Perceptor had been in romantic relationships before, even with his established reputation as a “hardass wrecker”. And despite preconceived notions by others, interpreting his stoic and scientific demeanour for being detached, he was never opposed to it.

The first one was pre-war, with another microscope. He wasn’t too interesting, but at the time Perceptor needed someone close and the other bot needed the same. He didn’t even remember the scientist’s name, only his white plating being stained with green fluid after accidentally tipping a beaker. An assistant was quick to mop it up, but the image stayed in his mind.

The others were more complicated, happening inside of labs or behind ammunition crates as they exchanged rare moments of tenderness.

Perceptor could say though… none of them were quite like his dynamic with a certain Stunticon.

At first it was just disinterest, an alliance made out of convenience and between friends of friends. The other mech wasn’t unfamiliar to Perceptor, remembering how the left arm of Menasor had almost crushed him once, allowing him to identify the other by driving sounds alone.

Frustration and tolerating slowly became… affection? It was hard to describe at times. Dead End would attend to his optics and offer all the ways they were going to die, and Perceptor let him. Perceptor would lead him around or grab onto the other’s hand for navigation, and Dead End let him.

Holding the racer’s hand shouldn’t have felt so scandalous when it happened at first, walking in Iaconus where Perceptor was more than capable of walking himself. Their plating was warm though, and Perceptor hesitated to disconnect it if he didn’t have to.

Dead End had been keeping closer to Perceptor over time, his EM field expanding to include him in certain moments. It was little things, but it happened startlingly fast.

And then, Dead End was gone. They had been seperated for awhile at that point, Perceptor wrapped up in helping the newly joint army in attacking the Quintessons, but he didn’t expect the other mech to just… dissapear.

-

It was harder than he thought it would be, moving on from the other.

It was hard to admit, but he wanted to know why. He wanted Dead End to be near him. He wanted… he wanted to do things with Dead End like listen to those dumb movies he talked about or hear his poetry no matter how bad it might’ve been. It was dumb to admit it, but somehow this average decepticon with a case of depression and good looks had made him want it.

Maybe it was how he looked at Perceptor, not as someone helpless or someone to admire, but as his own person in a way he hadn’t experienced in awhile.

Brainstorm saw him for his scientific genius, Drift saw him for his skill with a sniper rifle, and Ratchet saw him for his reforged identity in the war. Dead End saw him for all of it: somehow flattering him in one breath and talking to him like he was no one special in another, and flowing between them seamlessly like it was nothing. He wasn’t afraid to challenge him, but didn’t see him as an aspiration or a rival like so many did. Dead End saw the same mech so many others did, but in such a way that Perceptor couldn’t help but feel happy to be seen like that.

In the end though, it couldn’t last. Not with their peace being so fragile during the Quintessa situation, or even following it if Dead End didn’t leave. Not with Dead End going to his own shadows, which Perceptor had seen in those nights before they managed to free everyone from the Loop.

Perceptor didn’t regret his actions, but he couldn’t help but wonder, on those nights he came home to his newly made apartment alone, about what could have been if things had gone just ever so slightly differently.

Maybe Dead End felt the same, seeing all those timelines stretch out before him in Unspace.

-

He put it out of his mind, deciding he would confront Dead End whenever it came around. When he finally saw the racer again, he was sitting at Perceptor’s bar as Rodimus reminisced about Soundwave. It was the eulogy Soundwave wanted, stated in his will - a round served in his honour at Maccadam’s. A strange request, but so was the mech as a whole.

“So…” Dead End had said, after many patrons had already filtered out and closing time was slowly approaching. He was tapping the counter with a digit, a nervous habit he had during their planning meetings. Perceptor wasn’t sure when it became familliar to him, a habit Dead End did without thinking.

“I… I’m sorry.” The mech said, his helm fins shifting back like a feline’s ears with a subtle shifting sound. “For what I did, to everyone. Not just when me and Megatron hopped universes, but …just everything. Even earlier today.” He said, painfully sounding sincere.

“You have many more apologies to make than just to me.” Perceptor said bluntly, getting a small chuckle from the other mech. It was fond, rumbling with his engine.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been on an apology tour.” Dead End said, Perceptor hearing his hand smack the counter and the sound of him taking another sip from his drink. “You’re my last stop.” 

“Saved the least important for last?” Perceptor asked, not able to keep the bite out of his voice. He didn’t want to turn the other away, not so soon, but it was hard not to put up defences out of instinct more than anything. Fortify for emotional pain, even if it was as simple as this.

“No, the most important.” Dead End said finally, shoving his glass aside and placing a hand on Perceptor’s. It was gentle, not forceful or harsh. Perceptor could pull away at any time. He kept it in place, as Dead End gripped it softly.

Dead End continued, his EM field tucked away so even his guilt wasn’t leaking through too much. “And I know I can’t just say it, but I’m willing to try and make it up. I really fragged up, so I might be busy for awhile, but… I don’t want to be such a bolt head. You… you and everyone else deserve more than what I am.”

It was hard to process at first, but he didn’t react until all of it was out and going through Perceptor’s processor. Dead End wasn’t the kind to deceive like this, through any false apology, as far as he knew - even before he left, he never lied about his alliances to the Decepticons. But something had shifted, whether it was Unspace or the perfect Decepticons or even just time, but Dead End wasn’t quite the same.

He had shifted to the left, ever so slightly, and Perceptor could see how he shines under the new light.

He acted fast, and pulled Dead End into a kiss. It was chaste, no tongue or grasping of chassis, but the small peck was more than enough to fluster Dead End, which Perceptor could feel through his EM field.

“I’ve needed some help in the bar for awhile.” He said, smirking as Dead End gave a small flustered burst of static. “I think you could do just fine.”

“Fragging aft.” Dead End said, laughing and breathless. “You knew you already had me before I even came here.”

“Perhaps. Is that a yes?” Perceptor said, and was given his answer in an affectionate sigh and another kiss.