Honestly, this chapter is more of a filler than anything. It progresses the plot in no way. I suppose it's a break from the "darkness of the mines" and the "smog of Kaon" and the "arena of death" (kinda). Wanted some more Orion, because I realized that I wasn't putting enough of him in the story.

Besides, I want some "brotherly love" to happen. (notice the quotations) This scene was inspired by another fanfiction scene that's about Orion and Megatronus. I've Done It Again. I've also been thinking whether I should increase the length of my chapters. I wanted to keep my chapters reasonable with not too long chapters with 2.5k -3k+ words. But it's up to you guys if you want longer. Let me know what you think (really, please do).

Enjoy :)

obikananobi: I'm sorry to hear that. If you feel that way, then this fic isn't for you. You don't have to read it. No body if forcing ya too :)

...

The night was peaceful on the outskirts of Iacon, where there were no high castes, no traffic, no worries about their lives. The stars were out, bright and twinkling like embers against a black void, the two moons of Cybertron visible through the clear sky.

Orion Pax, the ever-diligent archivist, was attempting to walk in a straight line. Attempting was the key word, as his normally average and proper movements had devolved into something akin to a malfunctioning drone.

Megatronus leaned against a boulder, arms crossed, watching with no small amount of amusement as Orion wobbled on the path that ran through the underside of a much larger cliff that loomed over them.

"Careful, little brother," Megatronus called out. "I'd hate for you to tumble over a deprive me of this spectacle."

The little librarian halted mid-stumbled, turning sharply to face him, though the sudden movement sent him teetering again. "I—!" He jabbed a digit in the gladiator's direction, optics glowing a touch too brightly. "I am perfectly capable of maintaining... main... maintain—standing upright!"

The gladiator barked a laugh. "Clearly."

Orion frowned, his faceplate scrunching in indignation. "You gave me the cube!" He waved a servo as if to emphasize his point. "You knew it was high grade, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Megatronus admitted shamelessly, pushing off the boulder and striding toward him. "I just didn't think you'd fold after one cube. Honestly, I expected better." He stopped just in front of Orion, towering over the smaller mech.

Orion huffed. "I'll have you know," he began, poking at the Champion's chassis. "I can—can handle anything you throw at me!"

The gladiator arched an optical ridge. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes!" the smaller mech straightened—or tried to—but swayed slightly to the side.

The smirk on Megatronus's faceplate grew wider as he placed a servo on Orion's shoulder to steady him, leaning in slightly. "Then prove it," he rumbled.

The archivist blinked, his processor clearly lagging. "Prove... what?"

"Walk."

"I was walking!"

"No, you were flailing," Megatronus corrected with a chuckle. He pointed toward the narrow path that splintered off the main path, wounding along the edge of the cliff. "Walk that without falling. If you manage it, I'll admit defeat. But if you don't..."

Orion narrowed his optics suspiciously, his usual wit trying to fight through the haze. "If I don't, what?"

The Champion grinned—a sharp, predatory grin that made most mechs tremble. But not Orion. The archivist, overcharged and unfiltered, simply stared back defiantly.

"If you don't," Megatronus said, "you owe me a favor. Any favor."

The little librarian mulled this over, swaying slightly as he did. "Fine!" he declared, puffing up his chassis. "But when I win, you have to admit that I—Orion Pax—am the superior mech!"

"Deal," the gladiator agreed, the smirk widening just a fraction.

With an intake of air, Orion turned toward the path, optics burning that that determination that he loved, blazing brighter than any star—even more so in his inebriated state. He took his first step... and immediately wobbled.

Megatronus followed closely behind his friend, servos ready to catch Orion if he fell—not that he'd admit that aloud. The archivist's attempt to walk the trail was both admirable and utterly ridiculous. His arms flailed wildly for balance, and every other step was accompanied by a muttered, "I've got this... I've got this."

"Keep going, brother," the Champion teased.

"I'm... perfectly fine!" Orion shot back, though the slight panic in his tone as he nearly topped said otherwise.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity (but was really only a few kliks), the little librarian reached the end of the path. He turned around, arms spread triumphantly, a wide, goofy grin on his faceplate.

"See?!" he exclaimed, swaying dangerously close to the edge. "Told you I could—"

Before he could finish, his pede slipped on a loose rock. With a startled yelp, he began to fall backward. Megatronus moved faster than a bolt of lightning, his servo shooting out to grab Orion by the arm.

The archivist stared up at him, pink hued optics wide. "You... caught me," he said softly.

The Champion smirked, in an attempt to hide his true feelings that Orion could've died if he hadn't been fast enough. It chilled him to the core. He could never ever lose his Orion. "Of course I did. What kind of brother would I be if I let you plummet to your death?"

Orion blinked, seemingly trying to process the words. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his faceplate. "So... I win, right?"

Megatronus laughed, pulling him close and wrapping his thick arms around the archivist. "Yes, brother. You win." Orion vented contentedly, wrapping his arms around the gladiator's waist and leaning into the hug, nuzzling his helm into his neck cables.

Perhaps letting his little archivist win wasn't so bad after all, he mused, resting his chin on the smaller mech's helm.

"You see?" Orion slurred, after a klik of silence. "I told you... I've got... balance."

"If that's what you call 'balance,' then we clearly need to revisit the definition."

The archivist snorted. "You're just jealous."

"Jealous of what? Your unparalleled ability to almost fall to your doom?"

"Nooo," Orion drawled, pulling back slightly and poking a digit at the gladiator's chassis. "You're just jealous of my skills. Admit it."

Megatronus chuckled, gazing down at the smaller mech. "Very well, my archivist. Your skills are truly something to behold. I am utterly humbled by your greatness."

"You should be," the librarian replied with exaggerated dignity, though the effect was undercut by his inability to stand on his own.

With a chuckle, Megatronus broke the hug, easing himself down onto the rocky ground, guiding Orion down with a steady servo until they both sat at the edge of the cliff. Below them, the shadowed metallic landscape stretched out before them, paths and trails snaking through it like fuel lines, following the large energon river flowing down to Protihex.

His archivist slumped against his shoulder, smiling lazily at nothing, releasing another contented vent. Orion's optics fluttered half-shut as he muttered, "Next time, you're not giving me high grade."

The Champion huffed a laugh. "Next time? Planning on another outing already?"

The librarian nudged him—or at least tried to. "You know what I mean... This wasn't fair. You knew I couldn't handle it."

Megatronus tilted his helm down to look at the smaller mech. "Did I? Or did I simply have faith in your ability to rise to the challenge?" he asked mockingly.

Orion groaned and muttered something incomprehensible. He suspected it was an insult of some sort, though he didn't bother to pry out of the overcharged mech.

"One cube and you're already making decrees about what I can or can't do next time."

"That's because I'm wise. Wiser than you."

"Wiser than me?" Megatronus repeated, laughing. "You can't even stand straight, and you're claiming wisdom?"

Orion waved a servo vaguely, as if to dismiss the accusation. "Wisdom isn't about standing. It's about knowing when to stop."

"Then clearly," Megatronus said, smirking, "you've got some learning to do."

The archivist chuckled weakly, shifting his frame in an attempt to get more comfortable against his shoulder. They sat in silence, staring up at the sky when Orion abruptly said:

"You're... you're so big. Why are you so big?" he whined. "It's unfair. It's cheating."

Megatronus gave a surprised laugh at that, not expecting the sudden comment. "Cheating? At what, exactly? Existing?"

"Yes!" Orion declared with a surprising amount of conviction. "You're too big, too strong... too something." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word. "Too... Megatronus-y."

That did it. Megatronus threw his helm back, laughing loudly at his friend's absurd observation. "Megatronus-y? That's a new one. I'll have to add that to my list of titles."

Orion frowned or at least attempted to. The expression came off more as a pout. "Don't laugh at me. I'm... I'm a serious archivist. I know things."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," the larger mech replied, straightening. "But right now, you look less like an archivist and more like a sparkling who's had too much energon on their first solar cycle of functioning."

"I am not a sparkling!" the librarian protested, waving an arm wildly. "I'm a grown Cybertronian. I have a job, responsibilities, a purpose!"

Megatronus looked down at his brother. "And what purpose would that be, little one?"

"To—to help. To... to make things better. For everyone." He stared back up at him, tinted pink optics filled with passion. "Isn't that what you want too?"

Even overcharged, Orion thought of others. He was so... selfless. The Champion wrapped an arm around his friend and pulled him close, smiling down at him. "It is, Orion. It is."

The archivist leaned into him, as much as he could, humming contentedly. "Good," he murmured. "Good... we'll do it together... Megatronus-y..."

Orion mumbled something else, but he couldn't quite catch it. His friend's frame went limp, followed by a low hum that indicated that his friend had fell into recharge. Orion had come a long way from the bashful archivist that could barely look a bot in the optic to being fiery, and occasionally sassy.

And it was all possible because of him. He had brought out the true archivist hiding behind the mask. If it weren't for Megatronus, the archivist would still be a stuttering mess, shy and reserved—even though he still was in some ways. His other friends, the other two mechs, that Orion had mentioned a few times, had not helped him. He had.

Orion was his. Not theirs.

Megatronus looked down at his overcharged and now-recharging companion, tugging him closer and staring up at the stars that looked down at them, smiling down at the two brothers.

...

Orion groaned softly as his consciousness returned to the surface, protocols and systems sluggishly coming online. Something soft and warm was underneath him, far more comfortable than the cold cliffs where he vaguely remembered sitting.

His helm throbbed persistently, and his tanks his tanks churned unpleasantly, making him want to purge right then and there. The archivist onlined his optics, squinting as his vision struggled to focus on his surroundings. His internal systems were working overtime to flush the remainer of the high grade from his lines, but it wasn't fast enough for his liking. He let out another moan, lifting a shaky servo to rub his faceplate.

Where am I...?

Sitting up slowly, he focused his vision, revealing a room he quickly realized wasn't his. The space was sparsely decorated, with only a desk just from across the berth and a weapons wrack hanging on the wall arranged neatly—something that he appreciated.

It didn't take long for him to realize where he was.

Megatronus' quarters.

The red and blue mech quickly swung his legs over the edge of the berth, ignoring the way the room tilted slightly at the movement. His pistons and cables creaked in protest.

Why am I in here? What happened last night?

The sound of heavy pedes snapped his attention to the door that slid open, revealing Megatronus large frame. He was carrying a cube of regular energon with an unreadable expression.

Orion's intake opened before he could think. "Why am I in here?" he moaned.

Megatronus raised a ridge, striding over to the side of the berth. "Good morning to you, Orion," he said, holding out the energon cube. "I thought you might like a more comfortable place to recharge."

The librarian blinked at him, his foggy processor scrambling to piece things together. His helm throbbed mercilessly as he stared at the cube, then back at his brother's faceplate. His friend's words registered, but they didn't answer why.

"A comfortable place?" he repeated slowly, optics narrowing suspiciously. "Why your quarters? I have my own berth."

"Would you rather I left you to stumble back to Iacon on your own?" Megatronus shot back.

"I—" He clipped his intake shut before he said something that he would regret. "No," he mumbled.

The gladiator nudged him, still holding out an energon cube. Orion grabbed it, sipping the cerulean liquid that helped ease some of the pressure in his helm, much to his relief. He wondered how many times his friend had gotten overcharged—

"Finished?" the gladiator asked, watching him devour the energon like a turbofox.

"W-why?" he asked, wondering what his friend was up to this time. It couldn't be anything good, judging by his brother's tone of voice. And that look.

Megatronus raised an optical ridge. "You and I are going to spar."

The words were so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it took Orion a klik to fully process them. His optics widened in disbelief, and he immediately held up broth servos in protest.

"Spar? Now?"

"Yes, now." The Champion unfolded his arms and gestured toward the door. "The training ground isn't going to come to us."

Orion shook his helm vehemently. "Absolutely not. Do you see the state I'm in? My helm feels like it's going to split in two, my tanks are barely settled, and my balance is... questionable at the best. Sparring is the last thing I should be doing!"

Megatronus raised an optic ridge, clearly unimpressed by the excuses. "You should have thought of that before drinking high grade." The high grade you tricked me into drinking, Orion thought darkly. "Besides, you're not that fragile. A little physical activity might actually help clear your helm."

"Physical activity?" Orion shot him a glare, optics narrowing into thin slits. "You mean you kicking my aft into next cycle?"

"It'll be good for you," his brother replied. Though the archivist failed to see that his friend was teasing him.

"There's no way I'm stepping onto a training ground in this condition," he huffed, crossing his arms.

"Are you saying you're scared, Orion?" he questioned, tilting his helm slightly.

The smaller mech bristled, knowing exactly what his brother was doing. And it was working. "I'm not scared. I'm being reasonable. There's a difference."

"Reasonable?" Megatronus echoed, feigning surprise. "Is that what you call it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like cowardice."

Orion knew that his friend was baiting him, and even with this knowledge... he couldn't just have his brother have the last say. He vented, rubbing his faceplate.

Alpha Trion often told him that he used too much emotion, and his brother told him that he thought too much. What was he supposed to do? Be a drone? No, he had to find a balance, which was proving rather hard given the mechs that surrounded him.

He looked at his brother, shaking his helm. "Fine. But be gentle this time."

Megatronus smirked.