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A busy week of overexertion had fried Rodimus Primes’ inner circuitry.
In an attempt to keep up with his constant energy, and somewhat negligent fuel intake- a line of code had failed, an error that skipped right over the functions of his fans. Snap. Just like that the bot was left with the feeling of insufferably overheating plating. Any energon he managed to force down seemed to boil. Moving, even an inch, worsened the feeling of dizziness.
With no better word for it- Rodimus was sick. There was some cruel irony in that. The one week he decided not to slack off, the one week he put in a grotesque amount of work- and now he was curled into the corner of his berth suffering for it. Whining pitifully to himself as if this wasn’t his own doing.
Sure he could have passed some of the weight of work off to others- but everyone had been swamped with a sudden overload of Decepticon and Quintesson charges, and he was their leader. Rodimus Prime was a lot of things but he wouldn’t let himself become someone else's problem.
He pushed himself closer to the wall, trying to sap off the coolness of cold metal. Instead it hummed with warm electricity. Perceptor had assured him the illness wasn’t fatal, and would heal itself with time, but it sure felt like he was dying.
He was never going to fall into recharge like this.
When he felt he’d sucked in enough energy he quietly stood, and dragged his limbs towards the door. As he reached out to fall against it, it slid open revealing the surprised figure of Ultra Magnus.
“Rodimus- you- you are supposed to be recharging.”
“It’s way too hot in here.” he whined, trying to skirt around Ultra Magnus. An impossible task, for the other mech took up the entire doorway. “I’m going out, Magnus.”
“Perceptor did not authorize that.”
A sharper Rodimus would have argued that as Prime he was the one who authorized things. But his helm ached, and he wanted nothing less than an argument. He slumped forwards, holding his weight on his knee.
“Please. I’m serious, it's suffocating in here. I want out, just for a bit, it won’t kill me.”
“I could get First Aid for a second opinion.”
The noise of complaint that emitted from him was anything but Prime-ly. He looked up again, hoping that, maybe, if he looked sad enough, Ultra Magnus would relent. He knew he would look back at it with embarrassment, but who cared about anything anymore? He was going to die.
The other mech frowned. He raised a servo to Rodimus’ forehead, and pressed. even that felt cooler than the air in his prison-like habitation. He practically whined when Ultra Magnus took it back. “I suppose it does seem a little warm in here.”
Those same servos went to tap against a data pad. Rodimus wondered, briefly, if collapsing onto the floor would be desperate enough to convince him but the mech finally moved to the side, “fine, only while I have Perceptor fix the temperature.”
Fortunately for Rodimus, Earth was entering one of its colder seasons. He led Ultra Magnus away from the hum of Autobot City. Down into the overgrowth of grass, and moss fed by the shade of trees. A whistling breeze– something he wouldn’t often find significant when his temperature regulation actually worked– rustling the leaves.
The grass felt moist with dew, and he let himself fall into it. Rather pathetically, letting his limbs go slack, ex-venting in relief. He still felt sick, machinery working overtime to find and fix that bug, but it eased the ache into something manageable. Beside him Ultra Magnus sat quietly.
“Magnus, how long’s it been since we last stationed on Earth?”
“Earth? 7 months, and 5 days.”
He snorted. Half a year would have sufficed as an answer.
He let the wind comfort him for a while before speaking again. Humanity’s perception of time was always so miniscule to them, but even just a month away from the lush planet felt odd. There was a time where he spent every day on it. Now he couldn’t remember the last time he went racing among the mountain trails, or spent the day fishing with Daniel. There were so many wonders on an organic planet, something that the emptiness of space could never fill.
But even now when he was back, he had no time to enjoy the peacefulness of the planet. Once he was well again, some other duty would tug him away.
The thought pained him, and as consequence the overthinking made him feel ill again.
He must have been grimacing because Ultra Magnus' voice interjected his thoughts, “Are you alright?”
Not even a little bit. “Peachy.”
“Daniel came by, I think he made you a get-well card, but it was too small for me to read it.”
He managed to smile at that. Daniel was a good kid, “ah, was that why you were at my door?”
“No…”
He turned his head in the grass to look towards Ultra Magnus. Wide optics stared back at him in the fading light.
“Well?”
“I thought you would be bored.”
“You came to give me company?”
The mech hummed, diverting his optics, apparently embarrassed at the notion. Rodimus smiled at the way his finials popped up and down in thought. “I figured it might help you…”
Cute. Had his damned fans actually worked, he's sure they might have kicked up in noise. He sat up, and immediately felt fluttery. Ultra Magnus reached out to catch him before he could fall onto his helm. Rodimus groaned, trying to dispel the wave of warmth.
What a stupid thing to be inflicted with– sickness.
“Rodimus?”
“Can you do that thing again, where you put your servo on my helm?”
Ultra Magnus tilted his head, but he reached over to do it. Laying a wide servo against Rodimus’ face. Ultra Magnus felt cold, metal chilled by the wind. The temperature and pressure eased the warmth in his head, and he closed his optics.
“Why?” Ultra Magnus asked.
“It’s cold! You’re cold.”
Magnus huffed, but he didn’t move away. “This is strange Rodimus, if you require something cold why don’t I retrieve ice, or water?”
“No,” he whined, although Ultra Magnus had a point. It would work just as well. But he didn't want that, he wanted his second. As if to prove his point he leant closer, twisting until he was comfortably sat against Magnus lap. He let his optics furrow again. “You said you'd keep me company.”
Magnus huffed, “that exact wording was your own.” But he shifted backwards into the grass, letting Rodimus lay more comfortably against his chest. His servo still held gently against his face, while the other arm pulled up to hold him.
“This helps?”
“Yes,” he ex-vented, content.
Wasn't this something humans did? He'd seen enough movies with Spike and Daniel. He was pretty sure the action sought the opposite- warmth, but he never quite understood that. Metal tended to reflect the temperature around it, and heat often meant malfunctions or blaring warnings for overheating.
But this? Listening to the quiet whirr of Ultra Magnus’ mechanisms? Here, in the dying sunlight Ultra Magnus felt soothingly cold. Held comfortably and safe. This he could understand.
Time slipped from him, and the next moment he onlined his optics it was dark. He carefully lifted himself up from Ultra Magnus' arm still wrapped around him.
The mech’s optics had dimmed. His engine quietly purring in recharge. Those finials still twitched occasionally, but he didn't glare so harshly in sleep.
Rodimus held his breath so as to not giggle.
Above him stars had began to show themselves; the sky just barely a fading purple, the black spots of birds streaking across the sky, and he recognized with a start he didn't feel so ill.
Guess Perceptor was right. His body had healed itself, he had only needed a simple recharge. He let himself lay back down. Optics glancing between his calmed Second, and plants bathed in moonlight.
A moment longer wouldn't hurt.