So! Here goes a first fanfiction! This is heavily inspired by a roleplay between myself and my dearest friend Saphruikan (a fellow fanfiction writer). Credit goes to her for the title and her lovely help editing my work, as well as encouraging me to post it here.

This will be a first in a series of fanfictions (yes, Megawave ones) that have been inspired by this roleplay. There will be other, much fluffier ones in the future, because DAMN if this wasn't painful to write.

The Warlord sinks into a chair, which had managed to stay upright in the midst of his lashing out. His servos tremble ever so slightly as he hardly remembers the fight that had just ensued – a largely one-sided fight of which the evidence is all too clear. Other things are overturned, the table in the middle of his quarters included. Dents cover the walls – clear impressions of his massive fists. These are not what cause his worry, however; it is the shards of thin, black glass that are scattered in a somewhat dispersed pile by yet another dent in the wall – the remains of Soundwave's visor. As he studies the broken glass, he realizes that he very much does remember the fight.

He had been, again, whipped up into a snarling, pacing fury in his quarters, and was in the midst of a venomous, bloodthirsty muttering rant against Optimus Prime and the Autobots. This state of erratic rage had seemingly become his normal day to day life since his discovery of the wonders of Dark Energon – which he had developed an addiction to, pumping more and more of it into his systems each day, intoxicated by the power it granted him despite the defiance he showed towards the chaos god, Unicron. And perhaps he used it for that very reason: to defy the damned creature who thought he could use Megatron as his lackey. He hissed and struck the walls in rage at his inability to best his former disciple for nearly an hour before one dared to enter.

That one was the only one who ever dared to enter without explicit commands to meet him – the only one he'd ever let have the freedom of doing so with little, if any punishment: Soundwave. The beloved spymaster was perhaps the only being in the universe that Megatron never held any malice or true anger towards – indeed, Soundwave was the only one he trusted with his very spark almost indefinitely.

However, in the moment that the smaller mech entered Megatron turned, his optics nearly glowing with amethyst-colored rage. Soundwave, predictably, did not flinch; he'd dealt with Megatron at his worst and did his best to be a soothing presence for his lover in those moments. It was not only for his own benefit, being sensitive to others' emotions, but also because he did not enjoy seeing his leader and beloved so agitated and upset. Usually, it worked, since the larger mech refused to lay a harmful hand upon the delicate-looking mech. The nature of their relationship was an oddity on the ship; it was one of trust and loyalty and was often privately very intimate and loving. It gave the spymaster confidence and comfort to know they had that, and he often silently reveled in it – he hardly had to try to express himself with Megatron, whereas with others he often had to exaggerate his bodily motions to get his point across.

This day was different, however, and Soundwave could feel it acutely – the rage was inconsolable, and that was shown as the large mech stalked over to him, glowering.

"What do you want?! I did not ask for your presence, Soundwave!"

Soundwave did not move but bowed his head in acknowledgment of his current 'disobedience'. He looked up once more, silently. This was an indicator to his leader that he was prepared to listen to his rants as he had a thousand times before; Megatron had gotten accustomed by now to the slight gestures and rare audio playbacks enough to know what Soundwave meant with each.

Megatron heaved a great, almost irritated sigh – and usually he would at least internally appreciate his beloved's concern for his quite emotional state. He turned away violently instead, resuming his tearing through the room, snarling.

"Damn him to the pits!" he resumed, thundering, and punched the wall – the metallic surface responded with a crunch much like a tin can might make when crushed. "I can never just be rid of him! He will always be an accursed thorn in my side – always there to remind me of my failure as a mentor." He hissed the last phrase, clawed digits digging into his palm so harshly that energon began to color the tips of his talons. "I will make Optimus Prime suffer beyond imagination," he hissed again, glaring at the wall with such intensity that one might expect the very metal of it to ooze into liquid from the heat of his hatred, his wounded pride, which had so often been the source of his infamous anger.

For a few moments he seethed, and did not move. Soundwave took this opportunity to calmly approach him and place a gentle, feather-light servo upon his forearm. Megatron's instinctive reaction was to w(hirl around and backhanding the arm, hard enough to throw the smaller mech off balance and stagger back, taken very much off-guard by this sudden hit. Even Soundwave was surprised; Megatron always managed to stop himself before actually striking him. His instability had finally gotten the better of him – and this was further shown by his threatening turn towards the one he called his beloved, his eons-long lover. Any semblance of the mech whom Soundwave trusted and loved had vanished in a matter of seconds - but he didn't move to attempt to strike back.

Megatron simply didn't seem to want to calm down; he was angry, and he felt the need to take his anger out on something, anything – Soundwave seemed the opportune thing in his haze of rage. He growled lowly, "Do not tell me to calm myself, like you always do." He slammed the fragile-looking mech to the wall fiercely, his claws digging into his shoulders. "Do not control me, as you always do with your damned manipulations," he hissed into the visor, not seeming to care as he draws energon – wounds which Soundwave bore with still no fighting back, though he stiffened. He did not want to have to fight Megatron, but if it escalated too far, he would be forced to for his own safety.

A part of Megatron yelled to stop – this was not him, and this was definitely not the nature of the trusting, gentle, loving relationship the two former gladiators had had for such a long time. That 'nagging' voice was promptly overpowered by the scorching hostility and hatred he held for the Autobots and Optimus Prime, which had been doubled – no, tripled, more than usual as it flared up again.

He gave in to his impulse and threw Soundwave to the ground harshly, almost further angered by his refusal to fight back, and currently even angered by the silence with which he'd come to associate the mech. Soundwave immediately rose in an instinct of self-defense he'd learned long ago in the pits, and this earned him another blow, a fierce punch which he only barely managed to block with his large forearms, which crumpled weakly under the force of it.

The slender mech ducked as another punch headed towards him, and was rewarded with a surprisingly swift kick to the midsection from his leader – toppling him over. He was pinned by the large foot, and his chassis groaned in resistance to the pressure, though it was brief as Megatron moved – seizing him by the helm in one hand, bending the spokes of his crown in his grip before slamming him into the wall once more. The silent mech bore the pain without complaint, though disorientated; the world blurred into nothing but the fury of his very unstable leader. He gripped the arm holding him in an attempt to at least make him stop a bit but the hands were removed – bent harshly back, rendering digits crooked – and the sense of betrayal struck deeply at such a carelessly brutal action. Soundwave only had a moment to feel it before attempting to escape the clawed hands, turning as quickly as he could bare. As a reward for his effort to escape, he was slammed face first once more into the wall, and a resounding, wet crack followed.

It was only now that Megatron realized what he was doing, snapping abruptly out of his bloodthirsty fury. A sickening feeling sank into his gut at the sound of the glass digging into the soft metal of Soundwave's face.

His lover's frame went limp as he faded out of consciousness from the impacts with the wall, and Megatron instantly let go at the all the more sickening feel of Soundwave's frame slackening in his own hands. The mech dropped heavily to the ground and the warlord stepped back, servos going to his helm in horror – something he never felt.

No.

That was the only clear word in his head, a dread-filled no, as his frame trembled almost uncontrollably. Lying beaten and crumpled before him was the one thing in the entire universe he'd vowed to never taint, never hurt: yet another of his thousands of promises broken in the midst of his corruption.

Regaining some composure after a few minutes, he crouched down, lifting the mech in his arms and, putting on his usual face, strode immediately out of his room. He ignored the quiet bewilderment of his underlings as he passed, cradling the one he still dared to call his beloved after abusing him when he knew well that Soundwave would never fight back with the same force. He refused to let his emotions show as they hit him with a force of nearly crippling guilt and disgust at himself. Soundwave was the only being in the universe who could make him feel this way anymore. Self-hatred swelled like a mire in his spark as he arrived to the medical bay.

Knock Out was there, predictably, and his eyes widened in horror at the state of Soundwave. Megatron laid the limp mech down on a medical table and looked to Knock Out, briefly, who immediately started attempting to speak.

"W-what in Pri-" the medic stammered, gawking at the smashed visor and bleeding face.

"Repair him," was the curt reply from the warlord as he turned on his heel and strode out.

He could scarcely believe he'd inflicted such horrors upon the one he treated as nothing less than a sparkmate should most days. The thought of such a thing - he hoped Soundwave would betray him, even. The emotions were nearly acidic, eating down to the very depths of his spark; the hate spilling over conveniently presented itself externally as his usual angry demeanor. The Vehicons and Seekers scattered in the halls stayed out of his way upon noting his apparent anger as he returned to his disheveled quarters.

And thus, here he is. Sitting in a large chair, talons curled tight in disgust and anger at himself – at his lack of control, at his addiction to the intoxicating power of Dark Energon. After going over the events in his head for what seems to be an innumerable amount of times, he looks down upon feeling a trickling of liquid. His talons are nearly buried in four rather deep gashes on his arm – long ones, in fact – and yet he had not registered the pain, nor even the fact that he had been damaging himself. He removes the talons with gritted denta, but does not move beyond that – he feels it is a deserved reminder to himself of what he ... 'accomplished' this day. A reminder that would force a promise – a promise that he would keep.

One might call it depraved that the way he will remind himself of his abuse to a lover is a wound – a deep, self-inflicted one – but it was one he could never ignore, and thus would be a perfect, constant reminder with the scars left behind. It is one that will remind him that Soundwave was love and trust – and that had been shattered just as brutally as the cruel shards of glass imbedded in the soft metal of that faceplate which had so often privately gazed upon him with emotions that most could hardly fathom the silent mech felt. He will stay away – he simply does not deserve that love, that devotion, and Soundwave does not deserve such cruelty.

He will set Soundwave free, and hope he chooses to fly – no matter the pain the mere thought strikes Megatron with. He simply refuses to accept that this last, internal promise will be pushed to the side like the rest.

He owes Soundwave that.