Chapter Text
The bubbling glass of energon let out a soft fizzing sound, the liquid eating away at the tablet that sat at the bottom. Megatron watched it with forlorn, hoping that this little bubbling tablet would help with his pounding headache and queasy tank. Megatron was always one to watch his intake of highgrade; getting overenergized was saved for his private suite, after a long day where he could pass out on his berth and forget about it the next day. That was not the case for last night, to say he ‘overdid’ it was an understatement. No, Megatron outright, as the humans would say, “Drank like a fish.” He was so sloshed last night that he couldn’t remember how he got back home to Kaon. He woke up with a pounding headache, his tanks rolling to the point that he booked it to the washrack and purged right into the disposal. He was absolutely miserable, and to make matters worse, he had a meeting with Ultra Magnus and his unbearable Autobot high command.
Megatron took the glass of energon, looking down in the fizzy liquid as it wronged him, then chugged it down. Once he was finished, his face twisted in a scowl, Primus that was fowl. A notification on his HUD signaled his attention; it was a text message, and when he saw who the message was from, a pleasant smile crawled over his face.
OP: How are you doing this morning?
Ah right, he did, in fact, give the little dancer his frequency didn’t he? The memories of the night before began to flood back into his mind. Megatron lounging on the plush chair in the VIP booth with the little dancer at the local strip club named Optimus. How did Megatron get there, you ask? Ah, well, that was thanks to the poor intelligence on Shockwave’s part. Megatron inquired about a place to take a relaxing drink, somewhere in neutral territory outside of Iacon. He was directed to a bar that was rather unique, clean, with low mood lighting of pinks and blues. It was a relaxing bar, what Megatron didn’t know about it though, was that it was a stripper bar. He actually facepalmed when taking his seat before a small stage, silently reminding himself to throttle Shockwave when he returned to Kaon. Megatron was about to take his leave after his first drink when the lights went low, and the stage lit up. Illuminated by the blues and pinks was the slim figure of the little dancer, the announcer labeling by the name of Optimus.
Megatron had been captivated by him.
“I am in danger,” Megatron muttered to himself, grinning like a fool when Optimus swung around to point a foot at his face.
Optimus merely smirked, “Optics up here.”
Megatron was enamored by the way he swayed and swung around on the pole. His acrobatics and his form were unmatched, almost like a skilled warrior fighting on the battlefield. Megatron stayed for Optimus’ whole routine, catching the mech’s optics when their gazes met. Optimus would flash a sweet smile before continuing on, swinging around on the pole and taking on various degrees of slim armored plating, until finally it was just down to an interface panel and his protoform. Megatron was already red faced when Optimus was down to his skivvies, though when the interface panel came off and landed on his helm; that was it, he was doomed.
When he finally collected himself towards the end of the night, Megatron found Optimus at the bar having a drink. “That was quite a show,” Megatron smirked, leaning against the bar next to Optimus.
Optimus smiled, “And you were quite the audience.”
A low chuckle from the warlord, “I must say, it did take me by surprise.”
Optimus tilted his helm, “Never seen an exotic show, before?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Megatron purred, “Though, I am glad that you were my first.”
The smaller mech smirked, taking a sip of his drink, “Well, it’s not every day that you get to dance for the Lord of the Decepticons.”
“Oh?” Megatron quirked an optic ridge, intrigued, “Was that all for me?”
Optimus bit his lip, grinning, “I may have added a thing or two to my routine when I spotted you in the seats.”
“Ahh,” Megatron smiled, “I am honored, then. And I thank you— Optimus was it?”
“It is,” Optimus nodded his helm, “And I’m happy you enjoyed the show, Lord Megatron.”
The Decepticon waved a hand, “Please,” he smiled, “Just Megatron is fine. Now, can I buy you a drink?”
Optimus’ only response was a nod, followed by a giggle. They shared a few drinks before parting ways, the Decepticon humming as he headed back to Kaon, his mood much lighter.
Megatron returned again the next night, and the following nights afterwards. He became a regular audience for Optimus’ routine, catching the smaller mech when he was taking a break or off shift. When they would share in conversation, Megatron would share about the current treaty negotiations between the Autobots and the Decepticons. To his surprise, Optimus would suggest negotiation tactics, moves and offers that would be beneficial to the Decepticon side or would help persuade the Autobots for a smoother conclusion to any agreements being thrown around. Megatron remembered one conversation they shared, specifically regarding Ultra Magnus’ concern for the energon dispatch between the Decepticons and the Autobots.
“You hold the upper hand with the mines that remain in your territory, so technically you have more grounds to demand an equal payout,” Optimus argued, taking a sip of his drink. “But Magnus is going to want more than that, though if he tells you it’s because of the ‘dire need for the lower classes on Iacon’, it’s a bunch of slag. Magnus only wants that extra energon for his command and the Council.”
Megatron tilted his helm, ”So would you suggest calling him out for his demands?”
“I would say, ask for the specifics,” Optimus swirled his glass of energon, “You could have a whole energon budget planned for the Decepticons, even share it to Magnus and his command. But if you were to ask him on an Autobot budget, it would allow you to keep track of an equal disbursement of Energon. With a trail, the Autobots can’t squander it on unnecessary parties. And if they do, it would violate the trade agreement negotiations.”
The Decepticon tapped his glass, “I’m impressed,” he eyed the smaller mech, “Tell me, Optimus— how is that you’re so knowledgeable in the oh so, wonderful world of politics?”
Optimus looked away, staring down into his drink,” I’ve— learned a thing or two, over the years.”
Judging by the somber look on the slim mech, Megatron didn’t inquire further for risk of dampening the mood. However, he would speak with Shockwave about his little dancer later. For now though, Megatron was meeting with Optimus almost every night after work, even throwing him a few creds during one of Optimus’ routines. Though one night came— the night in question to be in fact— when Megatron sat with Optimus after the smaller mech got off his shift, buying each other drinks late into the night. They shared jokes, they shared some personal stories, they shared obnoxious workplace annoyances, all of which became more and more slurred with each passing glass of highgrade.
It was then that Megatron finally asked— more like blurted out— the question that has been hanging on his lips ever since he laid eyes on Optimus. “Allow me the great honor,” the Decepticon slurred, “Of taking you out— hic!— again, tomorrow, dear Optimus?”
Megatron wasn’t sure what was bubbling through his processor, because when he first heard Optimus’ response, “No…” he began to sob in his hand as he sat with his arm around the smaller mech in their private booth. Between sobs, Megatron could hear the smaller mech say something along the lines of, “I’m sorry!”
Along with “I meant tomorrow! I have a double shift!”
And finally, “—You are so drunk!”
He calmed down a bit after the last bit, though he couldn’t quite remember how he got back to Kaon. What he does remember though, was Optimus’ soft voice speaking by his audial, saying a quiet “Goodnight, Megatron,” followed by soft lips kissing his cheek.
Megatron smiled at the foggy memory, reaching up a hand to the spot where his cheek still tingled with the kiss. He laid back against his berth, sighing, then looked back at the text message on his HUD.
M: I’ve had better days.
OP: ): Are you going to be okay?
M: I would be if I didn’t have to deal with Autobots again, today.
OP: Can’t you call out? Or take a day off?
M: The thought is very tempting.
OP: Well, you are the Lord of the Decepticons.
Megatron chuckled. It was the truth, he was the leader of the Decepticons, technically he could do whatever he wanted. But alas, he must be a responsible mech.
M: Unfortunately my dear, I cannot. But I can see you tonight? M: Oh wait, my apologies. You have a double shift, correct?
OP: Yeah :/ OP: But tomorrow I’m free. :)
M: Then I look forward to tomorrow, my dear.
OP: Me too. [pic.jpg attached]
The Decepticon smiled softly at the image that the smaller mech had sent. It was a picture of Optimus in bed, though he was not adorned in glitter or flashy armor. He was at home, casual and comfortable, with the sun shining through the window onto his berth, illuminating his warm smile and crystal blue optics. Despite all the flashy outfits or lack thereof; this peaceful, at home look suited Optimus. It felt very natural, and welcoming, something that Megatron found that he cherished the most about the smaller mech. In a world of flashing lights, objectification, and pompous hands bots, Optimus was still warm and welcoming.
Megatron rose from his berth, deciding to finally greet the day, Optimus’ smile a motivation to keep moving.