Author's Note: Sorry about the wait! I hope you enjoy!
Orion, half in recharge, tries to understand what his friend was saying. "Someone...?" He whispers, snuggling closer to Megatronus. The heat of his frame, subtle idle of his engine, it was all so comforting. Even the heavy weight of his relaxed fields all brought Orion peace. Helped to lull him back into a low-level recharge before he manages to pull himself out of it. "Is it sire?" It doesn't seem right, as his sire has never had problems locating him before. Then again, Orion did leave the city while he was away so he's not sure. Then again, his sire could simply call for him if he was having trouble locating him. Any comm from his sire was flagged priority so that Orion would never miss it.
"No," Teletraan says, simply. "I have pinged Ravage's location in Iacon. He is already aware of your departure. Expect his arrival in the orn to come." Despite the ominousness of those words, Orion finds comfort in them. In knowing that his sire will be here soon. In his own time, of course.
"I always do," Orion murmurs, shifting a leg to wrap around Megatronus's hips, feeling a protesting throb in his valve. He ignores it to snuggle more into the recharging mech. "Then who would be searching for me, Teletraan?"
"It is unclear as of yet. I will move that up on the priority tree. I will alert you once I have discovered anything of true relevance."
Orion nods, releasing a deep vent before letting his optics dimmed once more, trusting his friend to watch over him. His time with Megatronus is precious. He doesn't want to waste even a moment more on something he can do nothing about. He'll be thinking about, surely enough, but he's not like Teletraan. He can't process a thousand things at once. And besides, certainly it was a mistake. Once whomever it is that's looking for him locates him and realizes that he's not who they want or what they were looking for, then this will all be just like a minor inconvenience that he can laugh about later.
Besides, who would be looking for Orion anyway? He was nobody.
"Hold tight to my servo, starlight."
Young Orion pulls away from where he was watching a few Seekers make their way through the crowd and few feet away. Their massive, beautiful wings arched up and outward, forcing many to move out of the way lest the get struck with the sheets of metal. And Orion is so fascinated by them. The only Seeker he knew was the kindly femme that lived in the habsuite three doors down that would "sneak" him sweet energon treats that she made whenever he would come to visit her. His carrier liked to check in on their elderly neighbors to ensure that they are well cared for. Orion loved coming along to see them. They were always so nice to him. They would give him treats and tell him stories, both made up and about their long lives. They would play games with him too, if he asked really nicely.
"They are lonely, my little love," his carrier had whispered to him, when he asked about them one night. "They like that we keep them company. I would want my neighbors to look after me when I get to be that age."
He wouldn't have to worry about that, because Orion was going to be with his carrier forever and ever.
Ravage was curled around him protectively, using his body to guard the small mechling, as if danger was all around him. A small servo pressed into the felinoid's flank, running over the plated metal there while the thumb of the other servo rests between his derma, suckling softly. His big blue optics watch the Seekers as they move further away, their bright, beautiful wings catching and reflecting the light of their star as they go. He wondered what it would be like to fly. He wished that he could.
"'Arrier?" Little Orion mumbles around his thumb, remembering that he had heard his carrier speaking. Big blue optics look over at his carrier, a few feet away. His carrier wiggles his fingers to entice the little hauler to come to him.
"Your carrier calls to you, bitty," Ravage murmurs, leaning down and nuzzling the side of his head.
Orion rushes to the massive hauler, wrapping his little arms around the leg of his carrier. His carrier gently pets the top of his helm. Orion chirps happily, digging his face into his carrier's leg. His little finials twitch a bit, rounded and delicate. His field bursts out in joy, pushing against his carrier and sire. Mechs and femmes around him gently push their fields into his own, teaching him manners about pushing so hard against them. Orion takes a moment to concentrate, pulling his fields back as much as he can as to not be so rude. His carrier chuckles softly, still lightly petting his helm, pride pressing back against Orion.
"Would you like to walk, starlight? Or would you like for me to carry you?" Orion looks up, up, up to see orbs of purple staring down at him.
"Fly, 'arrier!" He goes up onto the tips of his little pedes to hold his carrier's finger, moving forward with difficulty but not a chirp of complaint from the small hauler. His carrier chuckles softly, not minding having to lean over to ensure his creation can hold onto his finger as they walk.
"Flying isn't one of the options, starlight. I think that is something that you got from your sire. Not an inkling of flier CNA from me."
"Not I," Ravage rumbles, sleek black form pressing up to Orion's side doubly helping to keep him upright on little pede tips, but to also act as a barrier once more between Orion and the rest of the mechanisms wandering the streets of Iacon's upper districts. Bright red optics flickering about, mistrustfully. Ravage never much liked it when Orion left the safety of the hab. It always made his plates rattle in unease. Orion doesn't come this way very often, so he's not used to it. Like this orn, they only usually come up here to see Ratchet.
"I do not understand," Teletran activates a comm between Orion and his creators.
::What do you not understand, Teletraan?:: his carrier asks.
"Ravage does not share his CNA with Orion, therefore cannot be his sire. You shared your CNA with Orion, and carried his spark and created his protoform, so you must be his carrier. Why does Orion refer to Ravage as his sire when it is certainly not true?"
Carrier chuckles, giving Orion's little servo a squeeze. ::Ravage raised him, Teletraan. Ravage is more Orion's sire than anyone else could be. So while they do not share any CNA, there is still so much more than that to connect them.::
Orion suckles on his free thumb, blue optic flickering around as Teletraan absorbs this information. "But... it is still not true."
::Orion has been my bitty since the moment he emerged,:: Ravage says stiffly, optics tilting up to the clouds, able to catch the shadow of the space hulk against the red of Cybertron's sky. ::He will always be mine. We share no CNA, but the bond we share is greater than that. Sharing CNA does not qualify a sire. Orion's donor is just that. I am the one who raised him. I am the one who guarded his carrier. I taught him to walk and read. I chase away his monsters and put him to recharge at night. CNA changes none of that, Teletraan. I am his sire. In all the ways that matter.::
Teletraan hums, considering that.
"Tel," Orion murmurs around his thumb, "si' is si'?" He still wasn't good at using his internal comms. He could hear them, but he didn't know how to speak with them yet. Teletraan used them, though, to speak his creators.
"I understand, Orion," Teletraan says. "I will think more on this and expand my internal dictionaries on the meaning of the word, 'sire'."
As they walk, Orion's little legs struggling to keep up with the greater strides of the larger two mechs, his optics peak Ratchet through the crowd. His white and red armor and Iaconian General decals a sure giveaway to the medic that they were coming to meet. Orion would recognize him anywhere.
They were going to the same restaurant that they always go to for special occasions, as rare as they are. Ratchet has been busy for so long with his work at the hospital, that all they could do was share in comms at the private station in their living room in their hab. But it wasn't the same as being able to see Ratchet. He missed the medic. In his joy at the sight of his friend, Orion releases his carrier's servo and rushes towards the white and red mech, calling out, "Ra'!"
He doesn't make it far before he misses a step on the curb and falls, smacking his helm off the concrete and falling into the street at the pedes of a few passing mech and femme. He lets out a chirp of pain, before lying there crying softly.
Tender arms gather his limp frame up and hold him closely. He softly cries into his carrier's neck cables at the throbbing in his helm. He grips tightly to his carrier as his sire gently nuzzles his shoulder, their fields overlapping him, soothingly.
"You can mute him in creator coding," a femme says, helpfully from a few feet away. "And once he's done crying, he can be unmuted."
Orion feels his sire's field prickle in agitation but his carrier, as gentle as always just pets down Orion's back, rumbling, "Thank you for the help. But my creation is trying to tell me he's in pain. He's communicating how much, where, and how long it's lasting. I can't mute him when he's speaking to me. Even if it's not with words."
Orion does pull away to see any reactions, but his carrier just holds him close, gently petting down the length of his back. A servo touches his helm and he looks to see Ratchet kneeling down, his field pressing warmly against him.
"That was quite the fall, Orion. Tell me where it hurts."
He points at his helm. "Ra' here..."
Ratchet gently probes at the metal, inspecting it with a trained eye. "Looks like a little scrape. No dents, thankfully. Nothing a little buffering, polish and... say, some frozen energon can't fix."
Orion's fields bursts outward happily as he looks over at his carrier's gentle face, leaning in to press his forehead against the mech holding him. "Please, 'Arrier?"
His carrier smiles, nuzzling his nose. "If you eat all your dinner. Now, don't you have something to say to Ratchet?"
Blue optics flutter ad he tries to think through the throbbing in his processor. Teletraan pokes at the pain and he has to push his friend away from it. Teletraan brushes back in apology as the answer comes to Orion.
Focusing on the white and red mech, Orion's optics brighten and a smile spreads over his tear-streaked face plates. "Happy here, Ra!"
Ratchet smiles as Orion's carrier chuckles, pressing a kiss to the back of the little hauler's aching helm. "Yes. Happy Emergence, Ratchet."
Orion's optics lighten up to the soothing feeling of a servo running up and down his back. For a moment, he's back in time, thinking that he was out there, on the streets of Iacon as a young mechling, crying in the arms of his carrier after falling down because he was so excited to see his friend. Even a phantom throb spikes across his processor. It felt so real, like he was there again. Parts of it so crisp and clear, but others were blurred and clouded. If it had been Teletraan's doing, Orion would hardly be able to tell what was real and what wasn't.
He sniffles, though, and the corners of his optics are wet, but thankfully he's not full-blown crying. And he wasn't out on the streets as a mechling. He was a fully grown mech, in his berth, dreaming about his long past carrier.
It's at times like this that Orion understands why sometimes, just thinking about Breeze would make his carrier cry. He's not sure what it is with him lately, but whenever he thinks about his carrier too much, it hurts almost too much to take. His spark hurts, he can hardly breathe, and his control on his emotions feel tenuous at best. It has to be his self-imposed isolation. Moving out here to Kaon, away from his sire and his friends, away from Alpha Trion and his co-workers, it hits him harder than he thought, in unexpected waves.
"Orion?" Megatronus murmurs, gentle voice floating into his audios. "Are you okay? Was it a nightmare?"
Orion wipes away the bit of moisture on his face plates. "No... actually it was a really nice dream. It was from when I was little."
The hauler, who just realized he was now cradled in Megatronus's arms and not the other way around, looks up into those beautiful red optics. A part of him wondering if this was a bad topic. Megatronus was cold constructed, not emerged like Orion. He was crafted as a fully grown mech, not grown into one like Orion was. But those beautiful red optics were open, clear. There was no anger or pain. There was no hesitancy or shimmering negativity. Megatronus seemed genuinely interested in what Orion had to say.
"What do you know about sparklings?" Orion asks.
Megatronus's optics flicker in surprise. Whatever he thought Orion was going to say, that was not it. But he doesn't consider Orion's words carefully, admitting, "I don't know a lot. Mostly just the basics. Why?"
"There is a line in the creator code that allows the creator to hijack their creation's vocalizer. From there, they can shut it off."
Megatronus bulks, surprised. "That..." His brows furrowed. He considers for a long moment, red optics darkening in thought. Finally, they brighten again as he admits, "I don't like that."
Orion smiles, relieved that they were of the same processor. "I agree. I had fallen out on the upper streets of Iacon when I was little, bumped my helm. My carrier held me in his arms as I cried. I wasn't loud or anything. Pitiful little whimpers and all that, but one of the passing femmes told him about it, and he just said he wouldn't need it because I was communicating with him. I was telling him what hurt. Where. And for how long. He let me cry. He always did. In our hab, outside. Uptown, lower districts. It didn't matter."
Megatronus hums in thought, approval bleeding out into that heavy field. "Your carrier sounds wonderful, Orion."
"He was," Orion murmurs, sadness gripping his spark again. "Oh, Megatronus, he would have loved you."
Megatronus sucks in a vent. "Do you really think so?"
Orion nods, snuggling closer to the bigger mech. "Yes, he would have thought you were just as great as I do. He would love you for how kind you are. How sweet. How alike we are. How you treat me. How you take care of me." He thinks about the night cycle before. How Megatronus took care of him when he didn't think Orion could coherently speak on his own behalf. "He would think that you were great, because you are."
Megatronus is quiet for a long time, digesting that information. Finally, after a few, long kliks, he murmurs, "I wish I could have met him."
Sorrow flutters through Orion, and Megatronus kisses the top of his helm. "I do, too."
They sit in silence for a long while, just existing in the space of the other. Enjoying their company. Finally, Megatronus says, "For our sparklings, Orion, let's make a deal."
Orion tips his helm back to look up into those beautiful red optics. "Okay. What sort of deal?"
Megatronus leans down and kisses his lips. "When they need to speak to us in the only way injured sparklings can, we let them cry."
Orion smiles, leaning up to kiss the silver mech lying below him. "Deal."
"I feel so bad," Orion admits, looking at the mech walking at his side, carrying a small shelf back to his hab for him. "I'm a truck. I can carry it. I'm making you work on your orn off."
Megatronus places the hand not holding the furniture against Orion's back. "I'll take this work any orn. Don't feel bad, I offered. And besides, this was we can keep looking around a bit longer."
And they do, going from tent to tent so that Orion can admire the wares. His blue optics wide as vendors from all walks of life sell their goods to him. He asked questions, admired their arts, even got some trinkets. Ratchet's Emergence orn is coming up, so he was going to get a bunch of gifts to bring back with him to Iacon when he goes to visit. And once that thought was in his helm, he got some gifts for Ariel and Dion so that he could have an excuse to ask them out for a drink. He missed them, and while they messaged off and on throughout his time here in Kaon, it wasn't the same as actually being able to see them.
Orion felt bad for filling his subspace, and Megatronus's, with all the things he bought, but the silver mech didn't complain. In fact, this beautiful smile never fully left his face.
Orion's not sure how many countless groon they wandered around the markets. The afternoon, after their midorn meal at the restaurant that Orion wanted to take Megatronus to, into early evening, into late evening before Orion, who was happily going from tent to tent, stops so suddenly that Megatronus nearly ran into the back of him. Before he could ask, Orion is moving towards a tent of junk. A random assortment of parts - some, admittedly questionable. Orion doesn't want to think too hard on the copious amounts of parts in the "used" pile but instead focus on the very small collection in the "new" pile.
Of which, was a single optic and lens.
Orion picks it up, carefully, studying it. He brushes against Teleltraan, pulling his focus from the hundreds of other things that the AI was working on, to what Orion was looking at. Through Orion's optics, Teletraan studies the replacement part, making quick measurements.
"It will fit," Teletraan decides.
Orion's optics brighten in joy. He holds out the optic towards the grinning mech. "How much?"
Orion, with a pep in his step, searches the streets, excitedly. His optics scanning the crowds, looking down alleyways and down narrow back streets, hoping to find his friend. It was a little bit later than he would usually go looking for Breakbolt, but not late enough that his friend wouldn't be surprised. Orion pinged Breakbolt for his location and when he got the return ping, he made for that direction.
"This is for your friend?" Megatronus asks, making conversation as Orion scans the streets until he locates his friend, close to where they first met, just a little bit closer to Orion's hab.
"Yes! He was the one I was with when I saw you at the market," Orion says, moving over to Breakbolt, who was talking to a wall, pulling at his fingers nervously. Orion's smile faulters a bit to see his friend distressed, and to feel his panicked fields brushing up against him.
"M-My friend is coming. So... so leave me be. It's not me anymore. I... I don't do that. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done." He roughly runs his servos up and down his chest, the metal scratching and pulling enough to make Orion flinch. "I'm not that mech anymore. I... I can't... please. Please, let me go. I'm done. I'm done."
Orion kneels down next to his friend, gently petting down his arm. "Breakbolt?"
Breakbolt jolts, flinching away from the contact before looking over at Orion. His dim optic flickers as he stares at the red and blue hauler. He tilts his helm, field going from panicked, afraid, desperate, to soothing and relieved. He reaches out to gently take Orion's servo in his own, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his derma.
"Oh... oh, Orion. Hello."
Orion lowers to a sit, cradling his friend's servo between both of his own. "Are you okay, Breakbolt?"
Breakbolt coughs, turning into his shoulder as they shake his frame. He clears his intake and smiles at him, the dim optic coming back on. "Oh yes, Sweet Orion. I was just talking with my creation. Beautiful, isn't he? Looks just like his carrier!" He gestures beside him, then faulters, looking around confused. "Oh... oh, he must have run off. My little turbo fox is always sneaking off."
Orion offers a tentative smile. "Would you like my help looking for him?"
Breakbolt laughs. "He's always been so shy around strangers, Orion. He's always running off. But he'll come back. He always comes back..." his expression darkens a bit. His field swells in sadness.
Orion leans forward, looking into Breakbolt's brighter optic. "Come on, Breakbolt. I forgot your cube at my hab."
Breakbolt's optics flutter. His look gentles. "Oh, sweet bot. You take such good care of me. You don't have to feed me."
Orion moves to stand, giving his friend's servo a little tug. "I'm not just feeding you, Breakbolt. I'm spending time with my friend."
Breakbolt smiles a bit, moving to stand on shaky legs. Then he looks at Megatronus, who was body blocking the majority of the alley opening, watching them closely. Breakbolt jolts, shrinking into himself as he clings to Orion, fear licking across Orion's plates from his field.
Orion pets down his friend's arm. "Don't be scared of him, Breakbolt. Megatronus is... he's..." his optics flicker, looking over at the large silver mech, studying his expression - open, curious, intense - before deciding on, "I'm courting him." Megatronus's field swells in affection and amusement. Orion pulls Breakbolt securely to his side, offering him comfort. "Don't be afraid. No one wants to hurt you."
Breakbolt looks between Orion and Megatronus, settling on the former, staring into his optics for a long moment before nodding. Orion leads him out of the alley, casting a sweet smile at Megatronus, who steps aside to let them pass. Once they get to Orion's hab, Orion lets them in, flushing when he realized he forgot to lock it, and Megatronus gives him a disapproving look.
Orion left Breakbolt at his kitchen table, smiling as the old mech just looks around in awe, as if he hasn't been inside a hab for a long time, which makes Orion incredibly sad. Megatronus places the small shelf in the living room for Orion to move around later, clearing out his subspace of Orion's purchases, before crossing his arms and leaning against the entranceway between the living room and kitchen behind Breakbolt. Orion warms up some energon for all of them, placing a lot of healing metals into Breakbolt's before passing them out. While Megatronus quietly drinks, Breakbolt rambles on, less shy now that his literal back is turned to Megatronus. Orion almost wonders if he forgot he was there.
While listening to him ramble, Orion pulls out cleaning supplies and a small device that lets him check circuitry to make sure that the optic lens still works. It glows red back at him before he places the device off to the side. Orion takes painstaking care as he cleans the optic lens, sanitizes it and ensures that there is no damage to it before making his way over to Breakbolt. He politely makes conversation with the old bot, but mostly lets him talk away, going from one subject to another, half finish nonsense. One moment, he'll be talking about growing up in Polyhex, where his carrier was walking him to the playground where he used to play, to meeting his best friend of over a hundred vorn. Most of his stories are fragmented, like he's half remembering them, before moving on to something else.
"Breakbolt," Orion cuts him off, gently. He places a servo on the arm of his friend. Breakbolt tilts his helm at him. Orion takes this moment to gently switch out their energon cubes, Orion's completely untouched.
"Yes?"
"I got this optic lens for you. Would you let me replace yours?"
Breakbolt's bad optic shorts a bit as his field fluffs up in surprise. "A gift? For ol' Breakbolt? Oh, Orion, you've been kind enough."
Orion shakes his helm. "It's not like that, Breakbolt. I want to do this for you. Will you let me switch them out?"
Breakbolt hesitates, some clarity shining in those two different lighted optics. Then, he nods. "I... I would appreciate it, Orion."
Orion smiles, getting right to work. It wasn't anything complicated. Orion's had to replace a few optic lenses on himself over his years from accidents out at the dock, so he was actually quite familiar with it, but it felt different helping Breakbolt. His friend was quiet now, just watching him work. Orion was careful and gentle, knowing it could be uncomfortable but the older mech never complained. Once he was done, he had Breakbolt power down both optics, run an integrity scan, then an integration one, before letting him power them back on once both came back optimal.
Both optics light up until they were equal brightness. A myriad of emotions play over his face and in his field. Then, Breakbolt reaches out, gripping Orion's servos in his own, turning two bright red optics up at him. He squeezes Orion's servo tightly, looking a little choked up.
"You are a very good friend, Orion," Breakbolt murmurs, staring into his optics. "Better than I deserve."
Orion frowns, shaking his helm. "No, don't think like that. This is like what friends do."
Breakbolt swallows thickly, pulling one of his servos from Orion's to gently pet his cheek. "I am lucky to have you." His expression is somber, almost forlorn.
Orion's optics brighten as he smiles. "I feel the same."
Another night cycle. Another time that Orion offered to let him stay. Another night when Breakbolt thanked him, finished Orion's cube, before hugging him tightly and leaving once more. Orion's shoulder droop as he watches his friend walk down the darkened street, flinching when a larger mech he was walking near snarled at him. Orion waits until his friend is out of sight before turning to Megatronus.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself." He moves past the mech standing at his side, listening as he closes and locks to door to the hab. He goes into the living room, to the small datapad shelf, moving it into a corner before gathering all the datapads he has scattered around the room to place there. As he does so, he continues, "Breakbolt is my new friend. He's... not in a good way. I'm worried about him. I don't think he has anyone anymore. His mate and creation are gone, and he's old and lonely. I just... I can't leave him. I'm sorry that I used up our time together to go help him. I just... I wanted to make sure he didn't live with that for a moment longer than necessary. I know that our time is limited, and I could have waited until tomorrow, I just - "
"Orion." Megatronus takes his servo, stopping him from frantically staking the datapads, new and old, on his new shelf. Orion tentatively turned to look up at the gentle, loving expression on the taller mech's face plates. Orion's shoulders loosen as Megatronus leans down, kissing his lips lovingly. Pulling back, he murmurs, "You don't have to explain it, Orion. I understand."
"Thank you for understanding, but I really am sorry for going off the handle, I'll be better next time." With that, Orion takes Megatronus's servo in his own, wanders the hab, turning everything off and bringing the empty cubes to the sink to clean out in the morning, before heading to the berthroom.