Megatron woke with a start when he heard a clatter outside of the door. Apparently, he'd nodded off sometime during the night while exploring the archives of New Cybertron.
At first, he wondered if he should be alarmed. Perhaps it was an intruder. Some here to kill him or steal him away. But he heard the familiar cursing of the Autobot medic and relaxed.
He flung off the berthsheets, suddenly realizing he detested being so placid. When he stepped out of the room he paused in the doorway. Ratchet was picking supplies off the floor, bracing himself with one servo. Megatron remained quiet as he observed with tilted helm as the medic collected his things.
When Ratchet finally turned he gave a yelp and engaged his blades. Megatron waited patiently for him to compose himself before speaking.
"Where were you? He didn't mean to sound so harsh and demanding.
"Work," Ratchet folded his servos, an optic ridge raising as his hip swiveled. It felt like a challenge to Megatron.
They stood in dead silence for a klik.
"Have you had energon?"
"No," Megatron leaned against the doorway framing his form. He hadn't done anything but sleep and read, but he wasn't about to admit that.
Ratchet vented out a sigh, "I guess not. I'll get you some."
Now that Megatron had all his wits about him, he scanned the luxurious flat Ratchet called home. There were large windows at the end of a spacious living room. Or what should have been a spacious living room. There was no vidscreen or data console. The large room looked more like a cozy hospital with a couch and a medical berth. There were marbled floors leading to a kitchen, tucked in next to the door.
"Nice place," Megatron sounded a little bitter.
"It's too big," Ratchet made his way to the kitchen. He gathered an energon cube from a compartment, "And they got far too fancy with it all. Refrigerated energon? Give me a break."
So that's why the energon felt so heavenly to his systems. The medic set the energon cube at the very end of a nicely made kitchen peninsula then retreated to the far corner of the kitchenette.
"Have I been in recharge long?" There were no windows in the berthroom, but in here Megatron could tell it was early morning. Perhaps days had passed.
"No, probably not. I've just been at work all night." Ratchet was doing his best to look busy, but he'd obviously cornered himself in the kitchen. "The size of the place helps me see patients and they can sleep here if they need to."
Megatron nodded and looked at the living room and sipped his energon, "Do you have many patients?"
"Yes, the first ones will be here in an hour or so. You'll have to stay in the berthroom. I trust my patients but I know of only a few who'd have the decency not to run to the nearest police station and report you."
Ratchet took a step forward and looked him up and down, "I can see you're eager to move around but don't overdo it. I'll have to scan you sometime today."
"You're welcome to do it now, doctor," Megatron placed his half-finished energon on the counter and spread apart his servos, welcoming the medic to come closer.
Ratchet recognized the trap, "No, after my day patients. If I find anything wrong I wouldn't be able to fix it. Drink your energon and go back inside."
Megatron wondered what would happen if he refused. What would Ratchet do if his precious patient left him?
That would be senseless. Megatron would be torn apart before he entered Cybertron's stratosphere. It was amazing his codes hadn't alerted every scanner in a mile radius. He would stay, observe and discern a way to leave covertly. He would exploit every last bit of this strange kindness the Autobot paid him.
He finished his energon and retired to the berthroom. This time he wouldn't let himself get fascinated with Cybertrons rules. The cities and infrastructure had to be founded on existing systems. Megatron would have to research building plans, roads oil and water lines.
Ratchet was far too fussy. Optimus' lapdog needed to be taught manners long ago. Megatron wasn't some weak Autobot or some rusty old medical unit. There was nothing wrong with him that hadn't been fixed.
He didn't realize he began pacing across the room. Megatron stopped himself and began exploring, checking under the berth, looking in drawers. It seemed Ratchet didn't have many personal effects besides the music player on the table. That probably had nothing but Earth sounds on it. How like an Autobot to get nostalgic for a rusty old mud ball. There was another door besides the one that lead into the main room.
Megatron stalked across the room and angrily pressed the open key.
It was a lavish washroom complete with a sizable bath and standalone shower. It seemed Ratchet returned to his lofty perch, as if the war didn't even happen for him.
Then again, the luxurious style tub looked unused there was even dust forming on the jets. His patients probably used it more than he did. What a waste.
Ratchet had given 'bots his luxuries from the very beginning. If you weren't a raging jerk you could visit the medic in his penthouse in the finest part of Iacon as Cybertron's Dionysius.
That made Megatron pause. Was Ratchet as easy to accept pleasure as payment in his makeshift hospital apartment. Orion's pretty faceplate was no longer a deterrent for the medic now, right?
Megatron recognized the bitterness rising inside him like a purge.
Once, Megatron wished to separate Optimus from his medic. To watch the Prime squirm as he had to choose between his beloved friend and his cause. Forcing Ratchet to work earnestly for him was a clever revenge. It may have led to his downfall as well.
But it was not Optimus without his medic now but Ratchet without his Prime. He was miserable enough to where no simple luxury could ease his pain.
Well, if the fucking medic wasn't going to use it, Megatron would. It would have to be cleaned but damned if he hadn't resolved to exploit every luxury he had.
Megatron soaked until the temperature dropped to ice and then soaked again. His joint felt amazing and the second round he dumped some random soak into the mix.
It was heaven. The medic didn't know what he was missing.
Megatron lifted his pede up, watching the viscous fluids run off it. He dropped it instinctively when he heard the berthroom door hiss open.
"Megatron," came a muffled call.
"In here."
Ratchet opened the door and looked as if he regretted it. His confusion turned into a glared, "Making yourself comfortable?"
"Perfectly so," Megatron gave a toothy grin.
Ratchet folded his servos, "We have some time before my next patients arrive."
There was a pause.
"I was just thinking I could give you a scan but you're busy."
"Extremely."
Ratchet shook his helm and waved a servo, "Don't rust in there, it'll be a pain to clean up."
Megatron felt impish at being so pleased with Ratchet's irritation. But he had a shortage of cheap thrills without a constant threat against his life.
Megatron finally ended his luxurious rebellion and returned to the berthroom. After working out his joints and doing everything short of transforming, he went back to reading. It had to be close to dark soon and Megatron wondered if Ratchet slept out on the couch.
Yet he said there would be more patients arriving. How many patients exactly did the medical officer see? Judging from the noises it was about one every two hours or so. Then Ratchet would go to work at the end of the day. But he hadn't gone to work today and stated more patients would be coming.
Megatron would doze off and be woken by the noise of another patient every few cycles or so. So the medic worked through the night at home.
He was finally revived after a long stretch of recharge when Ratchet returned. From the light streaming in from behind him, it looked to be early morning.
"I'm sorry to disturb you but I wanted to do the scan before I went into work."
Megatron obliged the doctor by sitting up on the berth, waiting sleepily for Ratchet to complete his scan.
"Did you see patients all night?"
"Of course," Ratchet sounded hoarse and strained, "Nights are my busiest times because of the cover it allows my more paranoid guests."
Megatron said nothing, merely waited for the medic to give him a proper diagnosis.
"Okay, well you seem fine. You can move around the apartment. I want you to try transforming but if there is no room don't strain yourself moving the furniture. Please try and have one full cube of energon before I get back. Your frame would allow more for two but I don't expect miracles from you."
"Yes, Ratchet."
The use of his name seemed to bring shivers to the medical officer, "Don't be a pain. I'm heading to work."
Megatron listened at the medic stomped through the loft and the noise of the outer door closing and locking.
Megatron was alone.