#Guilty Optimus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birthdaycakeplate · 2 years

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✨Part 2✨ Warnings in the tags, though most apply to Part 1✨ Kissing✨ Blushing✨Im awful babes✨

💕Basically the heavier fluff this has been leading up to below💕

Blitzbee/Megop with the ‘Cons being accidentally very soft and making the ‘Bot boys emotional for it. I would sum this up as, ‘crack treated seriously’.

———————————-

“We’re cool again.” Bumblebee told Blitzwing over an extremely unauthorized comm link.

“I figured as much. Jou little Autobots are too soft to stay mad at each other.”

He could practically hear Bee lift a brow ridge at him, eager to remind him that Ratchet existed as proof otherwise.

“Let me guess,” Bee snorted.

“You big brutes think that’s a weakness of ours?”

No. Blitzwing could admit he was starting to see the appeal in keeping such close bonds with one another. It may come with some stronger emotions than he was comfortable with expressing to another bot when things became strained -as he’d seen- but having someone who cared so deeply for you sounded liberating in a way. Someone you could rest assured would be waiting for you with open servos at the end of an explosive argument, rather than another punch or violent rejection.

If things were different, he wouldn’t mind being bonded in such a way with Lugnut. Thank frag rambling about yellow minibots at 3 am didn’t count.

Blitzwing chose not to comment.

“Ve vill meet zoon for zose negotiations, I believe.” He said instead.

And he’d need some serious convincing that those negotiations would ever be as devoid of the sense of attachment that’d brought them so uncomfortably close as they’d once been. This new truce was born, from the compassion of a former gladiator who’d once worn the blood of Autobots as war paint in the darker days of their campaign. Nothing about his agreeing to forge a relationship between their peoples would leave this feeling ‘business-like’ or casual ever again.

“Vill jou be bringing ze Game Box?”

“Frag yeah!” Bee instantly perked up.

“I wouldn’t spend my time giving my polish hours of sun damage any other way! We’ll play first thing, I, oh- uh, actually....” Bumblebee stopped abruptly and trailed off, and Blitzwing could make out the slightest quiver in his vocalizer. Like he was embarrassed about something.

Blitzwing sat upright, immediately invested.

“So, um... A-About that...”

“Vut iz it, Bee?”

That was definitely the sound of Bumblebee swallowing on the other end. Blitzwing subconsciously leaned forward, straining to hear.

“Yeah, I uh... I was just wondering if you’d like to play something... uh, different next time?”

Blitzwing damned his flickering wings at the softness his tone had taken.

“Because I vas getting too good at ze other one?”

Bee gave a nervous laugh, clearly trying to keep his cool.

Blitzwing pushed him a bit.

“But I am certain I vill excel at zis one, too. Vut iz it?”

Bumblebee went eerily quiet for so long, Blitzwing worried he’d just severed the connection. But then a little sigh filled the tense silence. Definitely nervous.

“Well, it’s not actually *cool*. I mean, you can’t like... ‘be good’ at it.”

Blitzwing cocked his helm, tapping a finger to his cheek in thought. Waiting patiently for Bee to explain his interest in anything he couldn’t earn bragging rights to.

“You just, like, um... You water plants- and, um... and take care of animals.... and, and stuff...”

A game about domestic bliss? What Blitzwing had gathered in his short studies of organic Earth life, it certainly sounded like it.

Bumblebee held his breath. He knew it sounded stupid, even while he was saying it, but... he kind of just hoped Blitzwing wouldn’t care about that...

It was his *favorite* game -his guilty pleasure. One he’d deny vehemently if anyone ever found it.

But.... it’d be ok if Blitzwing knew...

“Oh?” The triple changer hummed. Either placating him, which was uncharacteristically sweet of him, or somehow intrigued at the thought of playing a slice of life game that didn’t involve all the ‘cool stuff’ a ‘Con would be interested in. No guns or violence or defacing park fountains-

“I like animals.” Blitzwing said at last.

Which, really?

Wow.

Did he like killing them, or...?

Bee didn’t get a chance to ask before Blitzwing said the single most baffling thing he’d heard in ages -Excluding Megatron of Tarn’s agreement to a *truce*.

“Zere is a field of cows not far from here. Zey moo sometimes vhen I’m trying to recharge.” Then it was his turn to be awkward and quiet, and it had Bee slack jawed and dialing the volume in his audial.

“I... I like to listen to zhem... I guess....”

Bee very pointedly -having learnt from experience- did not rave like a lunatic over this information. ‘Cons had proven themselves sensitive -shy, if you asked him- about things of a softer nature. Being lulled by squishy earth creatures into recharge included.

Instead, Bumblebee redirected, though barely able to contain the ecstatic laughter threatening to bubble out of him.

“Dude, heh- t-this game has cows in it!”

“Riveting.” Blitzwing agreed noncommittally. Probably deadly aware he’d given himself away just now, but agreeaing to ignore it.

“I’ll definitely make you your own account this time!” Bumblebee chirped, and Blitzwing could imagine him bouncing around his room. Knocking over the mountains of game cartridges he liked to imagine Bee hoarded.

“You’ll want to name your own character for this game -it’s special that way, trust me!”

“Sure.” The other huffed. Bee seemed to be getting to know him better as a bot, so if he said so, it must be true.

Which is how Blitzwing found himself under the shade of a line of trees and Bumblebee leaning into him, fiddling with the Game Box in his larger hands and guiding him through the set up. Helping him make himself a digital tent and thrusting his servos in his face excitedly when Blitzwing managed to attract a new animal to it. And no one even cared that they were too far away from the negotiations to help if things ‘went awry’.

‘As if’, Blitzwing snorted. Though his opinion about any potential cross faction violence was definitely made less credible by his obvious approval of the little mech hanging off his arm.

—————————-

Optimus knew these talks wouldn’t suddenly become easier, just because Megatron had shown him some compassion. Well, an abundance of compassion, considering the source of it.

Still, they were discussing the future of their people -discussing it with an often times iron-brained, macho aft, who didn’t see why they’d likely be pinned with tariffs for off planet goods from Decepticon populated cities, and wouldn’t accept an explanation for it.

“If our factions are at peace in this hypothetical scenario, why would we be taxed for that?!”

“The authorities on the council will want our merging to operate in uniform.” Optimus was guessing, of course, but he couldn’t imagine a Cybertron in his life cycle that would settle for anything less than what explicitly made *them* -the civilians and council- feel comfortable. Xenophobia was as extended towards other species as it was their own brethren.

“But our needs are different to your own.” Megatron reminded him.

“Luxury goods maybe. Essentials aren’t.”

And ‘how accommodating would the council be for war frame luxuries’ was the implication there. Megatron, of course, expected resistance, including such ludicrous rules as those from the ancient, winded bots in power. *But* that didn’t mean he would *accept* them...

“I think it’s stupid, too.” Optimus added, knowing his honest distaste was still a useless sentiment in this case.

“But I know what the Magnus will probably push for.”

They both did, because they both knew deep down what kind of mech their less reasonable, less trusting Ultra Magnus could be. That didn’t mean Megatron would pass up an opportunity to poke at the other.

“Where are you getting this information?” He hummed, looking the little Prime over.

Optimus looked worried then. Knowing it was entirely likely Megatron had seen right through him before he’d bothered to make that jab.

“Well, *actually*....” He took a moment to clear his vocalizer and push away the affect Megatron’s smirk seemed to be having on his courage.

“I stayed up all cycle sort of... falling down a rabbit hole of-“

“A what?” The other blinked.

“It’s an expression. Anyway, I just got lost in all these, ah, ‘what if’s. A-And I thought about the laws that’d come to pass under Ultra Magnus’ rule. I mean, there are plenty of... of...” Well Optimus wasn’t ready to damn his commander *entirely* yet, but recalling the clear prejudice against flight capable frames and the treatment of bots falsely labeled ‘non sentient’ in their history under his leadership didn’t do much of anything to renew his withering faith in the mech. Not now that he’d been shown how reasonable they could be.

Megatron hummed, a expression neutral. He wasn’t desperate to hear an already shaken, confused mech do more to ruin his neglected faith in a cause he so earnestly believed in. Optimus was doing all of this, because he believed his system would be convinced to make a change. That they would do it, because they would want to do the right thing- like he did.

Megatron felt that familiar burden he’d come to associate with feeling responsible for this mech’s better sense tinge his spark.

Optimus pursued the Autobot cause, because he believed it existed for the right, honest reasons, and he wanted to see it bettered. Quite a thing for Megatron to tackle, or try to cast in a more honest light.

So, he moved on.

“What sensible reason could Ultra Magnus actually give for me to accept the terms of such a tax?”

Optimus’ finials dipped, and Megatron was drawn to them.

“I was worried he’d base it on something like... well, the fact that we don’t have access to those cities.”

“You would be welcomed to, in an era of peace.” Megatron stated the obvious, which Optimus knew sounded logical, but-

“They aren’t as accessible to civil frames- with few, if any, exceptions, we can’t fly. And don’t tell me cities like New Kaon are going to have livable conditions for civil types, even just for visiting.” Optimus arched a brow ridge.

Megatron mirrored it.

“So you are telling me, we are not allowed to have a space which caters specifically to our needs without penance? Do you see how discriminatory that is and *why* I’d rather eat my own glossa?”

“I’m *saying* the *Magnus* will definitely push for that,” As he’d want total control of Megatron’s people, as much as his own.

“And we’ll need to build up trust and respect for your kin before we can make a solid point to protest it. We need bots on your side first, if we’re ever going to fix the millennias of fear and insecurity the war has instilled in Cybertronians.”

Megatron agreed with his logic. He didn’t agree to the hypothetical events that may await him, though.

“Unacceptable. I don’t *settle* for *anything*.”

“Sometimes you have to make compromises-“

“Why else would I *only* agree to speak with you about these pertinent matters?” Megatron continued, and crossed his arms and jut his chin out for good measure. Looking thoroughly insulted. Noticing Prowl’s anxious side glance from the short distance away.

Optimus blushed, but refused to let the strange flutter in his tanks push him off track.

“Because Ultra Magnus i-isn’t here?”

“And if he were, I’d only spare him a glance whenever I needed him to write something into law.” Megatron huffed indignantly. How dare Optimus even presume...

Obviously Magnus wasn’t good for much else than his title. Optimus was the only mech Megatron would be doing any spark searching with. Ever.

*Ever*.

Little idiot.

Optimus was too out of sorts to argue. It *really* seemed like Megatron was complimenting him this time, and he didn’t know what to do about that.

Should he... do it back? To encourage camaraderie?

*Would it* encourage camaraderie? Or would his kindness bruise Megatron’s ego?

“You, well, ah. You... You are brilliant, Megatron -there’s no denying that. Ultra Magnus should be far more amendable to your visions for our future, once he sees how far you’ve come as a leader.” Optimus winced at how weak that was for a compliment.

But he couldn’t help his own bias in that Megatron choosing to make a change did make him look a more competent, commendable leader. And there were few things that lit him up like a respectable authority figure.

Not that Optimus was...was... ‘lit up’....

Megatron was stood there, helplessly locking optics across the way with Blitzwing and Lugnut -who were oblivious that this may very well be the first ever signal that they were overstepping some serious boundaries in these negotiations and remained unbothered, turning back to the little Autobots demanding their attention instead.

Megatron only needed a moment more of buffering, though, to connect the little Prime’s words to the intent there.

A compliment. Flattery even?

He set his jaw and turned dangerously slow to level with the smaller mech. A smirk pulling the corners of his lips turned absolutely predatory and sullied whatever faith Optimus might have that this mech had an ounce of integrity in him.

That strong intuition of his had Optimus looking wobbly on his pedes then.

“You think me a fine leader, Prime?” Megatron purred salaciously. He cocked his hip to one side and settled a large, scarred hand over it. Looking audacious as ever.

Optimus was definitely going to be eating his words -and his pride- for this, but...

“I do.” He swallowed.

“You’ve shown that you’re willing to talk things through without violence. I-I think that’s... I think.. that you...”

When had Megatron gotten so close? Optimus looked up at him with wide optics, struggling to keep optic contact.

“Am I so grand a leader that I might have *you* then?”

“I- What- I- !?”

“As my soldier, of course.” Megatron expanded, smiling happily in the face of the shuddering Prime. Prideful at having been the one to affect him so. Who could ever ask him to give up delighting in a treat like this, no matter what good things the future might hold? He was a deplorable scoundrel at his core, and that’s all he ever would be, if you went digging.

Optimus could feel heat radiating off his cheekplates, and all the way to the tips of his audial fins. That was about all he could take, it seemed.

“That’s enough for today, I think!” He squeaked, entirely unmechlike.

The smile slipped right off of Megatron’s faceplate.

“Ah, is it? We’ve only just started-“

“Two hours ago!” Optimus reminded him, and hurried past the towering brute to collect his team. Being careful not to let Ratchet see how suspiciously bothered he was after he’d endured such an unholy amount of his pestering about Megatron using him and this fake truce to get under his plates for the last week or so.

He -poorly- disguised his flustered state from the lot of them with a quick snap of the fingers in the opposite direction, vocalizer completely blown, indicating that they were leaving. Nobody looked convinced his issue was anger at the incorrigible mech behind him grinning wolfishly.

——————-

—————-

Bumblebee was two steps sneaking into Optimus’ room later -as if Prowl wasn’t decently aware at this point about their nightly rendezvous- and taking a seat right onto Optimus’ recharge slab, when he spun around and started thrusting ‘delightful’ accusations at him.

“You two looked preeeetty friendly today~” He said with a *wink*, reminding the bigger bot far too much of a certain warlord then.

Optimus physically recoiled where he’d been polishing his axe, allowing it to clatter to the floor in favor of grasping uselessly at thin air.

“Bumblebee!” He hissed, attempting to stop himself from screaming down the base.

“It’s *one thing* to talk about the things that we do! It’s *another* to make such blatant insinuations!”

“Because they’re true?” Bumblebee kicked back and lounged with his arms folded under his helm. Unbothered.

Optimus’ face darkened.

“Even joking about that can get you brigged for life, Bumblebee. That means no more video games, no more Sari-“

“No more dashing warlords to flutter your optics at.”

Optimus’ face went up in a blaze. Standing on shaking pedes.

“I DID NOT- I WOULD NEVER- I DIDN’T DO *THAT*!”

Bumblebee’s attempt at flustering his leader had worked spectacularly -as he’d imagined. Though it did serve a purpose in the long run, which he’d be getting to. First, he needed to push the envelope a bit.

“Right... You were just resetting your optics over and over, while tall, dark, and handsome was hitting on you, I suppose.”

Optimus stared at him with his jaw practically unhinged. What had been possessing this devious little fiend as of late!?

And also—

“Wha... What do you mean ‘hitting on me’?”

Bumblebee peeped an optic open at his thoroughly ruffled leader, and, seeing his chance having been presented rather easily, took it.

“Don’t tell me you missed the way he was smirking at you, all full of himself and confident- I mean you were just feeding into it, so I can’t blame him for looking so smug. You didn’t even *try* to look uninterested.”

In fact, in Bee’s opinion, Optimus flushing vibrant colors and shrinking in on himself when certain warlords went sashaying their hips at him was about the most open display of swooning he’d ever seen outside of a romcom. Sari’d been right about how weird things had been between Megatron and him. It was *worse* than Bee originally thought. All the jokes he’d made at Optimus’ expense possessed far more truth than he’d imagined.

“There’s nothing - I, I don’t- It isn’t like that! There’s *nothing* happening between us!” Optimus’ half-sparked denial and effort to fight the flames from reaching his finials was frankly inspirational.

Bee had a point to make, though, and knew he’d have to bully the bashful mech to make it.

“But what if there was? If something was, y’know, *there*... would you do something about it?”

Optimus flinched back.

“Would I what?!”

Bumblebee kept his expression measured. Encouraging Optimus to consider things without judging so quickly, so harshly in his mortified state.

Bee thought back to his conversation with Blitzwing when he’d been telling him about his favorite game- how he’d been scared of his potential new friend’s rejection, only to be met with encouraging words. Kind words.

Bumblebee had finally gotten what he’d wanted from all this -A bond. A simple one and very stunted in its early development, but it was clear they were on their way to a sort of friendship -whether the truce went haywire or not. They’d already broken through the barrier a bit during their first attempt. Their future ‘friendship’ already had the groundwork, and now Blitzwing was bothering to make the other feel comfortable in his presence.

Then Bee recalled how nervous he’d been today actually introducing him to the game. How he’d apologized stupidly for no reason about how ‘boring’ it probably was and turned an interesting color when Blitzwing brazenly admitted to finding his taste as profound and exciting as ever -‘boring’ game of watering plants and buying cute clothes, and all.

So, most likely a lie, and one born of either infatuation of some degree, or Blitzwing’s genuine compassion for the little mech. For *Bumblebee* no less.

And then Bee thought of how the triple changer’s engines *purred* when he had to turn his helm to hide his flushing cheeks. Feeling shy for some reason whenever Blitzwing said how much he liked Bumblebee’s favorite game, despite their servos constantly clashing together over the Game Box. How...not... ‘friend-like’ that was.

That was.... it was... actually kind of-

“Bumblebee?”

The minibot came back to himself, swallowing what felt like his spark in his throat at the memory of crimson optics and a matching crimson smile peering down at him. Charging up his engines in a far too smug display for someone who was too sensitive to handle being called nice every once and a while without bristling. Bumblebee had forgotten to look and see what the others had thought of the display at the time, assuming they’d finished pestering Lugnut for more surprising information about his conjunx to even take notice of the pair getting too cozy. Prowl how undoubtedly seen.

But Bee hadn’t even cared about them in that moment, too focused on Blitzwing nudging against him playfully, until he could be coaxed to turn his scarlet faceplate back towards the Game Box to watch. Both pretending they weren’t entirely affected by his blushing face, though for very different reasons.

Bumblebee blinked back to the present, and shivered. He locked optics with the mech at present, as Optimus strolled over, slapping his stabilizers off his berth for tracking mud from his off-road detour over it. They held each other’s gaze for one terrible moment, and sensing a hideous conversation on the rise, Bee steeled himself for some uncomfortable confessions.

“Bumblebee... Ignoring how serious these... colorful ideas are...” Optimus began, nipping his lip, clearly distressed by the very urgent topic at hand he was forced to be having as Bee’s concerned supervisor. If only he had Ratchet’s shamelessness.

“Is there, ah.... something I should know about? Something you want to tell me?”

Bumblebee attempted to snort in disgust, because, yes, they certainly were ‘ignoring’ their current conversation about Optimus having goo-goo eyes for warlords, weren’t they? But he wouldn’t be doing himself any favors by pretending to be indifferent and changing the subject back.

So, he just shrugged.

“Well... *duh*...” He whispered and shrugged again. And again.

They’d been sneaking into this room, saying unsavory -illegal really- un-Autobotly things for some time now, and *obviously* what Prime was referring to went far beyond insinuation, as he’d called it, and at this point was very much just truth.

Optimus looked quite pale then and had to sit down. Likely the first time he’d ever allowed himself to accept the gravity of the situation -of *their* situation- now with Bee’s little confirmation. His admittance to a truth they’d both been avoiding. And they were quite damned, he realized.

“I mean, yeah.” The minibot pressed on, kicking his legs over the berth and staring distantly at anything else but the other mech.

“I like... I mean... Blitz is pretty cool. So. Do with that what you will...”

And that was as much as he could say on the matter. Not that Optimus needed anything more.

A moment passed where they listened quietly to the other’s processor practically shorting out, though for various different reasons- and many of the same reasons.

Optimus was under no illusion that he was immune to the very problem Bee was having.

Which was... it was too much to swallow.

Thoughts about Megatron- ones he hadn’t allowed before. Ones that weren’t plausible before the great mech had decided to make such a stunning change.

And now that he had, Optimus could hardly recognize his subconscious response to it- thoughts that felt like they couldn’t possibly be his own. Absolutely lacking every bit of logic in structure and ranging to the outright whimsical. Optimus Prime had never allowed himself to entertain thoughts of a cunning warlord, sacrificing an entire cause for his benefit before, and wouldn’t under any other circumstance. Honest, he wouldn’t.

So... having.... *feelings* for him.... as obvious as it’d been the few fleeting times he’d suspected but never addressed it, Optimus couldn’t believe how jarring the reality was -that he was having such favorable thoughts. How deep down, he was wishing that magnificent, influential mech was feeling similarly for him. Even in a disjointed, disbelieving of his own feelings as Optimus kind of way.

How far he’d fallen without even realizing it...

“Yeah.” Optimus said vaguely, and it wasn’t anything as reassuring as a promise that he would somehow manage to keep Bumblebee safe from punishment in the future -as any good leader should be able to do in a time like this. But the minibot was just fine with being the defensive one over his dumb friend’s decisions for once.

Optimus could use a little protecting from other bot’s judgements -especially his own.

“You know how stupid it was we fought about this a week ago?” Bee murmured then, the invisible weight on his chest considerably lighter now.

“Well, we both said some terrible things, but it was the stress talking.” Optimus said distantly. Obviously lost in some new crisis he’d conjured for himself.

Bumblebee slipped an ankle between his leader’s pedes and kicked at him playfully.

“Ya-duh.” Bee snorted.

“We’re allowed to have feeling you know? That means you, too.”

Optimus cringed at the memory of his remark on Sumdac.

“I channeled them poorly...”

“So did I, remember? You just need an outlet.”

Optimus cocked his helm, snapping out of his trance.

“An outlet?”

“Yeah.” Bee purposely slicking some mud from his tracks over Optimus’ stabilizer, indulging his inner pissant since Blitzwing wasn’t here.

“You seriously need one, Bossbot. I have the perfect solution, too.”

Optimus was immediately wary. Side eying the other with pulse growing rapid. Upon his ‘adorable’ little quip of an explanation, Optimus knew he’d been right to worry.

—————- ——————

Negotiations took an unwelcome turn when Optimus -with his knew knowledge of his impractical crush- cracked down on informal interactions between their factions. Suggesting in a not so suggesting way that they continue things with an ounce more of professionalism and less doddering about at odd hours without a strict script to their meetings.

Presumably punishing himself more than Bumblebee for having allowed for such an oversight as *feelings* to come into play.

But Bee was obviously catching some secondhand wrath for this. No more whittling away on the Game Box with a giant wanted war criminal, and, of course, no more embarrassing, painfully disguised flirting.

So, how was Bee supposed to feel excluded from said punishment? He was prepared to riot the next time they jabbered later in his quarters for the injustice.

But then things picked right up in Bee’s favor again, when they were essentially *invited* to take ‘negotiations’ to the *Decepticon’s*. *Base*.

Which meant one of a few things could be happening for this major error in judgement to take place:

-Megatron had decided to commit wholly and fully to a peacfeful cause- which, maybe. He’d agreed to attempt the truce all on his own and with barely a motivation to do it with.

-Megatron no longer viewed them as a threat of any sort -not very flattering, but they could use that to their advantage, when it was time to kick aft.

-Megatron was too confident he could squash them as a threat -fair, but pigheaded as ever, considering they’d bested their brutal brethren plenty, when the going got tough.

-Megatron was tired of Ratchet complaining loudly of engine-stroke and suffering from the lack of comfortable furnishings to rest on -They’d been going at this for so long now, it seemed plausible enough that he’d consider they move this someplace more accommodating, as they showed no signs of stopping their peace talks anytime soon.

-All of that combined -the most likely case.

-Or... Megatron was growing a soft spot of his own for a certain little Prime, and the mixture of all of the above, as well as Optimus’ predisposition to pout like an offended sparkling when Megatron bruised his ego, or ‘forgot’ his name, was a potent mixture.

Bumblebee was sure he’d be banned from his leader’s room later that night, when not a full minute into cautiously stepping through the main cavern of the Decepticon’s lair, Megtaron was taking quick strides over to Optimus’ side to walk him through. Their shoulder plating bumping together as they walked. Megatron leering down at him and saying how surprise he was Optimus had been brave enough to come. Just to see him riled.

If that wasn’t flirting, what was?

“You’ve set up in an abandoned mine?” Optimus asked, refusing to be intimidated and trying to focus himself past the utter shock of Megatron trusting him enough to send him these coordinates.

“Belonging to Sumdac Systems?” Bulkhead added.

Megatron shrugged, not seeing a problem. Far too invested at the moment in cajoling Optimus to take a goblet of oil extended from his servo and see him drink it. The gesture the pure embodiment of everything Optimus had complained about with things lacking a certain professionalism around here.

He could hardly stress that again, though, in fear he may bring to attention how easily things had proceeded in a professional manner at the start of all this. It wouldn’t do to acknowledge to some degree that Bee had been right about Megatron starting to take a liking to him.

“I don’t drink that stuff.” Optimus said simply, servo raised.

Megatron looked unfazed, and that was as much as Bumblebee could gather of that conversation, as Megatron lead the Prime away from the other Autobot’s highly concerned stares and towards the room he’d mentioned over comms that he -apparently- ‘took council in’.

Out of sight, out of mind, Bumblebee turned towards a somewhat awkward Blitzwing at having guests for the first time ever in a living space he currently occupied. Shuffling away from Lugnut and a setup of monitors in a characteristically dark corner. Luckily, Bee was no stranger to making himself comfortable in places it was questionable to do so.

“So, do I get a tour?” Bumblebee asked when the triple changer approached, grinning wide and doing that infuriating winking thing that’d sent Optimus in a tizzy the other night.

The others were quick to voice their opinions on that before Blitzwing could even attempt to pick his confidence up off the floor.

“Don’t you go running off, too!” Ratchet snapped. Prowl at his side angled his visor into his most offensive, judging glare and sent it Bee’s way.

Prudes.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Bumblebee flushed, stomping a pede.

And he wasn’t, as desperate as he was to see Blitzwing’s living quarters, and get a look at what sort of things the triple changer would take interest in.

And Primus, was he desperate.

He pouted for all of ten kliks before Bulkhead broke the silence to ask the two remaining ‘Cons about the curious means by which they’d acquired so much oil. A resource none of them seemed to particularly overindulge in, despite what propaganda would make of Decepticons being overcharged idiots at any given opportunity.

“These are coal mines-“ Lugnut began.

Which managed to immediately throw Prowl into a spiral.

“Coal mining emits more methane by the ton into Earth’s atmosphere-“

“Oh, my spark...” Bumblebee groaned, and was even quicker to excuse himself from a completely unwarranted tirade about Earth’s approaching death, thanks to hazardous oil companies and carbon dioxide choking up the place. Also thanks to transportation sources. Never mind that they were transportation.

Never mind, too, that Bumblebee could no longer argue with him about the seriousness of the subject. Prowl was right about the whole of horrendous torture they were dragging the planet and it’s natural resources through, and Bee should probably definently feel bad about his own carbon foot print.

Right now, though, there was a cute triple changer not a foot away, nodding along with whatever Prowl was saying, while Bee zoned out, staring at the curve of those now familiar wingstruts. This was a far more worthy investment of his time than worrying about his egregious use of electronics and destroying the earth.

Sensing him, Blitzwing unconsciously flicked his wings a few times, trying to ignore the building tension between them.

And folded embarrassingly quickly...

“Bumblebee,” He cleared his vocalizer.

“I had a thought.” This drew more pairs of optics than one. But his calm demeanor seemed innocent enough to relieve whatever worry the others had about what he said next.

“Zhere is a spot outside a little ways up vhere jou can see zose cows.”

His wings fluttered without his notice, as he tried to remain indifferent to the questioning looks he received for that. And the *annoying*, utterly *rude* way Lugnut seemed to roll his optic and *sigh* at him.

He didn’t have to be so obvious about his thoughts on Blitzwing’s infatuation -not infatuation, ‘interest’. He found Bumblebee interesting.

He glared at the bomber plane, smart enough to let it slide, until after the ‘Bots had left, and *not* punch him in the face for it.

Beside him, Bumblebee bounced around the spot like a wound up little spring. His optics glowing in the dim lighting.

“Dude, yes! Show me the cows!”

An animal he’d seen plenty enough of to be as equally uninterested in as the first 20 times he’d come across one.

Why ever this was different would be an excellent question to look into, in Prowl’s opinion, who was carefully watching. Or it would be, if he didn’t explicitly *know* better.

Prowl had always did preferred to have the facts first, though.

Bee cast accusing looks at the other bots, who’d stopped their conversing amongst themselves long enough to glare back at him with begrudging nods of approval. Bulkhead looking totally resigned, and the lot of them trusting the pair as far as they could throw them.

Reluctant or not, they’d agreed. And that was all Bee needed.

If outside, unsupervised, was somehow better than being trapped down a mine shaft with the same gruesome death machine, then so be it. He could care less -mostly- about the unrestrained judgement oozing from every one or their pointed looks.

“C’mon let’s go! I want to see some cows!” Bee exclaimed and turned to push Blitzwing towards the wrong exit, who then corrected him. A noticeable bounce in his step as he led the little mech onward.

~WHIRR~

“Zhese ones have spots!” Blitzwing chirped. He couldn’t help but feel caught up in his favorite little companion’s excitement.

“I try to count zhem from a distance zometimes, but I lose track zo quickly!”

Bumblebee was practically having to run to keep up with him when his steps became wider.

“Oh, cool! Those are called dairy cows, I think!”

Which Blitzwing probably knew.

Prowl scowled at the pair as they vanished down a tunnel leading to the outside world. Not willing in the slightest to keep his nasal ridge out of places it somewhat didn’t belong.

The others didn’t protest when he made to slip away -Lugnut well aware what his priorities were and silently thankful a sensible mech would be keeping watch.

—————————-

“The Allspark is by far the most pressing matter at hand.” Megatron scowled, no longer feeling playful. This topic that’d been driving a wedge through him and his little Prime would sour anyone’s doting mood.

“No matter what may come of our alliance, I simply cannot surrender the spark of our people to Ultra Magnus.”

Obviously not while the prospect of peace would be a controversial, likely rejected notion on the Magnus’ part.

Optimus readily agreed that his commander would be in possession of far too much power over the war builds if it was -the first time he’d ever accepted such a notion after a lifecycle of finely tuned brainwashing. Ultra Magnus was *supposed* to have ultimate power -his people, especially his Primes, were *supposed* to trust his judgement.

Optimus... was struggling to. Readily admitting Megatron’s infamous seductions had probably played a gratuitous hand in that.

But he couldn’t very well agree that Megatron should have it either. Not with the current climate of Decepticon-Autobot relations.

Optimus startled at the thought that he may ever be amendable to such a thing in the future -to a world where he might trust *Megatron* as the Allspark’s keeper... The thought alone was treason.

Megatron cocked a brow ridge, eager to change the subject from something so abysmally beyond compromise, when he’d found himself so willing to be such these recent cycles.

“You look so pent up.” He stated flatly. It earned him a pout he’d like very much to kis-

To poke fun at.

“The paragon of dread, you are. Are you always so tightly wound?” He grinned impishly. Which Megatron already knew from experience the answer was a resounding ‘yes’. He had only seen Optimus looking his best and brightest when he’d reinstated their attempt at a truce.

Optimus looked off across the impossibly vast cavern he’d been pulled down. Megatron did require a lot of space for his frame to move freely, and with the makeshift bench to sit on and a desk to store secrets, Optimus could see why he’d come here as often as he’d confessed to to hide from Lugnut’s pontificating.

Optimus was forced to admit the obvious, for the sake of appearing fair.

“Well, that’s what Bumblebee says. He says it all the time, in fact...”

“He’s right.” Megatron smirked, delighting in the knowledge that someone on the Prime’s team was keen to remind him to lighten up. He needed it terribly. Whether or not he listened, though...

“And how do you alleviate that stress? Do you read much?”

Optimus was about to answer when he remembered what Bumblebee had said to him about finding an ‘outlet’ for his stress, and then that that ‘outlet’ should be *Megatron’*. And then how glad Optimus was that he refused to let Bee elaborate any further.

He must have given something away, though, because Megatron was staring intently at his finials. Fidgeting things probably betraying him by turning all shades of some humiliating color. He covered them out of instinct, then cursed himself and pulled his servos away for being so obvious.

Well, that did it.

“What’s the matter, Prime?” Megatron hummed.

“Are your means of relaxing not fit for polite conversation?”

Optimus’ optics went wide and pale.

And honestly, ‘yes’. Megatron as a whole was anything but fit for polite conversation -despite his dazzling smile, his charming intonations, and his particularly refined intellect. All those millennia of educating himself, expanding his processor, becoming a master in thousands of skills, only a self defined mech of the ages could, still weren’t enough to overlook the at times massively inappropriate nature of his spark. Like being rude and abrasive ran thick through his Energon.

If Optimus wasn’t burning before, he was now.

Bumblebee had been so, *so* right about him -about there being *something* going on between them. And they were all so screwed for it.

Megatron was elated to find he’d effortlessly stirred another blush up on those pretty blue cheeks.

“Oh, little Autobot~ I meant no harm.”

“Yes, you did!” Optimus argued cheaply. Feeling like a sparkling for it.

“No, certainly not.” Megatron cooed, sending heat rushing through Optimus’ frame and making him debate himself into a stupor over how Bumblebee could ever think that *this* wasn’t stressful. This was the opposite of relaxing. This was making him-

Making him really struggle to think of a reason why he shouldn’t let it continue. Spark pounding rapidly, making his better judgement take a back seat.

“Do you enjoy literature, Optimus?” Megatron asked then, moving away to carefully hand select something out of a drawer from his desk. He returned and extended the data file in hand.

Optimus eyed it curiously. In disbelief that Megatron would willingly change the subject from anything to embarrass him.

“I confiscated this off the techno-organic.”

Optimus stopped mid reach. His spark banged his chest painfully and squeezed, but he recovered quickly enough to avoid Megatron’s questioning gaze.

He took it and studied the text, surprised to find himself looking at a jumble of data entries from mecha of all walks of life with only their alt modes seemingly in common.

Blackarachnia must have been studying it for clues about her condition...

Optimus flicked through and skimmed passages. Picking out that the basic premise of this collection was a recount of mechs with experience having a beast mode.

Optimus hadn’t imagined Megatron would spend his time reading about something as mundane as this -mundane in that Megatron surely thought himself unaffected by it, which left the information useless in even his most basic of pursuits.

But then again, Optimus had noted that he was particularly well read.

“I find it all very interesting how many of the mechs in these transformations feel compelled to give in to some baser instincts that hardly feel their own.” Megatron rumbled -Optimus completely taken off guard by how close he’d managed to get without his noticing.

“Grooming habits and dietary changes alike. I’ve had many reformations in my time, but never a beast form.” Megatron continued, his chest now brushing Optimus’ shoulder as he leaned over and *in*.

Optimus felt warm for an entirely different reason now.

He swallowed as a large grey arm came around his back strut, caging him despite the space his enormous servo left between them. Sliding through his favorite passages on the datapad and pointing out ones of casual interest.

Optimus tried counting downward from 10.

This had escalated entirely too quickly.

“Sure you won’t have a drink with me?” Megatron offered once more in an attempt to calm the other’s nerves. His little spark thumping so hard through his shuddering chassis, Megatron could hear it. The control the civil mech had over his field was legendary.

Optimus would rather be closer to blowing his spark out than to have a foggy processor at a time like this, though. He needed whatever ounce of control of himself he could manage.

He shook his head mutely, not daring to speak. Megatron was happy to pretend they weren’t crossing every conceivable line of what was appropriate or *professional* that existed. Or more true to character, was simply delighting in the fact that they were doing just that and was totally unbothered by it.

His soldiers would surely be much less amused by this, if they were to see them like this.

“About those changes,” Optimus began and was mortified by the fact that that was *his* voice speaking in that tone.

He reset his vocalizer, glaring at Megatron’s widening smirk.

“*About those changes* you mentioned -involving your command....”

Those changes that would define their futures together. Whether they would cooperate long enough to get something worthwhile accomplished. The ones that this truce depended on, frankly.

“Yes...” Megatron frowned. Finally.

He’d told Optimus about Strika -though she remained nameless- setting a guide of... ‘ethics’ -to use it loosely- for their troops. Ignoring that it had been temporary and formed solely to spite him. For the handling of Autobots and Autobot sympathizers. The rather neutral, passive by most accounts, nonviolent guide that Optimus had truly struggled to believe had taken place for a time -hopelessly fantasizing that Autobot high command magically taking notice somehow, even though Decepticons operated in the shadow these days and rarely posed much threat in large enough quantities to draw attention to their dwindling faction.

What Optimus had always thought was ‘dwindling’, before Megatron came along that fateful day.

Megatron let his servo drop away from Optimus’ side, and the smaller mech had to force the disappointment from his spark. Reminding himself tersely that they were here to discuss the fate of their species.

Megatron huffed, then looked solemnly at the stalactites spiking the cavern ceiling. Thinking, for once, with the thoroughness this issue actually demanded about their formerly pretend truce. Optimus appreciated how seriously he was being taken -even having to remind himself the wonderful feeling of a competent, powerful mech recognizing him in some grand was exclusive to this moment, and he shouldn’t hope to elicit more of this attention from the busy lord in the future. Savor what he could get, when it was given.

But then-

“I do think it would be best if we incorporated those changes once more.” Megatron said in as toneless and exhausted a delivery as Optimus had ever heard from him.

Megatron had much to regret in that statement alone... Knowing Strika was either going to die on the spot when given the news, or cause an uproar whenever he got ahold of a means of communication long enough to tell her this had become serious.

He hated to think Starscream was finally right about her assessment of him.

...But she’d been right...

Megatron was an unfit leader of the Decepticons.

He chanced a look down at the hopeful, peering optics below him and stilled.

Megatron’s ability to adapt quite effortlessly did give him pause to reconsider the notion then.

Megatron may, in fact, be turning into the the greatest leader they’d had in their very short list of them with his possible reawakening as the mech who might finally lead his people home to Cybertron. And even more marvelous and historic, with the promise of peace. A promise greater than domination.

They were war frames, not blood lusting machines, despite what their civil types had been fed. Peace was improbable, but it was absolutely preferred. And Megatron might soon be the first to give his loyal followers that...

But he was getting both ahead of himself and sticking largely to those fantastic, romantic ideas of his again. They had a long way to go yet.

He looked down to study why the little Prime at his side had suddenly gone so stiff.

Optimus’ face was unreadable, completely blank and devoid of the barest hint of joy at the news. Which Megatron had been sure after his enthusiastic display upon his agreement to give peace another try that he’d be jumping around like a hungry scraplet.

Megatron rather liked him like that. The memory file was still fresh in his core -a smiling, excitable, stammering Prime looking too happy to contain himself to the shell of his chassis. Close to bursting. Close to embracing his nearest crew mate and squeezing, had he the courage to express himself so earnestly.

Megatron hadn’t realized a smile of his own pulled delicately at the corner of his mouth for a moment, but it was quickly wiped away by the sobering sight of a serious looking Optimus leaning into him then. Reaching.

He had the good sense for a single nano-klik to reer back and question the little mech’s intentions when a palm clasping itself to the side of his faceplate easily lured him back down. Gentle fingers caressing the thick derma-mesh. Pulling him to his level. Keeping him there.

A soft, lingering kiss was then placed much too close to the corner of his mouth for Megatron’s liking, when his lips were right there and perfectly unoccupied. But any protest he might have that Optimus had missed the mark was drowned out entirely by the rush of Energon through his lines, roaring in his audials. Leaving him dizzy and dumbfounded, and staring blankly ahead.

Optimus had struggled with how to properly say ‘thank you’- either unwilling to praise the basic standard of decency the mech should possess when he was using it to better their species, or worried that his simple thanks was largely underwhelming in conjunction to the magnificent feats Megatron was committing to.

But his gratitude was overdo, nonetheless.

So he allowed his excitement and hopefulness and mental exhaustion to help it take form in the only way it simply felt right to in that moment.

Seeing as how Megatron stood there accepting his bizarre attentions, not looking the least bit scandalized, Optimus decided he’d save his internal reprimanding and self depreciation for when he wasn’t busy planting kisses over such a strong jawline. Focusing on the feel of heated metal against his lips.

———— ———————

“Zhat one I’ve named Obsidian, because her tail is totally black~”

Bumblebee struggled to make out anything more than a bunch of black and white rectangles drifting across the field. Of course, he didn’t have a working monocular like some eccentric bots he knew.

The cows were surprisingly loud, even from this distance. Bee couldn’t imagine how this much noise could possibly lull the other into recharge. Maybe it became more a thing of magic when the experience was shrouded with night- like how horror movies became that much more terrifying.

Did Blitzwing have quirks like that, too? Getting excited for his nighttime cow heralds in the way Bumblebee got excited to sneak about the town after dark?

The mischief they could make...

Bumblebee looked up and watched the triple changer standing there in a state he’d never witnessed him in before. A sort of contentment visible in the other, yet enraptured with the dozing, lazy bovine stomping about the grassy plains.

It was truly surreal. When had he seen Blitzwing in any state beyond panic inducing violence or total aloofness? Charming quips while playing video games together not withstanding -it was easy to disjoint himself from those moments when it was already hard enough to look at the other when he was sitting so close. Bee hadn’t had a real life crush before, let alone one who felt similarly, so the majority of their interactions felt like something he’d conjured in a fever dream.

Bumblebee squirmed when he felt butterflies flutter through his tanks.

Seeing the giant menace so peaceful now peeled away a new layer of his appeal. Bee found himself enamored with the sight of that crimson jack-o-lantern grin standing in stark contrast with the pale blue sky. Soft white swirls floating far above, adding to the nightmarish vision. But here Bumblebee was thinking it only accentuated his unique charm, where it’d once sparked terror.

It shouldn’t have been as entertaining as it was, watching cows chew thoughtlessly and stalk about, but Bumblebee was helpless to agree. This was nice, this was good.

That didn’t mean he’d pass up an opportunity to poke fun at Blitzwing, since it was his new favorite pastime.

“Yeah, I can’t see squat... But I think you’re makin’ up that tail thing.” He teased. The playfulness in his smirk easily overlooked in Blitzwing’s enormous offense at that -which made the minibot snicker.

Blitzwing didn’t think it was funny.

~WHIRR~

“Jou can’t even open a barrel of oil vithout my help! Vhy should I be surprised jour pitiful, maladapted optics can’t see a few acres away!?”

He shouldn’t be surprised. Civil frames weren’t designed with sniper precision oculars. But seeing as they were still struggling to make sense of a cross class relationship that regularly spent their time together -willingly- it was easy to forget they were conversing with the opposite frame type. This had never been a possibility before.

Bumblebee failed to suppress a snort, lips pulling into a grin. Irritating an already volatile tanker.

Blitzwing was definitely rolling his optics behind his visor. He bent down onto one knee, crouching over and nearly having to crumple in on himself to be at the little bots level. He pulled a giggling Bee in and angled his helm with one encompassing hand, tugging the top of his helm towards this supposed beloved cow of his.

“Look! Look zhere -see ze black tail? Ze only one vith a black line behind it?”

Bumblebee considered agreeing with him, so he might cool his jets and switch back to that goofy smile Bee was thinking looked more and more becoming on him. That’d be easier than trying to keep the laughter in.

He pretended to squint and focus into the distance.

“Ehh... Hard to tell.”

“Use jour processor for once!”

Bee leaned in some more when Blitzwing did -unfortunately very enchanted by how protective a famous war criminal had become over some squishy, mooing cows. How was he *not* supposed to fall any harder for this mech? This sporadic, daring, resilient mech.

Perhaps Blitzwing had a greater inclination for smaller things than he thought? Bee really hoped he wasn’t just projecting that, because he’d really need it to be true for what he was about to do next.

“Oh, wait! I think I see it!” Bumblebee stood on his toe pedes and pointed out to where Blitzwing had been adamantly thrusting a knifehand.

“Ja! Jou see! Finally- I told jou-“ he turned his helm right towards Bumblebee’s audial, ready to shout straight in it about how badly Bee needed an optical upgrade installed. But the words and the root of his conviction both died somewhere in his chest.

Bumblebee turned into him -fastest thing on four wheels- and caught Blitzwing completely by surprise. Frozen there and utterly defenseless against the minibot pushing into him with a chaste little kiss to his cheek guard.

Blitzwing jerked back and cycled through faces, emotions he rarely allowed scraping him raw, before finally settling back on a rather poleaxed looking Random.

Bumblebee felt more than a little proud of himself for having been the one to put that look on Blitzwing’s less shakable personality. He felt proud he’d found the courage within him once again to even go through with that colossal act.

It’d either been thanks to his abhorrent impulse control, or the near limitless confidence in himself that religiously inspired him to take such monstrous risks.

But either way, he’d gotten the job done-

~WHIRR~

Surprisingly soft blue lips drew into a thin line. Glaring red optics bore down into Bumblebee’s soul, and the little minibot had one harrowing moment to think about what he’d actually just done.

In hindsight, Bee realized that he probably should have asked for permission to do something like that first...

He should have asked what kind of touch was welcomed. He should have calculated the likelihood that a cold, reserved ‘Con would be insulted by that kind of gesture.

He should have respected Blitzwing’s limits, if not his own.

“Oh, shoot -Blitz, I- I’m sorry...” Like, really, *really* sorry.

Like, if this was the thing that ruined their blossoming friendship, Bumblebee would never forgive himself. He’d never forget what he’d just lost, because of one nano-klik spent thinking with his engine instead of his processor.

Bumblebee clutched a hand over his spark where it rattled painfully in his chest.

“I should of asked you, if you’d be ok with that. I should have asked if you’re ok with-with being touched. I should of waited until I knew for *sure* ifMMPH-“

One large, black servo wrapped around the entirety of Bee’s jaws and throat, puffing his cheeks and lips up when fingers *squeezed* and pulling him forward into a warm, accommodating mouth. Very accommodating and very interested. Blitzwing made room between his substantially heavier frame and his thinner one -managing to fasten the little speedster to the spot with a single servo and a tentative kiss.

Bumblebee felt his spark thump joyously against his chassis and scrambled on instinct to grab onto something, as he began to feel lightheaded, as Blitzwing stole all the air from his vents. What he got was a servo full of Blitzwing’s chest and collar seam -which he held onto for dear, wonderful life.

Blitzwing kissed him like it was his job to -steady and focused. Drawing the little bot near with his other hand circling loosely around his middle. Ensuring escape was impossible, making Bee’s engines rumble at the sheer possessiveness of it all.

It lasted longer than the other ‘Bots would have comfortably allowed -as if they’d allow any of it- but thankfully, they weren’t here, and nothing was getting in the way of sharing his first kiss with his totally-just-a-friend in this glorious, consuming moment. Grabbing pathetically against whatever he could get a hold of, though there was far too much of the other bot to keep a solid grip.

Blitzwing pulled away looking pale and flushed and angry about what he’d just done -and more angry than anything that’d he’d just had to *stop* what he was doing. Optics sweeping over the lithe frame before him, drinking in the disheveled sight, and tending with the pinch and pull of their unchecked fields against one another.

The absolute scandal.

He cycled through faces for a moment before settling back to blue.

“You’re kind of, *huff*, you’re kind of erratic today.” Bumblebee warbled out, sucking air down his intake and opening his overworked vents even wider.

Blitzwing looked thoroughly abashed, likely coming to terms with what he’d just done, and how worryingly committed he already was to doing it all again.

“I am.... working through a lot of... zings at ze moment....”

Fair enough- Bumblebee was working out how willing he was exactly to die like that, if the triple changer ever tried it that enthusiastically again.

Cheeks burning with Energon, the bug was just audacious enough -big surprise- to smile like *he’d* been the one to kiss Blitzwing off his pedes.

“Was I, like, any good?” Bumblebee breathed out, eager for some undeserved praise. It was his first, *first* kiss after all, and he’d like some feedback that it was as powerful and dizzying for Blitzwing as it’d absolutely been for him.

If his tanks were still flipping from it, engine charged.

Blitzwing was really good at pretending to be unbothered, though, and simply shrugged, nonplussed. The pinnacle of indifference and a bigger killjoy than Optimus.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me you weren’t swooning in my arms just then!” Bumblebee flapped uselessly. He could feel his faceplate heat for a more infuriating reason now.

Blitzwing did smile then.

“On ze contrary, Bug. Jou were swooning into *me*.”

There was an undeniable victory in making even a substantially weaker frame as Bumblebee’s giddy and desperate for his attentions. His sway over the little minibot so great, his skill so unmatched.

Blitzwing felt heady and far too full of himself then -considering he’d surely have Megatron to answer to later, when he inevitably smelled the little Autobot’s scent on his frame. But Blitzwing felt too blissed out in that moment to worry about anything else than drawing his favorite little hellion back into another mesmerizing kiss.

Bumblebee was still pouting at him when he swooped down, face clicking into place as Random, and stealing another kiss off the bot.

Bumblebee tensed, but melted quickly. Already growing accustomed to the feel of the larger mech against him. Blitzwing felt pride swell in his chassis.

Bumblebee made an utterly adorable noise when the tingle of fangs slipped over his lip and startled him -the giant coaxing him back to relax with little effort. Blitzwing could do this for fragging ever, and he *would* have, if their audience hadn’t chosen that moment to make themselves known.

“Ahem.”

Bumblebee’s optics flew open, and a scowl pulled his little lip plates right off of Blitzwing’s, causing the other’s mood to dampen considerably. He rather liked having the minibot glued to him.

“Uggghhh...” Bee moaned turning towards Prowl of all the nosy, self righteous bots to act as his chaperone.

“You just *had* to rain on my parade, didn’t you?”

Prowl looked as if *he* was the one who was in the wrong for sneaking kisses with his new totally-just-a-friend the moment they got some long awaited privacy. When, really, who hadn’t seen this coming? Optimus had swiftly given up on correcting him the moment he’d made his obscure confession.

“Jealous?!” Bumblebee quipped, knowing full well what the real issue was.

Prowl didn’t rise to the bait -and he didn’t look particularly devious then, either. His expression softening after a moment inflicting that woefully condemning stare he’d long mastered on the little mech.

Bee softened, too.

“You’re not gonna tell on us... Are you?” He asked, looking defeated for a mech that’d felt like he’d been on top of the world just moments ago.

But before Prowl could answer, Blitzwing was standing back at his full height, placing a single pede down in front of Bumblebee and blocking him from view.

“Zis vas my doing,” He explained, calmly placing a servo to his chest. Doing actually pretty decently at being a lying ‘Con, considering how this looked. How it’d look to bigoted, out of touch council bots, anyway.

“Bumblebee vasn’t given a choice. I took ze initiative to-“

“No, the frag he didn’t!” Bee squealed from behind his pede, ducking out from under it and leveling his teammate with a challenging glare.

“*I* made the first move, because *I’m* the braver one!”

“Bug-“

“So what, anyway?!” Bee shrieked.

“I kissed him, *and I liked it*! You gonna tell on us or not, Prowl!? Huh!? Huh!?”

Blitzwing was physically having to restrain himself from shaking sense into the naggy little ant. It was *his* job to do the protecting. The flare of Energon in his cheeks made that defense difficult, though.

But Prowl simply shook his helm ‘no’, the first blessed mercy he’d *ever* spared for Bumblebee.

What had gotten into everybody, as of late?

Bumblebee’s little shoulders slumped, servos uncrossing. Prowl didn’t look like he was joking, though -not that the ninja bot knew how to.

“You’ve done nothing explicitly wrong.” Prowl said then to calm him. Which was a lie.

“We are at peace.” Which they officially weren’t.

“Our factions are making an effort to.... come together.” Was that an innuendo?

Bee should come over and roundhouse kick him back to his senses -or make his sturdy new boyfriend do it.

This was some kind of trap, obviously.

*Obviously*.

“So, you’re fine with *this*, as long as we’re all ‘friends’?” Bumblebee used finger quotes, realizing a little too late the notion held a double meaning he wasn’t sure the other party would find agreeable. Blitzwing didn’t comment, though.

“You’re oversimplifying things.” Prowl said with half a shrug. Too cool to commit.

“I see no problem, so long as we’re all on neutral terms with one another.”

He waited just long enough for the words to sink in, and keep Bumblebee from making another fuss. Hopefully satisfied with his cryptic answer that he wouldn’t rat on him.

He turned away from the pair, having done and said whatever he needed to -which apparently had just been wanting to embarrass Bumblebee and remind him of their circumstance.

Which, newsflash, none of them needed reminding. Snooty, fragging spoilsport.

There was, of course, the chance he’d come to make himself known so as to blackmail Bee into doing something *responsible* later. That was equally as plausible.

Oh, how Prowl loved to bend the truth, when it best suited him.

Bumblebee didn’t get another moment to cast blazing hot optics his way before his partner in crime was encasing him with a servo again and bringing him back into a solid chest. All thoughts of how terribly this would blow up in his face later swallowed up by the unbearable heat of the other’s engines beginning to stir.

To pit with the repercussions, Bee was so totally telling Optimus *all* about this later. Who could resist gossiping about making out with a threat level: obscene war machine? One that was so good at kissing, too.

His leader might like to know that, for once, whatever their futures held, it’d be something worth that delicate hope he clung so carefully to. That he’d no longer need to be afraid to let it grow.

And it’d come with a lot more dashing Decepticons to talk about at odd hours of the night.

—————————

———————————

—————————————

Well, it only took me two months to post this thing. There’s been so much chaos in my life right now, time keeps slipping away from me. But this fandom is everything I love with people in it I love hearing from!

I’m so glad I accidentally fell into transformers hell of all things.

I hope this was a fun read, and you delighted in me embarrassing myself. I can’t stop, it seems. Garbagezombie thank you for the message, I hope you liked this💕 you made me feel super good at doing my transformers things, and that means a lot 🥺💖

#Strong language is used quite often #Strong themes like violence and war #Megop #Blitzbee #Tfa #Transformers Animated #Boys flirting and being shy✨Kissing #Some drama here and there but mostly embarrassing fluff #Cultural differences- both factions are guilty of this and sometimes it’s downright pandering (looking at Blitzwing here)#Enemies to friends to couples #Tfa Optimus is canonically destructive and heinous at times so he is here too #Everyone in this is flawed but it’s met with forgiveness and feelings because they fight amongst each other and make up a lot in the show-b #Megatron and Blitzwing learning to have a heart #Bumblebee and Optimus have a spat and both act childishly at one point because it happens to the best of us- it definitely happens to me #Blitzwing is more emotionally stable than either of them✨as a treat #Strika ruins Megatron for being stupid #Starscream being garbage- and not the good garbage like you Zombie 🥺#Trans Femme Starscream #Optimus Primes penchant for feeling guilty and blaming himself for everything➖Megatron makes it better #I write the boy boys like my aggressive shouty babies because everyone in that show including Sentinel is one so

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birthdaycakeplate · 2 years

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Hi there, hope you're doing well! Let me start by saying I love your art, your style is super cute! Your writing is also amazing, it's so well written and always a joy to read! The art and fic you made of Optimus in a polyship with Megatron, Strika and Lugnut is something I never would've thought about but it's super cute and sexy and you've got me hooked. I'd love to see more, fics or art is totally up to you!

💕Zombie LISTEN, I didn’t know which ship you like the most, so I threw my two main ships at you at once 😭😭

This is Blitzbee/Megop with the ‘Cons being accidentally very soft and making the ‘Bot boys emotional for it. I would sum this up as, ‘crack treated seriously’.

You made me so emotional with your message zombie 🥺 like what a compliment?!! Thank you, you’re so dang sweet😞

This is the longest thing I’ve made on here, so everyone *please* be prepared when you click that ‘read more’ down there. It’s 33,200+ words, so I broke it into ✨2 parts✨

💕Warnings are in the tags💕

(Canon is skewed all to slag, and is set during ??????? in the timeline.)

——- ————- ——

Terrorizing the locals was just a bonus and not necessarily Blitzwing’s end goal. The organics were easy to ignore -would be easy enough to squish, if they ever got under pede one day. Quite beneath his notice.

True, he did delight in the distant screams below, as the humans ran for cover, scattering like ants. There was a certain appeal to being the most powerful, impenetrable force around. Particularly when there was a mech like Megatron to come ‘home’ to an the end of each cycle, and be forced to remember where exactly you were on the food chain.

Thrill or not, it was all very unremarkable when there were greater things at stake than scaring a handful of blithering gnats. It wasn’t like it was some kind of chore to put the fear of Primus in the little things and anything but a challenge.

He’d hardly noticed all the times he’d flattened a car -or 12- while walking through the city at rush hour.

He hadn’t noticed when a wing tip had sliced through an office building on a fourth floor once, either.

All very commonplace for a mecha of his size and stature. All very easy to overlook.

But this time was.... different....

Leaking Energon from a lateral line in his thigh, Blitzwing was searching every dark alleyway for the little bug bot that’d gone and stung him good enough to sever it. He’d been caught off guard long enough for the minibot to bolt for cover. Of course, he wasn’t fairing much better either after a blast of ice to his center chassis.

Guerrilla tactics were somewhat of a welcome change to Bumblebee’s usual ‘strategy’ of standing around, spouting off rude nonsense, and trying to land a blow. Tamer, less destructive blows than anything Blitzwing could do to the minibot under his massive strength, of course.

Having him get a solid hit in for once and then running off to cower someplace, forcing Blitzwing to make himself a target for more competent Autobrats while he staggered about wounded, still had its own appeal -such as hunting down the dirty bug for sport and shelling him of his metal casing right then and there.

What a thing to look forward to. Perhaps he’d have the scalp of his helm mounted in his quarters.

Blitzwing pulled up the unsuspecting cars that’d been abandoned in the middle of the street, looking for an insignia. Bumblebee had at least proved smart enough not to hide in plain sight.

With no sign of the charming, little idiot Blitzwing was becoming more erratic- it would only be a matter of time before Bee emerged from the shadows to attempt another attack while Blitzwing had his back turned.

“Come out from hiding, jou little scrap!”

So he could push that flimsy frame into all sorts of interesting shapes. ‘Origami’, he’d heard it called.

An answering shriek came from somewhere below.

Far, far below.

So far below, that Blitzwing had to stop, face spinning back to blue as his processor tried to collect itself beyond mindless rage, and stooped down to one knee to better study the source of said shriek. And it definitely wasn’t Bumblebee.

An organic about the size of Sumdac’s offspring was stood there with a wet face, mouth agape, and struggling to vent inward.

A crying child. Blitzwing became immediately uninterested.

He stood again and made to continue his search when the tiny thing cried out.

“I-I-I lost my m-mom!” It wailed. Dripping all sorts of lubricant from various holes.

Blitzwing surveyed the path he’d left behind him for a glimpse of yellow lurking and waiting to make a move. There was nothing. No slimy, stupid minibots.

It wasn’t often Blitzwing scared this bot badly enough to stay hidden.

Or perhaps that blast to the chest had simply proven more fatal... He’d hate to be robbed of draining the little one’s life force himself, if he came across a corpse.

“I want my mom!” The child, who didn’t seem bothered by the tonnes of lunatic in his audience, outright sobbed, catching Blitzwing’s attention again. His voice caught and choked on the words.

“I can’t- I can’t- I can’t *f-find her*!”

His sobs distorted the words, but they were clear enough to pick out. The child’s voice high and whimpering.

The boy stood there, twisting his shirt up in his fists- a failed gestured to self-soothe.

Blitzwing then noted the creature was very pointedly looking up at *him*. Perhaps hoping to make his case that he was very much a helpless thing, and that that may somehow appeal to a sort of humanity in the alien, metal monster before him.

Illogical.

“Mom...” the child whined, hanging his head and leaking fresh globs from his opticals. He looked very close to entering some sort of tantrum. A loud one.

Blitzwing scowled at the pathetic display.

“Vell, vhere did jou last put her?” His voice, too sharp, caused the boy to flinch.

“Me?” He asked. His confusion enough to deter his panic for the moment.

“I... I’m not... I don’t ‘put’ her, um...”

It sounded like a question. Mostly because he was questioning the absurdity of an adult -what looked like an adult- asking him nonsense.

~WHIRR~

“She does not have handles for easier carrying?”

“W-What? No!” The kid said in absolute bewilderment. But the ridiculousness of the question was enough to soften the edge in his tone. And that crimson smile the giant terror wore was a surprisingly small comfort.

Tantrum avoided, Blitzwing allowed himself some crassness, as it’d seemed to have prompted the child’s natural playfulness, and stabilized his mood a bit.

“Jou don’t just tote her around from place to place, zen?”

“No!”

“Take her vith jou on field trips?”

“No!”

“Not even to ze zoo?”

“No!” The tiny organic was laughing now.

“I can see how jou lost her!”

Blitzwing trained his features back to blue and reconsidered himself. Then made his decision.

“Oh. Vell zen... Zat iz an oversight, don’t jou think?” He then bent to scoop the child up and bring him to chest level.

There was plenty of terrified shrieking yo accompany the move, but it didn’t last. Soon the boy was looking up at him with absolute awe. Marveling at the sudden position he’d found himself in- being held in the gargantuan hand of an unusually hospitable beast. One he clearly hadn’t understood the danger of, despite seeing him plenty on the emergency news stations.

“Can jou see her from up here?” Blitzwing asked, ignoring the strange gushing from his thigh wound, as well as inside his chest at the boy’s amazed, “Coooool!” upon looking out at the view.

The child looked out over the streets below, several blocks now visible, and a tiny frown began to slowly stretch his lips. Suddenly remembering why he’d been so fretful a moment ago.

“No... I don’t think... I don’t think I see her.” He sniffled and wiped at his nose with a sleeve.

He stood on his tiptoes in Blitzwing’s substantial palm, searching for a sign of his mother, but nothing came to view.

Worry was creeping over him again.

“I can’t find her.” He sniffled, whimpered. Looking close to fresh tears.

“I-I can’t find my mom!”

“Zen ve march onward.” Blitzwing quickly amended.

He held the child closer so he could move deftly through narrow, scraping buildings.

“Vhat does she look like?”

“Well, her hair is brown and curly.” The child began to recall.

“And, um, I think... she had a bright pink sweater thing on. Um...”

Blitzwing scanned the streets.

“Sveater thing?”

“It doesn’t, like, zip up?” The boy tried to explain.

“Oh, and her name is Rebecca!”

As if that could help in anyway. Blitzwing didn’t just keep the names of every organic on this pathetic dirtball planet on file.

“And I’m Jamal!” The boy shouted up at him, despite being well within audial range now.

Blitzwing’s normally good sense didn’t stop him before replying.

“Hello, Jamal.”

He had to slow his pace down to better study the crowd of confused, panicking people below for any pink sweater things attached to any women with curly brown hair.

How exhilarating his day was proving.

With no sign of this mystery woman, the child -Jamal- began to shiver. Seemingly affected by the difference in wind currents at this height all the sudden.

“Is my mom...” He trailed off out of fear of finishing the thought. But with the general chaos of the city, the distant and random screams and clanging from the two alien factions engaged in battle in the distance, he really didn’t have to.

Blitzwing’s wing struts tensed at the insinuation, and he surprised himself with how immediately he felt the need to correct that sentiment.

“Not hardly. I hear earth carriers are invincible.” Which he had, honestly. They were rumored to have eyes on the back of their heads, and a supernatural sense of knowing when their young was in danger.

The child’s mother was likely in a far more frantic state than he at the moment, searching for her little sparkling.

That gave Blitzwing an idea.

“Rebecca!” He suddenly shouted, his empty hand cupping close to his lipplates. “Rebecca!”

Getting the idea, Jamal chimed in shouting, “Mom- Mama! Mama!”

The two surely looked an outlandish pair, as they pattered between busy streets and circled around blocks, shouting at the top of their vocalizers. Blitzwing caught an optic full of Lugnut at one point in a chokehold with Bulkhead in the distance, laughing all maniacally and stupid.

The sun was reaching farther in the sky, prompting Blitzwing to hike a wing out towards his side to hold Jamal beneath it, under its shade.

They were walking closer towards the center of the battle Bumblebee had led him away from.

“Rebecca! Rebecca!”

~WHIRR~

“Rebecca, please come to ze front of ze store! Jou have a Jamal here vaiting for jouuu~”

No sooner did he make his little quip did the booming voice of his *leader* -fragging Primus- rise above the clash of metal and somebot’s glitching, robotic shriek.

Megatron of all mechs wouldn’t be particularly pleased to find him aiding a human, especially in the midst of a battle. And Blitzwing, in a moment of self reflection, wasn’t too happy to find himself aiding a human under *any* circumstance either.

He wavered, about to fit himself between two buildings and make his self-preserving escape when another voice was quickly accompanied by his commander’s.

“Watch where you step! My baby could be down there!”

“We will find your blasted mechling-“ Megatron grit out, discreetly taking better care of where he was now stepping.

“Not if you keep stomping around like that!”

“He will readily make himself known before that! You’re far too loud for him not to hear!”

As prophesied, Jamal jumped upright, twittering and bouncing precariously close to the edge of Blitzwing’s fingertips. “Mama?! That’s my mama!”

Blitzwing followed the voices -escalating in both threat and volume- to Megatron toting a woman in a closed fist -a silent promise to crush her- and seemingly searching the streets for something.

Jamal.

“My Lord?” Blitzwing yelled less than a block away. Somehow finding the courage to make his traitorous predicament known now seeing Megatron in a similarly mortifying state.

Megatron whipped his helm his way, bristling the slightest bit at having been caught, before he saw the tiny thing skipping about his palm like a flea.

“Mama!” It shouted.

“Jamal!” The woman cried.

Blitzwing felt relief wash over him at the sight of the boy’s mother. This problem *finally* out of his servos.

“Take me to him!” ‘Rebecca’ barked at her captor/rescuer, and Blitzwing answered her command on his lord’s behalf. Rushing over and bending to place Jamal back to his pedes next to where Megatron had lowered his mother.

They embraced one another in an instant, drawn together like magnets. Never having been meant to be separated in the first place.

And Blitzwing stared in abject horror at the thing he’d just done.

....A good deed...

“Vell... zis is terrible....” He mumbled at the sight of the unbridled affection below.

Megatron watched with him, humming in agreement. A painful clicking in his vocalizer when he tried to reset it.

This didn’t look good for either of their reputations as sinister, sparkless terrorizers.

Unbeknownst to them, completely beyond their normally keen eyes, two curious little bots had seen the near whole display in absolute shock.

———- ———-

It’d kept Optimus and Bumblebee up for cycles afterward.

“He was so... *nice*.” Bumblebee whispered into the quiet of another restless night. Optimus resting his chin in his palm, leaning over his berth, nodded absently. Inviting Bee to his room to practically obsess -not that they’d ever admit their secret fascinations of two war criminals was such a thing- had made Optimus considerably more lax and informal as time passed. Though, just barely.

“You should have seen his faceplates- he was even joking with the kid at one point. I *think* to make him *feel better*.” Bee sounded a little too much like he was awestruck.

Optimus gave a noncommittal noise, thinking distantly instead of his own bizarre memory of a certain, doting warlord.

“Should we like... tell the others?” Bumblebee posed then.

Besides Prowl and Ratchet being unlikely to believe them, there was really no reason to tell anyone anything.

They couldn’t suddenly go easy on the Decepticons in battle- the war builds could easily deliver swift punishment over them, if they were close enough, as it was, but then with the Autobot’s favor? Their hesitation? They’d play them all for suckers and steamroll them. It wasn’t like taking advantage of others wasn’t a delirious percentage of the Decepticon’s day to day operations.

The only motivation behind spreading the marginally good news that they possessed a spark under layers of all that tyrannical vengeance was if they were going to use it for *their own* advantage. Most likely a ceasefire of sorts. And that was-

Optimus stilled.

Well... Maybe that *could* work, actually...

Maybe.

Not usually one to take slim chances, unless the situation was dire, Optimus was up calculating the effectiveness of such a thing when he didn’t much of an incentive to offer the opposing faction to do so in the first place.

Much of his potential success depended on tapping into that bizarre, unlikely kindness in their sparks a second time. Somehow. Still unlikely. Still doomed to fail, if the teachings in the academy were accurate about war type psychology.

But as the cycle turned into dawn, and Bumblebee’s rambles began to muddle his processor with fantastical ideas of a peaceful Cybertron, Optimus found the thought more and more appealing.

The proposition was made in the morning, hoping to catch the others in a good mood and hear some more sensible opinions that weren’t sleep addled.

“Is it *worth* the effort?” Prowl instantly challenged. Bulkhead behind him stood there uselessly, looking plain shook to the core after hearing the whole story.

Prowl had a point, of course, and Optimus didn’t honestly know how to answer.

Was it? *Was it* worth it?

He supposed if it....

“Well...” Optimus sighed, processor beginning to overheat with exasperation and all the ‘what if’s he’d been cycling back and forth through all night.

“If it saves lives then... yes? I think it’s worth *trying*. I don’t expect a miracle. I just, maybe... expect... *something*?”

Something as surreal as a moment of compassion from the ‘Cons that’d risked their time and effort to satisfy the needs of two *human beings* again. A very tall order that was.

But as he considered Prowl’s words, a rare moment of optimism possessed him, and Optimus unwisely allowed himself to rely on the memory of the impossible sight he’d bore witness to that day to justify his decision.

That woman, ‘Rebecca’, had been very forthright and demanding of Megatron. Optimus had seen most of the display between keenly aimed swings of a sword, before Lugnut had come rushing him to the ground and separating him from Megatron.

When he’d next seen him, there was Rebecca. Helpless and in a dire state.

Optimus could only *imagine* what a woman scrutinizing the authority of a power junky like Megatron -who hated a pushy subordinate, much less a menial, disposable human- had done to appeal to the ruthless brute.

She’d stood there, eyes welling with tears, screaming bloody murder for ‘her baby’. Begging for help from terrified people trying to make themselves scarce.

“Please! My baby is missing! He’s just a child!” She’d screamed at Megatron, rightfully assuming another misstep of his in the direction she’d lost her child would mean ‘her baby’s’ immediate death.

Megatron ignored her easily for a time, stopping to aim his cannon at a hyper vigilant Prowl’s helm from a distance. But as her screaming turned into the wails of a wounded animal and she was near clawing at the ground, trying to shuffle through a crowd of chaos to find her helpless, innocent thing, *something* had apparently shifted within the mech.

Something...

However in the infinite universe that *that* ‘pathetic’, ‘weak’, groveling’ display had attracted the sympathy of *Megatron*, Optimus couldn’t fathom. He really couldn’t.

He didn’t even believe his own optics when he’d seen it at the time- Megatron stooping and trying to reason with the woman to recall the child’s recent permanence. What the child looked like.

Offering the oddest sort of ‘comfort’ by ensuring a child with similarly strong vocals would be capable enough of signaling his mother amongst the masses.

‘They aren’t Cybertronian’, Optimus had wanted to remind him. They couldn’t send out matching frequencies for their missing parent.

He’d wanted to take that woman and scour the city with her himself- make sure both of the helpless things remained unharmed.

Instead, he fluttered behind them some distance away in an absolute daze. Resetting his optics, trying to make sense of things. Trying to pinch himself awake from the inconceivable dream he seemed to be stuck in. Surely wasting away in a trauma induced hallucination after Lugnut’s assault.

What he was seeing just couldn’t be *real*. Especially not when the woman trying desperately to keep up with Megatron on foot had ended up in his servo, as he began to carry her to hurry things along. A rather unfriendly gesture- curling his fist around her and handling her with far less care than an Autobot would have.... Save for Ratchet...

But he’d done it all the same- Had left the frontlines of *battle* to search for a human sparkling and hadn’t wavered from his mission once in the several hours it’d taken them to find ‘Jamal’.

He kept Rebecca shaded beneath the curve of his sturdy chest plates, offered small assurances that the child had survived the city’s onslaught when the sudden, pesky tears began to flow, and became a beacon of patience when those tears never stopped.

She grew restless and angry when she seemed to remember the misery said giant warlord had caused her by endangering them all in the first place. And Megatron snarked back with harmless threats and a sharp tongue, all while searching for her child.

Shocking as it was, nothing had prepared Optimus for Blitzwing’s emergence. Carefully chauffeuring Jamal with a hint of softness in his face plates at the boy’s sudden outburst when the organics were reunited.

Two ‘Cons. Standing there in mutual silence as they observed the flittering of limbs, wrapping around one another and rocking together in an embrace.

Mother and child. Creator and sparkling.

That surely must have awakened *something* in them.

A sparkling was a millennia rare thing. A treasure, no matter what faction you came from.

Optimus felt that, coupled with the lingering image of the ‘Cons watching over the little pair, was enough to push things forward. To indeed agree that this idea of his was ‘worth the effort’, as Prowl had questioned.

What kind of Autobot could just ignore such a thing?

——- —— ————-

Megatron didn’t know what to make of the absurd spectacle, other than it was possibly the greatest assault on him and his forces he’d ever been met with. Greater than the Magnus rounding them up during the DRA in an attempt to exterminate their masses.

“I think you can see reason here, Megatron.” Optimus spoke with all the confidence of someone thinking rationally, and not insane enough to call a criminal warlord to trial.

“All I’m asking for is your cooperation.”

Which was as insulting as asking him to do tricks for him.

“*You*,” a lowly, little Prime- “Are asking *me*,” the leader of an entire faction- “To give up my cause.”

That was the fist of it anyway. No matter how he spun it....

This much too young, much too.... optimistic.... *fool*.

Incapable of understanding the physical impossibility of agreeing to *anything* even slightly ‘reasonable of their factions’, if it meant conceding to the will of an Autobot. Who cared who benefited? It only equated to a war frame being asked to go belly up and ‘behave themselves’ for their ‘tiny masters’.

And even if he was exaggerating or being a bit preemptive, he most definitely actually was not.

No. Megatron didn’t think so.

“You are in no position to ask a thing of me, Autobot. You are in no *position* at all.”

Optimus relatively agreed with this. He wasn’t important enough to be speaking to a faction leader about a truce of any sort. He wasn’t even a figure head- he was a captain of a maintenance crew, and one that could often hardly be bothered to heed his orders, despite their great respect for him.

Optimus swallowed, Megatron tracking the movement even from this distance. He was making the fool nervous- Good.

How dare he make such a pompous, arrogant, egotistical-

“I- I believe you’re capable of compassion.”

Weeeeiird the Autobot had taken *that* stance, but Megatron was too gobsmacked to beat him into making sense at the moment. So, he just stood there with audials at full volume to be sure he next heard him right, with patience fluctuating.

At least the Prime’s fellow Autobots looked of mind enough to seem concerned with his word choice, too. Optimus couldn’t turn back now, only press on.

And press on he did with a horrible, even worse accusation.

“You showed a certain amount of... ah, care when you... assisted those humans.”

Oh, so that’s what this was about. He’d seen that unfortunate error in judgement, had he? No matter. This puny bot hardly amounted to more than a stubborn thorn in his side. Megatron would undo any further misconceptions he might have about his cold, blistering spark by alighting the nearest medical center in a tower of flames. Really set the record straight.

“I believe moments of kindness should always be acknowledged.” The Prime continued to run his mouth.

“And rewarded?” Megatron snarled, unable to help himself. Tone clearly unbelieving. This *was* insane, after all.

So much so, that he felt the compelling urge to turn his wide optics towards a very pale, obviously flustered Blitzwing to try and share in the burden of his pure disbelief.

Optimus could recognize the disgust the Decepticon felt having interpreted his words as patronizing and condescending. To a ‘Con, kindness surely would seem as such. What a pity.

Even so, Optimus began to think of how he could make amends. He could admit now that he’d been maybe hoping too much for something magical to happen in all his excitement- which was the first time he’d done anything so whimsical in eons, daydreaming included, and he quickly chastised himself for it. He’d lost his optimism long ago from the many hard lessons life had routinely taught him.

Megatron turned his piercing gaze on him then, all fire and vitriol.

“If I wish to cease the hysterical, endless bellowing of one creature too incompetent to watch their young, so that I might aim my canon unhindered at your witless underlings, that is my Prerogative, *little Autobot*! And *you* will do well not to turn attention to anything less insignificant than the extinguishing of your loved ones’ sparks!”

Wow, ok. Optimus had struck a nerve and delivered them all a death wish.

Some self sacrificing might be his only saving grace here- Actually, leaving right now and calling this a very badly failed experiment was probably the best thing to do-

“It was sweet.” Bumblebee, who’d been under strict orders *not* to speak, then said. Much too firmly, much too loudly, much too certainly. Much too unbothered by how inappropriate it was.

All optics locked like heat seekers on the minibot, but he only had his sights set on Blitzwing. Blitzwing who flicked his wings, his face spinning several times over before finally settling on blue again. A look of plain horror in his features. Then his optics averted as the ground became all too interesting -though not interesting enough to keep him from questioning his entire existence, or why it’d been the focus of the minibot’s just now.

It was a pitiful display of ‘Con-ness, and Megatron was about ready to pull off a wing and beat him back into a figure of dominance in front of their enemy forces with it.

Lugnut, who went from terribly confused to mortified at the news, stood there open servoed and gawking between the Lieutenant and his High Commander. Megatron pressed finger pads to his temples.

Wonderful.

This whole thing had surely become the greatest, most embarrassing blunder in the entirety of Autobot and Decepticon history.

To whatever was left of the neutrals in the galaxy, this whole thing would read like something out of organic adolescent literature -Where the lead girl going through an emotional crisis would call out the moody, bad boy for having a soft streak. And his moment of self reflection and kindness would come off as charming and redeeming. Not to Decepticons, it wouldn’t -In this book, such a thing ended with the ‘bad boy’ snatching away the spinal strut of the accusing Autobot and disposing of it.

Optimus, correctly, knew an embarrassed ‘Con was a self conscious one, and one likely to cover their insecurity up by crushing down the source of it.

Blitzwing seemed to choose that moment to come back to himself and refute Bumblebee’s claims of their misperceived altruism, and that it was ‘sweet’.

~WHIRR~

“Ze only thing sveeter vould be ze taste of jour Energon, spilling from jour throat! I vill twist jour head right off jour shoulders, Bug Bot!”

Bumblebee didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked more determined.

“You can decapitate me, but the memory file will always right here!” Bee promised, poking a finger against his helm at his brain module- making a far greater affront to Blitzwing’s person than the threat of being beheaded ever was.

It earned shocked, awkward silence from everyone -everyone except an increasingly steadfast Optimus. But especially the flushing triple changer whose face had finally settled back to blue. His least erratic headspace, though undoubtedly his most conniving.

Truly, Optimus hated how intimate this had weirdly become, if only because the Decepticons were the ones who had taken it in this direction. They did a good thing, it deserved acknowledging- at least because it bred the potential for peace. Even the temporary kind.

But then that had to be twisted into some outrageous personal offense on their characters. As if slogging through the wreckage they regularly left of the city wasn’t a far worse offense to Optimus and his kin for the blatant and intentional disrespect. They’d earned their titles as bombarding thugs, and somehow proving themselves of having healthy morals made for a worse reputation in their book.

Bumblebee stood with fists clenched, completely determined to see this through. If he had to say the hard things for everyone’s sake, which would likely result in the humiliation of a bunch of destructive war frames 4 to 6 times their sizes, then he would. Whether it ended with his untimely deaths via crushing and dismemberment or not.

He was going to tell it like it was, slaggit!

Blitzwing hadn’t had to shelter Jamal in the shade of his wing. He hadn’t had to search the city for one useless organic. He hadn’t had to waste all that time while he was leaking from his wounds and making himself a greater target for a successful ambush. He hadn’t had to be gentle. He hadn’t had to comfort the child or try to make him laugh. He hadn’t had to raise him above his helm when he fitted between tight spaces with his massive frame to avoid the child becoming claustrophobic.

Blitzwing hadn’t had to do anything, but be his natural, chaotic self and revel in a forlorn little boy’s terror and misery. And he hadn’t done that, either.

Bumblebee felt his purpose anew. A wave of courage reached him then- the smallest amongst his peers and enemies, yet with possibly the loudest voice.

“You were really fragging nice for, like, *no reason*! You’re telling me we can’t *try* to work something out?! You’re all clearly capable of listening!”

Bumblebee was trying to capitalize off of what Optimus had opened with. ‘You and your kin are sensible bots, Megatron.’

Which that was actually a little questionable, but if it wasn’t actually *true*, Megatron wouldn’t have known when to accept good advice and come to this sudden arrangement to meet in person without his guns blazing and swords swinging in the first place.

So there was that at least...

And there’d been no counter attacks thus far into this painful blight, or any secret ambushes waiting. He hoped... which made Bee wonder what Optimus had said exactly to get the leader of deceptive, deceiving, untrustworthy ruffians to come peacefully into this rendezvous in the first place. He’d have to ask him when they inevitably vented about this later in the privacy of his room.

Optimus had always been suspiciously quiet about his thoughts on Megatron as a mech and his peculiar kindness during their little midnight get togethers....

But enough of that. Blitzwing was three shades darker than Bumblebee had ever seen him, and even less, had thought him capable of.

“I mean, *I* want to work this out!” He continued on boldly, as no one of sound mind thought to stop him.

“I’m ready to make a change!”

“Obviously, little fool. It is for *your* benefit!” Megatron barked, finally finding his voice.

Bumblebee didn’t take the bait.

“No, screw that! I’d just like to actually see you guys being cool for once!” Which was as close as he could get to saying, ‘I’d like to be friends’, since Bee wasn’t the ‘friendship is magic and beautiful’ type, and he wasn’t particularly starved for friendships.

It was just that the actual idea that they could potentially coexist on this terrible planet without running at each other with stingers and cannons raised at every encounter was more appealing to him than anything right now.

And maybe.... Yes. Yes, having a ‘Con for a friend did sound appealing, too. The first instance of such a thing in the records of their heavily doctored history books? Frag yeah!

And friends with Blitzwing? It was surreal, impossible sounding. Bee would never dispute that.

He could only attest to how much it’d burn him if the obvious potential for something good to finally happen since his wayward academy days -after an entire lifecycle of enduring problem authority figures who’d easily dismissed his own potential- just standing right here in front of him, both in person and in perfect memory banks, went to waste.

For it to all slip away from them just like that, regardless of how close they were or weren’t to making a real step towards change... The first possible ceasefire in their history- the first possible recording of Decepticon hospitality maybe! He certainly hadn’t heard anything of it before.

He couldn’t let it go.

And all Bumblebee could do was thank Optimus, despite his flaws and insecurities and endless worries, for thinking it worthwhile to extend a kindness of his own to the admittedly most undeserving of mechs.

Now this Optimus was the one he could follow. Bumblebee made a mental note to be more responsive to his comms when Optimus called, and be attentive to his leader’s requests of him. No matter how boring they’d undoubtedly be -like monitor duty. Optimus clearly meant well.

Bumblebee looked from Optimus, unaware he’d been staring at the blue mech, to Megatron. Hoping to find some kind of positive feedback.

What he got was beyond surprising.

A destroyer of worlds looking suspiciously calm all at once.

“If you truly expect us to end hostilities between our factions for the remainder of our time on this putrid planet, you are asking for the truly impossible. We have an agenda and a schedule to keep.” Megatron looked like he was making to reach for his sword before his servos then settled on his hips. Chin jutting up in defiance. And then-

“Regardless, I will consider it.... It’s unlikely to be considered seriously, however.”

“Fine.” Optimus said before Bee could embarrass them all anymore and undo this tremendous, *tremendous* -and vague- progress.

“Take all the time you need- so long as you don’t forfeit this agreement by endangering us or the locals in anyway.”

Megatron had already turned his back to them, ready to take flight. He stopped to throw a deeply insulted look over his shoulder.

“It isn’t an ‘agreement’, Autobot. You haven’t promised us anything in return.”

“We promise not to intervene in your world domination, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” Optimus smiled the slightest bit. Clearly being a cheeky afthole on purpose.

Bumblebee wanted to ask how that was somehow better than any annoying thing he’d just had the gull to say, but the ‘Cons were gone with the concept of a possible truce in the making, and Optimus so rarely smiled like *that* that Bee couldn’t think to badger him.

In the pleasant silence that followed -a silence born of pride and relief that’d they’d managed their first ever negotiation and survived- Ratchet was the first to speak.

“What the entire hell, you two?”

And Prowl agreed.

———- ———— —————

“Zey vant us to avoid ze humans.” Blitzwing stood there in confused shock, stating the obvious because of it.

Back in the safety of their lair, Megatron felt more freedom to cycle between mustering up his absolute outrage and allowing it to dwindle into careful consideration. He didn’t stay either angry or placative for long, twisting between the two so furiously, he was soon at the point that the feelings were indistinguishable, and he was closely approaching a sort of agreeableness born purely from stubbornness.

Stubbornness, of all things, that he might prove himself as capable as ever of standing tall and unmovable against the most impossible, unlikely insanity Primus might throw his way.

This...whatever this was..... was a different sort of challenge, though- not one he felt compelled to bend to. He had plans to conquer the universe after all, and with ambitions like that, it left little room if any to entertain the idea of peace for the sake of peace for even a short amount of time.

Why should he bother? The Autobots weren’t worth a truce- this starry eyed Prime wasn’t worth one. Never mind that he had been the first Autobot in Megatron’s long lifecycle to offer his respect enough to negotiate this -as impossibly unrealistic as it was, or as ridiculous as he’d been to do so.

Never mind, either, that a Prime at least had much greater authority to consult the Magnus about the real possibility of an official truce, should things go accordingly.

...Or that this particular Prime had attempted to make peace with him rather than incite more mindless violence without a thought to Megatron’s conscious capabilities -Think him little more than a primitive killing machine.

Still, Megatron didn’t want peace this way- he didn’t want peace at all.

He wanted victory. He wanted to *win* the war, not talk his way out of it. Not bow to his audacious oppressors. Especially one barely onlined a thousand stellar cycles ago.

He turned towards a blushing Blitzwing, no doubt recalling the events of that living nightmare and the utter embarrassment he’d suffered just hours ago. Stood there drowning in his own creeping horror.

Strika could never hear about this. Not that any of them would be eager to tell another Decepticon soul, of course.

“Fine.” Optimus said before Bee could embarrass them all anymore and undo this tremendous, *tremendous* -and vague- progress.

“Take all the time you need- so long as you don’t forfeit this agreement by endangering us or the locals in anyway.”

Megatron had already turned his back to them, ready to take flight. He stopped to throw a deeply insulted look over his shoulder.

“It isn’t an ‘agreement’, Autobot. You haven’t promised us anything in return.”

“We promise not to intervene in your world domination, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” Optimus smiled the slightest bit. Clearly being a cheeky afthole on purpose.

In the pleasant silence that followed -a silence born of pride and relief that’d they’d managed their first ever negotiation and survived- Ratchet was the first to speak.

“What the entire hell, you two?”

And Prowl agreed.

———- ———— —————

“Zey vant us to avoid ze humans.” Blitzwing stood there in confused shock, stating the obvious because of it.

Stubbornness, of all things, that he might prove himself as capable as ever of standing tall and unmovable against the most impossible, unlikely insanity Primus might throw his way.

Never mind, either, that a Prime at least had much greater authority to consult the Magnus about the real possibility of an official truce, should things go accordingly.

Still, Megatron didn’t want peace this way- he didn’t want peace at all.

He wanted victory. He wanted to *win* the war, not talk his way out of it. Not bow to his audacious oppressors. Especially one barely onlined a thousand stellar cycles ago.

Strika could never hear about this. Not that any of them would be eager to tell another Decepticon soul, of course.

“We will play along.” He said at last.

“We will convince these self-important zealots that we are willing to pursue peace within our factions, only to strike when the time is right.”

Blitzwing seemed to be lost to himself- unnervingly set on a single blue face. Lugnut at his side raised his servos in an ‘All hail our glorious leader!’. Not assuming to question his greatness, even when it was well within questioning.

Where was Starscream when you needed her?

——- ———— ——- -

Evidently, Starscream was around just inconveniently enough to ruin much of Megatron’s plan.

Starscream was anything but a team player, and when she’d caught wind of a truce, of Megatron’s presumed compliance, Megatron was suddenly pressed with the issue of whether or not to let her in on his little conniving plan, in fear she may undo all his potential work in an effort to expose and eliminate him, or if he should allow her to believe a bit of it and go on a rampage telling every possible Decepticon comm frequency within range about their exuberant leader’s sudden bout of madness.

“I told you all he was going senile, but you didn’t listen to meee~ Did youuu?” She’d mock. She’d flutter her wings and puff out her chest plates, striking a pose similar to the one she’d assume during her imaginary inauguration as the new Decepticon leader.

Thinking about it was boiling the Energon in Megatron’s fuel lines.

No matter how he played this, he was losing his respect somewhere. He supposed upon further contemplation that it’d be easier to win his legion’s faith in him far easier than it’d be to come across this sort of precious opportunity again. There wouldn’t be another extension of kindness on an Autobot’s end for the rest of history after this, and it was a wonderful thing to take advantage of.

“So it’s *true* then?!” Starscream screeched, voice ringing through every twisting tunnel inside the cavern. Megatron felt his optic twitch.

“You’ve gone and made *friends* with the cushy little Autobots?!”

Starscream then tucked a claw under her chin and seemed to reconsider this. As Megatron had initially -and unsurprisingly- imagined, a wicked grin began to stretch her sneering lips.

“Why Megatron~ Won’t your loyal followers be *thrilled* to hear the good news... A new golden age on the horizon for Cybertronians everywhere. Even the ones who’ve been *banished* from their home world.”

Lugnut made to defend Megatron’s honor and correct the punishable offense that was assuming their grand leader’s compromise to the Autobot cause when the ex-gladiator promptly silenced him.

“Am I to assume that you will be the one to deliver this good news?” It couldn’t hurt to look vulnerable in front of Starscream when it was to lower the air headed seeker’s guard. It’d worked every other time.

“Why *yes*, it’d be my honor in fact! My ‘Dear Leader’~”

Not that Megatron had actually needed that confirmation. It was good to get a general sense of the basis of what false accusations would come against him though -and quite soon, he imagined.

He supposed damage control wouldn’t be too impossible a thing to maneuver if the transgressions his lot would perceive were as unlikely -and possibly even dismissible, coming from Starscream- as his defection to the Autobots.

Those who’d even believe it to be true would be doubly ingratiated to him when his plans inevitably succeeded. Renewing their faith and encouraging them to grovel for forgiveness- remembering then who they owed trust and loyalty to.

Starscream cackled like a hag and fluttered off, taking her sweet time on the way out. Certain Megatron was beyond all his cognitive functions at this point and wouldn’t chase after her.

Megatron watched her go, distantly hoping something as preposterous as her catching her broad shoulders between the rock clusters in her leisurely escape would happen to entertain his processor from the mounting stress of having his hard earned reputation soon sullied. No matter how temporary that relief would be.

——- ———— ———

He was forced to put everything into motion immediately after that. Luckily, the Autobot Prime didn’t have any reservations with this- nor any added stipulations. Just ‘keep the human populace out of harm’s way’.

Of course, that being exactly what Optimus had asked for was in itself the most audacious request anyone had ever made of him. And Starscream had once asked to have his throne for the duration of her report upon returning from the outer sector because ‘her thrusters hurt’.

This unlawfully sassy firetruck was essentially asking that he give up all his rampages and aerial strikes -and the fated Cybertronian battle as a whole- as there was practically nowhere they could go and nothing they could do about their efforts to undo the Autobot forces that didn’t directly disturb the lives of the humans infesting this gritty globe.

When he’d used the term ‘audacious’ every time before, he’d really meant ‘boundless, unlimited, unequivocal entitlement’. Even worse than Straxxus and Starscream.

The Prime thought he was being smart by working around that one ‘simple’ demand -leave the fauna and humans alone. As if it was a small request and entirely reasonable. It left Megatron powerless to do *anything* and rendered his efforts in every personal goal of his useless.

Which led him to wonder if Optimus was *actually* seriously expecting him to agree to that. Really, honestly, truly.

How stupid could he be? How blindingly hopeful?

“This is, er, surprising, I’ll admit...” The Prime murmured, having the unfortunate lack of awareness that Megatron wasn’t being any bit genuine enough to be flustered by this, too.

So young...

It’d be endearingly naive, if Megatron wasn’t easily reminded of the absolute absurdity of the whole thing -including his own contribution of such with this little plan of his that’d better prove beneficial- weighing at the forefront of his processor.

Really, even after his success, this would haunt him for vorns to come. He’d never been so foolish to waste time on such a speck of a sparkbeat before.

“I suppose, um, we should get started.” Optimus murmured

That perked Megatron’s attention, wondering what was more was to come now that’d he’d falsely agreed to this.

“And you are referring to...?”

“Hm?” Optimus blinked up at him then.

“Oh. Further negotiations.” He explained.

Megatron had to tamp down his honest confusion at that. Firstly, how important did this self-righteous Prime think he was? ‘Further negotiations’? Did Ultra Magnus -the old, fragger- even know about this? He couldn’t have, or else the matter of this entire operation would be thrust over to the appropriate authorities and squashed within moments. Did Optimus think himself a revolutionary?

Secondly-

“You said there would be no further stipulations.”

“There’s not.” Optimus affirmed. “But this is a historical moment for our people.” Optimus sounded like he actually believed that. Like he actually believed any of this...

“And this will require a delicate approach. I need to be certain you are being genuine, and that you intend to take this seriously.”

Well, Optimus was smarter than Megatron was giving him credit for, he guessed. He supposed he should know somewhat better by now. The Prime had proved a worthy adversary a couple times now, if he was being... never mind. He’d rather ignore any credibility this little mech might have.

Optimus continued obliviously.

“In order to ensure that, we need to discuss the needs of you and your comrades for the short term, and what you’ll need going forward to transition into peace time. Your people obviously have different needs than our own, how can we make them comfortable amongst civilian frames?”

Oh. Oh, he *was* serious.

Legitimately serious.

Oh, how utterly adorable~

Megatron could hardly contain a grin.

It was interesting the Autobot had chosen to address the needs of the imposing faction before the doubtlessly disrespectful conditions of his own people first. Conditions like ‘flight frame restrictions’ and ‘requirements for tank types to keep their hefty frames off the main roads’.

And there was such a sincerity in those bright blue optics that Megatron thought he might laugh right in the young mech’s face and ruin this moment of welcome insanity. He somehow refrained. Somehow.

“Please proceed, Autobot~” Megatron purred, like an incorrigible bastard. Optimus didn’t seemed too disturbed by this, and certainly not enough to dissuade him from lifting his chin and looking him dead in the optics.

“I’m aware that agenda you spoke of before includes heavily conflicting ideas with our own.” Which was an unusually nice way to put it- unusual for the rather blunt Prime. He normally had no qualms being upfront with others. He did say this was all very delicate, so blissfully ignorant to the reality. How disappointed he’d be.

Megatron truly struggled to believe him so naive. Maybe he truly *did* know better and simply hoped to change Megatron’s mind with his authenticity. He could certainly try.

“I ask that you try to push those ill intentions aside for now.”

“You want me to stop planning to overtake our rightful place on the very planet we were given life and then pushed away from, along with any thread of worth we were left to claim for ourselves when your leaders assured you all we were undeserving of it. You want me to pretend to forget all of that for the time being and demonstrate some level of generosity for *your* benefit? You, who serves these leaders. Maybe pretend I’m not attempting the overthrow of an entire government and its people, too? Is that right?”

To his credit, the smaller mech didn’t budge.

“Your crimes will have consequences one way or another. That’s unfortunately what’s right for everyone.”

“Oh?”

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to be written out of a future on Cybertron- or your kin. I wouldn’t allow that.”

Well, this was reaching a god complex of some kind, surely. Megatron smiled down with wide optics, embracing the madness of it all. It was for the cause, he reminded himself. If nothing else, it was slagging entertaining.

Though maybe Starscream was right to call him mad.

Megatron pressed him.

“*You* wouldn’t allow it, hm?”

“No, I would not.” Optimus said seriously. Radiant, standing proud, optics turning bright and irritated. Good. What fun for Megatron.

Just to twist a bit, Megatron decided to prick a claw into the little bot’s processor.

“Oh, the Magnus must be *so* pleased with your work here, little one~ He must think you a hero.”

At that, Optimus went eerily quiet.

Ha! Just as Megatron had thought.

“Whatever Ultra Magnus’ feelings may be, you are Cybertronian, and you deserve your citizenship, should you accept a ceasefire.”

Megatron stopped smiling.

“And I’m sure you would agree,” Optimus’ finials twitched with the effort not to droop.

“That Ultra Magnus can be inflexible at times, and often unreachable.” Especially when it was Optimus who was doing the reaching.

The little mech was struggling all at once to meet the other’s gaze.

Megatron subconsciously leaned into him. Surely making a terrifying spectacle of them both to their ever watchful followers gathered at a distance in the event of an altercation. But his razor sharp claws remained carefully at his sides and easy to spot.

“That’s why I’m trying to ensure that this arrangement won’t be immediately turned away when I inform him. I’m taking quite a risk involving my team as it is.”

“So, perhaps, this isn’t worth the risk.” Megatron said, echoing Prowl’s consistent advice on the matter.

Optimus took it in stride, choosing not to let fear, and doubt, and inexperience decide for him how brave he could be when it was clearly needed of him. Or keep Megatron from taking the easy way out of this. Change would require constant effort on both their parts.

This was a once in a lifecycle opportunity.

And while really anyone else would be better suited for this position -Prowl with his unbothered confidence, Bumblebee with his strong sense of spark to lead him, Bulkhead with his compassion and understanding, Racthet with his logic and practicality, and even Sari with her determination- Optimus was going to try to make this work. Because he’d gotten them all into this and he was going to at least put himself at blame when it all went up in fire. The fire of their sparkless shells, most likely.

He looked to Megatron, optics speaking of anything but certainty or that idea the warlord had had of self righteousness, and said simply,

“It’s worth it.”

——- ——- ———-

Megatron hadn’t said when exactly they were going to ‘strike’ the Autobots down, but upon the third ‘negotiation’, Blitzwing was starting to wonder if they were in this for the long haul. What a heist this would be when it was all over.

Megatron’s earlier display of his outstanding patience being held captive on a foreign planet without use of his own body was proof of his ability to endure and resist- it certainly nothing to scoff at. He could wait as long as necessary for the perfect moment to strike.

He hadn’t led an army with such masterful precision and skill for millennia by fluke.

Truly, his confidence in himself was a live and dangerous thing, and it spawned many acts of the greatness you’d find in the honorable Decepticon literature of their leader. But upon their return to base from the fourth negotiation, there was a stifling, unsettled air about the mech. Primus only knew what abhorrent things the Autobot Prime was attempting to demand of them.

Under Lugnut’s curious prodding, Megatron shut him down with a very strict, “Confidential”.

Which that made zero sense at all.

They were plotting to overthrow them eventually, weren’t they? The details certainly didn’t matter -So why protect them?

What Megatron chose to keep private was his business, and the rest of them would do well not to disrupt his thin tolerance for the questioning of his authority. But Megatron also had never had a reason to lie to any of them about their plans to dominate and destroy- Starscream was the only bot that deserved and regularly earned his deception. Something he didn’t turn on his own people much if ever these days. Not with the stagnant state of things after the war.

Blitzwing tried not to dwell on it, which was easy enough when he was forced every few days to come and stand on guard with a bunch of Autobot lackeys, soaking up any free processor power he might have to feel conspiratorial. One such Autobot consisting of that dreadful bug bot...

He always stood much too close. Always talked for damn near the entire affair.

An abysmal affair at that- the lot of them wasting away in either wind or rain or the blistering sun. Forced to get along for the time being.

Unlikely, so long as Bumblebee and Prowl existed within the same space as each other, arguing about nature and technology -*of all things*- while their very reality was crumbling around them. And clearly this was a frequent discussion of their’s.

Blitzwing hadn’t met a mech such as Prowl so infatuated with the organic matter in the universe. Even Blackarchnia, half organic, was looking to rid herself of the affliction.

“You would be happier if this planet was completely technological in makeup- if nature had never existed here.” Prowl ‘observed’.

Bumblebee scoffed- as if having come loaded on a camping trip with computerized junk in his chassis once didn’t prove just how deeply his disrespect for nature ran.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Hmph. What a boring existence that would be-“

“*We* are made of technology, you half processored-“

“If the universe was devoid of this organic phenomenon on every planet, in every star system-“

“Do you believe in the Big Bang theory, Prowl?” Bee side blinded-on purpose- using a term he’d heard Sari only ever use once for study purposes and with only half the context for what it actually was.

Prowl knew a Bumblebee-setup when he heard one, and he wasn’t about to do battle with Bee’s straw man.

“I’m not familiar with it -Or how it *correlates*.”

“Basically these giant rocks crashed together 13 billion something years ago, and it sparked the entire universe into being!” Bumblebee looked ready to pull him into some kind of nonsensical ‘gotcha moment’.

“I don’t think that’s right, firstly. And I don’t understand how that correlates, still.”

“Just answer the question, Prowl! Do you believe in it?” Bumblebee rambled, refusing to make sense of things first. A mech of immediate satisfaction, and wishing mostly to hear that he was right about Primus knew what.

“I mean Cybertron is supposedly 10 billion years old, so that lines up with the timeline.”

“It does not.” Blitzwing huffed, unable to stay uninvolved in their madness. The Radom slice of himself, buried in the back of his subconscious, was itching to scream into the insanity presenting itself. He just couldn’t waste an opportunity...

Miraculously, Blitzwing didn’t give in to that side of his processor, only endeavoring to scratch that itch well enough to silence the urges.

“Zere is debate about the planet’z existence before zis, but ve know for certain zhat ze Allspark was a permanent fixture before time even began”

“Y’all are giving me a crisis.” Bulkhead mumbled mostly to himself, having sat through plenty of Prowl and Bee’s bickering to his breaking point before. But there was a genuine tremor of something like fear in his voice.

Blitzwing thought it was certainly odd to meet a bot who was squeamish about an existential subject. They were a practical people about such matters like life and death- for the most part. Even Starscream had seemed relatively unbothered by living on without a spark to bring into the afterlife. If perhaps she would simply cease to exist without one at some point.

Bulkhead, apparently, was less content with this topic.

Lugnut, who was watching Prime outright bark at Megatron like a yappy, little lap dog, his master answering with a laugh of shocked amusement, tuned into their squabbling just in time to hear of Bulkhead’s peculiar discomfort.

“I understand your despair, Large One.” He turned to him and placed a servo to his chest.

“I cannot imagine my life without Lord Megatron in it again! An uncertain existence is a terrifying thing!” And everything without Megatron’s guidance meant uncertainty to him. Blitzwing had seen how he’d faired the single time he thought his master actually dead.

“You’re one to be throwing ‘Large One’ around like that.” Bumblebee grumbled.

Bulkhead seemed rather thankful for the massive menace throwing his two cents in all the same.

In a strange sort of camaraderie, Bulkhead felt compelled to expand upon that.

“How did you meet Megatron?”

He wasn’t sure they’d had enough neutral interaction to actually receive a civil response from the bomber plane, but Lugnut was clearly thrilled to have the chance to enlighten them all about Megatron in any capacity. There certainly wasn’t anything about this in the Autobot’s military profile of him.

“Over 6 million years ago, I had the grand and marvelous pleasure of first meeting Lord Megatron in the gladiatorial arena, and I was promptly acquainted with the depths of my ineptitude! He ‘wiped the floor with me’, as the organics say!”

Bumblebee -leaning against Prowl, who was sitting against a tree- bolted upright.

“Whoa, whoa- wait! How *old* is Megatron?!” He squeaked when he’d put it all together. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had lessons on this in the academy. Megatron was a popular subject. The most popular subject probably.

Prowl waited patiently for Lugnut to rock his educationally delinquent world.

“It does not matter! Lord Megatron believes his life only truly began when he found his cause, leading the Decepticons! 14 million years ago!” Lugnut bellowed, eager to sing praises of his master and doing so entirely too loudly. It earned the attention of their respective leaders from afar- finials pricked high on the Prime’s helm.

Optimus didn’t know what that was about, but the outburst served as some kind of reminder, as those finials then dipped low, as he regarded the towering figure before him once more. A mech roaming the plane of existence for far longer than he maybe ever would, if these negotiations ended violently.

Megatron, however, just looked perfectly annoyed.

“You seem to be in love with the guy.” Bulkhead said then, and it was so far removed from him to make a joke in a time as tense as a faction wide peace treaty, one ready to end in bloodshed the second one of them got too friendly and crossed a line. A peace treaty that was teetering on the edge of a total collapse, as the other Autobots were half convinced the ‘Cons were taking Optimus for a joy ride.

All of them except Bumblebee.

“Jesus!” He squealed, when he successfully reset his vocalizer. “Frag! You bots are *ancient*!”

“And you thought I was old.” Ratchet grumbled. Servos crossed, as far removed from their chaos as possible, as they stood there waiting.

If they could only do this somewhere more comfortable with someplace to sit....

“You *are* old.” Bumblebee assured him. “Why aren’t *they* falling apart like you are?”

“I *am* in love with him!” Lugnut then shouted in response to Bulkhead, choosing to say so much too loudly once more. This time Megatron hid his face in his hands.

Blitzwing excused himself from whatever *this* conversation was to stalk about the edge of the invisible line the two faction leaders had drawn, in an attempt to keep some privacy to these negotiations. Optimus surely assuming Megatron would be more open to talking that way.

This Prime hadn’t accounted for Megatron’s magnificent crassness when it came to speaking his truth, then. After the words ‘brainless floozy’ had once left his vocalizer without even the excuse of being overcharged, Blitzwing knew he wasn’t worried about his brash etiquette in public, and that he himself would never have to censor his tongue around the mech.

Regardless, Blitzwing kept his appropriate distance and remained quiet. He only needed a moment away from all the noise, finding himself frequently overwhelmed by such. The struggle to remain cordial in a time where it was necessary a constant battle.

When the voices in his head became too loud, it was easy to direct his frustration on another equally frustrated being- like any other Decepticon at arms length. This pretend peace treaty left him grasping at straws as it was -despite the art of deception frequently requiring the uncouth and undesirable in any strategy his sort devised- and it was becoming a challenge to keep a grip on his sanity in order to appear collected and patient.

An effort at the best of times.

Naturally, Bumblebee chose that moment to come over and make it worse- had the audacity to roll up on the heel of his wheels and look bored with everything.

“Dude, I get it. Those guys are so annoying.” The minibot said, waving a servo back at the others in the purest lack of self awareness to ever exist.

“*Oh, do jou*?” Blitzwing ground out, honestly baffled. He should just turn away right now before he reached the point of no return and flattened the little scrap.

He had enough reason to as it was for outing him before. In front of *everybody*... Like he wasn’t haunted with the inescapable reality of his actions in the dead of the night cycle.

Lugnut naturally overlooked their glorious leader’s involvement in the whole debacle, but *Blitzwing*? Oh, no. He had to suffer some serious mockery over his comm link for his pathetic display. As if he wasn’t disappointed with himself enough already.

Bumblebee either didn’t care about how totally pissed off he was making the giant, or his obliviousness was astonishing.

“Yeah, I totally do! Here,” He said, reaching into his sub space which jingled ominously with the sound of far too much junk for one little chassis to hold safely. If Blitzwing stepped on him, would he pierce his stabilizer on something sharp that shouldn’t be in anyone’s sub space, let alone a compact model? Did he have woofers in there?

Bumblebee pulled out a handheld device and turned it on one servoed, his other kept digging. Blitzwing was equal parts impressed and disgusted.

“This is what I do when the chaos gets to be too much.” The bug said, handing him the device -a game console. Likely the one Blitzwing had caught him playing around on many times before when he was supposed to be patrolling the streets.

“Iz zere ever zuch a time for jou, jou little pot stirrer?” Blitzwing snapped, unable to keep up the pleasantries with his broken peace of mind. If he had to stand here and play buddy-buddy with the source of his greatest humiliation yet -worse than sleeping through a mandatory aerial strike before he’d even earned a designation for himself- he might break his beloved game device over the point of those horns.

“Slag, yeah, definitely- Bossbot is the greatest mech I know, and I’m not just sayin’ that. But he is the tensest, most boring, most painfully stoic fragger in the universe. Getting him to smile is a chore, and I’m the funny guy around here.”

Bumblebee reached over and did something with the device, and the screen flickered on, making sure to mute the volume. This was supposed to be a serious occasion and all.

“Zen leave him in peace and don’t bother him.”

“Nah, I can’t do that.” Bee said seriously.

“I care about him way too much to see him waste away into whatever’s wrong with Ratchet.”

Blitzwing snorted, unfortunately very amused by all this. He allowed the minibot to fiddle with the thing in his hands and stand much too close to him. Like he always did.

“The goal is to collect spraycans and deface the city with ‘em.” Bumblebee instructed when an avatar appeared on screen. Blitzwing was quietly delighted by that objective and decided he could indulge the little fool this. It wasn’t a terrible way to whittle the time.

Until the bot started talking again -just as Blitzwing mastered the controls, of course.

“You missed a whole row of them!” He whined.

Blitzwing was infinitely less invested in doing well at this than him, but his already flaring temper made it hard not to take offense.

“Zis is just a game, jou know.”

“That you bite at.”

“I’m sure jou can do better, and zat iz good enough reason for me not to take zis seriously. Anyzing jou might have accomplished can’t pozzibly be vorth celebrating.”

“You would do so well in Fortnight.” Bumblebee said with a distant look in his optic.

“I’ll have you verbally destroy all the raging neckbeards on there. It’s mostly a children’s game, though, so spare the kiddos.”

“What are jou even saying?”

“Hit X! Brake this window for 15 points!” Bee shouted, by some divine intervention not attracting Megatron’s wrath to them with it.

Blitzwing did as told, maneuvering the joycons as best as he could with the immense difference in the size of their servos.

“Vhat do ze points do, exactly?”

“Oh! I’m saving them up for the ninja costume. Uh.... Don’t tell Prowl. Don’t want him thinking he’s cool, ya know?”

Blitzwing wondered for just a moment if he was actually having fun doing this. In the comfortable small talk that followed, he was able to forget this little creature beside him was his enemy and that he was stuck in the hot sun pretending to be a peaceful ‘Bot lover for an undefined amount of time. No doubt a laughing stock with a pretty, red target on his helm from whatever ‘Cons out roaming the wild had gotten an audial full from Starscream. It was admittedly hard to recharge with the thought of thousands of other Decepticons thinking he’d defected, even though it was perfectly likely, too, no one would even believe what Starscream had to say. Whoever she’d reached in her travels.

“Are you gonna start playing this when we come out here?” Bumblebee asked, possibly sounding a smidge too hopeful the other might say yes.

At Blitzwing’s curious look, Bee corrected himself.

“Tryin’ to figure out if I can just keep your points or if I have to make you an account, too.”

“I don’t vant ze points- or an account.”

“Ok, good-“

~WHIRR~

“Unlez zere iz a bird costume!”

Bumblebee made a strangled noise.

“A what?!”

He nearly swatted the things out of Blitzwing’s grip with how quickly he turned on him.

~WHIRR~

“Like a bird.” Blitzwing continued, unfazed.

“Wh-why...? That? I don’t...”

Blitzwing shrugged.

“I vant ze vings.” He said simply.

“Like mine.” And flicked his wing struts out to illustrate.

Bee looked him over. Probably thinking much too hard about the significance of this strange moment.

He failed to keep the mocking from his voice when he said, “Well, I mean. Hm. There is an *angel* costume you could wear.”

Blitzwing considered. This little avatar Bumblebee had made, scooting around on speed skates and stealing spray cans, breaking public property, then wearing an angel costume. And the wings...

Good enough.

“Ja, ja, I’ll take it.” Blitzwing nodded enthusiastically.

Bee, despite the loss of his months worth of accumulated points, smiled. Happier than he thought he’d be to forfeit them in order for Blitzwing to get those stupid wings.

“Ok, dude. They’re gold and stuff, too, so they’re actually pretty cool.”

——— ————- ———-

Megatron knew he’d receive word one way or another -whether via assassination attempt or comm link- when the others had heard about this giant misunderstanding. This excruciating, preposterous misunderstanding that Megatron was *truly* slated to change his ways for the Autobot cause, only made worse by the Prime’s genuine concern for their future coupling as a people, all with movements for equal rights pushed more aggressively upon each ‘negotiation’.

Megatron had decided after that tremor in Optimus’ vocalizer when he’d tried to assure Megatron, as much as himself, that they could teach the civilian builds to trust in their core that they were all sentient beings with sparks deserving of nurture and acceptance that it was time to strike. It was time to end this.

This was becoming painful, and it shouldn’t be.

It should only be a fun little game for him of how far he could push this stuck up stick in the mud before the Prime either denied his autonomy out of frustration, as most were keen to do, or labeled him a classless brute beyond reasoning and earned himself a severed limb.

It never came to that, though, no matter how much Megatron pushed, and no matter how much Optimus pushed back. The disrespect or even the fundamental mistreatment associated with the Cybertron elite never came. He never thought to back out of this attempt at a ‘future together’.

Optimus never even felt those unfavorable ways about him in secret, probably...

Maybe.

That was hard to consider- it felt foolish to, almost like Megatron was hoping it true. But it seemed eerily likely.

Megatron had had enough- this game had lost its appeal.

Eager to end it, he prepared to deliver some amazing plan to his underlings that didn’t give away how much of a waste of their time this had all been, now that he was unwilling to go through with it. And then, like Primus was real and spiteful as the day Megatron had first onlined his optics, waiting for this exact moment to deliver swift justice upon him, Megatron finally received word of the deeply terrifying consequence from his people for his actions.

Without a sub space communicator to reach anywhere far enough to contact his forces, it was all very horrifying that it was Cyclonus who was the first to contact him *in person*. Having apparently traveled at break neck speed all the way from the Magnokor Asteroids through mysterious means to reach him. Unlikely, and exaggerated, but he was here wasn’t he?

He was here...

Oh, Spark....

Megatron almost faltered right there at the sight of him slicing through wind currents, his metal frame still scorching upon his impact with the Earth’s mesosphere. He stopped just shy of the ground, projecting the sort of deranged panic with his abrupt landing and transformation into bipedal mode that only he could.

Megatron steeled himself for a madness rivaling Blitzwing’s.

“Lord Megatron! Lord Megatron! I came as quickly as I could!”

“Are there others close by?” Megatron asked. He would like to know how many times over he’d have to explain himself if there were. And how many mechs might be aiming something at his spark chamber right now.

“I operate alone!”

Typical. That was one less thing, though, he suppo-

“Team Athena.” Megatron whispered hoarsely. If Cyclonus had heard the horrible news, Strika had, too.

*Strika*. *Not*... *Strika*...

She wouldn’t let him hear the end of this extravagant screw up. Also typical that Cyclonus had left her and the rest to come bother Megatron while he could have him all to himself. If only Cyclonus’ interest in him was something as definable as blind loyalty like Lugnut’s.

“Commander Strika is making the appropriate accommodations.” Cyclonus said then, as Megatron must have said something of her out loud. He could hardly be bothered by looking out of sorts in front of his soldiers, though, when the words at once began to form a truer and darker meaning.

‘Accommodations’?

*Strika* of all his faithful kin was about to revolt against him? And she’d believed so *easily* what only Starscream could have shown her of their ‘conversation’.

So Cyclonus had come here to side with his leader and forewarn of her treachery?

Megatron had heard of greater betrayals in his time as a leader. He’d only served lifetimes of it through Starscream. Who else, but Starscream....

Cyclonus was still rambling about something he realized.

“All rebel forces that would act independently are being closely monitored and are under strict orders. Though I can assure you myself, my Lord, they shall *not* challenge your great vision! Commander Strika will see to it herself if she must!”

Megatron then shut his hanging jaw hinge and stared.

“I wouldn’t speak for the blithering masses- ‘Commander’ Starscream, for example. But I have complete confidence that they are as grateful to follow you as I! Your loyal Cyclonus!” Who was suddenly proving his loyalty far more blind than Megatron’d imagined.

Inevitably, Lugnut would have some mild questions about this, and Blitzwing would begin to have his doubts in him. But Megatron could handle two Decepticons versus an entire army who were- *apparently*- ready to accept whatever insanity he’d created for them all.

That was what Cyclonus was telling him in this instant, yes? That the idea of a truce was somehow believable and even worth attempting?

That’s what Optimus had been trying to tell him.

“....What sort of accommodations is Strika making?”

——— ————-

Optimus felt lighter. Another negotiation under way and Megatron had approached it with far more sincerity then all the ones previous. Meaning they were making progress.

Was it possible Megatron was playing them all for senseless little fools? Optimus would have needed extensive convincing from Primus himself to believe otherwise.

He hoped beyond all his years, full of doubt and little faith in even the most tangible ambitions he’d once had, that he could reach a mech of such horrors as Megatron somehow- if only because he’d witnessed for himself that the mech was capable of some level of benevolence. But this hope he held a bit too closely to his spark -the first hope he’d had for anything since the loss of Elita- was bordering something like delusion.

He knew this. The realist in him knew this.

But that hadn’t squashed the stupid nagging optimism he’d been named after from blossoming in his chest. This optimism, the curse that it was, he’d long since abandoned. Or maybe it had abandoned him.

As they came to meet at an odd hour much later than their usual meetings, beside a riverbank miles outside the city, Optimus was just lucid enough coming out of another sleepless stasis to push his random giddiness at having been contacted aside.

This could be an attack- it was the first time Megatron had ever reached out to *him* for anything since they’d started all this.

He kept that thought in mind when he found the other waiting for him in an almost serene state, stood by the river’s edge, servos crossed. Watching the flow of water, basking in the moonlight. His back fully turned to a very obvious threat. Optimus liked to think himself one, at least...

They’d brought their respective colleagues. If only because Megatron couldn’t shake Lugnut for anything now that he had him, and Blitzwing was oddly competent in handling Optimus’ crew. Ratchet didn’t waste anytime complaining about the hour all the same.

Optimus thought it another small victory that Blitzwing readily agreed with him and assumed their places at a distance, rather than feeding in to any snide comments they’d send each other in the beginning.

Optimus approached the foreboding figure by the bank- reminded vaguely of a jungle cat from one of Prowl’s documentaries when his hips shifted their weight, moving fluidly like the swish of a large tail.

Optimus hadn’t thought about the fullness in his frame before beyond his larger mass. About the additional plates and cords it took to move a mech of such bulk. What kind of power the seams interlocking those weighty plates were capable of to function as effortlessly as those of a gentler frame.

And he continued not to think about that, as he came to a stop behind him.

When Megatron didn’t answer, he bristled at the thought that this might be one of his little power trips by ignoring the Prime. Then he spoke to him with an edge in his voice that Optimus had never had the privilege of hearing before.

It sounded distant and casual- like he was musing with an old friend.

“Much has changed since we began these senseless negotiations.”

Optimus did bristle then, finials sharp.

“They *aren’t* senseless.”

They’d already proven in about 6 of these meetings, depending on if you counted the first proposition, that they were absolutely capable of behaving themselves -cultural and ideological differences, and all.

Megatron sighed, but his tone hadn’t changed.

“You can promise me nothing. For all your efforts, this amounts to little more than a lot of cheap talk.”

Optimus felt vulnerable in that way he’d found that only Megatron could make him feel. When Sentinel reminded him of his value to Autobot society as a defunct and irrelevant piece of it, it was easy enough to ignore. Sentinel was just as incompetent. What good was a Prime that rolled happily in corruption?

When Megatron did it, Optimus could only accept that a capable, experienced general of an entire people knew what he was talking about- Had had to root out the frayed ends of their chain of command and done away with the useless, straggling bits of it himself. Regardless of how violent their actions could be.

Optimus was there, at that straggly bottom.

He’d be the one Megatron would toss away into repair crew duties -if he didn’t kill him. The major flaw of their people, acting frequently in absolutes.

Only.... Ultra Magnus did a lot of that, too.

It was the other way around, he supposed. Meant to be for the good of all, and what was best for Cybertron. It still left many bots damaged and forgotten.

Optimus wouldn’t say he was one of them.... Exactly.

Then Megatron turned, and when he spoke, that edge to his voice that never quite reached whatever emotion it faintly projected struck Optimus deeply, and reminded him painfully without even intending to of his place.

“I will not settle these matters with anyone who can not promise me change. If that person is not you, I am not interested.”

Which sounded also *vaguely* like a compliment. Maybe. Or maybe Optimus was reading to far into it. When Megatron was actually offering those, they usually doubled as insult.

“You just said much has changed.” Optimus tried. That had been his exact phrasing.

Megatron looked to be considering his words extremely carefully then. Likely filtering much of what he wanted Optimus to hear.

“My people have taken some surprising liberties.” He agreed.

Optimus perked. Fear and excitement mingling together.

Megatron continued.

“However, with nothing to ensure these great ideas you have for their future,” the mention of Optimus personally constructing the futures of a people did sound like he was taking liberties.

He flushed.

“Then I must put a stop to it. I cannot allow this to go any further.”

“W-What kind of changes?” Optimus pressed. His spark was beating so hard that his throat felt tight from the Energon pumping through the lines.

‘Change’ could mean anything- but Megatron putting an end to changes that endangered the lives of Autobots everywhere was unlikely.

So, ‘good’ changes then. He wanted to stop something good -for the *Autobots*- from happening, and Optimus couldn’t even process fully that anything positive was actually coming from these negotiations well enough to imagine what kinds of changes those could be. Only that he had to stop Megatron from stopping their progress. No matter how small.

“It is irrelevant.” Megatron said firmly.

“Because you want everything to stop now- Tell me what your kin are doing. We can talk about this-“

Megatron rolled his optics. The most patience he’d ever had for Optimus after he’d clearly struck a nerve. In this case, it was likely him demanding answers of him that would ultimately sacrifice his authority and admit that Optimus was in any way important enough to weigh his opinion on it.

Which they both knew wasn’t true.

“Autobot-“

“My *name* is Optimus Prime.”

“There is nothing more you can do for me. You made an admirable effort for a cause you believe in- I commend you for this. But it’s time we move on. These means are ineffective, and I won’t waste my time further.”

“So, this is over?” Optimus *tried* not to immediately encrypt this into another section of failures he kept on file by instinct.

He gestured towards their respective cohorts having a not so respective conversation about Blitzwing’s vastly developing video game skills, as Bee defended being bested on his high score. It involved the use of many inappropriate hand gestures.

“What will we tell them?” He asked bravely. Or stupidly. They both knew Megatron hadn’t a concern in the entire universe for their thoughts on the matter.

Optimus tried, though.

“The truth.” The bigger mech shrugged.

“The reality is quite simple.”

Optimus didn’t comment on how nice it was seeing everyone in one place, free of violence. Of course that’d appeal to a cushy, little civil frame.

“So now we go back to fighting and just forget everything we’ve accomplished here?” Optimus knew he was dangerously close to sounding plain petulant, and less suited for strategic truce talks.

“What have we accomplished Autobot?”

“Whatever your people are doing, it’s something good! It’s something we can stand behind and build upon, I’m sure of it!” Optimus tried not to sound desperate.

Megatron didn’t look nearly as heated by all this.

“You’ve no idea what they have planned.”

And Optimus wasn’t dumb enough to ask twice. Instead, he took a moment to calm himself and level his straining vents to work at an appropriate speed. It wouldn’t do to hyperventilate because of a shouting match, and come away from this looking like an upset sparkling. Especially because that would mean admitting he’d allowed his hope to consume him and all his rational thought.

This was indeed over, and he would be feeding into that childish optimism again, if he tried to negotiate any further.

He took one last look at Lugnut nodding enthusiastically to whatever Bulkhead was saying and said goodbye to the image of their factions dallying quietly away together until their leaders had finished. This would be the last time, and he’d been ridiculous to think a future like this was achievable with people like Megatron and Ultra Magnus in power of saying otherwise.

“Alright.” Optimus swallowed. It was an effort to.

“Is it too much to ask that we walk away in one piece now?”

Megatron thought killing them all right here and now would make this final exchange and the disappointment he’d be leaving behind in them all much easier. But that would be a great disrespect to Optimus’ work here, and he’d been the only Autobot Megatron could admit he’d had the pleasure of taking seriously.

The only one possibly... definitely worthy of his respect.

“It is not.” He agreed, and he watched Optimus leave with a stiffness in his backstrut that looked nearly painful.

———- ——————

He didn’t think it’d come to this. For Strika to act so absurdly, one of his most sensible commanders and perhaps, honestly, his most trusted. For his ridiculous little plan to spiral so madly out of control. For the Autobots’ and that audacious little Prime to turn something sickening in his chassis when they left that night.

He didn’t expect for it bother him...

Optimus had been an enormous fool, but, unfortunately, a virtuous one. A visionary, even if he didn’t know it, and a fine diplomat.

Ultra Magnus had better be proud of him and more protective of him in the future. Though Megatron knew all too well that was unlikely the case.

He sent Cyclonus away to send word to Strika, whenever it’d reach her, to lift the bans on taking Autobot captives and every other horrible thing she’d done to lessen the destruction of Autobot forces, and to stand by for further instruction.

He didn’t expect to see Cyclonus again after that, but when he did, he was carrying an urgent message from Strika with him, looking beyond exhausted from everything he’d just put his frame through for the last couple weeks, flying until his engines rattled even when he was stationary.

Megatron took it and clicked it on to read ‘Play stupid games, win stupid prizes’ written boldly enough for his pitiful vision to see from space. All in all, Strika seemed rather unbothered by everything that’d transpired this past month.

It was then Megatron realized those orders she’d issued to evacuate Autobot territory, and release captives mostly unharmed, and abstain from pillaging their much need resources, *weren’t* because freedom for all and a world where their people thrived in togetherness had appealed to her. Had moved her to the core or even licked the smallest flame within her spark to seek peace. Of course, not.

Strika’s job wasn’t to fall over herself doting on her master, or turning a blind optic to his shortcomings to save face. Or remaining silent in fear she might say enough blasphemy in one breath offering him council to get herself shunned to the ‘Megazarak table’.

It was to highlight his stupidity when he was exercising it.

She’d done so excruciatingly... and yes, this was definitely her most blasphemous, disrespectful display of doing so, yet.

Megatron felt thoroughly reprimanded. He’d give her a raise for being the first mecha alive to humble him.

Feeling petty, he sent Cyclonus away for good this time with a message of his own.

‘Wasting resources and presuming to undermine me publicly was a greater mistake than the one I made. Starscream is to be brought to me alive for her torture and execution.’

“That is not for your optics.” He warned Cyclonus, and sent him on his weary way. Worried he might fall right out of the sky seconds after lift off.

It was time to get his hands on that subspace communicator and resume those tenacious plans of world domination. He was suddenly reminded of those weird, disproportionate cartoon mice Blitzwing watched sometimes at the thought.

Unfortunately, setting those plans into motion meant dismissing every rule Optimus had tried to set into motion for him since their negotiations had begun. It’d mean running into him and his odd little crew, coming face to face with the Prime and brazenly announcing he was back to pursuing grinding them all into iron filings.

He reminded himself that that was only the logical conclusion to the unfortunate end of things, and that this would not affect him.

Only inconvenience him.

——— —————

Optimus knew with the nonexistent truce off, the people of Earth would be a target again. How would Megatron get anything done without enacting a hefty does of chaos and genocide? And how would he do either without risking the lives of innocent, easily squashed organics?

Optimus thought bitterly of Rebecca and Jamal.

Remembering the past was a waste of his energy. What had happened must have been some random blip in their coding. That marginally explained why both Blitzwing and Megatron were affected at once.

Except, it actually didn’t explain anything.

They’d had enough time to fall back into a somewhat normal routine since their parting on such abhorrent terms. Failure still a bitter taste on the tip of his glossa.

Optimus couldn’t help but actually admit to Bumblebee that he felt stupid for thinking things could be different for so long. Rather that he’d *hoped*, and that was a more punishable offense than going behind the Magnus himself to arrange all these peace talks ever could be.

Bumblebee had taken to moping around his room with him when the others were asleep. A mutual disappointment of the events that’d turned the tides in their favor for such a short time being lost to the winds now. A little taste of victory- hardly even that- but the memory of the lot of them coexisting in quiet and having legitimate conversations with each other was still fresh in their processors. Bumblebee unwilling to let it go, and Optimus unable to forgive himself he’d lost them such a irreplaceable gift.

“It would have been so fraggin’ nice not to have to fight each other all the time.” Bee sighed.

“Well, that goal was unrealistic anyway. There will always be those that oppose change like that.” Optimus stared miserably at his hands in his lap.

“We can’t make everybody happy all of the time.”

Bee scowled at him from across his berth, his chin propped up on one servo.

“That’s some advice you should live by.”

Optimus’ finials twitched. That wouldn’t particularly sound like an accusation, if not for the face the minibot was making at him.

“Care to expand on that?” Optimus asked slowly. A few octaves too low for friendly.

That was one hell of an invitation for a boisterous, unrepentant Bumblebee when he felt he had something he needed to say.

He did seem to stop a moment and consider his words before Primus possessed him with the same foolish courage he’d needed to out a couple of ‘Cons for their soft-sparked squishy moment all those cycles ago.

“I mean.... All due respect, Boss, you aren’t known for your strong backstrut.”

Actually, that was the opposite of ‘all due respect’, and Optimus wasn’t dumb enough to roll over and take it for maturity’s sake and prove him right.

“You’re out of line, Bumblebee.”

The minibot gestured helplessly around him.

“Were you in line when you tried to negotiate peace talks with the fraggin’ Pit Spawn himself?!”

Which was hypocritical when he’d *obviously* encouraged it -had even suggested it. And he’d completely supported Optimus’ choice to do so, too.

But he had a point to make here.

They were both rule breakers, and Prime wasn’t as straight laced as he tried to make himself out to be.

Trying to fit himself into the mold of a good, little, mindless cog in that ever churning machine -Bless him.

Optimus stood and rounded the berth on him. His size admittedly terrifying when his engine was rumbling like that.

“What *exactly* do you want to say to me?”

Bumblebee was only just brave enough to pretend he was more angry than disappointed by everything they- he- had just lost and was misdirecting it on the only other mech who’d been just as hopeful.

“You should stick up for yourself more.” He said plainly. But it was the challenging glint in his brazen stare that spoke of the true viscousness in his words. The kind of look Sentinel often turned his way.

Optimus used all of his patience as a leader, and the nagging responsibility he had to look out for his crew, to train his features into something reprimanding rather than the uncomfortable dread pricking beneath his plating.

“You think that would have won the Decepticons over? You think I wasn’t confident enough in my convictions?”

Bee knew he should have stopped there, even as he was opening his mouth.

“I definitely don’t think you should have *walked away*.”

Which how could he make that call? He knew he was speaking mostly senselessly with the sole goal of landing a driving punch somewhere on the other. But he’d wanted it so bad at the time, much more than he’d realized he had, that he likely would have stayed and pushed the futile issue if it had been him in Optimus’ place. Which was why he *wasn’t* in his place.

“Out.” Optimus said coldly. The bill of his helmet was tipped down so he couldn’t meet the other’s optics.

Bumblebee was just upset enough to let anger keep him from apologizing and assuring Optimus he was everything he could hope for in a leader and more.

‘More’ definitely including the safe place he’d made just for Bumblebee to come vent about a nefarious war frame without repercussion. Now he’d just have to pretend like none of that mattered to him anymore, as well as Optimus’ peace of mind....

————————-

Sari was plenty ruffled to learn much, much too late that her friends had purposely not included her in this whirlwind slag storm. Surprisingly, she was more forgiving about what exactly that whirlwind slag storm had actually consisted of.

Trying to level with Megatron and his crew sounded like a genuine enough endeavor, and she couldn’t fault them too much for reaching towards a future without having to kick ‘Con butt every time they wanted to catch a drive-in movie.

“I could have told you that making friends with ‘Cons would end terribly.”

“Youuu aren’t old enough to have an opinion on anything.” Ratchet insisted.

Sari sat on a spare tire in the medbay, kicking her feet and trying her hardest to blend in with the background while Bumblebee got his tune up and Ratchet fussed at him. She was picking up bits and pieces of this incredible slag show, and Sari had finally gotten enough to, indeed, form that opinion of her’s. At least on the matter of Blitzwing- since he’d only come up about 12 times.

“Jeez, Bumblebee.” Sari said thoughtfully.

“You sound like you’ve got a crush on the guy.” Then proceeded to snicker at her friends immediate outrage.

“I- I- W-WHAT?!”

“Ha!” Ratchet snorted. Probably thinking much the same, now that she’d said it.

Bumblebee pushed off the slab, shoulder joint still loose, and looked ready to run out of there at any moment in both fear and betrayal. Clearly Sari had hit a little too close to home there.

Of course, he’d never admit something like that -if her half hearted jest was any bit true. Surprising as that’d be.

So, Sari spent that afternoon poking Prowl and Bulkhead for answers. Neither seemed entirely convinced a mech like Bumblebee could fall for a ‘Con in any capacity. Platonic or other.

Bumblebee was a easy to offend and anything but patient. Both attributes would be tested heavily in a cross class relationship. More importantly, they were enemies, and Bumblebee couldn’t be sparked into rolling over for any mecha standing against the Autobot way.

Unless that ‘Con could prove reasonable and daringly handsome, Sari was willing to bet. Not that she knew much about Bee’s romantic interests beyond her own assumption.

Sari didn’t think Blitzwing proved to be either- but he did have those strong servos Bee always yapped about when he ogled the fighters ‘in secret’ on her Mortal Conquest game. She’d bet Blitzwing would absently rip the spines clean out of his victims the way Bee liked those fighters to do, too...

“They did play on the Game Box together for a while. Whenever there was time. But I think that’s as close as they actually got to being friendly.” Bulkhead mused to himself.

“He hasn’t explicitly expressed an interest in Blitzwing to me.” Prowl agreed. As if he was the authority figure on all of Bumblebee’s controversial and embarrassing secrets. Which, fair....

Why *would* Bumblebee tell him, though? Wanting to be best buds, and a little extra, with a ‘Con wasn’t something an Autobot would advertise.

When Optimus eventually slunk through the base at an unusually late hour with audial fins low, Sari thought she might as well question their fearless, somewhat all knowing leader about Bee’s latest erratic behavior.

It was not a pleasant talk and only left her with new questions about the insane, sane-less, insanity she’d missed out on more than anything.

“Bumblebee was hoping for a miracle, I suppose. We should all have aspirations-“ Optimus sounded quite pragmatic about the whole thing. But then-

“Unless they cloud your processor to the point of poor judgement.”

Sari felt awkward- smart enough to know she was getting herself involved in something personal by the prickly edge in his tone. Not smart enough that her love for her two dear friends going through a rough patch would keep her at arms length of it, though.

Only just smart enough not to tell Optimus Prime that her best friend might have a crush on a ‘Con. Or remind him of that fact, if he was already aware.

“I can’t blame him.” Sari shrugged.

“I’d like for all of us to be friends, too. Imagine if there were even more giant friendly robots around here! That’d be awesome!”

Optimus looked surprisingly upset all at once by that, but he didn’t let it show in his voice. Sari was an innocent in all this.

“Yeah, it would be. But to tell the truth, I don’t see much point in entertaining that kind of thinking anymore.”

“Well, aspirations and all. You can’t set goals for yourself without envisioning it first.” Sari used his words against him in a fairly good point.

At least good enough to make Optimus look guilty about his harshness.

Not good enough to pass an opportunity to lecture his young companion.

“If your vision is only ever an optimistic one, you’re just preparing yourself to be disappointed when reality settles. It’s called overindulging.”

“Someone just told you that so you wouldn’t chase your dreams.” Sari countered, ‘cause that was *exactly* what that sounded like.

Optimus grimaced, remembering that he had been the one to tell himself that. Still...

“Why aren’t you this articulate when you’re explaining ‘me me’ culture to me?” Optimus diverted.

Sari mirrored his frown.

“I think you’re probably too young to be saying that wrong...”

“Oh. Well, just try to believe me when I say that we- that *I* overshot my expectations for Megatron having some sensibility in his one track processor.”

“I would have, too, I bet. I get my hopes up all the time.” Sari agreed. Hoping right then that she could put a smile on her most stress laden friend’s face.

This, again, seemed to be one of the worst things he could hear at the moment.

Optimus gave a nod, optics averted, and excused himself back the way he came- towards his room. Not a good sign.

————- ——————-

Blitzwing was a ball of nerves.

“Professor Sumdac is the expert in this field and, luckily, in relatively large supply of the resources we’ll need. The less attainable ones will be dealt with as the issue arises- For now, we collect our new compatriot and set to work. It’s time I paid my dear friend and the hellish prison he’d held me captive in a visit.”

Blitzwing knew retrieving an organic, even one the Autobots prized, would only be as difficult as a physical fight, some bloodshed, and the Decepticon’s most likely victory. That happened to be the case a good chunk of the time- he definitely owed credit where credit was due, though, concerning these wily, steadfast little bots. They could hold their own plenty well enough.

What bothered him about this simple task of ‘collecting’ their human hostage wasn’t anything to do with the genuine lack of effort he was willing to put into a fight like this after feeling dreadfully unlike him self these past cycles.

It was, of course, about *who* he would be fighting. It was just a niggle at the back of his processor, just a pinch of nerves. It wasn’t overwhelming his logical outlook of things in that they had no choice *but* to return to fighting.

Of course, they did. He welcomed it even. Anything to rid himself of his nauseating unease.

The fact that Megatron had made it clear he would be leading this mission was another trouble, though. His leader’s intent likely to make a point for when they came face to face with Optimus Prime once more.

That point being, ‘We are enemies from here on’.

And Blitzwing was stumped as to why that left such a terrible taste in his intake.

Like all things that threatened to twist the logic in his good sense, Blitzwing pushed at the thoughts to keep them as far from his processor for as long as he could until they could be overwhelmed by the more important matters he had to attend to.

That only lasted until they reached Sumdac’s tower, as a zap fluttered up his spinalstrut at the sight of a familiar yellow figure below.

They landed and, being met with a surprising lack of a response, made themselves known. Landing within perfect firing distance.

Blitzwing felt numb. His optics trained on a point in the distance and stared- anywhere else, but on....

He only caught a glimpse out of his optic of Bumblebee in a similarly uncomfortable state.

Megatron was naturally the first to speak. The same old haughty tone, as if they’d never wasted cycles away together in mutual ceasefire.

“Stand aside Autobot, and we will have no reason to fight you.”

But they definitely would.

Indeed, that had certainly made good on that imperative message if their presence here hadn’t- They weren’t ‘neutral’ anymore. Never had been.

Blitzwing looked then to asses the battle field. Optimus was of course there, a leader who played as frequent a part in his subordinates’ endeavors as Megatron. Prowl was beside him, looking unusually put upon by something. Probably the ‘Cons becoming a factor of their immediate survival. Bulkhead stood between him and Bumblebee.

The smallest bot stood there, grinding his denta hard enough to hear from where Blitzwing was.

His fists were clenched hard, vents hitching.

When Blitzwing turned to look him over once more, Optimus proved to be in much of a similar condition. Though he seemed reasonably more in control of his obvious outrage, as any leader should. Finials lowered dangerously, eyes narrow, and suspiciously quiet.

Ratchet was nowhere to be found, and as there was clearly some kind of drama unfolding painfully before his very optics, Blitzwing noted that it would be true to form that Ratchet would try and avoid it.

Whatever they were doing outside the tower looking ready to eviscerate each other, who could possibly say. The ‘Cons dropping by to no doubt inflict widespread terror had been unaccounted for, and left them in an even more compromised state.

They were wildly unprepared for a fight and this move Megatron had made to announce his intentions plainly and truthfully going forward had proved to be the most effective -and unintentional- stealth attack they’d actually imposed upon them. Nothing short of cloaking their signatures could be as powerful.

Emotionally tangled civilian types proved especially easy to eliminate.

But these bots had never been the ordinary sort, he’d found.

Optimus hadn’t torn his optics away from Bumblebee and vice versa, leaving Prowl and Bulkhead to do an evaluation on what they were in danger of themselves. It was the most careless display Optimus Prime had ever made, as their primary protector.

Megatron wasn’t ridiculous enough to think Optimus so incompetent he likely made a habit of such behavior. Immediately, Blitzwing was sharing the same strange concern as his commander was in the twinge of his field- that something was off about this.

The little organic, Sari, chose that moment to make herself known from behind Bumblebee then- completely obscured by his frame previously.

“Uh, guys can this maybe *wait*?!” She said, flapping her arms and making the most honest show of a creature fully aware of the magnitude of being on the receiving end of Megatron’s wrath.

Her panic wasn’t quite enough to break whatever spell had possessed the two glaring mechs, however. Bulkhead attempted to break optic contact again, looking between his friends and their impending doom a few yards away, but Bee was happy to move whichever way around him and assert himself in this peculiar standoff, while Optimus might as well have been baring a pair of fangs at the other, and likely was just barely repressing such an urge.

If this had been a ‘Con issue, they would already be rolling through the refuse, punching each other.

Blitzwing looked to his fearless leader for answers then and found a mech with a rapidly decreasing mood over whatever they’d just walked in on.

“Autobot,” He was addressing Optimus again.

“I’m taking Professor Sumdac to use as I see fit. Do not stand against me, and I will return your mercy.”

“Guys! They’re trying to take my dad!” Sari squeaked. Fearful of how helpless her position was in all this. They weren’t listening, and the promise of human extinction was likely on the rise, if they didn’t act soon.

As Sari had correctly feared, having watched the brutal escalation of this argument unfold, this did nothing to dissolve the suffocating tension surrounding them. The promise of Megatron moving into attack, however, seemed to shock their systems into action.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of action any of them needed right now.

More arguing.

“Megatron wouldn’t be alive to take the Professor, if he hadn’t helped him back to function in the first place.”

The other ‘Bots visibly flinched.

“Optimus! How can you say that?!” Sari cried hysterically. She looked between the four of them -her four supposed ‘friends’- then up at the three ‘Cons, no doubt leaving her a grand impression of what she’d be seeing in her nightmares for years to come.

Megatron stared back, soaking in the bewildering sight, at a loss for words. Likely a first for him.

“Way to lay blame, Prime.” Bumblebee *hissed*, and Blitzwing had never heard him speak like that to anyone before. With them recently becoming more acquainted with each other in an effort to form their future bonds, it felt distinctly personal, and he was surprised to find himself feeling uncomfortable. Even if it wasn’t directed at him.

Bumblebee wasn’t finished, though.

“That was a mistake, and we all know it! But since we’re pointing fingers,” The minibot then pointed at the petulant little pout Optimus was sporting from around Bulkhead’s side.

“Megatron wouldn’t even be here to take him for pit-knows-what, if *you* had been more assertive about the truce!”

“Untrue.” Megatron found himself speaking on the other’s behalf. Mostly spurned to take a side by his inherent desire to see order amongst rank. Perhaps impulse more than anything.

“The success of a peaceful truce between our factions was out of your leader’s hands from the start. He could no more promise the glimmer of hope in your spark such a thing than his own.”

Optimus finally looked away. An unbearable vulnerableness overtaking him.

Megatron spared him a single glance, speaking with conviction. Unused to such a show of submission from the Prime.

“He had far too great ambitions -Though you cannot fault him this. I think them quite admirable.”

Bumblebee looked a little hopeless then.

“I... It’s just...”

“You must possess the same ridiculous ambitions yourself, for what good you think you’ll do questioning your leader in this manner.”

It wasn’t a fair fight with Optimus in Megatron’s favor, but Blitzwing wasn’t dumb enough to inject himself into all this. Yet.

He may have never questioned his own leader, but he would have gladly done so, if he’d had had the privilege Bee did of surviving it.

Absolutely nothing had come of Megatron’s ‘plans’ to gain their trust and then turn it against them. Absolutely nothing had come of wasting away in the abhorrent weather on this planet, playing goodie goodie with a bunch of outspoken, annoying, overly friendly Autobots. Desecrating his name for it.

And worse than all of that still -worse than worrying over the incredible waste this had all been, and *still* was, throwing himself into an overly complicated Autobot ‘travesty’ of the mollycoddling kind, that he was *unfortunately* finding himself *invested* in- was that Bumblebee looked dangerously close to crying....

Blitzwing would question Megatron for letting it go on for so long and getting the little one’s hopes up so high.

All of the little ones.

These civilians were far more sensitive about these things- obviously. A ‘Con wouldn’t have wasted time smashing each other through the dirt the moment someone challenged their person. They wouldn’t have bothered with anything short of their offender surviving the brink of death to agree to have a chat after about their disrespectfulness.

He should have passively reminded Megatron a delicate touch would do the most good for this lot. The difference between their class types was often extreme.

And, no, he wasn’t being overly protective of a largely independent, very capable class of Cybertronians just because one of them, the only one that mattered so much to him apparently, proved to be quite sensitive to insults and tethered to his insecurities at times. That was definitely unrelated.

Megatron had been too harsh, was all.

Bumblebee might have been just bold enough -and emotionally compromised enough- to turn his anger on Megatron then, and then Blitzwing thought he really would have to intervene to keep him in one piece. But then the little bot gestured uselessly at what an utter mess this all was, his chest puffed up, holding in a whimper, and set his teary optics on Optimus again.

“It could have been different.” His vocalizer abruptly cut off at the end, but the message was clear. He was upset to the point of tears.

In front of a bunch of *Decepticons*. In front of the *Leader* of the Decepticons. In front of *Blitzwing*.

All horrified sets of optics looked on- even Optimus, whose outrage had melted away with the last vestiges of his energy, maybe even his will to exist at the moment, and looking to be a shell of himself. Totally hollowed out inside. Distantly aware this all needed to come to the surface one way or another, and Bumblebee was going to be a tiny little wreck for it afterwards.

Optimus decided in that moment that his own despair could take a back seat.

“You always back out when it matters.” Bee murmured, lacking the powerful heat that’d been in his glare.

“That’s not true, Bumblebee.” Bulkhead said with a soothing edge to his voice. Of course, he understood what he was going through. He’d been on the receiving end of Optimus’ wrath plenty before, and knew he’d see more of it in the future. Their leader prone to snapping before bending when things became heated. And still-

“Optimus was brave enough to give this whole thing a try. Remember?”

“There was no way to guarantee it would work.” Prowl agreed.

Their teammates keeping calm enough to remind them of the facts should have been enough to bring them back to themselves. But Optimus was as easily turned a martyr as ever, even when it was the least sensible time to allow guilt to fog his processor.

“I think the reality is that I was ‘stupid’ enough to give this a try.” He supplemented. A distant ache in his chest- and processor. Both for two entirely different reasons.

Megatron might have felt a fuse blow in irritation.

Lugnut, who’d been forgotten to even have existed at the moment, stepped forward at Megatron’s side. His servo raised, retracting inward to be replaced with the dreaded, horrific POKE. Blitzwing’s wings flexed with the effort not to retreat to the skies.

“Gah! Since you blithering fools will not cease your *bickering* and *move*, I will do it for you!”

Blitzwing’s body didn’t even have a chance to subconsciously move towards Bee to shield him before Megatron was holding up a hand to stop the big brute.

“Silence, Lugnut. This isn’t a matter of strength of arm.”

Obviously -and the romantic in him just barely avoided calling it ‘a matter of spark’, and thank frag.

Prowl watched the trio curiously, hyper aware of their every little twitch. Condensation heavy on his frame from trying to keep a calm visage, while his team was in disarray.

Megatron took another step closer, successfully avoiding looking like a threat under the ninja bot’s intensive gaze, and offered himself to Bumblebee’s full attention.

“Minibot, you should direct your grievances unto me. I am the one who denied your leader’s proposition. Now, what are your qualms?”

Bumblebee just sniffed at him, realizing that would be entirely useless. He couldn’t hope to win a dispute with Megatron for anything. More importantly, Megatron wouldn’t care to give him either truthful answers or serious ones.

He was a *Decepticon* after all. *The* Decepticon.

Instead, he gave a vague, “He just gives in....” as his defeated answer. The only information he was willing to share, and completely indecipherable in meaning for Megatron, who’d only ever known a mech willing to bite his head off over imaginary equal rights.

Bumblebee vividly recalled the choice words Optimus had had for them all after Megatron’s uprising from Sumdac Tower -crushed under the immeasurable stress of leading a repair team, an insubordinate one, he’d explicitly reminded them, against the current greatest threat to their species and the universe. And the way he’d spoken to them when he’d finally succumbed to that pressure- a way Bumblebee would have never turned against his teammates. His friends. People who hadn’t signed up to be stuck on an unmarked planet, expected to protect life as they knew it from extinction.

Remembering, too, the conversations with Sentinel on the vidcoms. The way Optimus almost predictably caved when the bigger bot became aggressive. Which was practically immediately. The way he’d allow Sentinel to get away with talking to *them* next.

But he didn’t say any of that, of course. It sounded childish to have bothered him so terribly when he knew well and good he was in no shortage of faults himself. Like pinning too much expectation on Optimus to succeed in a multi-faction campaign had been -all while he was supposed to wait quietly on the sidelines and rejoice in the easy victory he’d been secured.

He couldn’t help feeling that unsavory way about his minimal efforts when it was so easy to get confused about the horrible way this wonderful prospect of change had ended. But channeling it into the bruising of Optimus’ dwindling ego wasn’t the way.

Megatron couldn’t hope to know anything about Optimus Prime’s private life with his comrades. He could only bare witness to the deeply stricken, spark guilty mech he was seeing before him now and decide solely upon that alone that he would like to put an end to this pointless blaming *immediately*.

Frailty did not suit this mech.

“I have determined peace between our factions to be insufficient in fueling our objectives as a people- and not you, or your leaders, or anyone else, could have changed my mind.” Megatron grit out through clenched denta. Shockingly affected by the little bot’s blatant disrespect.

“With this in mind, I will say that if anyone *could have* succeeded in turning my opinion, it would absolutely have been your steadfast Prime.”

Steadfast. The very opposite of what Bee had been saying about him being so easily broken.

“But he couldn’t, could he?” Bumblebee snarked, reaching into the shallowest part of his spark to deliver the hateful comment unto his utterly stricken leader, standing there with finials low and optics unseeing. Accepting it.

Blitzwing stepped forward when Megatron did then. Hoping his instinctive urge to protect the tiny bot from another ‘Con’s attentions would be overlooked at the moment by Megatron’s own peculiarly strong urge to do so for Optimus.

Not entirely so, to Blitzwing’s pure mortification, as Megatron turned a snarling show of teeth upon him for assuming to assist his chosen object’s assailant.

Blitzwing wondered if the other civilian frames all caught up in this were aware of the Con’s unfortunate coding making choices beyond their processors for them. Acting entirely on a deep rooted instinct that went beyond even simple programming. Humiliating, if so.

Lugnut obviously did, and he could only watch on *helplessly confused*, seeing his master acting in such a state. Perhaps even coming to terms at last that his blind loyalty might need its first reevaluation.

“You have become entirely too invested in this fantasy of your own making.” Megatron said to Bumblebee, a warning clear in his tone. His optics flittered over to Blitzwing then -the assailant’s impromptu guardian- causing the other’s vents to stall out.

To his own amazement, he found himself standing unflinching beneath that molten hot glare, appearing as a beckon for the defenseless minibot. Megatron could applaud him that at least.

The little yellow hellion sniffled, fresh tears of frustration prickling his optics, but refusing to let them fall.

“Th-That’s not true! He wanted it as bad as I did!”

Optimus miraculously found his voice at that.

“*Bumblebee*!” He hissed, but a warm blush on his cheekplates dampened the effect.

Bumblebee ignored him.

“He won’t admit it, but he did! I’m not the only crazy one here!”

And this was all very much crazy.

Blitzwing acknowledged that applied to him just as well, and Megatron, for being equally as disconnected from reality in defending a pretty, blue and red doormat more or less. The two of them attempting to secure these distressed little mechs from their fussing and rebuild the crucial bond civilian types kept preserved.

It was the oddest, most demoralizing urge to see that through, but neither seemed in a state to rectify their primitive coding.

Or admit this had stopped being an issue of mindless coding the moment they had begun to respect their counterparts and find them worthy of protecting in the first place.

At some point during those silly ‘negotiations’ that’d left much to be desired, these lively, colorful little idiots had started to look more and more like a welcome addition to suffer the tyranny of a war build’s naturally possessive behavior -Their only defense against such being their unlikelihood to become attached to most things that didn’t extensively benefit them to do so.... Which especially included fragile little Autobots.

Of course, they hadn’t known the little fools had managed to sink their claws into them *somehow*, until they were being forced to acknowledge it. Forced to consider their very existence, as they stood there defending them and their bickering.

There was a moment of awkward tension where the little bots stared at one another with nothing but hurt and fury in their optics. Bumblebee just at the cusp of shaking apart under all his pent up stress. But then Optimus caved, as hard as Bumblebee claimed he would, seemingly coming to terms with his own reality of the events that’d transpired over the last few weeks and how right Bumblebee was- at least, how Optimus thought he might be in a moment of his nonexistent self-esteem managing to plummet further.

“I know this all blew up in our faceplates... I know this opportunity was wasted because of me...” He murmured.

Megatron was deeply disgusted by this proclamation, but he didn’t get a chance to say how that was precisely the stupidest thing he’d ever heard- even knowing several Decepticons who’d willingly chosen to remain illiterate to this day, Optimus’ ‘confession’ had easily exceeded in stupidity.

Before he could snap an iota of sense in the otherwise sensible mech, the ridiculous little firetruck went on confirming his subordinate’s ill regards.

“I wish that I’d done this right when I’d had the chance to.... But I can’t change the past.”

“How could you have done this any differently?” Megatron didn’t even hide the bewilderment in his vocalizer -wondering what portal he’d stepped through when they’d landed where his words as the crowning war lord with the upmost priority in the ranks of Decepticons and Autobots alike were excused and ignored within seconds of uttering them.

He’d very clearly stated that this was out of the Autobot’s servos. Everyone had heard him -unless he’d been speaking Vosian without his knowing.

Optimus rubbed at his tired optics.

“If I’d had never gotten expelled in the first place, I’d be making a difference right now... I’d be more important to the cause, and Ultra Magnus might listen to me if I told him about my ideas for a truce.”

Optimus tried to shy away when Prowl made to reach for him, but the truth was that his palm on his shoulder plate was the tiniest bit grounding, and Optimus needed whatever help he could get in keeping his optics dry.

“I had to solidify my efforts somehow.... He wouldn’t have listened to me otherwise.”

Not for the first time, Optimus was reminded that he wasn’t helping his people here- essentially exiled on earth and running his mouth at Decepticon warlords like it was a sport. Why else had he thought he could take this monumental task on himself? He hadn’t really believed he could make a difference with a track record like his, had he?

For the bots he could make a difference for -his team- he was doing nothing more than endangering them all with this arrogant pursuit. It didn’t matter what Bee had encouraged, or even Sari, now that she knew. They were under his lead, following his orders. He had authority over them... They had to do what he said, as much as Jazz had to listen Sentinel.

“What would you have me do?” Megatron asked then, feeling like his processor had been bled dry of logic altogether.

“Abandon the people who expect me to bring them justice? Abandon our cause? I couldn’t do that- no matter what you hoped to accomplish, it would never come to be, little Autobot.”

Megatron stilled, considering very carefully the wisdom he wished to bestow upon the mech stood anxious and uncertain behind him. His own struts stiff and uncomfortable -unsure if he was willing to accept how fantastically things had derailed under his own supervision.

And then he turned to face Optimus, stooping the tiniest bit to be more at his level, and said firmly.

“You can’t hold yourself accountable for the misgivings of others.”

And if Optimus was as willing as he’d seen thus far to do ‘right’ by other bots, he really shouldn’t.

“You deserve the utmost respect for your efforts, especially from yourself.”

Megatron had a fleeting moment of unadulterated horror to think how compromised his logic had become to offer *comfort* of all things to his little nemesis. But then the smaller mech turned another shade darker, and he couldn’t remember why he actually hadn’t done so *sooner*.

Optimus bit into his bottom lip, looking up at the taller mech. Starkly aware he shouldn’t be looking at him in anyway that didn’t draw him as a giant target to slice his axe through. Optimus tried for all of a klik to muster his once boundless hatred for this mech before the true meaning of his words touched him deep in the most neglected part of Optimus’ conscious. The part of it he tried to convince himself didn’t desperately need approval and validation.

Meanwhile, Blitzwing took the blessed lull in their energy fields to look over at Bumblebee and find him finally seeming to soften with the want to apologize. To reach out with kindness to his leader and make right what they’d said to each other.

“You can’t let other’s affect you so when you’re a leader...” Megatron continued, utterly compelled to.

“They will have their doubts in you, but you will show them through action of your own that you deserve their trust and their respect. If they do not offer you either, it isn’t your responsibility to be burdened by their ideas of you.” Because they were all fools if they didn’t, and Megatron couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

He looked at those hopeful, blue eyes searching into him.

Those eyes so blue in more than me way.

Megatron sighed.

“But, you’re so young...”

It was unlikely Optimus could ignore the cutting words of anyone who might seek to knock him off his pedes.

Something plagued this mech. Something troubled him too terribly to instill much faith within himself, and that was about the biggest blight on all of Cybertron and the Allspark Megatron had ever known.

Optimus, genuine, selfless, thoughtful, uncertain, absurdly hopeful Optimus should never had been abandoned to feel so unsure of himself or his incredible talent. His compassion, his gentle nature, his ability to spread good will- or at least his desire to try.

Nobody had ever told him otherwise, had they? Not the right people- not the people who could have made the biggest impact on him. Shaped him as a soldier, given him time and care to grow. Those people had most likely even done the opposite.

Buried him further where the light of his own hope could no longer reach him. Promise him his worth was destitute.

Megatron felt incredibly troubled to know this mech all at once.

“Uh... Um, hey....” Sari began, coming out from around Bumblebee to stare wide eyed at the telenovela worthy chaos before her.

“Uh. What do you guys want with my dad?”

“Ve need him to make us a subspace communicator to contact Lord Megatron’s forces.”

Blitzwing answered truthfully. Either way, they’d all be coming away from this deeply scarred and with a magnitude of trust issues. Where was the harm in admitting to attempted kidnapping?

Bulkhead perked then, seizing the opportunity to continue this without violence.

“Well... Maybe we can work something out?”

Megatron felt himself age a few thousand years.

———— ————

Of course, the little scraps had lost contact with the Steelhaven since crashing on this insipid planet, and there was nothing they could ‘work out’ regarding Megatron’s need for a communication source. Nothing they could do more than the lot of them walking quietly away from this, so everyone could cool down and come back to their senses. All expecting Megatron to simply leave empty handed of one organic, reverse engineer.

What part of ‘No Truce, Only Enemies’ did they not understand? Now Bulkhead was trying to make empty compromises?

What hope had he that Optimus, Megatron’s only fond acquaintance of this incorrigible lot, narrowly didn’t?

Exactly none, that’s what.

“I have asked generously that you stand down.” Megatron snarled.

“I will not repeat myself.”

And then, when they inevitably refused now that he’d talked them out of their senselessness, there’d be nothing left to do but fight.

And that was all there was to it, it seemed.

Optimus nodded, resigned to the inevitable, and began reaching for his axe- battle mask forgotten in his half sparked desire to lead a defense. Maybe he was actually expecting to be bested quickly in his subpar state, so they might return to their base, and Optimus could retreat into himself for a few moments just to process this ungodly embarrassment before constructing an outline of Sumdac’s rescue. Essentially expecting defeat.

It was, without a doubt, the most pitiful display Megatron had ever seen, and so unlike the Prime he’d come to know in every conceivable way.

Distantly, so very distantly and obscurely and almost impossibly, Megatron couldn’t help but wonder if a loss like this having such an impact on his seemingly unshakable rival might be because there was more at stake than the loss of one unlikely truce. Something beyond his struggle to outlive the failures of his past and his abysmal sense of self.

Perhaps perceiving some great loss in the ‘loss’ of Megatron.

Like, perhaps, he’d wanted his camaraderie? Like he’d wanted more time to speak candidly with another mech, when the option was so rare. Like he’d wanted his company in some familiar capacity. That he’d wanted something.... else...?

Megatron shunned the thought. Thinking like that was gravely beneath Optimus’ deserving. He was to be respected- especially since he wouldn’t respect himself...

But a fight was the only logical course of action here on, as neither faction could simply surrender.

Bumblebee followed Optimus’ lead and readied his stingers while Sari took cover. The other Autobots preparing themselves, coming out the other end of the emotional minefield they’d marginally survived to embrace battle. However successful they imagined they’d be in such a debauched state. Brave little bots, as they ever were.

Megatron looked at an exhausted Optimus and knew he’d have to fight this mech then. There truly was nothing left for them beyond a mutual agreement to disagree. Bizarre as it was that Megatron was having trouble justifying beating a mech in such a shaken state, despite him being a thorn in his eye since his reawakening on this planet, Megatron knew it was the only path for them.

Perhaps their destiny, even. Megatron was just romantic enough to believe so.

Across from him, Blitzwing looked woefully unwilling to do fighting of any sort. Fanning his wing the tiniest bit to shield the minibot. Megatron could deal with such insubordination later.

This moment right now was his calling- his time to take up arms once more for his people. The past was the past, the ‘peace’, real or not, was over.

Lugnut took all of one step forward with servo raised and POKE ready before Megatron was quickly throwing out a hand to catch him by the forearm and promptly put a stop to that.

“Hold all fire!”

Bumblebee pointedly did not lower his stingers. But as they were raised towards Megatron’s helm and Megatron’s alone, he didn’t imagine Blitzwing would be too upset about his eagerenss to take a shot at one of them.

Megatron found the threat seriously lacking.

“Prime,” He snapped, quickly turning his attention on the Autobot who’s finials twitched. Sensing... something.

A strong intuition, this one.

“There is no need for us to spill each other’s Energon.” Megatron tried one final time. Terrified that he was about to do something awful. Something even worse than slaughtering this tiny mech. Something like letting him *live*.

“You can prove yourself a competent leader now, and stand down!”

“I can’t let you take professor Sumdac, Megatron.” Optimus said in what was left of his authoritative tone since having a crisis in front of everyone and Primus. He looked in no such state to back that claim, but-

“I *won’t* let him go without a fight.”

Optimus could realistically accept what that meant for them then, and raised his axe to his chest. Prepared.

It was only a blip in the next nanosecond that Megatron perfectly recalled Strika’s message to him about ‘playing stupid games’ and the consequence of such, to remembering pivotal moments in the millennia he’d spent leading an army through war. Remembering what he’d had to sacrifice to earn his stature and rank.

It took marginally less time than that even to ruin everything he’d ever worked for.

“We shall attempt this truce of yours once more!”

Not that it was ‘Optimus’ truce’, and not that it didn’t cater heavily towards the justice of war frames. But Megatron wasn’t willing at the moment to take responsibility for that, too, on top of his single handed destruction of the Decepticon empire just now.

Optimus blinked like he hadn’t heard him. Maybe he hadn’t.

“We’ll try one final time.” Megatron reaffirmed. His vocalizer feeling stretched thin.

“Ultra Magnus must have a hand in securing our progress, however.”

Optimus, like everyone else within audial range, needed several kliks to process that. He spluttered and clenched his axe towards his chest, like he was desperate for something to hold on to. Something to put between himself and Megatron’s impossible promise. One he surely couldn’t mean.

Bumblebee flapped uselessly behind the triple changer.

Blitzwing was forced to recalibrate his gyroscope. Feeling as though gravity had just dissipated from the atmosphere and the earth was shifting beneath him, because this was definitely not part of some plan anymore....

Bee’s strangled squeal from his side grounded him immediately.

This.... this *was* real, Megatron had definitely just said that. Possibly without an ounce of the appropriate consideration it honestly demanded.

Starscream was right that their leader was no longer fit to be such, and Blitzwing was hard pressed to find a fault in that.

Megatron, to his credit, gave a valiant effort to seem indifferent to the little Prime’s equally ill suppressed glee and barreled on before he could drown in the severity of his tremendous regret.

“Though the fact pains me greatly, Ultra Magnus is the only mech that can incorporate these changes you’re pushing for. He must have a hand in these negotiations.”

Optimus tried to argue that those changes ‘he was pushing for’ were all strictly in Megatron’s interest in that he receive equality and the rights of all Cybertronians who were willing to do good. Not that Megatron was of course. Yet... If ever...

But neutrality and peace was an indirect, indisputable good. Wasn’t it?

Optimus, processor spinning a mile a minute, could hardly think otherwise.

He was shaking, cycling through unspoken emotions, some entirely new to him. Excitement muddling the words he longed to say. Megatron watched with a carefully blank face, hoping his spark doing strange leaps in his battle warn chassis weren’t detectable through that immaculate intuition alone, and, finally, the dearly important words stuck in Optimus’ throat stumbled out.

“Wh-what if... I don’t think Ultra Magnus will take a liking to this suggestion, I.... Wh-What happens then?”

Megatron very sensibly did not admit that he was well aware that Magnus’ involvement was a great unlikelihood when he’d agreed to a second truce in the first place. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was mysteriously invested in seeing Optimus at ease for once- eager and motivated, like he’d been during negotiations -when he thought he was being helpful.

Megatron did not pity his efforts, nor belittle them. But he did, in truth, find them endearing- in a soft sparked, blue eyed -literally, too- bot trying to find some good in the world sort of way. This young, sweet thing.

Megatron scowled.

As far as Ultra Magnus went, while preserving some of his reputation as a sparkless, conniving war lord, well...

“He may very well not come around, but I offer you this opportunity all the same. It’s your choice whether you take it-“

Then he stopped, acknowledging the unholy level of responsibility even that would place onto Optimus, *again*, and quickly back-peddled.

“And we will consider other alternatives from there. I strongly advise his involvement and hopefully some degree of compliance.”

Optimus was beyond thrilled, but all he could muster to show for it was a ridiculous -adorable- gaping mouth that opened and shut several times over in his loss for both words and processing power.

Megatron couldn’t remain prideful in his half baked, overly confident decision for long. Optimus’ finials subconsciously lowering as he bit at his lip and studied the ground in a fierce battle to fight the smile from his face knocked the hot air right out of Megatron’s vents. He covered it up well enough by looking daringly at the other Autobots to challenge him.

No one did of course. The shocked silence spoke of no such protests, and the faces full of awe -some being his own soldiers’- stared back in wonder. ‘Wonder’, or utter disbelief.

So it was to be, apparently, that Megatron would be making a fool of himself once more. For a depressed, foolish Autobot’s benefit of all things.

Only....there was one enormous issue lying plainly before them that they hadn’t thoroughly considered....

The watery smile slipped from Optimus’ faceplates as he looked up at him in dawning horror.

“Well, I... I *would* tell Ultra Magnus, if I... if I could reach him. I-I *will* tell him, just... as soon as I’m able. Ah... I...”

Megatron turned his paling face away from the gathering mecha.

That meant he’d have to play nice in the meantime. For however long that would be -Because he’d already sold himself to this preposterous, humiliating arrangement, and it was definitely only because of that, and not because of Optimus lighting up like starlight.

“We’ll have Professor Sumdac start to work on that communicator then...” He said at last. Realizing that was about the only thing they could do.

“And until then?” Prowl was smart enough to ask- While Optimus was unfortunately succumbing to that hopefulness he fought so hard against from consuming him and dared not voice such concerns.

His optimism did seem to have a way of defining much of his processing. Megatron was distraught to find that little bit endearing, too.

“Until then... we will... enact a ceasefire between our.... factions.” That was almost painful to say.

He could push it aside well enough to admire the way Optimus seemed dumbstruck, torn between awe and graciousness and worry -and that darling, blossoming hope.

He was already rushing to continue where they’d left off.

“Those changes you talked about that your people have been-“ But Megatron would rather not speak of that in front of the others.

“We will discuss those matters in our next negotiation.” He said plainly, with a palm held out to quiet him. The promise of negotiations resuming was enough to quiet him. But not pacify him.

Optimus looked like someone’d set off a fire works show in his chassis. He turned soft blue optics away to rejoice quietly with himself, smile wide and vibrant, while the others voiced their opinions at one another.

“Sweet!” Bumblebee was the first to speak, pumping his fist in the air and coming forward to backslap an unmoving Blitzwing.

“We can play more Jet Grinder now! I can get my high score back!”

Blitzwing scoffed with all the superiority a mech that’d delivered the smack down upon a noob-ish fool like Bumblebee could.

“Don’t bet on it, Bug- unless jou are betting jour points.”

Bumblebee made a rude gesture he’d picked up from the locals.

“No way! You’re gonna cry so hard when I get my initials in gold letters back at the top of the score board! Sucks for you~”

Blitzwing flicked his wings in irritation, so as not to express the fact that he could hardly contain himself at the moment.

Sari, who’d been too overwhelmed by whatever she was witnessing in both the mech of horrible legend and the normally stoic, unexcitable Optimus, looking a little too invested in one another, excused herself from the whole mess entirely to go inform her father inside the tower that they would not be coming in to check out that super-amazing-latest invention they’d came here for anymore.

Also that’d he’d almost been captured and exhausted of all his resources by the Decepticons before Megatron surprisingly wussed out for some reason. Well, not for some reason... But she wasn’t willing to give life to the fact that it’d been because she’d seen similar behavior in those lovey-dovey romance movies.

For the sake of everyone, nobody needed to openly acknowledge what was happening between them there. She was fully convinced Optimus was oblivious to that poorly disguised soft look in Megatron’s optic, anyway, so he wasn’t to blame.

Prowl took the next opportunity to remind Optimus that they were treading very deadly waters now. As if he needed the reminder.

Maybe a little bit....

He wasn’t looking as cowed and serious as he should be at the moment, staring up at Megatron in wide eyed wonder.

————- ———————

“I *was* out of line. You were right.” Bumblebee mumbled against Optimus’ side sometime later that night.

However short lived this giant victory and the impossible high it’d given them was, they intended to savor it. Make even poorer decisions than spilling their sparks in front of a bunch of war mechs they’d hardly gotten to know in any civilized way in the quiet of their rooms. Together, preferably.

That meant apologizing.

Bee stared at the wall, finding it easier to speak his truth without having to look at the other.

“You shouldn’t have said that slag about Professor Sumdac, though.”

Optimus tensed against him.

“Yeah... that was awful. I shouldn’t of... I need to apologize to Sari.”

“Later.” Bee hummed, too tired to leave Optimus’ room to seek out his own berth. He nestled closer to his side instead.

This moment wasn’t terribly common, but was frequent enough to be labeled as one of those soft civilian luxuries that Bumblebee found deeply depressing Blitzwing said war types abstained from. He’d die without Prowl to cuddle and pester at awful hours of the night cycle after playing a really scary level on Cutter.

“I’m not done talking about how awesome what happened was....” Then added thoughtfully.

“...Or apologizing.”

“No more.” Optimus assured him, nudging against him, attempting to reserve himself from pushing too strongly.

Bumblebee didn’t let him retreat into himself, though, in his latest bout of guilt.

“Ok, ok. But you do know that I care about you, right?”

“I care about you, too. You gave me the courage to give the truce a try, despite all the odds against us. You just seemed so sure.”

‘And you listened?’ Bee wanted to laugh, but when hadn’t Optimus listened to his teammates making a serious suggestion? He couldn’t always put them into action, but he did do his best to listen.

So instead, Bumblebee teased him.

“Oh? I did? Am I your muse, Bossbot?” Bee batted his lids, and Optimus snorted. Feeling emboldened by the other’s goofiness to nuzzle his little helm under his chin with a blue servo.

“When you’re happy, it’s hard not to find inspiration.” He murmured, clearly struggling with such openness.

Bee felt uncomfortably warm, but allowed himself to bask in the wonderful intimacy this simple bonding with his cohort instilled. Feeling a familiar security in his spark under his leader’s protection.

“That’s an oof for me.” He muttered anyway.

Optimus perked.

“Is that...? That’s me-me culture stuff, right?”

“Oh, God, no. Prime, please don’t grow up to be like Ratchet.”

Optimus scowled over the top of Bee’s helm.

“Ratchet doesn’t tease me during bonding.”

“He doesn’t gush with you over tall, dark, and terrifying war machines, either.”

Optimus jolted, optics going wide. Too scared to pull away and broadcast his horror at having been caught. It was a little too true, regardless of how blatant a jab and lacking in substance it was *meant* to be.

Instead, they sat their silently, leaning against eachother and into the berth slab behind them. Pretending that neither one of them actually felt that way.

———————————-

End Part 1

I just want a computer, so I can make italics easier. These * hurt my eyes

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