doubt-"
"I could do it." Steve found his vocalizer acting quite without input from his processor. Starscream looked to him abruptly, optics wide in surprise. "I don't really think anyone's going to mind if us drones go poking around," Oh, Primus, his vocalizer was just running away from him, heedless of any authority his processor might have been able to scrape up at this point. Steve could only listen helplessly to himself as he plunged on, sealing his fate. "We're just curious about Megatron's…" He had the presence of mind not to say "Intended" and caught himself just in time to add, "About Soundwave." The Vehicon gave a little shrug.
Starscream stared at him for a few moments, his expression oddly perplexed. Clearly, he didn't know what to make of the Vehicon in front of him. He was staring at Steve as if the drone had suddenly grown fangs and morphed into an Insecticon right in front of him. "You," he finally concluded, "are a devious mech."
Steve immediately ducked his head in a gesture of instinctive submission. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean-"
Starscream shook his head. "No. No, that is… that is fortuitous, in these circumstances." Starscream grinned at him. The Air Commander thought that Steve was devious? The drone had nothing on that grin alone (which, incidentally, was making him feel a little weak in the knees joints). "You are certain you can procure this information?"
"I…" Steve hesitated for a moment, but when he saw the flash in Starscream's eyes, he nodded and hastily amended, "Yes. I can."
"Very well." Starscream took a step forward, and then another stalking towards the drone with the slow ease of a predator towards cornered prey. "See to it that this is done quickly and secretly. And not a word." Starscream leaned in close, his eyes narrowed to slits. "To anyone."
Steve's spark was beating a frantic staccato. He didn't know if he was more thrilled by his Commander's close proximity or more intimidated by the promise of violence in those tensely-held limbs. He adored Starscream, but he was not ignorant of the danger this mech could present to him. Still, he didn't lean away. There was some terrifyingly defiant part of him that kept his backstrut ramrod straight "Of course, sir," he assented, much more softly than he'd intended to.
Starscream nodded and, as coolly as if nothing had happened, turned away. "Good. We are in accord. You are dismissed." Steve remained where he was for a few moments longer, releasing an enormous huff of air from his vents that he wasn't aware he'd been holding in, before his sense of self-preservation finally caught up with him. He nodded and left quickly, feeling an odd mix of something like fear and anticipation mingling in his spark.
He didn't know what it was, but he did know that he liked it.
"So," Breakdown narrowed his optic and stared at the strange, skeletal device currently taking up one entire wall of the medbay. It looked almost as if a human had decided to build one of their absurd jungle gyms against the wall itself. "What did you say it was, again?"
"A gestation chamber," Knock Out replied. He was not doing the actual building (after all, they had drones for that, and a team of them were hard t work welding and riveting), but rather overseeing. Every now and then he would consult a data pad to make sure things were coming along, or move over to better instruct one of the Vehicons.
"Right," Breakdown muttered. "That explains everything."
It wasn't stupidity that provoked the statement-it was simply ignorance The process of physical reproduction was still somewhat of a novel concept to most Cybertronians, who had the Well of All Sparks to add to their population. Knock Out wasn't surprised that Breakdown didn't know much about it. Most of what they had learned had been gleaned after the majority of the war, from the Velocitronians and the Junkions. It wasn't a part of whatever (likely inadequate) education Breakdown had been given when he was young. "It's for the sparkling, if we get one." The medic shrugged, looking up from his data pad to his partner.
"So why are you building it now? They're not exactly… well. You know." He shrugged. Courtship had just been announced that day. Breakdown wasn't expecting anything to come of it just yet.
"It is being constructed…" The two of them jumped simultaneously at the sound of doors hissing open and the low, grave voice of their Lord interrupting. Knock Out turned hastily towards his leader, nodding and giving him his most brilliant smile. Megatron went on, "So that Knock Out can explain, in detail, what the sparking process will entail." The warlord regarded the gestation chamber with his eyes slightly narrowed and his expression tense, as if (Knock Out noticed with private amusement) he were sizing up an opponent. "This is it, then?"
"Yes, my Lord." Knock Out knew when it was time to be brief.
Megatron nodded slowly. "Soundwave prefers to be well-informed. See to it that he knows every step of the process. My Thir-" He halted himself, and then, after a moment, went on, "My Intended should have no questions at the end of his examination." He turned to pin Knock Out with his stare. "Understood?"
Knock Out really couldn't make heads or tails of his Lord's intentions, but there was almost a challenge to his voice, and air of… protectiveness? "Of course, Lord Megatron." He tilted his head. "But hasn't he already…?" Megatron stared back at him, offering nothing. "He has his, er, well, I don't know what you would call them-the bird, the cat, and the twins?"
The warlord shook his head. "Soundwave's symbionts are an entirely different matter. Furthermore, Rumble and Frenzy are no longer with us. You will not bring up their names in Soundwave's presence at any time. Is that clear?"
"Crystal." Knock Out glanced back to his pad, and then to Megatron, who was still staring at the structure of the gestation chamber silently. "Is there anything else you needed from me…?"
"No," was Megatron's reply. With that, he turned, moving away from the chamber and the medic, leaving Knock Out somewhat confused as to why he had bothered to come all the way down. Had he come just to see the chamber? The doors hissed open for Megatron, and before he left, he called, "after you are finished with Soundwave, of course, you will examine me. See that your schedule is cleared." The doors slid shut.
Knock Out stared at the door, a look of terror slowly dawning on his face. Megatron hadn't exactly been clear, but… was his examination meant to entail the exact same sort of thing Soundwave's would? Explanation and all? Was he going to spend half a day explaining the particulars of… of sparking to Lord Megatron? Knock Out had lived long and seen a lot during the war, but he wasn't sure he could handle that. Behind him, he heard Breakdown chuckle, sensing the rising anxiety in the flare of his EM field.
"Shut up," Knock out growled, looking over his shoulder. "You're going to be there too, nurse Breakdown." The larger mech rolled his eye and obediently went quiet.
He didn't stop grinning, though.
