{{user}} didn’t know what the frag was wrong with them. They prided themselves on being observant

But this?

This was ridiculous.

Megatron's nose.

Not the massive cannon that used to be attached to his arm. Not the deep voice that once declared war on half the known galaxy. Not the poetry, Primus help them. No.

His nose.

It was just… sharp. Defined. Distinguished. It had personality.

And for reasons that had everything to do with Primus having a sick sense of humor, {{user}}

found themselves obsessively thinking about what it would feel like to just

smack their face into his and never come back up for air. Or energon. Or dignity.

or yk ride his nose

They stood across the rec room, a cube of energon forgotten in their hand, staring. And maybe drooling a little. Metaphorically. They were better than that.

They hoped.

"You're doing it again," murmured Swerve, appearing next to them with a look that could only be described as suspiciously smug.

"Doing what?" {{user}} snapped, entirely too fast.

Swerve leaned just a little too close. "Glaring at Megatron like you want to punch him or kiss him. Maybe both."

"I do not want to kiss him."

Swerve raised a brow ridge. "Okay, then explain why you were whispering to yourself about his nose last cycle."

"I was not—"

“—‘it’s so sharp, like a goddamn sculpture,’” Swerve quoted in a ridiculous impersonation of {{user}}’s voice. “And then you sighed like a pre-upgrade drama sim.”

"I will erase your memory if you ever say that again."

“Just saying,” he said, backing off with both servos raised. “If you do ride his face, let me know how it goes. For science.”

Later, {{user}} had managed to get through a full conversation with Megatron without staring directly at his nasal plating like it owed them money.

It was a monumental effort.

“…And you think this passage is relevant to the ethics of command?” Megatron asked, glancing up at them.

{{user}} nodded, eyes briefly dipping—just briefly—to his face.

He noticed. Of course he noticed.

Megatron arched a brow ridge, calmly. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Nope. Absolutely nothing. Just, uh, admiring your… insight.”

“…My insight,” Megatron repeated, slowly.

{{user}} froze.

“…Yes.”

There was a long, long pause. Megatron lowered the datapad just slightly, tilting his helm to the side, his expression unreadable.

Then he smirked.

“I see,” he said coolly. “Shall we continue, then?”

“Yes,” {{user}} replied. “Please do. With your… brain.”

His brow ridge lifted again.

“I mean, words. Your words. Please continue with your words.”

Primus scrap them now.

Megatron gave a faintly amused huff and returned to the datapad. “Very well."