Orion’s little quarters were dim, the last rays of the fading sun catching on scattered datapads and half-finished notes. He sat hunched at his desk, still bristling from their earlier argument, stylus digging into the screen harder than it needed to.

The knock startled him. Three slow, deliberate raps against the door. For a moment, he considered ignoring it. But when he opened it, there stood Megatronus—broad, imposing frame filling the doorway, a crooked smirk on his scarred faceplates. In his claws, however, rested something delicate: crystallized energon shards, arranged in the shape of a bouquet, glowing faintly in Orion’s favorite hues.

Orion blinked. “What… is this supposed to be?” His voice was wary, but his optics betrayed the flicker of warmth.

“A peace offering,” Megatronus rumbled, stepping closer. “And perhaps… payment for your patience. I was unfair.” His free hand brushed Orion’s cheek, rough but careful. “You are dedicated. It’s why I…” he hesitated, optics softening, “…admire you.” Megatronus lowered himself ever so slightly.