(I own nothing. Transformers is licensed and not to me. I wrote this a year ago I believe when I was into the slash pairings and such. I felt that Magnus and Rodimus might actually work out if Magnus wasn't such a workaholic ;) I started a sequel with a triangle but who knows if I'll ever finish it :P Enjoy!)


"Over more… more… more… more." Always the perfectionist, Rodimus contemplated as his city commander scrutinized the statue. Grapple and Chisel waited in anticipation for the verdict.

"To the left some more," he finally determined. The young Autobot leader groaned in impatience.

"Come on Magnus, we've been at this for almost an hour." The older Autobot shot an indignant look at the impulsive youth.

"Maybe you're willing to let the memorial of Optimus Prime look bad, but I'm not," the blue Autobot stated coolly. Rodimus let a sigh pass through his intakes. The massive commemorative to Optimus Prime had been his own idea, but to take an hour just to set it up was overdoing n and the elder Autobot Autobotit a little. Then again, Rodimus mused, Magnus always overdid everything concerning the Autobots. That brought a small smile to the leader's faceplate, all the more easier to bust his aft. The large Autobot took a step back and inspected the statue from several angles. Instead of complimenting to two creators, he just nodded in approval.

"I'll get some lankers (low rankers) to clean it. Carry on," he declared, giving Rodimus the 'we have more to do' look. The veteran Autobot transformed and rolled away.

"Doesn't he ever compliment anything?" Grapple complained with a large frown on his faceplate. The flame colored mech turned to him with a grin.

"Not if he can help it!" After bidding farewell to the two, he took off after his inflexible teacher.

Later that night, the City Commander was going through Rodimus' digi-pads. He took the ones that the young Prime would be unable to answer or didn't need a Prime signature. Rodimus came in looking exhausted; apparently the meeting with the president of South Africa didn't go very well. Though outwardly Magnus showed no emotion, inwardly he felt empathy for the youth. For one as young as he, it was a hard burden to be in charge and the old mech was determined to lessen the ache it caused. The elder Autobot nodded to Rodimus gently in greeting, speaking volumes through the gesture. Then he left with the stacks of digi-pads in his subspace pocket. The orange and red leader couldn't help but smile genuinely at the half empty desk. As much as he wanted to delay doing them, he knew that Magnus would be back to badger him. So, he sat down reluctantly and started on his despised red tape.

Ultra Magnus had no problem finishing the large amount of digi-pads that night, eons of experience lending a hand. Soon, as Rodimus predicted, the second revisited the Prime's office. Upon entry, the commander found him staring unyieldingly at a digi-pad. Further investigation proved energy deprivation by the flashing of his optics and the comatose state. The second sighed and put Rodimus on his recharge berth for a half hour. After the youth woke up fully recharged, the city commander made him work until all his digi-pads were complete. Rodimus was not in a good mood now. He was too angry to mope, just waiting for his second to leave.

"Look Rodimus, I know this isn't fun and what not, but you should get it done as soon as you receive it. Unless you want to start swimming through them to get to your d—"

"I just want it to go away!" The younger Autobot interrupted. Magnus gave him a stern look. He was ready to reprimand and lecture Rodimus about the responsibilities. But instead, he just placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I know" The tone of his voice surprised the leader. But before he could respond, Magnus was gone. This pretty much meant he could do what he wanted… for a little while at least. The young mech just stared at the door. Sometimes Magnus was… the only thing that was holding him to sanity. He lingered on a thought for countless moments. Then shook his head, Magnus was a pain in his aft. Everything had to be perfect! Everything had to be this way! Pain in the aft! He hastily raced out of his prison… office, beaming. His destination was the hostelry Autobots went to in the city, the Oil Well.