Chapter Text
Optimus landed the Pontis a generous distance away from the signal. He could see from above that the planet was relatively flat and that driving would not be an issue. He had also spotted a small shuttle, half buried by the dust carried by the wind. As he landed the ship and stepped out, Optimus decided to look there first.
Executing his transformation sequence, his wheels came in contact with the warm, sand-like dirt, slipping slightly before he picked up some speed. Soft winds drifted across the surface, carrying fine dust or sand that somehow made it into every opening Optimus had. It was clear this was a hot and dry planet, and the orange sky, illuminated by a vermillion sun, added to the atmosphere.
It was a few Kliks before he arrived at his destination that he decided to transform back into his root form in favour of walking. He was in no hurry, despite how his spark wanted him to run.
He paused as a dusty cream form emerged from the shadows of the shuttle. Optimus squinted as he walked forward, trying to make out who it was. He was well within audial shot, he could call out.
As he neared, Optimus managed to make out flecks of grey beneath the dust, with small amounts of purple. The shape matched Megatron, save for the usual weighty cannon hugging his arm. That was gone.
Optimus paused, Megatron—he was sure it was Megatron now—was facing away, despite being in close proximity. Surely he had noticed him. “Megatron?” Optimus called out, with maybe thirty meters between them.
The mech straightened slightly, tilting his helm as he just stood there, confusing Optimus further. He was about to call out a second time before Megatron started… walking away? Optimus trotted after, abandoning any attempts to be subtle as he slowly caught up. Megatron still hadn’t turned, still hadn’t looked at him.
“Megatron?” Optimus was next to him now, if not a little behind. Still no reaction. Optimus reached out, grabbing his arm, and they both froze.
“Oh.” Megatron started, slowly turning, and Optimus realised how heavy his venting was. Wheezing slowly, as if his vents were filtering through sand, which was likely the case. “I believed you to be the wind.” He rasped out.
There was an air of sadness to him, his usual bravo replaced with quiet. Optimus didn’t focus on that as much as he should have; his attention was focused on the mech’s optics.
They were a washed-out red, lightening almost pink in the centre, and unfocused. Small specks of purple gathered at the edges in what Optimus could only assume was an infection. Optimus shifted, they did not follow him. Instead, they lowered to where his servo gripped the grey arm. Optimus allowed his servo to remain in what he hoped would be reassurance. “Can you see?” He asked, although he was quite sure of the answer.
•
Between quiet mumbles, they slowly walked back to the shuttle side-by-side. Megatron tapped his arm a few times on the way in silent contemplation. He did not seem to need leading, his steps were uneven but sure in their direction. “You’re here?” He asked, still seeming confused, “Optimus?”
Optimus nodded before realising the gesture was lost. “Yes,” he tapped Megatron again, despite knowing he could hear him.
Megatron let out a hum and slowed as they felt the shade of the shuttle reach them. He dragged his pedes slightly, testing the surface. “Why?”
It was a fair question, one Optimus thought he knew the answer to. Yet, when it was voiced, the answer evaded him. “Hmm,” Optimus started, before landing on the feeling that haunted him throughout the war. Longing. So in the simplest form, he gave his answer.
“I missed you.” He let out softly, glancing at the greyed-out silver under all the dust.
Megatron reached out a servo, having it collide with Optimus’ shoulder, as if once again, he had to reassure himself that Optimus was really there. “And I, you.” He let out, allowing his servo to linger instead of withdrawing it.
They stood there for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend one another's presence. Optimus allowed a small smile to tug up his derma and cleared his throat, “Is this your ship?” He asked, not having the faintest idea where Megatron would have gotten it from.
Megatron glanced in the direction of it. “No,” he let out slowly, as if he were stuck in a daydream. “It was here when I arrived, before…” he pulled back his servo and let it linger above his optics, “Dark energon, I believe, what is left of it.” He added.
Optimus could understand the reasoning, he could see why the energon of the Uncreator would be corrosive to mere mortals and how it could have damaged Megatron in the long run. “I did try to tell you… that it was a bad idea.” Optimus let out worried, but also in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Megatron barked a laugh, abandoning any form of noise control, “A fool I was, not to listen!”
Optimus let out a small chuff, allowing it to speak for his smile, before returning his attention to the shuttle. “How long have you been here?” He asked, he had many more questions, but he was content to keep it slow. There was no hurry.
“Hmm?” Megatron drifted forward, "My humble abode?" Humble was a way to put it… “A Stellar cycle perhaps? My chronometer gave out.” He said as he walked to it, brushing against the doorway slightly, Optimus found him surprisingly well orientated as he followed him in.
Inside, it was rather messy, for the sand had made its way in from the doorway. Optimus noted a panel that was leaned against the wall, he assumed Megatron may have been using it as a door given its size. Bits of scrap jutted out from the uneven floor, and sand filled in the gaps. It looked more like a shelter than a home.
All things considered, it could have been much worse. Were the planet more humid, there would surely have been mold and an abundance of rust. Optimus spotted a small collection of belongings propped up on what looked to be an old circular table. A datapad rested on it, as did a battery cell, a small energon filter, a scanner of some kind, and an open first aid kit.
“You didn’t feel like leaving?” Optimus asked.
“No,” he said, resting a servo on the table and creeping it towards the kit, he closed it slowly. “The heat reminds me of Kaon. Did not seem wise to fly either.” Optimus nodded. The planet may have been flat, but any attempted landing would have been hazardous. “Would have hit something…”
“Like the nearest sun?” Optimus joked sadly, Megatron shrugged with a snort. “You would feel the heat.”
“I find myself rather inattentive at times.” Megatron clicked his glossa, “An audial is out too, with it, some of my vestibular system.” He picked up the kit and shook it slightly, seemingly well aware some sand had settled on it. “Hadn’t a clue from what direction your pede-steps were coming from.” He added quietly as an afterthought.
Optimus frowned. Not only blind, but lacking in directional hearing. “Can you tell up from down?” Optimus asked, now more concerned as he watched from the entrance. Optimus imagined flying would have been quite disorientating without being able to reference gravitational pulls.
“Yes,” Megatron let out, “I get rather dizzy when I look up however.” He didn’t seem keen to talk about it, so Optimus did not press.
“These are all your belongings?” Optimus asked as he walked closer.
Megatron tilted his helm down. “Assuming they’re all there and not under the table” —Megatron tapped the floor lightly with his pede— “Then yes.”
Optimus took that as a suggestion to provide a brief list of the table's contents. He received a nod in return, nothing seemed to be missing. “Energon?” Optimus doubted Megatron would have been able to bring much with him, let alone enough to last him a Stellar cycle.
“Next room, in a cart.” He said, “The planet has a few energon deposits.” He added, turning his helm away. “Where are you?” Optimus tapped him on his left, and Megatron turned back, “Mining again. Found a small drill in the shuttle.” Optimus concluded it was with the energon, for he could not see it.
“I see.” He nodded.
“I don’t.” Megatron deadpanned, and Optimus could do nothing but stare incredulously as the grey mech followed the comment with a wheeze. Optimus let out a small croak as he re-registered how poor Megatron’s ventilation sounded.
“Could we go back to my ship?” Optimus asked, refocusing on the obvious health issues. “It is within walking distance.” He assured as Megatron tilted his helm. “There’s a shower too,” Optimus added. He doubted Megatron found the sand beneath his plating comfortable.
“That filthy am I?” Megatron asked, no malice to his tone. Optimus felt it would be rude to offer his opinion.
•
The walk back to the ship had been slow. Optimus wasn’t sure if he was slowing down for Megatron, or if Megatron was matching his pace. As the Pontis came into view, Optimus started describing it, in hindsight, he wasn’t sure why.
Megatron had simply cut him off and asked for the model name. That seemed to suffice. They had dragged their pedes up the ramp before Optimus started describing the layout. Megatron may know the external build of many ships by spark, but Optimus doubted he knew the interior layout of each.
And this particular ship seemed to have undergone some renovations, as it was passed from one owner to another.
They paused at the entrance. “Console, window and controls are on our left.” Optimus started, “Before it and in front of us is a general lounge, bench on either wall, table on the furthest—” Megatron had detached himself from his side, guiding himself along the wall towards the ship's controls.
He made it to the chair seated before the controls soon enough before pausing. “Small ship.” He commented, at which Optimus tilted his helm. The ship was bigger than Megatron's marooned shuttle. “Would have thought you to fancy something more luxurious.” He added, now looping around along the other wall and side-stepping the table. Optimus wasn’t fond of how sluggish his movements seemed.
“It does the job.” Optimus shrugged, he was never one to take more than he needed.
“At least something big enough to fit a library,” Megatron added, and Optimus registered some cheek in his tone. Well, now that he brought it up… A library would have been nice. Optimus let out a hum in agreement.
“On the right?” Megatron asked, raising his free servo. The one now lacking a cannon.
Optimus walked over, tapping Megatron’s arm as he recalled that the mech could not place where sounds came from. “Hallway.” He started, leading them down. “Washrack and a berthroom further down on the left, and a storage room on the right.”
Again, Megatron detached as he strolled along the walls, pausing at the now closed entrances.
“Where is your cannon?” Optimus asked as Megatron looped back towards him on the right, a servo lightly tapping over a cabinet embedded in the wall. “Wall storage.” Optimus added as Megatron’s optic ridges raised.
“Passed through a lava planet, decided to shed some weight,” he explained, stopping in front of Optimus.
Optimus nodded, finding the information reassuring in a way before refocusing on the mech's sandy plating. “Would you like to shower?” He asked, he could imagine it felt quite uncomfortable.
“Given your insistence, I think I might do well with one.” Megatron said, turning back around and making towards the doorway he had already located. “That dirty am I?” He asked teasingly.
Optimus let out a half-formed stutter, he hadn’t meant to sound rude. “Pf—no?” He suggested. Yes, that was a safe answer. But it was also a lie, “Yes?”
Megatron let out an amused snort as he found the control to activate the door, it slid open. Optimus took that to mean he hadn’t taken offence.
“Do you need assistance?” Optimus asked, and Megatron slowly walked in, following the wall and pausing as the floor dipped down towards a drain.
“I think I can manage.” He let out slowly, a servo hitting the controls, “Thank you.”
Optimus let out a hum as he backed out, briefly informing Megatron of the location of a wire brush as the door slid closed. “Just yell if you need anything.” Optimus raised his voice from outside, debating whether he ought to linger at the door.
He decided not to as he heard the coolant start flowing. Instead, he collected two cubes from the storage room and set them down on the table.
•
Considering how long Megatron had been in the shower, Optimus was sure the mech was being quite thorough. Leaving Optimus hopeful that he might also be able to get the majority of the sand out of his venting.
Optimus could only imagine how uncomfortable that would be. Living on a warm planet with clogged vents, unable to fully use them to cool down.
Eventually, Optimus heard the coolant stop and a fan engage. Megatron must have found the dryer on his own. He also heard a clutter of objects fall thereafter, signifying to Optimus that Megatron had found the shelf. He wasn’t too bothered.
Cautiously, Megatron walked out from the hallway, pausing to listen for a moment.
“At the table.” Optimus let out, assuming Megatron was trying to figure out if he was still there or not.
The now silver mech let out a hum, his venting now softer but still coarse. Optimus decided he would get out an air gun later when Megatron’s vents were fully dried. That way, he may be able to blow some out. “I think— could be wrong— that I knocked over a few things.” He let out matter-of-factly, while finding the bench with his pede and almost sitting down on Optimus (had he not moved out of the way).
Optimus wondered if he knew how close they were sitting. He gave him a small tap on the arm regardless. “Maybe, it should be fine.” Optimus let out, dragging a cube across the table and leaving it in front of Megatron. “Energon.”
Megatron hummed, raising a servo that nudged the cube slightly before lifting it. He tested the seal, finding it closed, before opening it. “Thank you.” He added, turning his helm in Optimus' direction.
Optimus simply shrugged, noting the scratches of the wire brush on Megatron’s plating, there was very little dirt left. It seemed he had taken the suggestion to clean himself seriously. He made to take a sip from his own cube.
“No cell?” Megatron promptly asked, leaving Optimus to force a swallow lest he choke.
“N-o.” Optimus coughed, “No.”
Megatron stared back across the room blankly, “Hm.” He took another sip, seeming to enjoy the standard grade. Optimus assumed whatever he had been drinking might have had some impurities. “Why?” He asked, confused.
Optimus found the question reasonable, given the fair share of crimes Megatron seemed to have collected on his record. “I’m… not here to arrest you.” Optimus let out, risking another sip. It would make sense to arrest, but… Optimus didn’t really see a need to do so.
Megatron seemed quite… peaceful. Not helpless, Megatron had never been helpless. Optimus imagined he could still be quite dangerous. He just seemed to lack the desire to do harm, and that was a welcome change.
“Here for a social visit then?” Megatron asked, slightly slow and surprised.
“Something like that.” Optimus let out, and the grey mech seemed somewhat fond of that answer.
•
Optimus had given Megatron his berth for the night and taken one of the benches in the lounge. He did not inform Megatron that it was his berth he was using. Nor did he inform Megatron that Optimus was taking a bench to recharge, lest he settle for the floor so as not to receive Optimus’ ‘pity’.
The bench Optimus had taken against the wall was wide enough not to fall off, but he did have to bend his legs slightly to fit. Overall, the bench was admittedly long, just, Optimus was longer.
Regardless, Optimus was tired, and despite any discomfort, recharge did not take long to reach him. Nor did the memories that came with it.
Megatronus was hugging Orion. Or rather, restraining him in a more subtle, less violent way. “Let go—” Orion started, but his protests were muffled under a rather passionate kiss. He found it hard to resist those.
Eventually, Megatronus pulled back, his warm crimson optics beholding Orion with a new kind of gentleness. Slowly, he let a soft smile wash over his faceplate, and Orion was sure he would be released. That was before it twisted into something cheeky. “No.”
Were Orion’s arms not currently pinned to his sides under a hug, he would have slapped the mech (very lightly). Instead, he executed the next available form of assault his currently unreasonable processor could conjure up, and tried to lick Megatronus.
He was too slow.
“Bah!” Megatron yelped, pulling his helm back. “So violent!” He exclaimed dramatically before doubling down the intensity of his hug. It was, admittedly, a nice hug. And Orion did want to stay, but—
“I need to get back,” he whined, “Alpha Trion needs me to—”
“Oh hush!” Megatronus bonked his helm into Orion's, “Five more Kliks with my love” —he planted a kiss— “is all I ask.”
Orion found it difficult to deny the request as he folded into the hug.
Optimus squinted awake, hearing soft pede steps get closer down the hallway. He raised his helm as Megatron staggered in, seeming even more unbalanced due to morning fatigue. He also seemed confused.
The confusion seemed to grow with the silence between them as he waited at the doorway, staring blankly ahead with mild focus etched onto his faceplate.
“All right?” Optimus asked as he threw his peds off the bench.
Megatron straightened up with a new liveliness, “Still here?” He asked seriously, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question to ask.
Optimus tilted his helm. “Yes…” He said slowly, “You’re on my ship, can hardly leave with you on it.” He added lightly, stretching his legs, as Megatron nodded.
“Where…?”
“Bench.” Optimus said, pretending he hadn’t spent the recharge cycle on it, as Megatron walked over to the table. “Other wall, on your left.” He changed his course and paused in front of where Optimus was sitting, almost as if waiting.
Optimus tapped his pede with his own, and Megatron seemed to relax. “Interested in a walk?” He asked, tilting his helm.
“Sure.” Optimus said as he got up, taking in Megatron’s venting again. Yes, he needed to dig out the air gun. “Any reason as to why?” Optimus asked as he tapped Megatron’s arm, assuming the answer was likely boredom.
“The morning air is nice.” Megatron let out slowly as Optimus opened the ship's door, and they both walked down the ramp slowly.
The air was nice. It was still, the winds reduced to a soft breeze, and the sand had not yet stirred up into the air. It was cool too, and a soft scent settled on Optimus's nasal sensors, a smell subtle like the smell of water. It was refreshing but also warm. Optimus could see why Megatron liked this atmosphere.
They walked slowly, their pede prints from the previous day already buried under the sand. Megatron slowly picked up some more coordination, no longer stumbling, but still dragging his pedes slightly. “Are we going anywhere in particular?” Optimus asked, a few Kliks later, he wasn’t sure who was leading.
“I don’t know…” Megatron started slowly, somewhat concerned, “I was hoping you were keeping track of our location.” He glanced over at his side to where Optimus was walking, his unfocused optics staring over his shoulder miles past.
Right. Optimus turned around briefly, walking backwards as he faced where they had come from, the ship was still in sight despite the subtle rolling dunes. “Ah yes.” Optimus nodded, it was reasonable for him to be assigned the navigator. “Did you want to go to your shuttle?” Optimus asked.
Megatron stopped and clicked his glossa, “Is that not where we’re heading?” He asked uncertainly with a squint.
Optimus supposed this was his fault for letting a blind mech lead. “Ah no.” He guided Megatron to turn 90 degrees to his left, "Would be this way.”
Megatron let out a snort originating from his chassis, “Please, do lead Librarian.”
•
They arrived at the shuttle soon enough, but only after Megatron had finished teasing Optimus over his ‘poor sense of direction’. Optimus’ arguments arrived on deaf audials despite one of them still functioning perfectly fine.
“Ah ha…” Optimus grumbled, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I still wonder, how did you find energon?” He asked as they entered the shade of the shuttle, and they made to enter. Megatron whacked his shoulder on the doorframe in the process, but he emitted no complaint.
“The scanner inside is set to scan for energon, on an audible setting. Beeps.” Megatron elaborated, “I found the deposit when I could still see, and memorised the path there and back.” He picked up the scanner, knocking the datapad off the table in the process. It landed with a soft thud on the sandy floor, Megatron did not seem to notice. “As my vision started to deteriorate.” He added.
“And how did you dig up—” Optimus started, walking over.
“Used the scanner as a detector, when it beeped faster, I drilled.” Megatron shrugged as he subspaced the battery cells, energon filter, and first aid kit. He paused when his servo rested where the data pad had sat. Optimus picked it up from below him, tapping Megatron’s arm as he raised it to Megatron’s servo. “Hm?” He took it and placed it in his subspace. “Energon sounds different from rocks when you drill it. Not that complicated.” He said gruffly.
Optimus frowned. That was dangerous, energon was volatile after all. And he was sure Megatron knew as much, having been a miner. “You risked sparks? Ignition?”
“I could also risk running dry.” Megatron drawled, his optics hitting the ceiling in what Optimus assumed to be an optic roll. The gall of the mech had Optimus stifle a snort. “Drill had an anti-spark coating.” He said, waving his servo dismissively, “A luxury we did not have in the mines.” He added bitterly, mostly to himself.
“And how did you know that?” Optimus asked skeptically, coatings applied to metals were usually transparent and not visible to the optic. As far as he knew, there was no way to discern a difference.
Megatron turned his helm in Optimus’ direction with surprising aim. He frowned, his expression dead, “Because I haven’t blown up?”
Optimus hummed with a nod, finding his questions had obvious answers. “Sound observation,” he added, earning himself a snicker before Megatron once again frowned.
“How long are you staying?” He asked, and Optimus blinked, he hadn’t really thought about it. Megatron tapped him, hitting his hip instead of the intended arm.
“I hadn’t thought about it.” Optimus let out, “Do you bore of my company?” He joked, crinkling his optics slightly.
Megatron frowned, seeming serious, and Optimus realised he had mistaken the question as banter when it was not intended as such. “No.” Megatron let out, “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Optimus took in his serious expression for a moment, noting how lonely Megatron must have been for him to admit such. “Oh,” he said lightly, “I am in no hurry. I am quite content to stay.”
Megatron looked at him fondly, a mischievous smile finally tugging up his derma, “Must be terrible company on Cybertron then.”
•
“The data pad,” Optimus started a little while later as they paused in the shade outside, “You use it?” He asked, Megatron nodded. “How?”
“Speech to text.” He shrugged, “The stylus I had is buried somewhere.” Optimus frowned, he found that feature to be somewhat inaccurate. As if predicting his next question, Megatron added, “Then text-to-speech to check for mistakes.”
Optimus nodded, “What are you writing?”
Megatron turned his helm away. Optimus gave him a small nudge on the shoulder, in case he had mistaken where Optimus was. “Oh, just…” he paused, turning back to Optimus, “Picking up where I left off.”
Optimus’ audial fins perked up, “Poetry?” He asked, and Megatron gave a hesitant nod. “Available to read?” Optimus tested optimistically.
Megatron tossed back a small squint, “I’d offer to read it to you…” He started, “Maybe.” He let out finally, and Optimus took that answer as a win.
Orion was stuck in Iacon, swamped with work and an unapproved leave request. He was whining to Megatronus over their coms.
“S- unfair!” He complained, slurring his words slightly from fatigue. It was a shame he couldn’t see Megatronus for the next two Deca cycles, their discussion had started to pick up again alongside the shenanigans the Government was pulling.
“I would visit…” Megatronus started, but they both knew the legalities Megatronus would have to go through to arrive in Iacon.
“I know.” Orion frowned, “Stupid senate, focusing on the wrong stupid laws—”
“Now now, they could be listening!” Megatronous joked.
“Eh, we still have freedom of speech.” Orion shrugged, staring at the wall.
“With some exceptions.”
“Oh right.” Orion snorted, Megatronus was one of those exceptions. “Have you finished that poem you were working on?” He asked, leaning forward.
Megatronus let out an affirmative hum. “Yes, why don’t I read it to you?”
Orion smiled, “I’d love that.”
Optimus stared out at the planet, the sun now sitting above the horizon and draping the environment with a red hue. It would be nice to hear his poetry again, always so elegant, written from beauty felt but not experienced. Optimus looked forward to the prospect of hearing it again (even if just a small chance) from the intake of the mech who wrote it.
He glanced back at Megatron. He was still facing Optimus, waiting, with a new kind of patience.
Optimus wondered if it was the quiet that had taught Megatron the trait, or the loneliness. Regardless of which it was, Optimus didn't want to see Megatron alone again.
“Shall we get back?” Optimus asked, he received a nod in agreement.
•
They walked back to the Pontis, now with Megatron’s belongings. Optimus figured he could move the energon back to his ship at another time, for he was not interested in leaving Megatron to live in a sand-infested shuttle. The Pontis was big enough for two.
Megatron seemed to have taken on a new stumble, still dragging his pedes, but his knees now also buckled with each step. Optimus insisted he hold onto his arm, and Megatron begrudgingly did so.
“Are your joints—”
“Bah!” Megatron cut him off, seeming offended, “Not that old!” He grunted. Optimus resisted the urge to disagree, considering they were past their prime. He tugged on Optimus with a grunt as he dipped a little lower with the next step. “The floor is flat, no?” He asked.
Optimus looked down, there were no rocks nor dips. Perhaps it was loose sand giving Megatron some trouble? “It is flat.” He confirmed as Megatron seemed to correct his walk with a grimace. He seemed uncomfortable doing so.
“Unnatural.” He let out as Optimus grew confused. As if sensing his confusion, Megatron explained, “It feels like I am walking down a hill.” He tapped his helm, around where his audial would be, and Optimus understood.
Right, some of his vestibular system had let out. That was likely affecting his balance and coordination. “Right.” Optimus let out, “You can lean on me—”
“I can walk!” Megatron shot back. “Just walk straight!”
Optimus nodded, although he was pretty sure he was walking straight. “You seemed fine earlier?” He asked, somewhat aware he was pushing Megatron’s patience.
“I also wasn’t nurturing a helm ache earlier.” Megatron grumbled, “Comes and goes.” Optimus nodded before letting out a hum. They walked in silence for a few more Kliks, and he slowly watched the Pontis come into view.
Megatron stumbled again, yanking on Optimus’ arm. He let out a huff before his frown softened. “Used to be the other way round.” He mumbled.
“Hmm?” Optimus asked with a tilt of his helm. He was aware Megatron likely wasn’t picking up on any of his visible gestures, but he felt it would be unnatural to suppress them.
“Orion would be the one holding my arm.” Megatron added, processor somewhere else.
Optimus smiled. That was true. He used to cling to Megatronus like a lost new-spark as he was led through Kaon. “I know,” he hummed fondly. “But you have heard the expression, ‘don’t let the blind drive’?” Optimus let out. He was sure Megatron might start walking criss-cross with how disoriented he was now.
“Yes, I have.” Megatron smiled, raising his helm slightly, but not quite settling for their current status quo. “Meet me in the middle then?” He asked, before sliding his servo down Optimus’ arm, stopping at his servo and grasping it.
Optimus almost cursed at how smooth that was, and his fans engaged as his smile grew.
Orion Pax had taken up the role of a magnet, Megatronus being his polar opposite, with how he was clinging to his arm.
Some drunk mech was making some very crass attempts at flirting, and Megatronus was getting a bit agitated (to put it lightly). They had tried to simply walk away, but they had been unsuccessful in shaking the mech that was still trailing behind.
“I swear, does he not know who I am—” Megatronus started, rearing his helm around again as Orion used his entire weight to drag the mech forward by his arm.
“That sounds pompous," Orion remarked and promptly received a scowl. “Oh just keep walking!” He grumbled, practically hugging Megatronus’ arm. “For all we know, he could have a blade hidden somewhere—”
“Not any bigger than mine.” Megatronus argued with a hushed tone as the stumbling drunk whistled at Orion. Well, he blew a raspberry, but the intent was there.
“I’d rather avoid unnecessary violence,” Orion argued, and Megatronus’ pedes finally followed his.
“'Unnecessary?'” Megatron asked incredulously, “He is befouling your being!” Orion cast him an impatient frown, narrowing his optics. “Fine,” Megatron folded, “We’ll lose him at the stairs.”
•
They had spent the afternoon lounging around, trying to wait out Megatron's helm ache and the grumpiness that accompanied it. Their momentary silence allowed Optimus to listen to their venting and recall his prior concern.
“Your venting—” Optimus started
“Stop fussing.” Megatron huffed from his spot on the bench.
Optimus ignored the request, ‘fussing’ had practically been his job for the last millennia, and he wasn’t going to unlearn the practice upon request. He flicked forward his audial fins, “I have an air gun.”
Megatron was quite eager to hear him out after that.
He spent the next two Kliks hovering over Optimus as he made to dig it out of the storage room. Eventually, he found it, only to realise it needed to be attached to a compressor, buried somewhere else. He let out a groan as he informed Megatron.
“Perhaps it is fortunate I cannot see this mess.” Megatron commented as Optimus gave him the air gun to hold onto, lest he lose it again. Somehow.
“It’s not that bad.” Optimus mumbled, there were just a few too many crates, that was all.
“I can hear you rummaging through everything.” Megatron snorted. He seemed unconvinced as he felt and pressed the trigger of the air gun. It let out a hiss of air that seemed to have been trapped inside. “Eh?” He let out before shrugging.
“Ah ha!” Optimus let out, as his servos uncovered the portable compressor behind a crate of old tools that came with the ship. “Found it.” He added to Megatron, who let out a pleased hum. He brought it over and propped it on one of the crates before attaching a tube-like hose to both devices. He switched it on, and it began to buzz, eventually stopping once it reached the appropriate pressure.
Megatron tilted his helm as he tried the trigger again. A burst of air flew out. “Where are you?” He asked, and Optimus mindlessly brushed against his arm.
He received a burst of air to the faceplate, his audial fins pinned back instantly as he squeezed his optics closed.
He should have seen it coming.
Megatron stopped, either in guilty regret or because he was awaiting a response. Optimus glared as he squinted his optics open. “You missed.” He lied, content to deny the mech pleasure from that.
Megatron smiled, “No, I didn’t.”
Optimus had never been a good liar.
•
Megatron had once again denied Optimus’ proposal to help as he stuffed the gun under his plating, before asking if they ought to lay down a tarp. Optimus simply assured him that there was a vacuum somewhere and any sand would be easy enough to deal with. He doubted there would be terribly much of it.
Optimus was slightly nervous to leave him, but considering that Megatron had required less than expected assistance, Optimus decided to respect his boundaries. Optimus didn’t need to be overbearing to a mech that had always been independent. Optimus could hardly imagine himself to be tolerable of excessive fussing were the roles reversed. Some resistance to help was understandable (especially given their history).
As Megatron blasted the sand from his vents, Optimus decided to pick up the variety of objects Megatron had managed to knock down in the washracks the day prior. Nothing was broken, thankfully, although Optimus would not have fussed if there were any casualties.
Deeming the job done, Optimus made his way back to his recharge bench and stretched himself out on it as much as he could. He likely looked somewhat undignified in the process, but there was no one around to witness it.
And even if Megatron could see, the mech had witnessed Orion in far less dignified positions than he cared to recall, so that idea bothered Optimus little.
It was a few Kliks later that the hissing sounds stopped, and Optimus hoped Megatron had found some relief. It gladdened Optimus when the grey mech walked out, considerably less grumpy, with much quieter vents.
There was still a slight rasp that Optimus noted as Megatron wandered over, but that was to be expected, given he was not free of his fair share of health issues. Optimus tilted his helm as Megatron got closer, somewhat inattentive.
It wasn’t until Megatron made to seat himself that Optimus made a sound, his legs now pinned underneath the Ex-Warlord as he all but flopped down.
Even with the hazy glaze over Megatron’s optics, Optimus could see the surprise in them. “I apologise.” He said, getting up in mild amusement as the surprise settled.
Optimus snorted, “No, I’m sorry. It was I who kept quiet.” He brought his pedes off the bench to make room. “You can sit.” He added.
Megatron suspiciously felt the bench before coming down beside Optimus. He turned his helm in his direction. “Where are you recharging?” He asked, optics narrowed slightly.
Optimus slowed his venting, realising that the fact that he was lying down was what gave him away. “Oh…” He looked around for an idea, “Somewhere.”
Smooth. Real smooth.
Megatron frowned, looking unimpressed. “I recharged in your berth?” He asked, and Optimus let out a noise that equated to a shrug. “You recharged on a bench.” He pointed out.
“Pff—”
“You realise your berth is big enough for two?” Megatron asked, torturously nonchalant, prompting an alarmed honk from Optimus as he expelled steam.
Optimus hoped Megatron didn’t feel his temperature increase through proximity, he was wholly flustered enough as he was.
•
After having had their energon, they both found themselves rather comfortable in the berth. Optimus sandwiched between the wall and Megatron. It slightly alarmed Optimus how they had gone from trying to offline one another, to snuggling. He was a bit stiff, and Megatron seemed to pick up on it.
The grey mech propped himself up on his arm and blinked dumbly. “Where’s your helm?” He asked as he brought his other servo to Optimus’ shoulder.
“Eh?” Optimus asked before receiving a shockingly innocent helm-tilt. “Further up—” He started, but Megatron was already moving his servo up, past his neck cables and chin, before stopping up the side of his helm.
Then he flicked Optimus’ audial fin.
And received a faceplate full of steam.
Optimus, very effectively, relaxed. Just not in the way he would have intended. “Tsk…” Megatron grinned, “So easy to tease!” He snickered as he lowered himself back down, his faceplate right next to Optimus’.
Optimus stifled a groan into his servo, his fans whirling, before casting a sideways glance at the offending mech. It was too soon, and he expelled more steam, earning himself a chortle from Megatron. Slowly, he managed to cool himself down (very slightly) as he shuffled onto his side. Now facing Megatron fully.
He stared for a moment, resisting the urge to look at the hazy optics in favour of the tiny smirk resting on Megatron’s faceplate. Oh he had missed this.
Megatron tilted his helm curiously, “What are you doing?” He asked, bringing his helm forward slightly as if inviting Optimus to tell a secret.
“Staring at you in adoration.” Optimus blurted out. He was sufficiently flustered already, so he figured he ought to share the feeling. It worked spectacularly, he noted, as some blue flashed across the mech’s faceplate.
Megatron let out a hybridised laugh-wheeze as he brought his faceplate down, trying to hide it from view as his fans sped up.
“You’re blushing!” Optimus teased, lowering his helm, as his chassis vibrated with soft laughter.
“Am not!” Megatron huffed, swatting clumsily at Optimus.
“Are too—Mmmf!” Optimus started before Megatron yanked him into a hug so tight that Optimus’ intake was muffled in a grey chassis, his helm resting under the grey mech's chin.
He let out an undignified honk as Megatron barked a laugh.
•
Optimus was elated, still smiling despite the source of his joy now being deep in recharge. It was all going spectacularly well, despite some health concerns. He realised it might be worth getting off the planet in favour of finding a medic, one who might want to operate on Megatron.
Filtering the remaining dark energon from Megatron’s systems would also be necessary, considering the substance seemed to be corrosive in the long term. Optimus wondered if it was still spreading, harming Megatron further. A medic was certainly needed.
Ratchet tended to be dependable, though that might be a stretch. Optimus still surmised there might not be much harm in asking however. Megatron did like watching the stars, and Optimus did not want to see him robbed of them.
Although Megatron was recharging, the hold he had over Optimus was still secure, and Optimus remained comfortably nestled between his arms. It was warm, but comfortably so.
Megatronus was sneaking little ‘love bites’ onto Orion’s audials, expertly landing affections as Orion tried to playfully manoeuvre them out of reach. He was once again trapped in a very passionate hug.
It almost felt like he was wearing the mech. Like a heavy cloak that bled affection.
Orion wondered if that was weird, wanting to wear Megatronus’ plating in a very literal sense. To be inside him (but not in the standard way). Might it feel like a permanent hug? Maybe, especially if the plating was still warm.
He realised that it might be a bit morbid as he blurted out the thought. “I want to wear your plating.” He mumbled dumbly, and Megatronus paused his nips.
He looked down at Orion, slightly confused. “I kinda need my armour…” He started and Orion buried his faceplate in the bigger mech's chassis. “I can put in a request, however, should I offline, you can have it?” He suggested.
Orion choked a laugh, shocked that the mech was entertaining him, “No that’s not—” Orion started, trying to backtrack, before Megatronus pushed something over his helm. He blinked, noting the silver ridges that slightly covered the sides of his vision. He glanced back at Megatronus—
He was bald—
“Your helmet comes off?!” Orion shrieked, realising he was wearing Megatronus’ helm.
Optimus blinked, debating praying to Primus that Megatron didn’t wake from the steam he was expelling. Oh dear, they used to be… ah… passionate. And very productive when it came to interface—Optimus decided to cut the thought before he overheated.
It was often like that with youthful attractions, Optimus felt. He could hardly imagine engaging in that much exercise now, not that he wouldn’t enjoy it. It was just that… the small things were plenty. A mere audial flick had him grinning.
He could lie in silent appreciation, basking in a certain mech’s EM field, and he would be happy.
•
When they woke, they had both mutually decided that it was not their destiny to get up. Optimus stared at Megatron, and Megatron stared at where he assumed Optimus to be (he was spot on). Optimus wasn’t sure if they were intentionally matching their venting, but between them, they had formed a nice rhythm.
“Awake?” Optimus asked, unsure if the open optics of a blind mech signified awakeness. Megatron let out a hum in response.
“This is nice.” He commented, and Optimus couldn’t help but agree as he rested his forehelm against Megatrons. He risked a soft kiss and was overjoyed when he received one in return, letting out a squeak at a pitch higher than he thought he was able to produce.
Optimus brought his servos over, grasping one of Megatron’s with both of them. Optimus was granted a small squeeze, and he wasn’t sure how he felt so much comfort in such a tiny gesture. Slowly, Megatron brought his second servo over to their intertwined digits, and wrapped it around one of Optimus’ before bringing them up for a kiss. Oh dear, he could be adorably sweet when he wanted to.
Optimus stifled a laugh as he abandoned their servo-holding in favour of flopping onto the mech for a hug. Megatron was effectively squished.
“Oh mercy!” Megatron exclaimed as, for once, it was he who was pinned. Optimus let out a chuckle from above as he relaxed. They both stilled for a moment in silent bliss before Megatron’s smile slowly jaded from a joyous one to a sad one.
“Hm?” Optimus inquired, resting his chin on Megatron's chassis.
“Oh, how I wish I could see you.” He let out, staring over Optimus’ shoulder yet again.
Optimus let out a hum, “Perhaps we should find a medic?” He suggested, “I shall give one of my optics should it be needed.”
“So I can see the world through your optics?” Megatron asked, a small smile tugging his derma.
“Might do you some good.” Optimus let out cheekily as he felt Megatron’s laugh through his chassis.
“It would, wouldn’t it!” He chucked as he cupped a servo around Optimus’ faceplate. He leaned into it, oh he had missed this. Megatron brought the servo down, brushing it down Optimus’ faceplate and neck. “I love you.” He said softly, his optics finding Optimus’ in a stroke of luck.
Optimus smiled, “And I, you.”
