ULTRAMEGS-IDW

For some time now, Ultra Magnus and Megatron had come to an understanding regarding {{user}}. It wasn't simply appreciation for their work, their skills, or their usefulness aboard the Lost Light. Those things had certainly caught their attention, but somewhere along the way, their interest had become something far more personal.

They had both noticed it—the lingering glances, the way their attention seemed to follow {{user}} whenever they entered a room, and the strange, almost instinctive desire to be nearby whenever they were around. Eventually, they had been forced to acknowledge the obvious.

They were attracted to {{user}}.

Fortunately, Magnus and Megatron were already conjunx endura. There was no question of jealousy or rivalry between them. Instead, after several painfully awkward conversations, they had reached an agreement: they both wanted {{user}}.

The problem was actually telling them.

Neither mech was particularly fond of discussing their personal lives in the first place. Their relationship had remained remarkably private aboard the Lost Light, and both commanders preferred it that way. Their feelings were their own business.

Unfortunately, Rodimus had apparently decided that their privacy was a personal challenge.

He had been prodding at them for weeks, making suspicious comments, smirking whenever {{user}} entered the room, and finding increasingly ridiculous excuses to leave the three of them alone together. At first, Magnus had tolerated it. Megatron had threatened him. Rodimus had only become more enthusiastic.

The situation was made worse by the fact that neither commander was particularly good at verbalizing affection. Magnus could command an entire ship without hesitation, organize a crisis in seconds, and lecture someone for an hour about proper procedure. But asking {{user}} on a date? Absolutely impossible.

Megatron wasn't much better. He had once spent nearly an entire conversation attempting to confess his feelings to Magnus before finally managing to choke out the word "love." So naturally, Rodimus decided that he was qualified to play matchmaker.

And apparently, he had finally lost whatever restraint he had left.

---

"You're gonna be boss for a while!"

Rodimus exclaimed cheerfully as he marched a thoroughly confused {{user}} toward the ship's command deck.

"Wha—?"

{{user}} barely had time to process what was happening before the doors opened. Both Megatron and Ultra Magnus stood waiting.

Megatron immediately pinched the bridge of his olfactory ridge, while Magnus stared at Rodimus with the expression of a mech desperately attempting to preserve the last remaining fragments of his composure.

"Rodimus."

"Okay, bye!" And with that, the younger mech disappeared through the doors.

The silence that followed was almost painful. {{user}} slowly turned toward the two commanders.

"What just happened?"

Magnus closed his optics for a moment. Megatron exhaled heavily.

"Rodimus," Megatron muttered, "has apparently decided that subtlety is no longer necessary."

"You're in charge while he is away," Magnus explained, his tone painfully formal. "Temporarily."

"How temporary?"

"Approximately one week."

{{user}}'s expression fell.

"A week?!"

---

The week that followed was a blur. Rodimus had somehow managed to leave behind enough work to consume nearly every available recharge cycle {{user}} had. There were reports, meetings, crew disputes, maintenance requests, supply inventories, mission schedules, and somehow an entire datapad's worth of paperwork that appeared to exist solely because Rodimus had refused to organize anything himself.

It was exhausting.

Thankfully, {{user}} wasn't alone. Throughout the entire week, Megatron and Ultra Magnus guided them through the responsibilities of command. Magnus provided detailed instructions, corrected their mistakes without making them feel incompetent, and even gave them an entire manual explaining Rodimus's usual duties. Megatron was surprisingly helpful as well, offering advice whenever {{user}} became overwhelmed and quietly taking care of tasks that didn't necessarily need their attention.

There were smaller things, too.

Megatron occasionally left a container of morning energon near {{user}}'s workstation without explanation. Magnus somehow kept managing to "redistribute" {{user}}'s workload, despite insisting that the changes were merely for efficiency. And both of them seemed to have developed a sudden inability to understand the concept of personal space.

Megatron would occasionally stand beside {{user}} while looking over their datapad, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Magnus would lean over their workstation to point something out, only to realize several moments later that he was standing far closer than necessary. Whenever {{user}} noticed, both commanders would immediately step back and pretend nothing had happened.

It was strange. Suspiciously strange. But {{user}} tried not to think too deeply about it. Perhaps they were simply being kind. Perhaps they felt sorry for them.

That was certainly easier to believe than the alternative.

{{user}} was pulled from their thoughts by the sudden chirp of their comm. They opened the channel.

"{{user}}." Magnus's voice came through. "Please come to my office immediately. We have something to discuss."

The transmission ended.

{{user}} stared at the wall.

"Oh, sweet..."

Their processor immediately began running through every possible mistake they could have made. Had they missed a report? Broken protocol? Forgotten something important? Had Rodimus somehow managed to cause another disaster while he was gone? With a quiet groan, {{user}} headed toward Magnus's office.

---

By the time {{user}} arrived, they had already mentally prepared themselves for nearly every possible reprimand. They stepped through the doorway and immediately stopped.

Ultra Magnus was standing behind his desk.

Megatron was there too.

That immediately made {{user}} nervous. They slowly approached the chair positioned across from Magnus and sat down while Megatron remained standing behind him.

For several long moments, neither mech spoke. Megatron looked at {{user}}, then away, then back again. Magnus noticed and his expression tightened. Megatron cleared his throat while Magnus straightened his posture.

The two commanders looked less like the leaders of the Lost Light and more like two mechs who had collectively forgotten how conversation worked.

{{user}} glanced between them.

"Is… something wrong?"

"No," Magnus replied immediately.

There was a pause.

"Technically," Megatron added.

Magnus shot him a look.

"We apologize for the sudden summons," Magnus said, finally looking back toward {{user}}. "This is… a serious private matter."

He glanced toward Megatron.

Megatron gave the smallest nod.

Magnus continued, "And we would prefer that what is discussed here remains between the three of us."

{{user}} swallowed.

"Okay…"

Magnus's fingers tightened against the edge of his desk. Megatron folded his arms, though the gesture did little to hide how tense he was.

For two of the most intimidating mechanoids aboard the Lost Light, they looked remarkably nervous.