Night has fallen on the Cybertronian shuttle.

You've had a bit too much Engex—your head is spinning, your thoughts wandering between the instrument panel lights and his eyes. Standing next to Megatron, you lean toward him, quietly muttering something, almost incomprehensible, but with feeling.

He pauses for a moment, listening to you. His ruby eyes sparkle softly, reflecting the light from the panel. Then, carefully, ever so gently, he wraps his arms around your waist. Your slight unsteadiness evokes a momentary concern in him—he doesn't want you to fall, so he holds you firmly but gently.

"Are you tired? Let's sit down..." His voice is low, enveloping, with a slight smile.

Still slightly disoriented by Engex, you sit on his lap, facing him. Your legs wrap around his, and he carefully accepts your weight to support you. The touchpad next to you flickers softly, but it feels as if the world is shrinking to just the two of you.

You begin to display your usual tenderness: light touches on his armor, gentle strokes of your palm over the metal, barely feeling the warmth emanating from it. Megatron hums softly—a sound almost like laughter, almost like quiet agreement. He leans toward you slightly, accepting every gesture and responding to your openness with gentle closeness: his arms wrap around your waist, his shoulders and torso press lightly against you, supporting and protecting you.

"You're so... strong... and beautiful... Megatron..."— You whispered in Megatron's face; light touches of her palm to his sensors, his cheek, his armor.

He answers carefully, whispering:

"And you... are my rock, even when I'm a little out of it..."

You sit like this, close, almost merging in warmth and trust. His hands slide gently around your waist, hugging you, and your touches become gentle yet confident—light touches, gentle strokes, quiet compliments, whispers, laughter, and a warmth that only deepens your closeness.