Title: Sequence of Events To Remember
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.

Rating: Mature.

Pairings: Senator RatbatxPerceptor in beginning. Overall and ending in SoundwavexPerceptor.

Summary: Takes place in Megatron: Origins universe. I'm fulfilling a request for alienolivia on deviantart, and my muses certainly ran with this one. Alienolivia wanted Senator RatbatxPerceptor while ending in Soundwave Perceptor.

Author's Note: I will be writing this fic in my 'alphabet' style.

Author's Note2: Overall this fic is STICKY, but only in the last two sections or thereabouts. You can skip over those portions if they offend you.

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A is for Appointment

"You Summoned Me?"

Senator Ratbat traced his thumb up and down the stem of his chalice of high grade, back turned in the direction of his sapphire blue aide. "Take a good look at him." The Senator beckons Soundwave to join him at the balcony overlooking the pavilion of his estate.

Soundwave silently heeds his employer's directions. He peers over the wide balcony, noting the slighter mech who holds the senator's rapt attention.

"Isn't he exquisite?" Ratbat's smile is as warm as a serpent's, slanted umber optics raking up and down the microscope's soft blue and red plating, "We are to be bonded by the end of the vorn. Our creators are old friends, and while his family isn't upper class, their fingers spread deep throughout the scientific and weapons development community."

Soundwave notes that Ratbat's intended appears uncomfortable under the senator's open praise. Perceptor pointedly turns his chin away, arms crossed over his chest while fingers dig deep into his bicep plates. A slim, taller red and blue mech curls his hands around the younger mech's shoulders ― Soundwave ascertains that the taller mech is Perceptor's creator, given their similarity in appearance ― Perceptor's creator patiently soothing his quiet, upset offspring.

"I want you to keep a close optic on him for me." Soundwave tilts his helm away from inspecting the mech several floors below the balcony. Senator Ratbat's optics burn into his, "I want you to be my optics and audios…Should anyone dare to touch him or have… offensive intentions, I trust you to provide me with immediate notice."

Soundwave sighs internally. He knows he has far more important endeavors than babysitting a young unwilling bonded, but if it kept the senator off his back strut and allowed the technopath to continue his underground dealings within the illegal fighting circuit, then Soundwave could tolerate his newest assignment for a short while, "As You Wish." He bows his head and shoulders in compliance.

B is for Beneath the Plating

Perceptor bites his bottom lip when introduced to Soundwave, the younger mech's hand cool and limp within his stronger grip when he politely shakes the technopath's offered hand. Perceptor's creator smiling and introducing his young ward to Perceptor's bodyguard ― 'Babysitter' echoes through both the technopath and microscope's computer processors ― the tall slim creator giddy with pride and pleasure that Perceptor's future bonded was so moved to appoint a strong, trusted mech to guard the young scientist.

Soundwave gently but firmly loops Perceptor's arm around his elbow, pointedly guiding the young mech to follow him, leading the microscope inside the massive living complex; Perceptor throws a sad farewell over his shoulder, blue optics hurt but unsurprised as his creator quickly leaves him with his larger attendant.

Perceptor's optics are welded upon the floor as they slowly traverse through the long twisted hallways, the young mech not wasting a moment to pause and observe the rich artwork and priceless decorations that fill that rooms that they walk past.

Soundwave stops them in front of the closed doors of Perceptor's private chambers, the rooms solely appointed until their bonding ceremony is consummated.

Soundwave keys open the door, the thick silver barrier sliding apart to admit entry. Having beforehand dealt with Senator Ratbat's previous one night partners who gasped and several swooned in awe of the decadent walls and opulent furniture, and the technopath is curious to see how strongly the young mech is moved by the show of prosperous wealth.

Perceptor disproves the anticipated effect. The young mech's soft blue optics flicker over the eggshell white and silver walls, skimming over the thick border of jeweled paint drops and diamonds of crystals that bedeck the ceiling. The heavy alabaster and platinum chairs and large recharge berth drags a shudder of discontent from him.

"It is as cold and as welcoming as a tomb," Perceptor's voice is whisper-soft, his arm slipping from around his guard's, "but I suppose that I should be honored to sit amongst such wealth." As if dreading his touch will sully the pristine chair, Perceptor hesitantly sits down with a grimace, sitting as stiff as a board, hands balled upon his knees while he sits and contemplates the solar cycle which has turned his world over and on top of his startled head without no more than a hello or goodbye.

Soundwave is quietly impressed by this mech's hushed honesty. Privately he hopes to see more of this Perceptor and listen for further supplement of his candid commentary.

C is for Center

Perceptor accepts the outstretched hand as his betrothed assists him in stepping out of the low, sleek cruiser. The polished blue chrome and sleek lines shine underneath the flashes of cameras as the media drones circle the long walkways leading into the massive Astrology department, the senator and his partner invited to the private convention and later to the small dining ceremony.

Soundwave shadows their footsteps, optical band littered with the bright stars and flashes of the camera shutter snaps and lights. Ahead, Senator Ratbat basks under the limelight, one hand raised in poised greeting to the press and envious onlookers, while one arm wraps around Perceptor's waist, the heavy arm urging the reluctant microscope to stand with his betrothed for a series of digital shots for the circling media.

To Soundwave, the senator and his young, intended bonded stand in the center of their tiny elite universe, bright twin suns ringed by their rapt, attentive peers.

But for all of the attention and the many bodies who surround him, Perceptor's downturned features and reluctant proximity within Senator Ratbat's embrace only make him look just a bit lonelier.

D is for Diversion

"It must bore you to have to wait around and attend to my needs." Perceptor's fingertips shift across the game board that Soundwave has so graciously procured, the tall, fairly silent blue mech sensing Perceptor's boredom and loneliness during another night cycle while Ratbat is busy in Kaon, locked inside his offices amongst his rigorous follow-ups with his widespread contracts and facilities.

"Assessment: Incorrect," Soundwave turns over the slim metal disk at the top of the medium tower of duplicate chips, scanning the numerical symbol. By the rules on the disk, he can either move seven steps ahead on the board or one step backwards.

He chooses to move his piece back, claiming one of Perceptor's game pieces.

Perceptor gusts a small huff as his piece is returned to its starting position.

Besides Soundwave and Perceptor, the technopath's symbiotes ― or his 'pests', as Ratbat so affectionately calls them on many occasions ― sit around the mechs and the game board set in the middle of the low table.

With dexterity that defies her wicked claws and curled fangs, Ravage daintily flips over one of the disks laid flat in the center of the game board. Reading the indicated number, the feline nudges one of her pieces forward six squares, and a second piece five squares forward.

Laserbeak chirrs with impatience, warily watching Ravage's pieces drawing dangerously close to his ruby game pieces.

"I always fear that I am diverting you from more important tasks, or from private contemplation." Perceptor admits, rolling a game piece between thumb and forefinger while he contemplates the game board.

"My Tasks Can Be Handled At Anytime." Soundwave patiently reminds the young mech, "Your Presence Is Not Grating Or Tiring."

"You only say that because your symbiotes have grown to like me." Perceptor gifts his guests with a gentle smile; one hand affectionately rubs upon Ravage's helm, the feline's purr starting deep within her belly. Laserbeak coos while Perceptor's knuckles tickle the underside of his chin.

"….Symbiotes Show Great Taste In Company." Perceptor lifts his helm at the shy statement. The microscope blinks his wide blue optics, noting that the technopath's chin is lowered to conceal any minute expression that may escape from underneath the concealment of his battle mask and optical band.

Perceptor studies his guard, his trust and affection slowly growing with every moment and every gesture that Soundwave devotes to him. The young microscope can count on one hand how many mechs have genuinely wanted to spend time with him, with no ulterior motives, and Soundwave is one of the few, admittedly unusual, but very welcomed friends.

He sighs, the bottom of his game piece 'tap tap's upon the game board while he waits for Soundwave's move. "Sometimes I wish that I wasn't so selfish and needing to cling desperately to you for company. It's…quite difficult living here. As much as I abhor the arranged bonding ceremony, I find it a bit sad that my betrothed finds better company inside his private offices and meetings. But I suppose one must be devoted to his partner, as much as he must be devoted to the politics and business of his partner's occupation."

Soundwave quashes the first five statements that immediately come to his processor. Personally, he finds it distasteful that his employer greedily clutches Perceptor to him like a long drink for a mech without energon for over a hundred vorns, and then just as quickly firmly shoves the microscope away as if the young microscope is a toy that has lost its shine and luster in a youngling's optics.

But….instead, he merely states, "Sorry."

Perceptor is quick to wave his hand in flustered dismissal. "Oh! Don't listen to my depressing chatter! Goodness, here I am moaning and sighing like I am a young mech with his first crush--"

"No." Soundwave cuts him off before the microscope can begin his long, stuttered apology. The technopath pointedly taps the game board, indicated that all four of his game pieces have made it to home base securely, "The Victor Must State Sorry When All Four Pieces Are Safe. I Have Won The Game."

Perceptor sputters, optics shooting to Soundwave's pieces in disbelief. Laserbeak and Ravage slump in defeat, their game pieces still scattered across the board. "When did you?!" Perceptor demands, his exasperated but laughing features stirring an unusual but…strangely dizzying reaction inside the technopath's chassis.

E is for Entertainment

Another decadent, semi-private banquet reception for Ratbat's closest and most valuable customers and employees in which Perceptor is forced to attend at his betrothed's side.

Perceptor drowns his disappointment within the depths of his full chalice of energon for another cycle wasted away from his labs and projects in order to entertain their guests, but he is a dutiful host. Quiet for most of the evening but he is quick to perk up the slightest and patiently attending his guests' coy questions ― and thanking Primus for their flighty memory circuits when they quickly become bored with his scientific jargon ― while he tries to mask his lack of appetite, Perceptor's fuel tanks barely choke down the rich, heavy energon entrees. The nobles recently grown enamored with the trend of presenting guests with a quirky and twisty artwork of food styles amongst the organic populace on the planet Quaar, and their hired party planners designed the energon hors d'oeuvres in comical spirals and elaborate centerpieces.

Privately Perceptor thinks that many of the glowing buffet of energon look like a horrible combination of a coiled dead mech-snake and bloated purple balloon, but he keeps his observations to himself.

The senator laughs boisterously in response to a series of compliments and candied words from several underlings, and not too few mechs and femmes glare at Perceptor with jealous envy when a slightly overcharged Ratbat secures his arm around the microscope's shoulders and almost tugs the smaller cobalt and red mech into his lap even though there is still plenty of room for all of patrons at the to sit comfortable upon the heavily red and gold padded circular booth chairs.

Perceptor declines to the many plies and offers to sample more of the confections, professing that he is a bit overwhelmed from such a long night and good company.

He is allowed to slip away from his betrothed, but not before pressing a quick, dry kiss to the senator's cheek before Ratbat allows him to retire for the remainder of the night cycle.

Imagine his surprise when Perceptor enters his chambers and finds Ravage waking from a short nap, stretched down the length of the berth while the tip of her tail flicks back and forth, a smug grin of long fangs as she notes who enters the room.

Perceptor sits down on the edge of the berth, and Ravage purrs and rolls onto her back, silently demanding a belly rub. When she shifts over, and one of his hands rubs her taut belly, the microscope suddenly realizes that a small, flat box had lain hidden underneath her front paws.

It is a bit of a struggle to open the box with one hand occupied, but he manages. Perceptor blinks in surprise, and then elation colors his words. "I haven't had these since forever!" The microscope recognizes the inexpensive but delightful treats sold on the market streets in the lower class, downtown regions of the city. The small blush pink, cherry blossom and cluster bursts of lilac energon cubes sparkle amongst the soft gold metal paper of the box.

Perceptor pops one of the sweet treats into his mouth, the light flavor and wash of champagne warmth floods across his glossa, the melting energon cube slowly settling his upset fuel tank far better than the richer, wasted decadence of the banquet several breems earlier this night cycle. "Your master is far too good for me." He sighs in relief as his fuel tank finally begins to settle, the lack of stress and highly overrated sustenance from the evening slowly begins to fade from his processor.

Ravage lolls with immense pleasure underneath his skilled hand, the feline's chassis vibrates with a long gratified purr as Perceptor's smooth, mellow massage works out the minor kink of wires and sore plates from a long eighteen cycles of surveillance while her master deals out the weapons and upgrades that Senator Ratbat has so 'graciously' delivered through Soundwave into the hands of the illegal gladiator fights and the rising star team's large silver leader.

Oh, if only the microscope could possibly understand what his betrothed and his quiet friend had delved their hands into.

F is for Failure

"I trust you with one simple assignment and this is what I get!" The senator's clenched fists dent the flat surface of his desk after he slams them against the thick metal countertop, "Those miscreants desecrate the security of my estate, citing that they are holding a civilized rally in opposition to my dealings on the remaining mining outposts, but their presence and subsequent arrests upset my staff and my bonded. And all you have to say is that you were delayed in returning to the estate!"

"Their Organization Was Not Anticipated." Soundwave's hands curl into tight, furious fists behind his back, the mech grinding his denta behind his battle mask, "Your Security Personnel Detained Me When I Tried To Step Onto The Estate Premise And Intercede The Assembled Dissenters."

"I don't have the time or the patience to listen to your excuses." Senator Ratbat's lavender winged armaments flare with his temper, "Apparently I am more of the fool for assuming that you could handle the mediation between the gladiators and me, as well as your other appointments. I stand corrected, and vastly disappointed."

"It Will Not Happen Again."

"It better not." Senator Ratbat warns, "I should toss you onto the streets without a job, especially since you left Perceptor alone with your mongrel symbiotes while you went tromping off to attend to your assignment. You should thank Primus that the picketing mechs and femmes didn't manage to make it inside my dwelling, and further endanger my Perceptor's wellbeing."

The senator slumps down within his large upright chair, nursing a mounting migraine. "What are you waiting for?!" He snaps when Soundwave dallies too long, "Get out of my sight!"

As Soundwave strides out of the room after a short, perfunctory bow, his heightened sensory net catches the senator's impatient tone when Ratbat summons for his secretary, "Worm! Place an order and send something nice to my bonded. I need to apologize for this disastrous day, especially because I will be in late since I have to clean up after everyone else's mess."

G is for Gentle

"Soundwave!" Perceptor meets the technopath at the entrance to his chambers, surprising the taller mech by throwing himself against the tape deck's broad chassis.

Instinctively Soundwave curls his arms around the shivering mech, and in the back of his processor he curses the blind, distracted senator for not bothering to set aside his data files and projects and attend to his upset betrothed.

Ravage and Laserbeak moan softly, heads low in lackluster greeting, shamed by their failure to protect the estate from the furious rabble of mechs and femmes in an uproar with the senator's lack of handling with the growing crime rate.

"Why won't Ratbat answer my comms?" Perceptor allows Soundwave to guide him back into his chambers, settling to sit down beside the distressed microscope upon the low settee, "I've asked him to explain what took place on the grounds, but no one has replied to any inquires."

"The Senator: Attending To The Prosecution Of The Arrested Rabble Leaders. Senator Ratbat Preparing A Speech For The Media On The Escalation In Insurgent Activities."

"But why can't he finish his work or prepare his speech here? Why is he never home?" The sad whisper claws at his spark for many reasons. The top of the list is his involvement with the insurgent forces: no matter how passionately he agrees with Megatron that Cybertron's Golden Age nobility and corrupt council is a virulent cancer gnawing upon their society, the technopath continues to regret that his long assignments and assimilation into Megatron's confidence leaves Perceptor alone night cycle after night cycle without his betrothed, and on numerous occasions without the much needed company of Soundwave or his symbiotes.

Soundwave gently tucks Perceptor against his chassis, the smaller mech's audio bumps the glass panels of his frame. The microscope curls upon his lap, seeking the solid bulk and warm thrum of a comforting frame and friend, "Try To Be Patient A Little Longer," The technopath pleads, arms wrapped protectively around the quiet, forlorn mech, "I Will Remain With You Until The Senator Returns."

"Promise?"

Soundwave squeezed tighter, dragging a small whimper of surprise from the smaller mech, but Perceptor quickly settles closer, optics dim with deep content after such a long time without some form of companionship, "I Promise." The technopath swears to his charge.

H is for Hollow

Perceptor carefully arranges the crystalline flowers within the deep throat of the tall vase, a gift from the senator after the mech informed him of a last minute dinner arrangement with a local buyer. But no matter how many gifts that the mech leaves him as an apology, Senator Ratbat's flights of affection still ring hollow. Just as every occasion before when he has forgotten a planned engagement, or rearranged his schedule even though he had promised to attend one of Perceptor's lectures, the mech never changed.

Perceptor knows, deep within his spark, that perhaps someday his betrothed may develop genuine attachment. But love? Perceptor sincerely doubts it.

The Senator's devotion lies solely upon his capital gain and favor within the council; Kaon practically eats out of his hand, lulled by the senator's smooth words and attractive features.

Many are blind to the snap of cutting remarks and harsh criticism, the senator's disdain of the inferior employees he has hired who struggle so hard to fulfill his assignments. Senator Ratbat has less patience with the lower castes, and instead pushes credits towards the nobility and his own private investments.

Behind him, Laserbeak chirps in distaste at the gaudy vase and the expensive gift.

Perceptor shrugs sheepishly, looking over his shoulder. "Well, I must admit that they are beautiful, and they were personally delivered from the Crystal Gardens. How could I refuse?"

Laserbeak shuffles his large wings, optics narrowed knowingly.

The microscope bashfully looks towards the single, thick data pad sitting on top of a short table in the corner of the room, hidden out of sight whenever the senator remembers to visit him.

"Of course, I enjoy the digitized images that Soundwave recorded from within the Crystal Gardens even more so." Perceptor smiles at the memory file of the technopath delivering the data pad after one of his enigmatic assignments, Soundwave's immense memory banks recalling the microscope's wistful discussions about the Crystal Gardens that he had seen while in his youth, "I much prefer that the crystals are honored and preserved as they should, rather than snipped off to suit the frivolous wants of others."

Laserbeak tucks his head down to nestle between his shoulders for a brief rest. He likes these moments when Perceptor smiles more often, rather than have a frown mar his disappointed features.

Sometimes the small aerial mech wishes that Soundwave had had the opportunity to woo and ask for Perceptor's hand, and the senator to be a bad memory of the past, but sadly he knew that dream couldn't be. Not with the inflexibility of the nobility laws and criteria for the bonding ceremony between the elites or middle class. The laws would never change regardless of the genuine connection between two mechs separated due to their class.

His optics narrow…at least…things will not change until decisive action is taken.

He stays still and hushed and contemplates the benefits and sacrifices when Soundwave and Megatron continue their direction towards gathering more sympathizers and begin to instigate the rapid succession of assaults throughout the rotten, failing city of Kaon.

I is for Introspection

Perceptor shifts back against the arm of his settee, sensing the charge in the air as Ratbat slowly leans forward, arms bracketed on either side of the microscope's shoulders.

His hands unconsciously slide up the senator's bicep plates to balance the incline of his sprawled frame, exclamation muffled by the warm lips which swallow the atmosphere from his chassis.

The kiss is initially electric, but quick to lose its spark. There is no great ball of heat that curls inside the depths of his frame, nor a desire to rock or press closer from physical stimulation.

To be frank, Perceptor would rather finish his data file from the Academy Library than to spend another moment stretched out like a windup pleasure model.

In fairness, Ratbat could be a persuasive and attentive partner should he choose. While they could not fully consummate their relationship until their bonding ceremony―and every solar cycle Perceptor has to stomach a raw lance of panic and dread as the date for their rite of unity draws closer―Perceptor has enough skill to mask his sigh of respite when those hands release and Ratbat's lips remove from his person.

It shames him to admit, but for a brief static moment, he had a rather vivid picture of his calm, collected technopath friend overlaying his betrothed's long, drawn out kiss and confident caress down his bonded-to-be's arched cheek.

He doesn't know who it is that feels he has betrayed: the honor and duty as a loyal partner to his senator, or the steady, equal trust and friendship with Soundwave?

J is for Justification

Soundwave notes the embarrassed, quick glances in his direction. The many instances when Perceptor hesitates to engage with him, their conversations stilted with awkward instances when hands just barely touch.

He acknowledges that he cheats, but the technopath uses his technopath gift and the momentary optical contact with the suddenly shy mech while he tries to discern what it is that is bothering Perceptor.

"Perceptor?" The microscope's azure optics flare in alarm when he realizes too late that the technopath has peered into his memory files with a quick glance and smooth delve of a mental touch.

"O-Oh!" Perceptor slaps his hands over his mouth in mortification, backing away from the stunned, quiet technopath, "I..I'm so sorry--"

Soundwave easily wrestles his hands away from his face, pulling Perceptor's curled hands against his chassis. The microscope's dark knuckles rap along the smooth glass of the tape deck.

Perceptor can't meet his optical band. He refuses, fearing confusion, or worse, betrayal and disgust. "Soundwave…" He pleads, unable to finish his stilted supplication for forgiveness, ashamed at how he has debased their friendship because of one moment of shameful desire.

Soundwave stuns him with a demanding growl. "I Dare You To Show Me That Such Desire Is A Sin, When I Also Crave This."

The casted hook of temptation and taut line of tension pulls him in tighter. Soundwave extends the challenge; his battle mask splits apart with a crack of stiff cogs and disguised locks. Perceptor does not contest, enraptured by the wickedly beautiful features, the broad silver cheeks and impious curled mouth.

Perceptor extends onto tiptoe, wrists and forearms caught between them as he gently brushes his trembling upper bow and dipped bottom lips.

A dynamite succession of explosions floods his chassis, mandible arched and helm tilted back when Soundwave dips his glossa inside the warm dark cavern of his mouth. Perceptor mewls in response to the new, unexpected curl of need, pressed up tight against Soundwave, hands clawing helplessly as if to try and crawl deep inside the mech's internal framework.

Startled, Perceptor emits a sharp squeal when Soundwave's arms sudden wrap and clench around his waist, and with a tug the microscope feels his frame lift off the floor. Soundwave muffles a louder cry with a harsh, deeper kiss when his knee purposely drags up and down in between Perceptor's thighs.

Perceptor clings to him, torn between the nip and sting of the technopath's denta and the serpentine glide of Soundwave's thigh beneath his cod piece. Lack of experience makes him want to wrap his arms around the mech's neck and submit shamelessly, but his pride and shame overrule his base desires and reluctantly he manages to shove Soundwave back by a few mere feet.

"F-Forgive me.." He swallows breathlessly, "I shouldn't have tempted you so." Horrified by his recklessness and the quick illicit pleasure that had stolen his higher senses, he is reluctant but firm, "This…must not happen again."

"…No." At first, Perceptor assumes that the technopath is in agreement. His assessment is obliterated when Soundwave refuses to release him, arms threatening to never let the smaller mech go when they coil tighter, "No. You Can Not Deny This. This Feeling!"

"I-I-I can't!" Perceptor begs him to listen to reason, "Infidelity…It would dishonor my creators and our unit lineage. And.." He cowers in shame, "And I cannot be so cruel as to risk your career and future solely upon your unintended but loyal actions to quench my perverse desires."

Soundwave's grip slackens from the true but unkind reality of their situation. Perceptor reluctantly steps back from the mech's embrace, arms curled around his frame, shoulders hunched with regret and sorrow, "Please leave. I wish to retire early this the night cycle." Perceptor gently requests his friend to take his leave, forcing his back to remain turned and face stoic when Soundwave complies, the technopath's soft footfalls mark his composed dignity as he is dismissed after their short passionate tryst.

Only when the door slides all the way shut does Perceptor collapse to his knees and folds upon the padded divan. A quivering hand traces his swollen aching lips. He moans softly with remorse as a traitorous flame of rekindled want stirs once again inside the depths of his quaking spark.