#microscope anon

He blinks rapidly, wondering how he ended up on the floor for a moment until he notices, above him, Rodimus sprawled out on his berth. One of his legs is half-way off the berth, and his head is resting in the crook of his arm at his elbow, hand resting on the side of his helm. It's almost endearing how sloppily his Captain recharges. If not for the fact doing so more often than not ends with him either completely off the side or about halfway there.

(It's always his, Rodimus didn't have to say it for Perceptor to know it's because he appreciates the privacy the scientist is allotted in comparison.)

He sighs, both parts fond and exasperated. This isn't the first time this has happened, and he doubts it will be the last. He pushes himself up, disentangling his legs that were still partially on the berth. Gently and carefully, he crawls over Rodimus onto the other side Distantly he realizes he should probably stay on the side closest to the wall to avoid situations like this again.

He hears Rodimus shift once he's settled once more, and feels an arm flung over his stomach. He hears a quiet noise from his Captain's vocalizer, and then a squeeze against his waist.

"Did I push y' off 'gain?" His voice is thick with sleep.

"Yes," Perceptor's own voice quiet.

"'m sorry."

"It's fine."

"Keep chasing ya..."

Something in Perceptor's chest clenches at that. He shifts, turning so that he's pressed up against his Captain, plating and armor shifting to try and get more comfortable. Rodimus is quick to drift back into recharge, having not woken as much as he did.

He doesn’t know where it began.

Rodimus isn’t really his type. Not that he has much of a type to begin with. He’s not as interested in companionship as his fellow crewmates might be. 

It was only recently that he found himself admiring Rodimus’s face a little more. Staring after his Captain a little longer. Waiting for the inevitable call for him to explain unfortunate news about whatever may be wrong with time, space, or both. 

It’s embarrassing.

Perceptor would rather watch his own spark leave his body than ever admit this infatuation to anyone. (Not that anyone is interested in his personal life.)

(That’s what it is. An infatuation. It will pass.)

Idly he wonders how many might feel the same. Rodimus is scientifically charismatic, it would be quite easy to form some sort of infatuation.

Perceptor watches as his Captain looks at an assortment of lab equipment that he clearly has no idea what their purpose is. His back is turned to him but he can tell he’s going to start meddling with them if he doesn’t say anything.

He resets his vocoder to get his attention.

Rodimus startles if only slightly, whipping around to look at him. “Hey, Percy! You’re surprisingly quiet, did you know that?”

“I have been told that, yes.” He looks past him to the equipment he’s standing in front of. “What do you need?”

“Um.” He slaps the top of his other hand, fidgeting where he stands. “Just checking in. Captain duties.”

Perceptor looks at him.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“Ultra Magnus is usually the one to check my performance.”

“Ouch, Percy. That hurt. You’ve hurt me.” Just to accentuate how hurt he is, Rodimus pouts.

Perceptor doesn’t budge. Instead, he folds his arms in front of his chest. His face remains passive but his tone is nonetheless accusatory, “The truth, Rodimus.”

Rodimus lets out a dramatic sigh as he leans against his workbench, hands resting on the edge. “Alright, alright. Nothing gets past you does it? Honestly, I wanted to get someplace quiet.”

“And you came to my lab.”

“Yeah, I know you prefer having a quiet place to concentrate.”

“And your own quarters were not available because…?”

“Everyone knows that’s where I’d be.”

“Ah. And here I had believed it was because of my warm disposition.” he says, dry.

Rodimus snorts quietly, “As warm as a white dwarf star, maybe.”

Perceptor can’t help the smile that plays on his lips.

“Sorry, didn’t know you’d be in. I didn’t hear any yelling at Brainstorm so I assumed it was empty.”

“No. The frequency of that happening is very low. You just happen to stop by when he is pestering me.”

His Captain nods and stands there quietly for a moment. Perceptor takes this as his cue to move beside him. He reaches behind him, grabbing one of the devices on his workbench.

Rodimus doesn’t move. He wonders if he missed something. “Rodimus?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you move? I have work.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Rodimus moves. And then keeps moving. 

Perceptor doesn't really know what comes over him when he says: “I said nothing about leaving.”

Rodimus pauses at the door, a skeptical look on his face. “I thought you hated me and science in one place.”

“I hate when you conflate my work with magic. Other than that, you may stay."

Rodimus lets out a quiet and triumphant “Yes.” Then promptly makes himself at home.

Perceptor watches him out of the corner of his eye as he sits at one of his very few chairs, kicking his feet up on the desk. He makes a face at that.

He continues his work in relative silence, his gaze drifting ever-so-often to Rodimus.

"So uh... what are you doing, anyways?" Rodimus breaks the silence, of course.

Perceptor does not look up as he continues to tap away at his keyboard. Glancing between the data device he'd grabbed earlier and the screen. "Cataloguing."

"What, no inventions or fancy tools?"

"I feel you're sorely misunderstanding what I do as a scientist."

"So tell me about it?"

"I assure you it will bore you. A great deal of science is very dull data collection and sorting."

"Tell me anyways. Like I'm someone who might understand it."

Perceptor pauses, lifting his gaze to his Captain. He hums in thought, unable to hide the way his face begins to light up.

It's only about twenty minutes into his explanation that he actually looks over at Rodimus. He must be exhausted, the way his optics are shut, his face just relaxed enough to tell him he's fallen into recharge. He's not bothered, as the offer to listen in of itself was nice enough.

A coms ping lights up in the corner of his vision. "This is Perceptor," he answers.

"Perceptor," Megatron's voice is stern over the comlink, "Have you seen Rodimus?"

Perceptor glances to his Captain in recharge. He sees the way tension strings through his body even while in rest. He considers his earlier comments. Ah.

"No," he lies, "I'll let you know if I see him, though. Is something wrong?"

He hears a huff on the other end, "No. I suppose not..." and Megatron hangs up with that.

He exvents, a fond look crossing his face as he dims the lights in his lab, content enough to work off the light of his monitor. If Rodimus notices when he awakens, he won't say anything.