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It finally ended.
It did. Surreal as it was.
None — especially Optimus — believed they would witness the day. To be back on Cybertron, to have cross-faction mechs working together towards rebuilding their home.
No conflict, no disputes.
It was so, so hard to believe.
“Optimus, you had some important-lookin’ fellas lookin’ for ya,” Ironhide’s voice snapped their commander back to reality. He remembered. Considered. Didn't even second-guess it. “Ah,” Was all the reply that came though.“You gonna go after them?” The other asked, and Prime’s unexpected reply left one stumped.
“No,”
There were others. There was time. He didn’t have to jump at max speed to Cybertronian’s elite in order to discuss future governing. And they would be resentful at that. He was, still, the only Prime they’ve had. If Rodimus was out of the current picture, it was his word and rule would affect the upcoming future of their species, and all new-born mechs to walk on new Cybertron.
And the said Prime understood the weight of that burden. Never one of his choice; it was to continue even after their millennium-long civil war for many upcoming lightyears to bare his functioning; But maybe now, just merely after they’ve come to a mutual standing and returned to their homeland, could the duty-locked bot allow himself a change in priorities with lesser consequences. Ones that wouldn’t cost lives and be at planets expanses. Only a few minor disagreements he would need to go over with a day or two of processor aches.
A trade hardly up par at the offer of his own free time contributed to one's selfishness. Not anyone else's, not the Autobot’s, not the Cybertronian senate’s;
But his own.
That also, was difficult to comprehend.
And alone, he might’ve remained to be the stoic, selfless, honorary and emotion-circuit locked Autobot Prime. Doing what was told, what was needed. What would benefit them all, more so than himself. At the end of the day, when the job was done and many frames recharged at peace, who would benefit that very same Prime?
Well, there was one.
Most remained oblivious, but some noticed. Even during their ongoing warfare, a few close mechs took closer attention, and came to the conclusion.
Then they asked, and Optimus told the truth.
And the war continued.
Until the welcome change finally bestowed upon all of them, and peace came. At first, it was a lot of conflicting and heated discussions, careful and tense planning as trust had yet to be build. Then the of return upon Cybertron followed, and the starships flew in unison without consequences. Decepticon and Autobot warships — piloted by their own respective bots, landing safely on the ruins of their homeland.
With Megatron and Optimus Prime stepping out, walking side by side, discussing further matters of renovation; meeting their own fellow politicians and even standing in agreement over the elder mechs. Among them, their respective lieutenant bots; Soundwave, Starscream, Prowl and Jazz — even they had walked with silence of respect between one another.
Occasionally, the two united factions disagreed on matters, even with the Cybertronian neutrals now between them all; but it was resolved delicately. With ease — no shooting, no deaths;
Instead, with analysis, consultation, and at last, accord.
The two leaders each lent an audial, and one way or the other came to form mutual conclusions. Some paths always rougher than others, as views would forever differ, but with the help over the difficult terrain stood their Seconds, and in the end, they managed to cross even those obstacles.
Prowl’s careful summary overview, Jazz’s sharp wit and crucial exploitation, Starscream’s skillful perception and cunning, and Soundwave’s unification of their proposal combined — forged into one applicable report;
To be presented as a sign of their unity to the higher ranks whom doubt plagued over.
It did all of them. Always that little worry of ‘that bot might shoot. It’s a ‘Con!’ or ‘never trust an Autobot!’ that was often left unsaid, but silently lingered throughout many of mechs.
It was so hard.
But it worked.
They could wholly count a full stellar-cycle, that it worked. No bloodshed, less tension — at least, in comparison as to before.
For what they were given, it narrowed considerably.
Even if it was still far too early to call any of them relaxed in each other’s presence, as the heavy air reigned strong, the cross-faction bots slowly learned and adapted to the extent of working together. The sight became somewhat a natural routine as they worked to rebuild their dying planet.
Some were assigned to stay, others to fly across and construct resources; all in all, a busy era that Optimus and Megatron somehow made work.
Even the two were hardly spared of anything demanding their presences.
Bombarded as soon as news of peace came, both bots were nowhere to be seen but across city senates, public affairs, and if spared a moment to themselves — shunned with paperwork in personal quarters.
Each of those occurrings deemed by the Elite 'urgent', 'mandatory', and 'vital' in the role of Autobot and Decepticon truce. With optics on the faction leaders, they made sure nothing came to stand between their own greedy ideology and Cybertronian’s endless administration.
That, of course, benefitted them all. As it always did.
So Optimus did it.
And then, after the classified filing was done, Cybertron’s core stabilized, and Energon supplied to a substantial amount, could the mechs lie their optics on something else.
Something less imperative of the moment. That wouldn’t cost them more than any of their servos could bare.
Something relaxing.
Most did.
Optimus didn’t.
Optimus couldn’t.
They didn’t let up.
The titles ‘Lord High Protector’ and ‘Prime’ had far, far too much to their name for such matters, and he was slowly beginning to understand the Decepticon hatred over their senate on a far more personal level than one would have ever liked to. A little bonus of that primely title that stayed attached to his frame.
He, out of all, wished for nothing else than to be elsewhere.
But rules existed. Priorities mattered.
It was never him as first.
At least to himself.
To those same few close mechs, their commander and friend was a bigger concern than their frames would admit.
Sometimes though, they did.
And they confronted that.
‘You haven’t sat down after this whole thing started,’
Ratchet exclaimed, and Optimus listened.
‘There will be time for that once we regain full trust over our allegations of peace to the Neutrals. We mustn’t let it crumble,’
‘They’re not letting you a day to yourself! Scrap this whole effort for 'peace' if they’ll hang us all like slaves us with Cybertronian paperwork!’
‘It’s a matter of policy Ratchet. I’m unable to change that,’
‘And what about Starscream? You want to let that crumble?’
The large frame ex-vented, silence confirming the medic’s suspicion with ease.
‘Go. We’ll play their diplomatic,’
‘They won’t—’
‘They will. You’re out for a few orbital cycles at the very least,'
At least some bots cared for him for more than the title that came with it.
Optimus wished, he could see himself that way too.
‘I… I miss him greatly,’ A spur of those locked feelings finally found their way out, and the emotion-deprived mech didn’t know if he was ready for it. ‘Upon our return home, I haven’t had chance to spend more than a few precious moments together. I worry I may be turning out to be a horrible mech Ratchet,'
The other got to his pedes, and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, meeting up with that saddened look a faceplate barely concealed. ‘That’s exactly why we’re doing this, Optimus! You lead us throughout this entire forsaken war, it’s about time you did a damn thing about yourself for a bit!’ His medic held sternly, and the Prime tried to let the words get to him — but it proved difficult. Outside of holding his emotional circuits checked, they often found ways to get out of hand.
‘I’m afraid that’s—' And then Ratchet shook his frame, and relocated the blue optics onto his. ‘It was never going to be too late. I know you Prime. Find him and talk as you did with me. Be yourself, Optimus. No more acts. There’s no war to lead any longer,’
At that, they finally managed to pierce through, and the large mech set out to sate his spark and find his lover.
Among his ride, running into one of the Autobots — Ironhide — and against his usual response, choosing to trust his medic and denying the Elite’s request over him.
Which was a missed feeling. Being free.
Being Orion.
With his own little home, and own little life.
Which presented another issue he hadn’t had time to think about. Home; the short times of recharge he did at his previous residence — that surprisingly still stood — did little but serve as a cruel reminder of his past. Despite the senate granting him, as expected, Prime-suited quarters which he had yet to step a pede in, Optimus still chose his former residence.
Neither of it were quite home though.
Neither had the mech he yearned to have in it.
It was often a thought that ran across his processor; giving potential visuals, and tamed longings of how could it be.
How would it be now, after the war?
Which rules applied to one to live with a Prime — and a cross-faction one at that. And if, by chance, Starscream even shared the same desire. Of waking up frame by frame, instead of—
“…”
Starscream, much as he, had not taken it lightly to the war’s end.
For what Optimus could catch on about, his burdens reigned even farther than those of faction conflict. Being reassigned of the Decepticon usual activity much alike the others, the Seeker, along with the rest of the S.I.C.'s, had fallen to involvement with Megatron and his own political, Cybertronian disputes; as well as keeping his rank upon flight frames and continuing the command over all Cybertronian air forces.
Or so, he did for some time.
But over time, Optimus noticed the lack of discipline, as well as Starscream’s own appearance on given routines. Despite all other priorities and duties, it worried him far beyond; easily diverging his focus upon meetings and affairs. And every time he got to ask, the Decepticon always dismissed it one way or the other.
Until one point, Starscream simply stopped the flight drills altogether.
The Prime tried to question that behavior, which even held the bot lacking his infamous and cunning enthusiasm Starscream was known for. But that, much like the last, was shrugged it off, and Optimus was left with a weight over his spark once again. His duties heavily limited their interactions, and the Autobot commander, much against his wish, lacked even the basic of information about his lover's troubles.
He didn’t even know where the Seeker spent his time recharging, nor what he did majority of the time since their return. There were snippets which he asked of the Warlord himself, at where the fellow Decepticon usually lingered. On rare occasion, he even went to confirm that, and Megatron's intel proved true — as Starscream was indeed on top of one of the rock formations at the Academy ruins.
They, too, were also in the process of being rebuild. But for now they remained as a secluded reminder of their past actions. No mech walked through the area, as if exclusively to avoid that.
Yet Starscream found peace and comfort of silence there.
As if solitude alone, as uncharacteristic as that was, provided comfort safety as a method of coping.
Because facing that, was also hard.
Because the Decepticon's burdens expanded to his personal ones. To all the enemies he made along the way, and the hatred of many he earned. Now, when most of the bots could return to their origins, he couldn’t even get access to the Iacon labs. None trusted his name. None wanted to hear it.
It was hard. It was all so, so hard. He preferred the war. He preferred the war—
“Starscream,”
His frame automatically turned, weapons pointed and at ready;
Lowered, just as so, when his sensors came into recognition at the personnel. It was instinct. He was tense. It was hard.
He couldn’t relax—
“I hoped I could find you. I… missed you,”
The warm words followed by that soothing tone reached the Seeker's audials, and red optics watched the larger mech near his own frame, large servos gently placed over him.
It was nice. His systems slowly cooled.
“How long can you stay?” The Seeker's frame turned back around, and Optimus’ embrace softly switched to his wings. It was warm. The hungering tension began diminishing; his own servos reached to rest on the other pair, frame leaning into the hug. “As long as it’s needed,”
That wasn't right.
He turned his head up, red optics wide the gentle face above.
“What are you talking about? Don’t you have some Prime stuff to do?”
“I told them I was busy,”
The large Autobot shuttered his optics, lips planting delicate caresses around the darkened helmet. “With what, sinking me into—nh—your disgusting Autobot sap-“ It tickled his frame, and Starscream leaned himself into the kisses, trying to reach up with his own lips.
“With spending my own time of my own choosing,” Optimus realized the vain efforts, and confronted them — leaning down to meet the other with a smile. “They—mn--can wait,” He spoke through the kiss, cherishing its worth each time it happened, often nudging their sparks to work double the effort over their emotional-circuits.
It was pleasant. Equal; mutual.
Honest.
Optimus found himself more entangled every time; as if his spark fell back in love anew.
And then the Seeker grabbed his face, cutting their indulged passion as he gazed up at the blue pair of optics.
“Repeat that,”
The Prime’s processor needed a moment to catch up; although Starscream’s spark whirred loudly at the anticipation.
“Repeat what?”
“What you said,”
He recalled their short conversation, and red optics looked away. At the vent hatches in the jet frame clicking on, combined with the Decepticon’s behavior, he thought he figured it out.
“That I denied my duties for you?” The Decepticon's crimson optics mellowed out, their light shining brighter. “That I told them I have bigger matters to attend to?” Optimus leaned his face again, peppering delicate kisses over the smaller frame while the other squinted at the touches.
“That I would much rather spend my time with you, than do any of that,” Until they settled on softly brushing over the red optic, watching it shutter as Starscream grumbled some. “—nnhgh—stop-“ It wasn’t perceived with hostile intent though; one learned that much.
Starscream was simply a hard mech to be mushed with.
Optimus lightly laughed, blue optics watching the mild frown the Seeker often wore. If he knew any better, that was something of a pout.
“You push your luck with that, Autobot!” The said Autobot smiled; servos caressing the jet frame. “I can stop,” He wouldn’t. They both knew the other enjoyed it. But there was pride and ego in the way and Primus were they both big. “Didn’t say that,” That, too, was a work in progress.
The Prime's larger frame moved to sit next to the other, just then noticing the view of Cybertron this particular spot had.
“Starscream, I'm truly sorry I have been lacking in our time together,” The words came out before he had time to process them. Although, they were needed to be said. His spark would keep tearing apart otherwise if it were to remain mute — and Ratchet said to act as a conjux rather than a Prime.
Not that they were.
Yet.
“I… It’s been difficult,” Mighty as he was, words were hard to come by. “I wished for nothing more than to have you stand by my side in Cybertron’s recovery, but that has proven to be outside even my authorities,” There he goes being leader-y again, even if the context behind that implied something more personal, rather than their faction S.I.C’s assistance.
With an ex-vent, he tried again.
“What I mean is—” But the Decepticon interrupted that, leaning himself into the other, faking a stretch to land right into the truck's chest. Optimus quickly tried to adapt, awkwardly looking how and where to catch the wings, but the Seeker transformed them some, and they made the pose work. “--That you love me,”
Starscream added with a smirk to his tone, and the larger mech felt his spark speed up a bit.
“I do. Very much so,”
Not that it was unheard; he told it times before, but he learned that many of those times it went hollow through the other’s audials. He was the sole light of warmth and love the Decepticon had, and it was a lengthy process of renewing that in Starscream’s often lonesome moments.
“Of course you do,” That pride mused again, and the Prime warmly hummed through his smile. “I would be a fool not to otherwise,” One learned how to play along with it. Turns out, if you boosted Starscream’s ego over its own existing limit, it would start working in reverse. He could only give a certain amount before the flight bot grew uncomfortable.
Just as it was a process with his own emotions, Starscream could easily grow overwhelmed by the sheer amounts of affection.
They had to work slow.
“Suppose so…”
The Decepticon trailed off, and Optimus gently placed his chin on top of the black helmet.
“mnm,”
His vocalizer tried to mumble out something coherent, but lost itself somewhere along the way, and the Prime resulted from softly massaging the wings, to locking the other in a full hug. Their frames clanked a bit at the tightness, and both mechs softly began to notice the light chimes of the Matrix itself — and Optimus’ spark — singing excitedly at the pleasantries their circuits approved of.
With the dull silence in the air, they had quite the spotlight of those noises, in fact.
It was kind of awkward. Optimus felt his frame warm up even more in embarrassment.
“Sorry,”
He quickly muttered out, and the Seeker snorted.
“No, no. I simply love early recharging sounds on Cybertron. Home sweet home as they say,”
Starscream’s sarcasm teased, and Optimus buried his face into the crook of wings out of shame.
“…I… Starscream, please….” As if to further the humiliation, his systems only whirred louder, and once the Decepticon laughed with that loving tone of his, Optimus' spark chimed at the vocalizer that made his circuits haywire. “That’s how I know you love me Prime,”
The Autobot dared lift his face back up, still mildly hiding it.
“And not all the other times I tell you?” Starscream leaned himself in further, dramatically replying. “Oh you know how it is! Never know how much you can trust an Autobot for his word,” He earned a chuckle, as well as a few soft kiss on the back of his helmet. “Some would say the same about you,” Optimus replied, and the other snorted. “As they should,”
Because no matter how their relationship was, much alike the Prime — Starscream, as well, had his own agendas and intentions that he never stopped pursuing.
“Hey-“ With some sudden movements, the Seeker leaned forward in order to transform his wings back, and turned around. Optimus faced the red optics in his lap staring up at him. “Conjux me Prime,”
Starscream casually said with a smile — not a smirk, or a grin, but a small and honest smile. Optimus had to reset his optics, and take a moment. Maybe even two, and manually turn on some cooling for his systems, but then;
“You beat me to it,”
His expression warmed up on automatic, and the Decepticon's systems joined in on buzzing.
“Did I,” The smaller mech lowered his optics, nuzzling closer with servos closing around on the other. The gesture was swiftly returned, and Optimus muttered out; “I love you,” before meeting with the other pair, and for once, letting his emotions be said out loud, and transfer across freely.
They could make it work. They worked for this. For a chance of having their own happy-ever-after. Optimus Prime could walk royalty with another. Starscream could have a lab, a suite, a bot that cared for him, and any other privilege.
Cybertron could have its suitable leaders.
“Do I get to have you recharge with me now?”
Starscream smirked his lips.
“In the infamous primely quarters?”
And Optimus smiled in return.
“I have yet to visit them. We can go there tomorrow, look for arrangements of Cybertron’s ceremonial traditions as well,” Because Starscream loved those types of things. A fancy engagement of the Prime and all the attention that came with it. Optimus would just have to deal with that, because as it turns out;
The safety of home, the feeling of calm could be anywhere — as long as it was with someone you could trust — a mech that you loved.