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2025-02-18
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2025-08-03
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For The Cause

Chapter 8

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Stupid. Stupid. This is stupid. This is slagging stupid. This is so slagging stupid that it must be one of Starscream's useless schemes that he shoved into Megatron's processor while he was recharging.

Because it is so relentlessly stupid.

Megatron shakes his helm furiously as he paces around the empty carbon mine. He shouldn't be here, he should be working out shipment details and resources for the space bridge, but instead he is here. Foolishly, he is here, hiding away like scuttling vermin. As much as he would love to deny it - and will, should anyone else press him - the great and mighty Megatron, the Slagmaker, the Scourge of Cybertron, has chosen to hide himself away from the rest of the universe.

Because of one little mech. One little Autobot that makes his spark twist and swirl and dance in ways he didn't realize it was capable of.

Because he is terrified of all of those feelings that have tormented him for orbital cycles now.

The longer he'd thought on it after speaking with Shockwave, the more Megatron realized how absurd it was that he hadn't recognized his feelings for what they were. Chalk that up to being so used to shoving those feelings aside for the sake of war for all these millennia. But now he has to...handle them.

Or rather, he should be handling them. He is decidedly doing the opposite of that at the moment.

He'd had a plan, at first. Shockwave said to tell Optimus - no, Shockwave recommended that he tell Optimus - how he felt about the smaller bot. Sound logic, in all fairness. Once he tells Optimus about these disastrous feelings, the little mech will confess his as well, they can fall into each other's arms, and continue idyllically until the heat death of the universe. Not the most well-considered plan he'd ever conceived, but it didn't need to be. All he had to do was walk up to the little Prime and say a few words, no more, no less.

Two and a half solar cycles after speaking with Shockwave, Megatron had flown down to the Autobots' little lair in that derelict section of the organic city. He'd been fairly confident in his vague plan, ready to execute and succeed, as well he should. Except, when he asked the other blue-opticed bots to see Optimus, they had stared awkwardly at him. The little yellow minibot had glanced nervously at his fusion cannon - a gesture he would have reveled in before, but instead had him turn away slightly, trying to hide the weapon behind his body. The old medic had stomped out shortly after and grumbled about Optimus needing rest until he had recovered. Megatron wasn't about to refute the claim without his own medic to verify, so he allowed it, saying he would come back soon for the same reason.

Before he could leave, though, the medic grabbed him with that impressive magnetic mod and dragged him into the plant, grumbling and grousing about the things he did for the ungrateful kids he was forced to spark-sit that Megatron could make very little sense of. He wasn't allowed out until the medibot had practically turned his armor plating inside-out to find and fix every minor damage still left on his frame.

After that bizarre interaction, Megatron returned to the carbon mine then and decided to go back the next day, and that would be that. A delayed conclusion, but foregone all the same. But that evening...whenever he thought of Optimus, of seeing him, of speaking with him again, his traitorous processor could only produce the image of his smoking, shattered, grayed frame on the ground. Even when he decided to turn his attention to other things over the next solar cycle, that image would pop into his vision unwarranted. It did not matter what he did to purge whatever glitch caused it to appear, it would not stay gone.

And then Megatron thought. And thought. And he thought.

Whatever inane conclusion he'd come to when he first planned to see Optimus again was delusional at best. Some fairy-tale ending to a story far too tainted by gore and strife to come to fruition, because he foolishly believed for a moment that it would be so simple.

But it won't be. It can't be. It's impossible.

Despite that damned memory file haunting his processor, Megatron planned accordingly, readjusting his expectations to something more reasonable. Maybe Optimus wouldn't come to him so enthusiastically, but he surely feels the same way. With every touch, every conversation, he could taste the desire in the mech's very being. Not necessarily lust - not that he would be averse to it if it were, though - but simple, visceral desire to be with each other. That inexorable pull of two beings destined for each other, a force like gravity, their bond designed by the very will of Primus.

So he had gone down again. This time, he'd only been met by the medic, who grumbled the same thing as he had before. It was worrying.

In all the time of fighting with the little Autobots, they never stayed down for very long. If they suffered any damage, they would bounce back in hardly any time, ready to fight again in a matter of solar cycles, if that. Optimus had seemed so sure of his well-being, too... But for all his many wonderful qualities, the little Prime is not a trained medic, and very prone to downplaying his suffering whenever anyone happened to notice it. He could very well have been injured more than he let on, so Megatron didn't argue, no matter how much he wanted to. It would have been all too easy to storm past the surly mech just to have this over with, but he wanted to make the best impression possible, which meant playing nice with the rest of the Autobots.

That was how it went, for a time. Megatron would try to speak to Optimus, the medic would run him off like a scraggly cyberhound nipping rudely at heel struts, and he would leave, only to try again the next solar cycle.

Megatron could only suffer a few repetitions of this before needing something more to keep from destroying the little parking garage. He wanted so badly to speak with Optimus that the sensation felt like some ravenous parasite ripping him apart from the inside, but the medic kept insisting that Optimus needed more time to recover. Each time he heard the excuse, it felt more and more flimsy.

For lack of anything better to do, he plucked the girl away from the minibot as the two were leaving the plant one solar cycle and walked off to the park with her. The little yellow Autobot screeched and swore and jumped onto Megatron's leg even, demanding he hand the girl back, but Megatron simply ignored him. Sari only seemed amused by it. Just like it had a few solars prior, talking with the girl was an excellent distraction, even with the additional parasite clinging to him.

He finally learned of what had the rest of their group so excited after he'd left them, which frankly shocked him nearly as much - Sari possessing a Cybertronian protoform. She showed off the plasma-powered weaponry in her little servos, the small plates she could shift around in her limbs to expose different mechanisms, even held her little key to her chest to show how it reacted exactly the same as it did with any other machinery. What she didn't make mention of was how she came to be, but Megatron decided he could do without it. One thing at a time, as Shockwave would always harp whenever his ambitions grew too far. He'll have plenty of time to experiment with the girl's capabilities after he speaks with Optimus.

Still, Megatron began to include the girl in his new routine. Every time he was denied a moment to speak with Optimus, Megatron would turn around, place the girl on his shoulder, and leave for a megacycle or two, if only to somehow tempt Optimus into escaping the custody of his persistent medic.

Sometimes the minibot would tag along, sometimes Bulkhead would, sometimes neither. The second time he left with Sari, Bulkhead had come with and explained the troubles with the city's reconstruction efforts, even with the Constructicons hard at work. That had caught his attention - he can expedite the city's repairs by getting his Decepticons working on them as well, and surely, surely Optimus would hear of it and be moved to finally escape his "medical treatment". He loves these organics so very much, after all, he would be proud to see Megatron take steps to treat them more kindly, wouldn't he? Perhaps he could even overlook the many orbital cycles of strife Megatron had incurred in his search for the AllSpark.

Thus, he added another step to his new routine. Visit the plant to see Optimus, leave with Sari for the rest of the morning when he is inevitably rejected, oversee Lugnut, Starscream, Slipstream, Blitzwing, and Soundwave assisting the city's reconstruction, and drop the little one off at the Autobot base before he returns to the mine.

A few solars of that went by, still with no word at all from Optimus, not even so much as a comm message. The medic never said anything different, either. He ignored it as long as he could, but a creeping chill wormed into his spark with each passing day that Optimus was silent. He tried to keep his focus on the rebuilding, tried to maintain his true goals in his processor, but on the tail of every waking moment was Optimus's gray frame upon the ground. And by now, that memory file had been joined by others, other moments of their previous clashes where Megatron had not hesitated to threaten the little Prime's spark nor those of his fellow Autobots.

Bursting through the side of their meager repair ship in fervent, dogged, single-minded pursuit of the AllSpark, even with his frame mangled by Starscream's hidden explosive.

Ruthlessly slinging the Autobot around by his snapped grapple.

Snatching away his own crewmech that Optimus gladly counted among his closest confidants since being given the title of Prime.

Is that why he refuses to speak with me? He began to wonder. Have I done too much to earn his affection? Perhaps he can forgive the Decepticons, but can he forgive me? Primus knows his Decepticons have done quite the same, though in reverse - Lugnut and Blitzwing still despise the remainder of Autobot-kind, but they've all softened considerably to the Earth-bound Autobot crew. Even Starscream's been less of a glitch around them. The thoughts came like a drowning deluge every time the medic threw the same handful of words in his face, and then he began to wonder if the medic was the little Prime's cover, his way of hiding from the supposed wrath that would come upon him if he outright rejected Megatron's confession. It would be quite unlike the little Prime to do so, but it is the most likely reason for his continued absence...or so he told himself.

Perhaps a deca-cycle after his first attempt to speak with Optimus, Megatron stumbled upon Professor Sumdac as he was taking Sari out for their typical morning walk. She had seemed eager to leave regardless, and Megatron was more than happy to oblige her, until her father mentioned that accursed tower. He gave an apology, of sorts, and offered his tower to Megatron for his space bridge. An olive branch, if you will, Isaac had said, To show that there is no more ill will towards you or your Decepticons.

No more ill will? Pitiful excuse, but Megatron accepted it anyway. He swallowed his disgust and his anger the same way he did for all those orbital cycles he was forced to live as a disembodied helm while this little organic scrambled over and across what was left of his former body. His space bridge could finally be built, with the only caveat being a need for an Autobot other than Bulkhead to oversee the construction. Fine enough, particularly because Megatron expected far more restrictions to be put upon him and his building efforts.

Perhaps energized by his new prospects, Megatron had ducked back into the old garage, fully prepared to storm back into whatever room Optimus was hiding in so he could finally, finally rid himself of these ugly words that needed out of his processor, needed said and done so he could stop thinking about them, only for the medic to appear again. What're you doin' back in here, buckethead? The old mech had snapped. Megatron only had enough time to open his mouth to bite back when the medic barrelled on without pause. Prime's damaged enough that he doesn't need you comin' back makin' things worse!

Megatron meant to argue it, just as Sari jumped to his defense in the face of the old mech. But how could he deny the claim in good conscience?

He's spent far longer trying to offline and dispose of the Prime and his friends than otherwise. Had even succeeded, in a sense, even if it was reversed, even if it was impermanent.

What had he done for his little Autobot, other than make things worse?

The truth of his faction's priorities wasn't a balm to his processor. The effort of mediating between him and the organics was nothing short of irritating, Megatron knew without asking how much Optimus was aggravated by it. He's blatantly heaped more responsibility on the mech that he doesn't deserve - Primus's sake, he isn't a military commander even if he acts the part.

It forced him to rethink his plan to confess. It forced him to reconsider what he should allow, something he berated himself for not asking sooner. And the inevitable conclusion was that...he shouldn't. The better choice was to keep these feelings in his spark, where they manifested, and hope they die there, like so many others. Even if he wants something different, it would be irresponsible to let this charade go on. Even if he aches for Optimus to fall into his arms when night falls and he's left with naught but the darkness looming above.

No... No, this is better. He won't say a thing to Optimus. This is better, Megatron thought as he left, with Sari questioning him for the following megacycle. The little Prime can have his life, spared from all the complication of entanglement with a Decepticon.

He hadn't expected Optimus to appear so suddenly in the city. He'd given up on seeing the little mech again, outside of perhaps future engagements with the rest of the Autobots. But he'd appeared like a ghost in the middle of Detroit, red, blue, and silver plates gleaming in the morning light like an ethereal beauty from an old fairy tale. He had to - not flee, the lord of the Decepticons does not flee from anyone, technological, organic or otherwise - leave, he had to leave when the little mechling appeared because he was not about to renege on his decision. He would not be tempted into it.

And then he'd simply reappeared a scant megacycle later. Megatron hadn't been so quick to depart then. He was tempted to stay. Tempted to throw caution to the wind, take the little Prime's servos and dip to one knee and ask for what he wanted, for once. Not demand it nor put it aside for the sake of the war, but ask, because this is one thing he knows he cannot take by force.

But that was how this came to be in the first place, is it not? His self-discipline had slipped for all of a moment, barely half a turn of his own spark, and... No. It was better that he left. It was better he didn't say anything. It's better to put his feelings aside, regardless of what Shockwave said to him.

This is better, He thinks, even as his spark tries to tear itself apart in the dark emptiness of the carbon mine.

Normally, at least Soundwave would be around to fill the silence with reports of data collection and archiving, but shortly after Megatron returned to the mine, the little Decepticon had mentioned going out for a personal supply run and promptly departed without any further explanation. Blitzwing had taken off early in the morning to search for a fragment of the AllSpark along with the yellow Autobot. Lugnut reported ten cycles ago that the two jets, Constructicons, himself, as well as the cyberninja had finished their daily work for the city and were moving to work at Sumdac Tower until further notice.

He's been alone for megacycles by now. All he's done in that time is stare at the monitors Soundwave left behind, looking over the data displayed on the many screens without registering any of it. Moping about like a sparksick fool is hardly a decent way for a leader to act, yet he's struggled to do anything else since seeing Optimus in the city. Megatron is mildly shocked that he isn't more angry with himself about it. Though at the same time, it's not so strange - the potential for the intense connection he craves, that he's been without for so many stellar cycles now, ripped away by his own actions in the heat of battle that he can't possibly hope to atone for.

If he can't act to save it, what is left for him to do?

Megatron tosses his helm with a soft growl. He's not used to thinking like this. Maybe he used to, buried beneath the surface of Cybertron, knowing nothing but darkness and brutality and senseless violence, but it's been so long now that he's forgotten what it's like to live with a processor bent on self-destruction for lack of anything better to do.

What's more frustrating is that he knows better, knows how to stop this spiral dead in its tracks and have himself back in order. However, doing so would only burden his little Autobot even further, and that is the last thing Megatron wants now.

Stupid, all of it, Megatron thinks bitterly. Simply couldn't resist opening your worthless intake, could you, Ultra Magnus? Save all of us the trouble...

He turns on his heel and begins to pace across the wide floor. It's an old habit, a very old habit, only cropping up when his thoughts are so thick as to become a palpable fog over his processor. There have been precious few instances of it in the last several millennia, too focused on establishing colonies and retaking Cybertron to allow it. The last time he recalls doing so was when Shockwave volunteered to be their spy among the Autobots. It was sound logic - of course it was, Shockwave wouldn't have come forward if it wasn't - but it had flooded Megatron's processor with disaster scenarios, what-ifs and then-whats that he couldn't avoid. Not unlike his current predicament, really.

If Strika would bash his helm in until it dented, Shockwave would likely be rolling his single optic in quiet derision before launching into a long-winded hypothetical to say, in his own way, that Megatron was acting stupid. Particularly so after clearly stating what he thought would be the best course of action so recently.

They don't know the nuances of the situation, Megatron reasons. They don't understand the context, the peculiarities, the intersecting of so many different mechanisms as it stands now. My decision is right. My decision is best for both of us.

...It's best for Optimus, at least.

As Megatron begins his fourth lap around the floor, a curious sight blinks onto his HUD. Lugnut's frequency? He reported in not long ago, so there should be little reason for him to reach out again. Unless something happened that needs direct attention, though there's little that comes to mind that Lugnut would not be perfectly capable and willing to handle himself. Out of sheer curiosity more than anything else, Megatron opens the message.

ID:[TT-31.0225-80] - tag;LUGNUT

::GREAT and GLORIOUS MASTER, i have a question for you::

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::Interesting coming from you.::

::What is it?::

ID:[TT-31.0225-80] - tag;LUGNUT

::what is your preference in courting gifts::

What.

Megatron is stopped dead the moment the words of Lugnut's message fully register. Despite all his praising, Lugnut has never, never entertained romantic intentions for anyone other than Strika. Which means he's likely asking for somebody else, but then that begs the question of who would filter their query through Lugnut of all bots. Starscream or Slipstream perhaps, they'd be too terrified to ask him directly, but neither of them would care about his opinion anyway. And who would they even be considering courting?

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::If you must know, I've not put considerable thought into such things.::

ID:[TT-31.0225-80] - tag;LUGNUT

::AH, but perhaps you have at least THOUGHT about what you may like or dislike receiving from a potential consort, MASTER ?::

::although if that is the extent of your answer, i will ask no further::

This persistence is...strange. Stranger than this exchange already is, anyhow. In other instances, if he'd just given that sort of vague, dismissive answer, Lugnut would have accepted it and not spoken of the matter again unless Megatron brought it back up.

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::Yes, I have thought about it.::

::You know material things matter quite little to me, but if a prospective partner were to hand me the AllSpark itself, I would be tempted to forego the rites entirely.::

::As for more realistic possibilities, however...::

::Nearly anything made by this hypothetical courting bot's own servos would be quite welcome.::

::I may even be swayed by crystal blooms, but I would have very different opinions of the bot depending upon how they collected the bouquet.::

::All that said, I would far prefer action to material. If said courting bot were to give me a choice between gifts and a solar cycle together, I would choose that solar cycle every time.::

::Is that answer enough?::

ID:[TT-31.0225-80] - tag;LUGNUT

::YES YES YES::

::a PERFECTLY CONSIDERED response, MASTER, your humble servant thanks you for this::

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::What is this question for?::

ID:[TT-31.0225-80] - tag;LUGNUT

:: . . . ::

:: . . . ::

:: . . . soundwave::

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::Soundwave? Is that right?::

ID:[TT-31.0225-80] - tag;LUGNUT

::APOLOGIES MASTER I AM NEEDED ELSEWHERE PLEASE DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN FOR SEVERAL MEGACYCLES MY GRATITUDE TO YOU AND FAREWELL::

Megatron groans and massages the side of his helm. Whatever...predicament Lugnut has found himself in is his own responsibility to escape. And whatever the reason for his strange question, it is unlikely to be of any consequence. Now he considers calling Strika merely to have her make off with her conjunx for a precious few solar cycles of peace.

For the briefest of moments, Megatron considers the possibility that the question is from an Autobot - a specific Autobot, even, though he doesn't allow himself to hold onto that possibility for long. The idea of Optimus being responsible for Lugnut's strange messages is sparkwarming, and also quite foolish. Wishful thinking from the crevices of his desperate processor, at best. The little Autobot hasn't so much as pinged him in an age. 

Which is how it should be. How it needs to be. He just needs to keep it in mind long enough to believe it.

One of the monitors beeps loudly. Megatron glances towards it, more out of habit than actual interest. When he, Blitzwing, and Lugnut had set up their little makeshift base in the depths of the carbon mine, Megatron had gone to the trouble of having the dear professor create some rudimentary proximity sensors to place in and around it, on the off chance an intruder came near. It made dealing with Starscream quite easy, if tedious, but they are so rudimentary that the sensors will sound off at any disturbance, significant or not. In the past few orbital cycles, they've served as more of an alert for his Decepticons to clear out of the main chamber when Optimus came up to the mine for their nightly spars.

The monitor display shows the sensors lighting up in a linear pattern, one after the other, leaving a series of pop-ups in the corner of the screen to show that the sensors' activation was logged. Soundwave was quite particular about that. Someone entered the mine, and whoever it may be is easily traversing the tunnels. Blitzwing, maybe, he may have already dropped off the AllSpark fragment the Autobots detected earlier in the day. Or, unlikely as it is, perhaps Lockdown has returned from the mission Megatron sent him out for a deca-cycle ago.

Regardless of who it is, he has roughly three cycles to collect himself before they reach the innermost chamber. In case it is Lockdown, Megatron goes to the console Soundwave typically commands and swipes away anything moderately important, which is most of the data on display. He knows the bounty hunter is not above working with Autobots, and Megatron has very little desire to tempt fate in such a ridiculous way.

All that is left by the time he's done is the sensor map, a new, closer sensor lighting up every few kliks, coming ever closer to his location. Out of curiosity, Megatron opens the log tracking the sensors' activation. Strange... Each successive sensor activates much slower than he expects. Not so slow as to be from a human or other Earth-sized creature, but too slow to be a healthy, fully-functioning Decepticon frame. Perhaps Blitzwing suffered an injury thanks to his excursion? Although if he had, he would've reported it in, and likely reported the necessary detour to the Autobot base to have his damage repaired as well.

Clanging steps begin to approach the entrance to the chamber. Megatron crosses his arms and watches the sensor map continue to light up, waiting patiently as the heavy clank of metal echoes through the rocky mine shafts, louder and louder as the mystery bot comes closer. They're lighter than he expects. One of the Autobots, then.

Megatron turns as the echoing steps finally enter the room and immediately stiffens.

He was right about the visitor being an Autobot. What he hadn't considered was that the Autobot happened to be the very one he has been avoiding for the last two deca-cycles.

Optimus glances around the room, oblivious to Megatron's reaction. "Oh. Is, uh...is everyone else still in the city?"

Megatron swallows roughly. Talk, just talk, just find out what he wants and send him on his way. "Yes."

"Ah. I thought Soundwave would be here at least. He doesn't seem to leave all that much."

"Soundwave left a few megacycles ago."

Optimus's optical ridges dip and his helm tilts. "O...kay. Well, I was hoping you'd heard back from Shockwave by now."

Shockwave? What would Optimus be waiting for that would be coming from Shockwave? Megatron glances at the blank monitors, blatantly unhelpful. "And what, pray tell, do you need from Shockwave?"

Optimus blinks hard, bright blue optics blown wide. Megatron suppresses the urge to tease him for it. "Blurr left on Sentinel's ship to set up a better communication relay between us on Earth and Shockwave on Cybertron. I thought he'd at least mention it to you."

"He did not."

"And Shockwave hasn't-"

"I make as little contact with Shockwave as possible," Megatron snaps, turning abruptly to stave off any potential replies.

Something metal shuffles. "Not just with Shockwave, apparently," Optimus mutters. It's difficult to tell if he intended it to be loud enough to hear, but Megatron does hear it. Tries very hard to ignore the way the words twist his spark. "Look, just- The next time Shockwave reaches out, if you could ask if Blurr has touched base with him, I would appreciate it."

Megatron exvents heavily. "Fine. I will inform you if Shockwave mentions your missing Elite Guard."

"Alright, thank you." Pedesteps slowly begin to retreat, but they stop after only a few paces. He can't seriously consider staying. "So...how long do you think it'll be until Soundwave or any of the others come back?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well," Optimus starts, walking back and coming to a stop just beside him. Megatron chances a look towards the little Prime, a reluctantly hopeful smile gracing the Autobot's upturned faceplate. "It's been a while since I last came up here." No need to remind me... "If you're not busy, we could spar together...?"

For a moment, he considers. A decent fight would probably help his thoughts clear somewhat.

But the moment he thinks of it, his processor burns with the memory of violet light flashing across open space and shattering red armor plates.

Megatron roughly sweeps past the Prime. "No. Leave."

Optimus grunts softly as he's shoved aside. "I- Oh. Right. You're...busy." Megatron digs his digits into the sides of the console. This is what he wants. This is what Optimus needs. He needs to understand that this is necessary. Let him go. Leave him be. Like a mantra, those two phrases repeat in his processor, keeping him steadfastly turned away.

Let it happen, He thinks, somewhat feverishly. Let him realize this is better.

"Next time, then?"

No. No, no, no, no, no. Stupid, stubborn, foolhardy, misguided, thick-helmed Autobot!

He can't let the Prime entertain this charade. Can't let him believe there's any other way about it.

Megatron turns sharply towards him, calling upon every last ounce of strength he has to project the disgust he once held for the little mech. "Spar with you? And what good would that do either of us? I may as well ask the human child to fight with me." Optimus staggers back as though struck. Megatron's optics narrow with well-acted disdain. "Do not insult me with such questions. You are no Prime worth effort."

Optimus reacts exactly as he suspected - all hope draining from his expression, frame sagging with invisible weight as the words strike at every vulnerability in his spark. Bittersweet, but the result he needs. He must drive this point home. He can't let Optimus chase after a mere pipe dream. The Autobot regime led him by the olfactory in that exact fashion for long enough, Megatron refuses to do the same. Optimus deserves better.

His servo shakes minutely as he continues. "What leader would allow their own bots to escape for their own whim without a thought spared to their comrades?" Megatron takes a thunderous step closer. "Why would I fight you, a so-called Prime that can barely hold his own with weapon in servo?" He allows his cannon to spin up and holds his arm up, fist clenched tightly. "You'd hardly prove worthy in even the most pitiful of mock battles. You can't even defend yourself from your own allies, how could you believe that you have even a chance to hold your own against the Slagmaker?" Megatron scoffs and storms past the much smaller bot.

There. Maybe that will be enough for you to understand, little one. Let this go. Forget whatever this is to you. Break it off here, and maybe you can find happiness somewhere more deserving than an old warframe.

His very spark cries for mercy, but it is too late. Any moment now, Optimus will trudge out of the mine, helm held low, and return to his base in the human city. With any luck, he'll hide away until the space bridge is done, and then Megatron will be gone from his life. Because that is what he deserves. Not some sentimental fool of a war machine clinging to him, but-

Megatron jolts as the humming blade of an axe buries itself into the ground just between his pedes.

Optimus walks around him and grabs his weapon, yanking it from the rock it had cleaved open. His blue optics harden with that same searing rage that had flooded them so many orbital cycles ago when he heard his Magnus's true thoughts of him and his team. His pedes shuffle apart and his chin lifts in defiance. "Fine, Megatron," The Autobot says coolly, "Prove it to me, then."

"And what do I have to prove to you?"

"Prove that I'm not worth fighting." Optimus hefts his axe into a two-handed grip, battlemask snapping shut over his face. "If I'm as terrible of a leader as you say, if I'm as unworthy as you say, this should be easy for you. I'm just a pitiful little Autobot not worth your time, after all, how could I have a chance of beating you in a real fight?"

Optimus was a thorn in his side long before their alliance for a reason. Megatron clenches his servos, irritated that he did not anticipate this sudden turn, and yet proud of it all the same. Stubborn little mechling... He tamps down that warm swell of pride, forcing it away as he tries to sidestep the Autobot. Optimus quickly blocks his only path out.

"What's wrong, Megatron? Don't tell me you're scared of one little Autobot that can't even protect himself."

Not scared. Terrified. But he can't allow that now. Megatron grunts as he backs away. "Hardly. I consider it unsporting to strike down such an incompetent opponent." Just stop, Optimus, He silently begs, Leave, leave now, leave before I kill you again, before I kill you and the girl isn't here to save you.

"Come on, then!" Optimus takes a threatening step closer. "Fight me, already! You had no issues with it before, why now? Draw your weapon and fight me!"

Megatron grumbles with his mounting frustration, unsheathing his swords in a single fluid motion. "I've warned you, Autobot," He mutters, "I will not hold back."

"Good," Optimus growls through husky vocals.

They rush towards each other, blades crashing in a shower of sparks. Megatron leans his weight into their crossed weapons, hoping to use his greater size to end this quickly. Optimus breaks away before he can lose his footing, quickly stepping backwards then dashing back in, swinging towards the larger bot's exposed vents.

Megatron catches the blow on one sword and raises the second to retaliate-

BOOOOOOOM!! KRRACKKKKK-

He blinks, and the vision of shattered armor vanishes, replaced by Optimus slamming his fist into his flank. Megatron grits his dentae against the sudden burst of pain through his side. Optimus tries for another hit, but this one Megatron catches against the flat of his blade, pivoting to shove the smaller bot across the cavern floor.

The punch didn't even dent his armor, yet his vents come heavier all the same.

Optimus leans forward as his pedes slide away to maintain balance. "Is this all you can do now?" He mutters under a heavy vent. Megatron widens his stance as the Autobot sprints at him once more, optics narrowing as he anticipates his next move. The smaller bot swings like he did before, and again, Megatron easily blocks it. He expects Optimus to struggle directly again, so he leans in, but Optimus ducks between his legs, and Megatron has to recover before he's sent sprawling.

He steps forward and one-eighties to see Optimus rushing him head-on again. Not ideal, but the Autobot will tire much faster if he continues so recklessly. All the better, then.

As Optimus closes in, Megatron sidesteps and raises his blade as the other nearly stumbles. Striking a bot's back plating is nearly always enough of a shock to send them scurrying off. Optimus is sensible enough to retreat.

His vision is overtaken by bright blue-white energy erupting from his spark chamber in an unfamiliar storage bay, forcing a familiar frame against the wall.

He shakes his helm wildly, as if he could physically eject these memories from his processor. As he stills, sharp pain bursts across his forearm where Optimus has lodged his axe. Megatron wrenches his arm away, jerking the blade from his armor.

"Come on!" Optimus snaps, "Are you going to fight or are you just going to keep running from me?!"

Megatron's servos clench hard around the hilts of his swords. "Bold claim for you to make."

Optimus readjusts his grip on his weapon. "You aren't denying it."

A retort dances on the tip of his glossa, but Optimus is rushing him again. Megatron grunts as the smaller bot rams his shoulder into his abdomen. "What is there to run from?" Is his half-hearted reply, none of his usual bite or teasing lilt to be found. He slams his servo on Optimus's back to force him away. He could've done more. He should be doing more. But clearly something in his processor is too glitched to allow it.

He steps back as Optimus aggressively moves closer. Maybe he could just guide the mech towards a wall or a door or...something.

Megatron blinks in mild shock at how utterly useless he is in the moment. Combat has always been as easy as venting, coming to him so naturally even as a young warframe. Were this any other opponent at any other time, he would have half a dozen plans of attack warring for attention right now. There's usually at least two or three for Starscream floating through his processor at any given time. Even for Optimus, when he didn't care to keep the bot in mind any further than annoying Autobot, he could conjure something quickly if the need arose.

Optimus lands another blow while he's occupied with his reeling. The force of it surprises him, Megatron staggering away with a slight limp. His hip throbs where the Autobot had slammed the unlit propulsor of his weapon.

They swing at each other again, one clearly much more engaged in the clash of blades. Optimus's optics harden with cold fury. "I thought you weren't holding back, Megatron."

"What makes you think I am?"

Optimus scoffs. "I'd ask you not to insult me, but we're obviously past that." Their blades scrape against each other as they separate and send sparks flying across the cavern. Megatron takes a single step back but Optimus steps forward. Chasing. "You put up more of a fight as a detached head in a human laboratory."

Rude.

...But also not untrue.

Megatron readjusts his grip on his swords. "I'm giving you all the effort you deserve."

Were he in a more sound state of mind, Optimus likely would've brushed off the weak excuse-slash-insult as it deserved. Instead, the handle of his axe begins to creak as his servos tremble around it.

Megatron almost doesn't have enough time to swing his blade up to catch the humming swing of Optimus's axe. "Perhaps I was mistaken about you, Autobot." The barest glimpse of confused hope flits into the mech's optics. It hurts to crush it, but he must. Megatron hooks his blade beneath the curve of the plasma axe and lifts, dragging Optimus's arms up for a moment. "You really are no better than those pitiful wretches infecting your Elite Guard."

He swings his arm wide, flinging Optimus away to fall to the rocky floor and skid into the nearby wall. He stubbornly refuses to submit to the urge to run over and pull the Autobot to his pedes, no matter how strongly it flows through his circuits.

This is the only choice he's left me with. Just...be done with it.

Megatron works his shoulder joints with feigned nonchalance. "You were useful enough to me to negotiate a temporary peace long enough to recoup resources and energy. But you are beginning to surpass that use, Autobot." Optimus staggers to his pedes, rubbing the likely-sore plating of his neck. Megatron uses the tip of one sword to point to the dark yawning maw of the tunnels. "Go on. Unless you would rather fulfill your Magnus's wish and offline in the precious name of your people."

Suddenly, the humming blade of the smaller bot's axe thrusts into the hollow center of his weapon. Optimus wrenches his sword out of his servo. It clatters to the ground and the smaller mech quickly kicks it away. "This wasn't for the Autobots," He spits, as though the name were a dirty, slimy thing caught in his dentae. His helm lifts, optics practically blinding with the bright charge of fury nestled within them. "I'm not doing anything for them again."

Megatron flexes his now-empty servo, processor racing to account for the sudden loss of his weapon. Optimus rushes him before he has a chance to make a move. With axe raised high, Optimus swings, over and over, a blazing fire in his optics fueling each strike.

Megatron can barely raise his weapon quickly enough to parry away the flurry of blows from the smaller bot. Optimus doesn't slow in his furious assault as Megatron is backed into a wall. He glances over his shoulder at the flat expanse of rock caging him in.

He twists away as Optimus swings again, axe lodging in the cavern wall while Megatron puts distance between them. The Autobot quickly yanks his weapon away and turns to Megatron. "What is it going to take to get you to fight?!" He snarls, frustration bubbling so fiercely his shoulders begin to shake.

Megatron has to clamp down his vocalizer to keep from saying anything stupid. Saying anything he wants.

The silence only enrages Optimus more. He rushes again, pounding, clanging steps ringing loudly in the emptiness of the mines, practically roaring as he swings his blade. With each clash of metal, Megatron is forced backwards another step.

Then another, and another, and then-

Too far. He stepped too far. Megatron realizes it just as his pede lands. Optimus hooks the blade of his axe around the back of Megatron's knee. He can't react quickly enough. Optimus pulls, sending the Decepticon careening back, crashing into the cave floor, sending out a massive cloud of dust and grit from beneath his frame.

Optimus suddenly shouts, leaping towards the downed opponent, axe raised high over his helm.

As he comes down, Optimus swings his axe, propulsor engaged, perfectly aimed to cleave Megatron's helm apart. Megatron quickly raises his sword, braces it against his forearm, grits his dentae against the inevitable impact.

Metal slices metal with a clean, sharp snap.

Something clatters to the ground.

The ringing of metal echoes in his audials. His optics cycle. He turns his helm slightly.

His own reflection stares back in baffled silence.

Megatron looks towards his sword - his broken sword. Optimus sliced through the tempered steel as though it were nothing more than a thin scrap of sheet metal.

In any other circumstance, he would be furious that he allowed himself to be beaten. If it were any other bot, he would only be annoyed that they didn't take his spark outright. But it isn't any other circumstance and it isn't any other bot.

Somehow, it's worse than any other potential combination of disasters.

Megatron's optics flick up. Optimus's frame heaves, hot air gusting from his abdominal vents, one knee planted on Megatron's chestplate while the other pede is flat on the floor, just barely keeping the Autobot upright. His arms shake, so subtly that it takes several nanokliks to realize it's not a visual processing glitch.

They remain there, on the dusty floor of the carbon mine, staring at each other while their frames desperately expel scorching vents for some brief eternity. Centuries could have passed and Megatron would not have noticed.

Only one thought crosses his mind in all that time: He's beautiful.

Even with the horrid visions plaguing his processor, Megatron truly believes Optimus was forged for battle. He took to it so easily, like a seeker in the air, as if he was a missing piece of machinery slipping into place. Every swing, every step, all of it done so effortlessly, like he'd never been anywhere else. Like he was merely stepping into a gruesome, gory dance with all the grace Primus could possibly have poured into a single bot.

No wonder he's smitten. No wonder it hurt to be away from him.

Optimus suddenly pushes off of his chestplate and his battlemask folds away. He stares wordlessly at the fallen Decepticon for a long moment. Megatron turns his helm as Optimus leans down and grabs his axe, wrenching it free from the cavern floor with a quick jerk.

And yet he looks defeated.

Megatron blinks hard when he finally registers the forlorn resignation across his Autobot's faceplate. Almost as if...as if Optimus was lying upon the cave floor in defeat, merely waiting for a blade to fall and claim his spark.

The smaller mech steps back as Megatron pushes himself upright. Numerous new slashes and dents decorate his armor, little memorials of their battle alongside the few still left from before their truce. Some allow bright pink lines to slip down the contours of his plating though most are mercifully clean.

"Just a worthless little Autobot, huh?" Megatron's helm snaps up. Optimus stows his axe and his servo falls limp by his side. "Were you just waiting for a chance to say it without anyone else around to hear?" The fire in his optics is all but extinguished, replaced by a haunting emptiness that has no place upon his handsome faceplate. "Guess that's my fault for taking you seriously. But hey - Decepticon. All in the name." He shakes his helm as he turns away. "Don't know why I believed you all this time..."

"Optimus-"

Optimus stops dead and throws a glare over his shoulder. "Don't bother. You've made your point." Despite the venom dripping from his every word, his vents hitch as he turns away once more. "I don't want to hear from you unless the planet's collapsing. And even then, I'd better be the last bot you talk to." His pedes scuff lightly against the rocky floor as he walks out.

Megatron is stunned into silence for much longer than he would admit to aloud.

He'd said so many things in the hope of this precise outcome. Because this is what he knows is best for Optimus, and himself, eventually.

...Isn't it?

Better to put an icy distance between them rather than accept the warm embrace of a spark so like his own? Better to cut it off now, before they have a chance to really care for each other, so that it can't be brutally ripped away by mere chance? Better to forget there ever was a flicker of something more so Optimus can live his Autobot life unharried?

The same words he's used for deca-cycles to convince himself that his juvenile actions are preferable to anything else, but now they ring hollow. Just empty, useless words.

Were they ever anything else? Megatron thinks bitterly, staring pitifully at the empty tunnel as if that alone could summon Optimus back.

Damn it all, but Optimus was right. Decepticon. A moniker Megatron wore proudly, and now he's even deceived himself into believing distance would save either of them from sparkbreak.

Idiotic logic. He should have swallowed his pride and followed through on Shockwave's advice when he had the chance. But now...now it is too late. Optimus is well and truly gone. Deception again, but not in the way the Autobot assumed. He successfully fooled his wonderful little Autobot into thinking the great Slagmaker Megatron is merely a machine, sparkless and content in that, when it couldn't be farther from the truth. No, Megatron is little better than any other Cybertronian, Autobot or Decepticon. Sentio metallico, just as the rest of their kind, despite how easily he pretends otherwise.

And now he has well and truly failed. In the past, he was able to recover, able to pivot and redirect. But this is no battle he can win. His only chance is gone.

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

...No.

His dentae grit so hard they creak.

No.

His servos tighten and clench.

No.

Megatron pulls himself to his pedes.

Enough.

Enough wallowing in the dark like the pitiful creature I once was. D-16 has not lived in eons, and I will not allow him back into this life.

This life is mine.

This spark is mine.

I will not let this chance slip away without fighting for it. Never again.

Maybe it won't matter, maybe it won't mean a damn thing, maybe the Autobot will be content with that horrid creature Megatron projected for him to see. But, so long as he has the opportunity, he will fight for it.

Megatron sprints out of the cavern, following the path out of the mine he has long since memorized. His pedes loudly clang against the stony ground with each pounding step, echoing ominously through the tunnels. He bursts from the metal-lined entrance to the mine in a cloud of dust, optics frantically searching the small clearing for any sign of Optimus, finally landing on two sets of tread marks left in the dirt leading up to the massive entryway, one much more recent than the other.

Optimus can't have gotten far; his stride is much shorter and his alt mode more limited. Megatron wastes no time, flinging himself away from the rocky entry and launching upwards, transforming into his alt mode and speeding in the same direction as the tread marks.

His sensors stay laser-focused on every minute change in the landscape below, straining for any possible sign of his little Autobot. The tracks disappear and reappear beneath the cover of the deciduous canopies, until suddenly they vanish entirely. Megatron scans the ground, trying to find something, anything-

A road. An old asphalt road, uneven and riddled with potholes, with a trail of organic dirt and mud leading onto it from where he last saw the tire tracks. They turned off in the direction of the human city...

He couldn't have gotten there yet. There's time. There's time, there's time, there's still time, he just needs to move-!

Every last ounce of power surges into his rotors, blades spinning dangerously fast and slinging leaves from the too-close treetops. Two whole kliks go by before a lone set of lights suddenly lights up the road below. A heavy-built truck, bright red and royal blue, difficult to see in the slowly settling dark, but unmistakable all the same. The city skyline is visible in the distance, steadily approaching, still a megacycle of driving for the Autobot. He could cut him off, fly ahead and wait for Optimus to arrive. But Optimus could very well run off on a detour once he sees Megatron in his path. He's already speeding up in his alt mode below, engine revving angrily as he surges forward.

There's no other vehicles on the asphalt, nothing in danger of being crushed or otherwise injured. This may be the only opportunity he gets.

Megatron twists in the air and transforms. He plummets to towards the earth below, landing heavily, shattering the road below and throwing asphalt chips flying into the air. Optimus's horn blares and his alt mode begins to swerve, in wider and wider arcs until he finally transforms as well, tumbling across the road with rough, messy clangs. Megatron quickly drops to his knees and catches the smaller bot against his chassis.

Optimus shoves against his chestplate but Megatron holds him tightly enough that he can't escape. "What was-" The Autobot growls with frustration as he tries to push away again. "What was that? Are you out of your fragging mind?!" He tries to throw a punch, but trapped in Megatron's lap, he has no leverage to put real force behind it. His pedes scrape along the asphalt, desperately trying to get away from the larger mech. "Will you just- Megatron! Let me go!"

"Optimus," Megatron starts, but he's cut off quickly by Optimus's constant thrashing. He snatches Optimus's wrists into one servo and wrenches them away from his chassis. "Optimus!" He snaps. The Prime finally stills, meeting Megatron's optics with a narrow glare. "Please listen to me."

"Listen to what? You already said everything you need to."

"I haven't. Not yet."

"Oh, come on, I know exactly what you think now." Optimus pulls weakly against Megatron's grasp, shoulders slumping. "After all, what could some third-rate nobody with a false title possibly be worth to you?"

Megatron sets his jaw to avoid snapping. He would gladly eviscerate whoever convinced Optimus that he's as pitiful as he believes, but as it stands, he is the one who reinforced that belief. His servo relaxes, releasing the Autobot's, and moves it to gently cup his Autobot's cheek. Optimus flinches away from the touch, and his spark writhes in his chest. "Far more than you could know, Optimus."

Optimus jerks, servos flat against Megatron's chestplate, once again trying desperately to struggle away. "Shut up! You already lied to me once, you can't just-!"

"Listen to me," Megatron pleads, clutching his Autobot as tight as he can bear. He stops again, blinking with clear confusion across his faceplate. "I cannot tell you how many centuries I spent living in darkness, but in all that time trapped beneath the surface, I did not know fear. Even when every klik threatened to be my last if the cruel beast keeping me caged there decided he'd had enough of me, I never knew fear. I did not know it when I was forced to slay beasts and fellow warframes for a pitiful ration of fuel barely enough to keep me online."

Blue optics cycle, and the force on his chestplate slowly lessens. He still worries that Optimus will bolt, but he slowly, steadily loosens his grip on the smaller mech.

"Through the Great Wars, I found myself on many battlefields. No matter how many Autobots I faced, what weapon they tried to use against me, how long I stayed in combat, I did not know fear. Over four million stellar cycles, and not once was I afraid." Megatron's helm dips, forehelm clinking gently against Optimus's. "Then..."

The smaller mech's pedes shuffle. "Megatron, you- you don't-"

Megatron's optics fall shut. "I do." He squeezes Optimus's chassis. "When you moved between me and that foolish Elite Guard, I felt a chilling dread flood my spark. My every waking moment has been haunted by your grayed frame upon the ground."

"But- I'm fine, the key did what it needed to. I told you it would be fine."

His arms wind around Optimus's smaller frame, pulling him as close as physically possible. It's not enough, but it's something. "Optimus. I hurt you. I...killed you." Megatron releases a shaking vent. "The thought of a universe without you - by my own servo, no less - is nothing short of terrifying."

For a long, tense moment, Optimus is silent. The only sound for an indiscernible eternity is their shared vents. Megatron swallows hard against a strange sensation deep in his intake. Smaller servos slip around his chassis and tug. "...Then why have you been running from me?" Optimus murmurs, barely audible. "Why did you...?"

Because I'm a pitiful fool would be perfectly apt, but ineloquent and incomplete. Megatron sighs heavily. "I'm sorry, little one." Optimus's frame stiffens beneath him. "I did not know how to handle being afraid. I allowed my fear to control me, and convinced myself you would be better off without...this."

"What made you change your mind?"

Megatron huffs a humorless laugh. "As with many things, it was you." His optics open once more to Optimus's handsome face. Megatron nuzzles the side of his Autobot's faceplate, forcing a choked giggle from his vocalizer. "Even after I ripped into every last weakness you've let me see, you refused to concede. You fought like a great hero of ancient myth, valiant and steadfast, and I realized... As terrible as your death was to witness, your absence is far worse than any injury I could suffer."

Optimus snorts. "All it took was a hit to the ego, huh?" He leans up and presses their derma together for a wonderful, but brief, kiss. The Autobot relaxes against the larger mech's arms with a huff. "You could've just led with that."

Megatron chuckles, feeling a great weight suddenly lift from his frame. "Perhaps you've deduced it already, but communication from here-" Megatron taps his knuckles against the side of his helm. "-Is much easier than communication from here." His digits tap against his chestplate.

"Yeah... Yeah, I got that." His servo grabs Megatron by the back of his helm and drags him down for another kiss, this one deeper, searing with passion as derma interlock, and Megatron gladly gives into it. One of his own servos slips up to grasp Optimus's helm as well, pulling him impossibly closer, dentae clashing messily together. It's rough and passionate and undeniably glorious.

When they part, Megatron is fighting for a full vent, cooling fans roaring in a futile attempt to bring his core temperature to something more reasonable. He dips his helm, intending to steal another kiss from his beloved, when a blaring horn rudely announces itself from behind his back. Megatron glares over his shoulder, finally taking note of the bright lights washing over the road as well. One of the large human vehicles is perhaps an arm's length away, driver throwing up gestures that are probably meant to be insulting.

Megatron's derma curl into a disdainful sneer, but it vanishes when Optimus chuckles in response. How could he pay any attention to the little organics when his Prime graces his audials with such sweet sound? "We should get off the road," Optimus suggests, shifting his weight to most likely stand up, "And I probably need to get back to base before Ratchet worries about me again."

But he doesn't want to let go of him just yet. Megatron stands faster than Optimus can, hefting the smaller mech easily. Optimus grips his shoulders tightly and his faceplate shimmers with heat, light blue deepening to a muted purple. Megatron snorts and laughs, gently touching his forehelm to Optimus's. "If it's all the same, little one, I'd rather take you back to the mine. I've shared you enough with the rest of our cohort today, I think."

"I- U-um..." Optimus's blush deepens further as his optics dart away. "S-sure, but they're going to have...assumptions." He noticeably resets his vocalizer after that last word.

Megatron finally steps off the road to allow the vehicles to pass with many a shouted curse from their open windows. "Let them." He ducks his helm to press a kiss to Optimus's warm cheek. "They don't matter to me nearly as much as you do, beloved."

A strangled noise erupts from Optimus's intake and he quickly shoves his dark faceplate against Megatron's shoulder. "You... Shut up," He protests weakly. "I think I liked it better when you ignored me."

"Don't lie to me, Optimus. You're quite terrible at it." He begins the very slow process of walking back along the road, towards the carbon mine, probably several megacycles away now. Even if it would be faster for them to transform and travel like that, Megatron hates the idea of letting go of his Autobot so soon after having him back in his grasp. His plating practically vibrates with giddy energy where Optimus's armor touches his own. He doesn't want that to end just yet. "Your own Magnus could land in front of me now, offer me Cybertron itself without a single caveat, and I don't know that I could bring myself to care."

The smaller bot mutters something just barely audible, drowned out by a passing vehicle, something like "...exaggerating..."

And he just can't have his sweet little Autobot thinking that, can he?

"Give me the next solar cycle to prove myself to you, little one. I mean every word, and I will be more than happy to convince you of it."

Optimus shifts in his arms. "You don't have to," He mumbles, pressing his faceplate into Megatron's neck.

Megatron carefully lifts his Autobot's helm from hiding, placing a gentle kiss to his helm. "I don't," He agrees, and Optimus visibly deflates, though it's likely more from relief than sorrow. All the same, it makes his spark clench. "But I want to, starlight. If it makes you uncomfortable, then by all means, I will refrain, but I would be honored if you would let me make amends for this...disaster of a solar cycle."

For a moment, Optimus is silent. Only a moment. He leans closer again, nuzzling into Megatron's jaw before pressing a kiss there. "Alright. If that's what you want, then I'm alright with it." He pauses, digits tapping nervously against the edge of Megatron's chassis. "...Mega."

Mercifully, the road is devoid of anyone besides Optimus to see the fearsome Slagmaker happily preen in the face of his Autobot's nickname.

 

 

"Optimus Prime! It is good to see you."

"Optimus?!" That pompous Prime's vocals echo inredulously in the background. Longarm throws a withering look over one shoulder.

Optimus grins as he leans back in the chair in the midst of the many screens in the Autobot base. "Longarm Prime, it's good to see you too. How's Ultra Magnus?"

Longarm gestures vaguely with his servo, but Megatron can see the faintest motion from his true optic suggesting a roll. Most likely related to the silver servo peeking in from the bottom corner of the screen. "Recovering, albeit slowly. Our medical team is working to ensure he is repaired with the utmost care and speed, but the damage, unfortunately, was quite extensive."

"Do we know the bots responsible?" Optimus glances over at Megatron with the slightest upward turn of his derma.

"As a matter of fact, we do." Longarm glances away, typing at another console presumably. A pop-up appears on one of the monitors, showing several blurry security feed stills followed by clearer images obviously taken on a Decepticon warship. Another pop-up appears atop the first, showing a brief comm log. "General Strika contacted us, of all things!" Megatron shakes his helm at Shockwave's feigned surprise. It's believable enough, but very forced. And the worst part is that it's still working... "She has offered the perpetrators to us completely unconditionally, only asking that we consider more peaceful cross-faction communications in the future."

Optimus dips his chin, rubbing his digits together, pretending to consider this information as though it's completely new to him. "That's strange, don't you think? If a rogue crew of Decepticons managed to injure Ultra Magnus this badly, I'd imagine they'd want to celebrate those bots."

"Evidently not." Longarm taps away at another console. "The Council agrees that it is suspicious, but we will not know for certain until those responsible are safely in our custody. General Strika allowed us to choose the meeting place and time, so until we have reason to believe otherwise, the general consensus is that she, and perhaps Megatron by extension, are genuine in their desire for peaceful communication."

"Hard to argue that, I guess."

If they didn't need to keep up the pretense of their divided factions, Megatron would have kissed his Prime silly. He'd been the one to suggest offering the rogue Decepticons as a kind gesture in the hopes of paving the way for a true, extended, full ceasefire between their peoples. It's nowhere near the response they'd hoped for when they discussed it with Shockwave and Strika, but it's also much better than Megatron expected. He'd thought the Autobots would reject the offer entirely. That they're at least somewhat receptive is...not quite reassuring, but in the general area of it.

One of the other monitors flickers for a moment, then that infuriating creature's faceplate appears, twisted with horrified shock. "O-Optimus?! What- You-! You were-!"

"Sentinel, this is not the time!" Longarm scolds, glaring at an unseen point over his shoulder.

Optimus holds his servo up. "It's alright, Longarm." His optics shift to stare down Sentinel, narrowing dangerously. Megatron grins with vindication when the inferior Prime cowers away from his Autobot. "I was what, Sentinel?"

"Offline!" Sentinel yells. "I watched you drop! You took a shot from a triple-barrel linear fusion cannon! From Megatron!"

"So you've reported," Longarm drawls, false and true optics rolling in tandem, "And so Agent Blurr has refuted, need I remind you, Sentinel."

"I know what I saw, Longarm!" Sentinel snaps back.

Optimus shrugs and leans back in his chair again. "Apologies, Longarm Prime, the reports of my offlining were...greatly exaggerated."

Sentinel splutters wordlessly for a nanoklik before his screen blips away to blackness. His indistinct shouts are barely audible from Longarm's communication console. Just off-screen, Longarm makes some kind of gesture, and Sentinel's yelling becomes softer and softer as he is presumably escorted away. "Sorry for that little interruption, Optimus," Longarm halfheartedly apologizes, no longer bothering to hide his contempt for the absent Prime now that he's gone.

"Don't worry about it. Anything else I should know about?"

"Not currently. I suppose I should officially inform you that Agent Blurr successfully reached Cybertron and has been assisting me in maintaining communication with you and your team, but I believe you deduced as much from this conversation."

"I did, but I appreciate the official log anyway."

"I don't suppose that you have anything to report either, Optimus?"

"Nothing significant. My crew and I have been hard at work collecting the shattered pieces of the AllSpark, no Decepticon activity detected nearby, and other than Sentinel's unauthorized arrival on this planet, it's been quiet."

Longarm glances away, muttering quietly to himself, as Shockwave often does when he's writing things down. "Excellent," He says once he's done, turning back to the screen. "That will be all for now, and I will be expecting your regular report in two orbital cycles. Longarm Prime, out."

Optimus inclines his helm. "I'll keep that in mind. Optimus Prime, out."

The monitor blinks off, and Optimus finally loses the hard line of tension he's held in his shoulders since the start of the call. Megatron walks over from his quiet hiding place just beside the many monitors and steps behind Optimus, using his much larger servos to rub soothingly over his Autobot's stiff frame.

The smaller mech sighs. "I know it's Shockwave, but that makes it more stressful, not less."

Megatron chuckles. "You'll get used to it. You're very adaptable." With one servo, he tips Optimus's helm back, meeting his tired blue optics with a soft, reassuring smile. Optimus's faceplate brightens at the little gesture.

A sharp cackle from nearby startles both of them from their silent reverie. Starscream bounces his pede while he leers at them from across the room, held immobile by Sari perched on his crossed legs with a massive brush of sorts in one of her tiny servos while her other grabs at the seeker's claws. "Aren't you both just pathetic? As if Shockwave is so intimidating."

If a small servo didn't reach up to squeeze his wrist, Megatron would've stormed over and tossed the traitorous jet through the wall. Instead, he merely shakes his helm. He can try his best, but even Starscream can't ruin the simple joy of time with his Autobot.

They haven't said anything outright to the rest of their followers. After going back to the mine and several megacycles of intense fragging, they'd discussed whether or not to announce their relationship, such as it is. Megatron was forthright with his desire to eventually see through the rites, and Optimus wanted the same, but, devious little strategist that he is, he made it clear that he wanted a full ceasefire between Autobot and Decepticon before they even start to consider the Ritus. Or at least an honest attempt. Think of it as motivation to make things work out, he'd said so smoothly when Megatron tried to protest.

Of course the downside is that if word of their closeness were to be known by the Autobot Council or even the Elite Guard, that could break all possibilities of peace talks outright. Amidst the paranoia running rampant after the attack on Ultra Magnus, Optimus would likely be branded a traitor and hunted down as a fugitive of war, possibly even blamed for the attack or any number of failures Shockwave encouraged over the stellar cycles. So, they decided to stay quiet about it to their respective teams on Earth. And, as much as he hates it, Megatron agreed to keep the - what did Optimus call it? PDA? Kissing, servo-holding, hugging, the very many things he wants to do with his Autobot all the time now - to a minimum as well. It grates, but it would be rather silly to expect anyone to believe they're simply peers if they're constantly seen holding each other.

Well, as much as it annoys him, Megatron takes the opportunity to make up for the time he's denied when they're in private.

Starscream yelps as Sari jerks his servo around. "I told you to hold still, fruitcake!" She scolds, smacking the Decepticon's knuckle joints with the handle of her odd tool.

The jet grumbles at the command, but does as he's told for once, going still while the girl leans over and dips her brush into an unlabeled canister. "What did you call this little human ritual again?" He grouses, digits of his free servo twitching.

"Painting your nails. Or claws, I guess."

ID:[OP-03.0502-10] - tag; PRIME; LITTLE ONE; ANNOYANCE (affectionate); STARLIGHT; MY AUTOBOT; [cont.]

::Guess we finally found a decent way to keep Starscream under control.::

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::I suppose if anyone could, it would be the girl.::

::She's...uniquely persuasive.::

::Not unlike a little Prime I know quite well.::

ID:[OP-03.0502-10] - tag; PRIME; LITTLE ONE; ANNOYANCE (affectionate); STARLIGHT; MY AUTOBOT; [cont.]

::WILL YOU SHUT::

::UP::

::You're gonna make it really fragging hard to keep *us* secret, aren't you?::

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::Think of it as motivation to conclude these prospective peace talks quickly.::

Megatron quietly chuckles as the metal beneath his servos slowly begins warming. One of his servos is tugged, gently enough that it only causes him to sway.

ID:[OP-03.0502-10] - tag; PRIME; LITTLE ONE; ANNOYANCE (affectionate); STARLIGHT; MY AUTOBOT; [cont.]

::I'm *going* to bash your helm in.::

::Tonight, actually.::

ID:[D-16.1226-07] -

::I look forward to it, little one.::

The increased pressure around his wrist almost has him laugh again. Almost.

"Anyway," Starscream mutters, pointedly glaring at the pair of them, "It's not as though you'll talk with that one-eyed sycophant that often. He barely takes time to talk to Megatron, and they were..." He glances down at Sari, focused solely on delicately applying the paint to the tips of his digits. "...Close. They were close."

Optimus shrugs and rises from his seat. Megatron allows his servos to slip off his Prime's frame, but they ache to touch him once more. "I'll have to eventually. If we can convince the Council to sit down and negotiate, Shockwave and I will be working together for however long that'll take." He sighs and crosses his arms over his chestplate, optics shuttering as he tilts his helm back. "Probably a long, long time, given what they've done in the past."

Starscream snickers. "You'd have better luck getting Megatron to seduce one of those rusted old councilbots over a date."

Sari smacks him. "Quit being such a jerk, Screamer!"

"Oh, please. Megatron wouldn't know how to handle romance if a bot was paid to give two scraps about him." Starscream smirks as their optics meet, emboldened by the protection granted from his proximity to the girl. "At best, he'd lecture until they fell into stasis."

Megatron glances down to his Autobot. Optimus shakes his helm with a wry smile but says nothing. Good to know that Starscream's ignorance is more entertaining than distressing for him. Still, the arrogant former second needs corrected in some fashion. If only for personal satisfaction.

Well, as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words.

Megatron grins as he scoops up Optimus, forcing a startled cry from the mech, and pulls him into a deep kiss with a servo on the back of his helm. The little mech resists when their derma first meet but melts into it almost instantly, frame losing that persistent tension that his Autobot can never seem to be fully rid of outside of their little mock fights.

They separate with soft, gasping vents, and Megatron can't help pressing another kiss to Optimus's neck cables. "Very sorry to go, but the romantically disinclined is needed elsewhere. Soundwave is hoping to test the space bridge today, and I want to be certain of its function myself."

Optimus visibly swallows as he's lowered back to his pedes. "I- O-okay." He sways unsteadily as Megatron pulls away, almost as if he wants to follow, until he glances over to Starscream and Sari. Starscream is staring with optics and intake wide open, stunned into rare silence. Sari, meanwhile, just grins wide and gives a thumbs-up to the pair. Optimus huffs, servo rubbing over the back of his neck. "Jackaft," He mutters, but he's smiling in spite of the insult. "So, uh...will I see you tonight?"

Megatron takes his Autobot's servo in his own, swiping his thumb reassuringly over the back. "Of course you will." He leans down and presses his derma against Optimus's helm, quietly chuckling when the mech pulls him closer for a moment with an arm around his chassis. Megatron turns, servo slipping away, and walks out of the plant, a comforting, suffused warmth settling in his spark.

Notes:

AND THUS MARKS THE END OF THE MAIN STORY!!!! I hope this conclusion was worth the wait, although it is *technically* not quite the end. I have 2 more chapters I'll be working on to serve as sort of epilogue/endcaps that were more or less fun scenes I thought would be fun to include but don't really add any plot elements and are more for comedy and overarching resolution now that Megan and Oppy finally kissed and smooched and hugged and all that fun stuff, plus some spin-off oneshots from other characters' POVs also for the hell of it.

I am so very glad and thankful for all the awesome comments and kind words along the way and I'm so incredibly happy that so many people enjoyed this silly little fanfic (as if it's not 70k+ words and easily the longest thing I've ever written on AO3 or otherwise) of these 2 dummies in love.