Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To say that Megatron had a helmache would be the understatement of the century – make that the millennium!

His optics felt as if they were about to rattle out of their sockets.

His dentae plates – he felt certain – were working loose.

He was not sure that his audial receptors would ever cease their whooshing, buzzing and ringing.

There were times when he hated having a berthroom alongside Soundwave's.

Dubstep! What was the fascination with it?

As far as Megatron had ever been able to tell, it was just a cacophony of poorly-assembled noise!

He was tempted to retreat to the secret, hidden room behind his office.  However, if he shut himself away in there all night long and emerged refreshed, Soundwave would soon deduce that he had a second berthroom.

Best not to risk it.

He decided to turn off his audials and try to recharge.

It was uncomfortable – his helm still ached and he was all the more aware of the vibrations, without the sound accompanying them – but better than having to endure that din.

The reason for this torture was simple: he had failed to shower Soundwave with sufficient praise for an easy job done satisfactorily.

Starscream had – for once – volunteered to take the harder task and did an exceptional job.  He had had to praise his son – it was unavoidable.

Usually, he would avoid drawing attention to Starscream (unless he used his viciously sarcastic tone) because he feared that the youngest and most vulnerable (not counting Soundwave's Cassettes) Decepticon might find himself subjected to wrath and jealousy.  It was the only way he could protect the seeker and avoid putting a target on his back.

He removed his fusion cannon – he was so tense and weary that nightmares were practically guaranteed – and stowed it within easy reach.  Deaf as he currently was, he felt vulnerable and uncomfortable.

He rubbed a servo over his faceplate and yawned.

Not being able to hear even that was strange.

He stretched and then curled up to watch the fish swimming around outside.

There was something calming about fish.

For one thing, they didn't have to be reminded that he appreciated silence.  They didn't play dubstep loudly enough to wake the dead on Cybertron.

He watched the fish, trying all the while to ignore the unpleasant vibrations, and did his best to calm himself.

How he hated dubstep!

There were distorted sounds around him.  He unshuttered his optics to find himself in the mines of Kaon.

His chain gang was working, but something was wrong.

He couldn't move.  He couldn't lift his arms, release his hold on his equipment or move his legs.

The ground moved beneath him with an ominous rumble that he felt more than heard.

Rockslide!

He knew what was coming, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.  The cave-in came down on him, pinning him flat on the floor with the debris on his back.

Megatron coughed harshly.  As he did so, he felt a movement beneath him.

A tiny youngling with a dark helm and red optics stared up at him and pouted.

"Did you have to let those big-aft chest intakes of yours cough all over me? Ew! Megabum germs!"

Where had he materialised from?

"I just saved you from getting crushed, you miserable seeker!"

That's right! Prime had attacked them when they had been mining and tossed a bomb at Starscream! If Megatron had not been standing so close... well! Starscream should be glad that he had been.

"You're hurting my wings," he complained.

Megatron huffed.  "Be grateful that you still have wings to feel pain with."

The child blinked.

His dermas started to tremble.

"What is it?" Megatron rumbled.

"I'm scared," he answered, snivelling.  "And you're really heavy! I'm going to die..."

He was not! Megatron was not going to lie there, pinned, and watch his son's optics turn dark and empty.  Absolutely not!

"Stay still," he ordered, before firing up his fusion cannon and using it to blast the rocks away.

Starscream sneezed as the dust fell around them and whined.

"I'm gonna die!"

He unshuttered his optics.

He recognised his surroundings instantly.

Nemesis. 

His quarters. 

He was lying on his berth.

He was alone.

He lay still, gripping the edge of his uncomfortable, utilitarian berth as he panted and gasped.

How could a stupid dream frighten him like this?

The ache in his helm felt all the worse now and he could feel his anxiety spiking.

Megatron reached for his fusion cannon.

He hugged it close, curling around it as if he expected it to anchor him, while his spark jittered and pulsed uncomfortably in its casing.

Ugh.  Were he not so useful, he would have annihilated Soundwave long ago.

He could still feel the dubstep shaking the base.

Of course, he still rose early.

The only way to keep Megatron in recharge after dawn was to drug him.  Even then... it was not guaranteed.

He grumbled as he pulled himself to his pedes.

Fatigue following a restless night gave no free pass for laziness – least of all for him.

He refuelled and made his way to the control room.

Starscream was already there.

Rumble and Frenzy were with him.

They were not, as far as he could see, working.

Starscream was strutting and prancing, wings atwitch, while the Cassettes danced together.

"Whoo yeah!" Frenzy cheered.  "This is better than the scrap Soundwave calls music!"

"Here's a poke at you! You're gonna choke on it too," Rumble chanted along with whatever was playing on one of the consoles.

Unimpressed, Megatron strode into the room and switched it off.

"Hey!"

Three pairs of optics were turned upon him.

"We are here to work, not dance and sing," Megatron growled, fusion cannon whirring ominously.

Starscream huffed.  "What's your problem?"

"We work better with music!" Rumble added.

"What work was being done?" Megatron demanded to know.  "What are you doing, preparing to take part in a talent show?"

"That could be fun," Frenzy said.  "Maybe the humans'll give us whatever we want if they saw how smart and talented we are!"

"Doubtful," grumbled Megatron.  "They like the Autobots and they are neither intelligent nor talented."

Starscream nodded, pouting.  "Yes... that's true.  They're the biggest, smelliest bunch of motorised morons this side of the universe!"

"Not counting Motormaster," Rumble put in.

Frenzy laughed.

Megatron wrinkled his nose.

"What music do you like?" Rumble asked him.

He blinked.

What?

Starscream huffed and folded his arms with a flick of his wings.

"Probably something from so long ago that only the old... der... bots even know what it sounds like."

Megatron's optic twitched.

"Nah! Megatron's got taste," Frenzy argued loyally.

He shuttered his optics and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "The Tarnished Sparks," he said quietly.  "I used to listen to the Tarnished Sparks."

"They're really old!" Rumble gasped.

Megatron glared at him.  "Ignorant fools! They coupled poetry with dramatic harmonies and-"

"Junk," Starscream interjected.

He stared at him coldly.

He had had quite enough.

"I have a suggestion for you, Starscream," he growled dangerously.  "Take Soundwave and his cassettes and go and enjoy music elsewhere."

Rumble and Frenzy started to cheer excitedly.

Starscream kicked them both onto their skidplates.

"Shut up," he hissed at them, before turning to his sire.

Megatron had his arms folded and his optics narrowed.  He looked as if he were waiting to be challenged.

"You dare banish me? Me?"

He smirked back at him.

"Why not, Starscream? You like music, don't you? Think of all the Earth noise that you can fill your miserable processor with!"

"But... but... Megatron! You're really going to exile me – and Soundwave, too? Why? We're too valuable!"

Not if they were going to disturb his recharge, they weren't.

The helmache of the previous night was still there and he was not going to suffer at the vindictive servos of his Third in Command again.  If Starscream thought he was going to play loud music of his own, he badly needed a new processor!

"What d'you want us to do?" Frenzy asked him.

He really couldn't care less!

"We could start a talent show," Rumble suggested excitedly.

Starscream wrinkled his nose and shook his helm.

"As always, I have a better idea," he announced.  "A nightclub! Brats in the basement, Soundwave on the ground floor and I'll take the upper floor.  I might put in a glass roof!"

Impressive.

Were he in a better mood, he might have even said as much.

As it was...

"I couldn't care less what you do," Megatron grumbled.  "Just get out of my sight.  I am sick and tired of your racket – Soundwave's too."

Rumble and Frenzy walked out with their helms down.

"You can't be serious," Starscream began to argue, wings flaring angrily.

Megatron grabbed him roughly by the wing and marched him to the door.

"Wrong," he snarled.  "Get out!"

The seeker held up his servos.

"I'll go! Don't hurt my wings or I won't be able to fly – be reasonable! Mercy!"

"I am tired of being reasonable and I am sick of showing mercy," he snapped back at him.  "I gave sufficient warnings, even for your slow brain! Leave and do not return until I send for you."

He didn't need to be told again.

Chapter Text

Dancitron was everything that Starscream had envisioned and more

The Cassettes had their den in the basement, in which they played all their favourite music (a mix of teen and kids' stuff, with a few carnival beats tossed in; not his cube of highgrade).

It was dark, with a bright, illuminated dance floor in green and purple.  Above it, lights that changed colour and strobed illuminated the area.  Lasers danced across the space, making interesting patterns against the cigarette smoke of underage endulgers (as if the Cassettes cared about such matters) and the smoke machines.

The ceiling was mirrored.  The floor was a dark, shiny vinyl that glittered in the light and gleamed like oil on water.

Fizzy and alcoholic drinks flowed from bottle to glass to mouth, while the young bots enjoyed intoxicating energon swiped from Megatron's secret stash.

It was loud, unruly and a safe haven for young people – Decepticons included – who wanted to see how far anarchy could be taken.  Here, there was only one rule: NO RULEZ!

On the ground floor, Soundwave had his space.  It was, Starscream felt, a dubstep dive.

Grungy as a disused garage.

Dark and illuminated only by fancy neon signage and the lights on the sound system.

It smelt of stale human sweat, questionable shots and cheap beer.  Starscream never ventured down here.

Humans danced together as if under a spell.

Occasionally, they made "peace" and "respect" signs at their impassive DJ.

Soundwave didn't really care about the humans who came and enjoyed his choice of music with him, but their money was welcome right enough.

They drank as if they were facing a drought! They liked the peanuts the bar offered, too.  Apparently, salted and roasted were normal choices, but chocolate was not.

Interesting.

Some humans had taken to venture in just for the snacks!

Annoying, but... fair.

If there was anywhere on Earth where Soundwave could find his favourite snack, he would probably go there often, himself.

Starscream's first floor area was a palace.  He sat upon a glittering throne, surrounded by red, yellow and blue lighting.  The floor was covered in red carpet and the walls were draped with red velvet curtains.  Mirror balls and glass gemstones reflected the lights, while a domed, glass roof showed off the starry sky above.

Not that many stars could be seen – this was New York!

The club was the same height as a building with at least twenty times the number of floors, but bots are far taller than humans and they needed the extra headroom.

Besides, the high ceilings meant that there was all the more room for lights, speakers and decorative items.  The mirror balls alone were massive.

In one corner, a decorative stairway led to a roof garden, with garden furniture, soft lighting, bar and barbecue.  It was surrounded be honeysuckle and jasmine, trained on cast-iron trellises.

While Starscream had agreed that human fuels were a good way to squeeze extra money out of the peasants and parasites who ventured in off the street, he did not want them refuelling in his decadent safe space.

The glass dome was fenced off and reinforced, so there was no danger of a human going through it and ruining the expensive carpet.

As king of his domain, the young seeker played the music that he wanted: The Who.  All night.

He tapped his pede to I Can See For Miles, My Generation and Won't Get Fooled Again.  He sang along with Boris The Spider and grinned at the clever words in My Wife and Going Mobile.

He always finished with Blue Red And Grey as the sun started to rise.

It never ceased to surprise him when the regulars all stopped their dancing and bantering to sing along with its soft chorus.

After the first week, however, Starscream started to miss Megatron.

It was true that he was a grumpy old mech, who only ever laughed at someone's misfortune and didn't seem to know the meaning of humour or fun unless someone was suffering...

But that was all show.

When they were alone – truly alone – Megatron was strangely kind and gentle.  They'd share a highgrade and talk about what they might do when the Autobots were finally beaten into submission, enslaved or obliterated.

Megatron would joke about making Optimus his slave and getting him to clean the Nemesis, "looking cute in an apron" (??? Starscream wasn't sure what he meant by that), while the Constructicon team was assisted by Wheeljack, Ratchet and Hoist in repairing their base and getting it up from the seabed.

"I might have them build an aquarium in my quarters," he had added once, dreamily.  "Fish do not require fuel, aside from water.  Taking a few back to Cybertron as a little keepsake would be nice."

Hmm... his processor was definitely wearing out.  The day they beat the Autobutts and claimed Cybertron, he was going to build his mad old sire a nice little retirement home.  He'd be fine! All he needed was an aquarium and a recording of The Tarnished Sparks.

Chapter Text

All was going well.

Starscream got to enjoy the awe of the little people of Earth and indulge his taste in music all he liked.  He could sleep all day and show off all night – what self-respecting young teen wouldn't love that?

Soundwave did not share the extravagant youngling's passion for attention, but he too enjoyed his floor.  The humans were respectful and quiet.  Some even brought him gifts and made a fuss of Ravage – the only Cassette who did not spend every waking hour in the basement.

Rumble, Frenzy, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw rarely ventured out of their den.  They found it to be cosy, comfortable and just right for them.  Like Soundwave, the human teens who frequented their subterranean space sometimes brought gifts: furniture, extra lighting, tapes, vinyls and CDs to add to their music collection...

They now had a fancy, translucent red table, made of hard-wearing plastic.  In its centre stood a red and purple lava lamp.  It was cool!

They were also making money.

That was unexpected.

Humans were queuing around the block to get inside and paying $50 each! Starscream had been forced to install a lockable box with a slit at the top, to take the payments – and that was just the entry fee.  The bars and burnt fuel on offer in the roof garden was also raking in the paper money.

Megatron was going to be so proud!

"Knock, knock!"

The music was shut off.

"OK, Raoul," Tracks said to a punky-looking human brat on his shoulder.  "Get everyone out and leave the Decepticons to us!"

Starscream clenched his fists.  "How dare you come here! Get out!"

There was a crash from downstairs.

A scream that sounded as though it came from Frenzy.

Ravage ran up the stairs and leapt onto Starscream's shoulders.

Buzzsaw and Laserbeak flew up after their brother and started to circle Tracks angrily.

"Nice place you've got here," came the ominous voice of Blaster from below.  "Be a shame if anything happened to it."

Starscream watched miserably as Raoul rounded up the humans and ushered them downstairs, in the direction of the exit.

"What is this?"

Tracks smirked at him.  "We're closing you down.  You can either come quietly or-"

Starscream kicked him in the codpiece.

Tracks grinned and punched his faceplate.

Then he snatched hold of one of Starscream's beautiful mirror balls and smashed it over his helm.

Ravage, who had leapt clear, snarled and jumped onto Tracks' back.

From downstairs, they could hear lighting rigs getting knocked over and smashed while Rumble and Frenzy screamed, cried and swore.

"Why?" Starscream demanded to know.  "What harm were we even doing?"

"Are you kidding me?" Tracks shot back, kicking him in the fuel tank so hard that he almost purged.

Megatron looked up from his work as Starscream and Soundwave entered the control room.  Starscream was carrying a beaten Ravage; Soundwave had Rumble and Frenzy on either hip, while Buzzsaw and Laserbeak flew in and alighted on Megatron's shoulders.

He frowned at them.

"Well, you are a sorry sight," he remarked.  "What happened?"

Starscream spat energon onto the floor.

"You will clean that up."

"I'm bleeding," he whined back.

"Autobots: closed down Dancitron," Soundwave informed him.

"With violence," Frenzy added.

"They walked in and smashed up the place," Rumble added.

Frenzy sniffled.  "They broke our lava lamp!"

"They thought we were hurting the humans," Starscream told his sire.  "And manipulating them somehow.  Just because a couple of them gave us presents-"

"Presents?" Megatron repeated.  "What did they give you?"

Starscream carefully adjusted his hold on Ravage, who was yet to so much as twitch.

He then pulled the cash box that he had kept next to his throne and a glittering crown from his subspace, setting each on the floor.

"The gems are not worth much," he said.  "They're just zirconia.  I checked.  But it was still a nice thing to give me, seeing as I didn't ask.  They were... kind."

Rumble and Frenzy both nodded miserably.

"Nice?" Megatron blinked as he tried to understand.  "Kind?"

"We made them happy!" Frenzy said.

Rumble agreed.  "They liked us! They liked that we didn't give 'em rules to follow.  We just played music 'n' had fun.  They had fun with us."

"They got us a lava lamp," Frenzy sniffled.

Megatron frowned at Soundwave.  "What is a lava lamp?"

He shrugged in reply.

"Whatever it is, they're upset that Blaster kicked it off the table and smashed it," Starscream said.

Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Let me get this straight... you set up a place with no rules; only music.  It made the humans happy.  They brought... gifts.  The Autobots decided you had to be doing something terrible and destroyed the place, beat you soundly and drove you away."

Starscream huffed.  "I was winning! But then Tracks started swinging Ravage by the tail and using him as a sort of... of... whip.  And I had to back down."

He stared at the unconscious cat in Starscream's arms.

"Take yourselves to medbay," he said after a long moment.

He watched them file out with a weary sigh.

Clearly, they had not had sufficient time to get the music out of their systems.

He picked up the battered crown and stared at it.

Gold plated, with worthless stones.

Yet... it had made his son happy.

A... lava lamp... had made Soundwave's twins happy.

He started to run a search for replacement items.

He would not give Starscream a crown – it would send the wrong message – but he might give him a bejewelled bracelet, which he could keep as a secret heirloom.

He'd think of something.

What was in the box, anyway?

He opened it and jumped back in surprise.

"Money?! Those humans gave our cause money? And a worthless crown and a lamp was worth more to them? How much is in here? Oh... those Autobots are going to pay for this outrage dearly!"

Prime was in for quite a shock.

At Autobot Headquarters, he had heard a very different story:

"They must've been using the music to hypnotise the people going in," Blaster had said. 

"They were dancing like they were in some kind of trance and making weird gestures," Tracks added.

Blaster nodded.  "Yeah! And one o' them stole a lamp from a store 'n' another one stole a crown from a Broadway set across town!"

Optimus hummed thoughtfully.  "I'll call Megatron and tell him to leave the humans alone and return the stolen goods.  What would they even want with a prop? Was the lamp valuable?"

Tracks shook his helm.  "It was a tacky thing.  Shaped like a rocket ship, with globs of wax floating around in it."

"What would Megatron want with that?" Prime wondered, rubbing his chin.

Blaster snorted.  "Does it matter? We smashed it, anyway."

He sighed.  "You should've tried to return it."

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

"Prime, I think we did a good job," Tracks argued.  "We shut them down and chased them out of town – isn't that the important thing?"

He nodded.  "I guess it is.  Well done, both of you.  Now, go see Ratchet and Hoist."

As he watched them head for medbay, he felt his spark swell with a glow of pride.

"Prime!"

He turned to the display on Teletraan-1 with a fake smile in his optics.

"Ah, Megatron! I trust you're well?"

"Enough," he snapped.  "Your Autobots attacked my Decepticons last night-"

"So they have been telling me," he confirmed, folding his arms.

Megatron smiled unpleasantly.  "Did they have the nerve to tell you that the only... harm... that Starscream and Soundwave were doing was inflicting their music preferences on humans, instead of my delicate audial receptors?"

Optimus dropped the fake smile and unfolded his arms.  "They what? But... the stolen goods!"

"What stolen goods? This is news to me."

He rubbed at his chin as he recalled.  "Among them was a rocket ship lamp with wax in it and a set prop from Broadway that looked like a crown."

"Gifts, apparently."

"Gifts?!"

Megatron smirked.  "Presents, Optimus.  Humans are like Ravage – they like to show appreciation with trinkets.  Ravage likes to bring me clockwork toys.  For some reason.  Where he gets them from..."

"Wait! Hold up! Time out," Prime shook his helm.  "They weren't asked to bring anything... they did it anyway.  They weren't under duress or hypnosis."

"No," Megatron snapped.  "According to Starscream, Soundwave and the Cassettes, the humans were... being nice."

"Nice..."

"Yes.  They liked the nightclub.  They enjoyed the music and having a place to eat, drink and dance all night long.  Two of your dimmest Autobots went in and destroyed something that was, in fact, harmless and keeping my Second and Third in Command out of trouble."

He let that sink in for a moment and then narrowed his optics in fury.

"Congratulations, Prime!"

Optimus groaned.  "I'll have them restore it."

"Indeed, you will."

"I'll issue any humans who frequent the place a formal apology for the misunderstanding," he added.

"What about Starscream?" Megatron demanded to know.  "He had to back down because Tracks used Ravage as a living flail in a fight!"

"He... what?"

Megatron snarled at him.  "From now on, Prime, you can expect similar tactics.  I used to fight you with honour, but I expected the same in return.  You can thank Tracks and Blaster for any... change in our tactics."

"I don't suppose an apology from them-?"

Megatron scowled at him.  "Would you accept one from my subordinates, were they to pull a similar stunt?"

Optimus held up his servos.  "They acted stupidly and on their own.  They didn't even report to me – or Ironhide – before going in.  They seem to think New York is... their... scene... not mine.  Don't look at me like that.  You've got a couple o' loose cannons, yourself.  This should be one thing we can commiserate on.  I'll handle this and get them to apologise.  We'll decide on what to do after your friends have got their nightclub back in order.  Is that reasonable?"

Megatron was quiet for a long moment, then gave a slow nod.

"That... is not unreasonable."

Optimus let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and gave a slight nod. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," Megatron warned, narrowing his optics.  "If your subordinates make Soundwave's Cassettes cry like that again, I will consider it an act of war."

"I’ll pass that on," Prime said dryly.

The screen blinked out.

"We're already at war," he muttered.

Teletraan-1 hummed softly in the silence.

Optimus stared at the empty monitor, then muttered under his breath: "Ravage as a flail… what were they even thinking?"

The proud, warm glow had turned to a cold, heavy lump of disappointment.