It was nice to have moments like this with just the two of you, when Soundwave had a chance to take a break from his multifarious duties keeping the ship running and neither of you were being roped into the latest of Megatron's grand plans to take down the Autobots once and for all. You were reclined on the berth with the TIC in your lap, playing some pre-war song he'd kept in his databanks while you caught up on a holonovel you'd become engrossed in. You hadn't been paying much attention to the lyrics, captivated by the story unfolding in your datapad, but as a few lines caught your attention you decided to play it back to hear the last verse again. You snaked your arm around Soundwave's waist, feeling for the raised surfaces of his buttons, and Soundwave stiffened a bit; you supposed in surprise. You pressed his stop button, then your digits found the narrow-angled edge of his rewind button and you held it down for a few seconds before pressing play. Each button lit up energon magenta when you pressed it. Soundwave's buttons were quite satisfying to press, offering a little resistance and making a pleasing click once activated.

Soundwave's servo had gripped your knee while you fiddled with his buttons, but now he laid himself against you with his backstrut to your chassis and his helm on your shoulder, leaving not much room for you to pick up your datapad and read again. You didn't mind, content to enjoy your lover's music for a little while. You moved your servo, intending to set your datapad aside, but he placed his own servo over it quickly. Curious. Experimentally, you stroked his play button with one digit, feeling the texture of the raised symbol, and then slowly applied pressure, holding it just before its active position. Soundwave's cooling fans clicked on.

Emboldened, you held down the rewind and fast forward buttons at the same time, causing the music to stutter and skip before smoothing back out as Soundwave corrected the contradicting inputs internally. He pushed up into your touch keenly. You pressed all of his buttons at once, then alternated quickly switching between each of them in random order, deriving equal gratification from the sheer fun of playing with him as from the way Soundwave arched and shifted in your hold, vents growing shallow.

You pressed the record button and moved in close to him, winding your arms about his chassis and running your digits up the smooth glass. Soundwave let out a whine filled with static when your digits left his buttons, but then you found the eject button on his shoulder and his visor brightened in anticipation. You splayed your servo over his chest compartment and pushed, the spring mechanism attempting to propel the tape deck open only to be met with resistance. He pressed himself even more firmly back against you to give it room to open, but you pushed it shut with a click, holding the button down. Soundwave's visor flickered. "Release it."

"Or what?" You massaged his compartment, pushing hard with your thumb just above his lower hinge to keep it closed, your digits stretching to mess with the buttons on his abdomen again, playing back Soundwave's melodious sighs and the hum of cooling fans.

“Hey, doesn’t he frighten you, that Megastorm?” The mess hall of the Galvaburg I, the primary Destron flagship, was large enough that the Destron troops who gathered there could feel secure in a sense of anonymity, and conversations like this could arise.

“What, the SIC? He’s nothing but a meek fool.” The mech who’d spoken was an experienced general. Several younger soldiers murmured their agreement, a few laughing quietly, others looking more unnerved to hear such blatant disrespect at the expense of a member of High Command, their leader’s brother, no less.

“You wouldn’t get it! An Autoroller like you always ends up on missions directed by Galvatron. Megastorm’s different when he commands alone.” The Combatron who’d spoken glanced over his shoulder nervously as if the unruly Prince of Destruction might show up at any moment, while his partner nodded in agreement.

“Different, how?” The Autoroller general replied.

“Cold, sneaky… More reserved than our Emperor.”

More troopers approached the table, pushing up seats to listen. One interjects, “Sure. One time I was under his command, he called a retreat because the Cybertrons were acting strange. We thought he was being cowardly, but it turned out they had a new weapon and were planning an ambush. Our squad owes our lives to that call.”

“Feh, as if he could have known. When I was under his command, he went behind Galvatron’s back and ordered a raid of an abandoned Cybertron base. He showed no care when one of us got nearly crushed by disturbed rubble, and when Galvatron discovered his ploy, he tried to initiate the self-destruct to trap our leader inside. We all saw it!”

A shocked muttering passes through the crowd.

“So,” someone says at last, “Megastorm or Galvatron, who would you rather have as leader?”

“Who knows?” Grins another, “but if Megastorm became Emperor, well… I’d want to stay on his good side. Don’t underestimate him, you know?”

"Wise words." The voice that spoke up was tensely authoritative, recognised instantly by the gathered troops, although the speaker it belonged to was known to many as usually speaking in a much higher, more anxious tone.

"M-Megastorm!" The troopers part a path, shrinking back at once under the scrutiny of the Second in Command.

"Megastorm, what?"

There was a beat of silence, then the Combatron who'd started the conversation tentatively said, "Megatron, Prince of Destruction?"