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Megatron roared as a blaster bolt pierced his side, irritation spiking as he hauled his mace out of the latest once-mech the Quintessons had thrown in his path and turned towards the wall of sharkticons guarding the breech. The Quints couldn’t be allowed to escape, to tell their fleet exactly what ship they’d left crippled and limping at the edge of Cybertronian space. Their supplies were not limitless, and if more enemies were to come- no. Megatron forced that thread to the very back of his processor queue, and redoubled his efforts to smash his way through the drone puppets and savage, jagged sharkticons.
The piercing, hissing shriek of a Quintesson cut through the din of battle, and Megatron flinched, his flail catching his target with more force than he’d intended. He pivoted with the extra momentum, and his spark went cold in its casing. The Quintesson’s voice was still carrying past the clamor of metal against metal, and in the relatively close quarters of the Nemesis’s breached hangar bay, that meant everyone heard it. Everyone, including the one mech who understood what it was saying. Who was helpless to resist whatever foul commands that cursed voice was screeching.
“Prime!” he bellowed, but the Autobot didn’t so much as twitch in his direction, still walking through the battle with the jerky movements and single-threaded determination of a drone following orders. Dammit, this was why he’d not wanted Optimus in the fight! Even sniping from the back of the room with Deadlock and their other marksmechs, he was at risk. Megatron swung his flail blindly at the next mech to approach him, and charged through the melee to bodily tackle Optimus to the ground. Dull blue optics stared up at him, and he grabbed Optimus roughly by the shoulders for a good firm shake. “Snap out of it, Prime.” he commanded. Optimus blinked, brow scrunching in clear confusion. Megatron shook him again, harder. “Dammit, Optimus, there’s no time for this!”
That seemed to do the trick, at least, and Optimus jolted under him, optics cycling back up to full power. “Megatron, I can’t-”
“You can.” he insisted. He had to believe that was true, or they were all slagged, no matter how soon he got Optimus back to his Autobots.
“I dropped my gun.” Optimus murmured, only barely audible over the fighting around them. A sharkticon hit the deck not a mechanometer from them with a smoking hole in its optic. Megatron barely looked.
“You need a weapon, Prime?” Megatron shifted back enough to drag Optimus upright by the shoulders. “You have one.” he moved as if to stand, but threw the momentum into a transformation instead, spinning through the air in alt until Optimus’s hand closed around his grip, warm and solid and familiar, though the lack of a field was still disconcerting. Thankfully he didn’t have to order Optimus to stand and fight, there was nowhere to safely snap him out of his processor a second time and directing him through the whole battle would’ve been counter-productive.
The Quintesson screeched again, and Optimus’s finger curled around his trigger. The first bolt caught a drone, and Optimus flinched. “They’re beyond saving, Optimus.” Megatron reminded him. “A quick death is the most mercy we can give them.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Optimus grumbled, but he didn’t flinch again. Megatron kept his power high enough to penetrate armoured plating, but low enough not to pierce the Nemesis’s hull, and with every shot an enemy fell. Their number seemed endless, but slowly, surely, drones stopped pouring out of the boarding breach and the sharkticons began to cede ground.
“Combaticons, end them!” Starscream screeched from behind them, and Onslaught charged the retreating line of sharkticons with a bellow his gestalt eagerly echoed. The beasts broke, scattering every which way, and Optimus picked off three of them in quick succession before Megatron spotted their opening.
“Optimus, the Quintesson!”
It opened its mouth, and they put a high-powered fusion bolt through the back of it. Then another through the forehelm, for good measure, and as it slumped Optimus moved closer, riddling its corpse with more and more holes until it was fully grey and still. Optimus trembled just slightly with the force of his ventilations, fans cranked high to dispel the heat of battle, and when Megatron heard no blaster fire for a solid five nano-kliks he flexed his T-cog. Optimus released him, and he hit the deck on his pedes.
“Board that ship.” he ordered the mechs still hanging back. “Once the sharkticons are dead, I want it stripped of every useful bolt and byte.”
A roar of assent met his order, and once they’d finished pouring into the Quintesson ship- save Starscream, who planted himself by the boarding tunnel with a datapad- Megatron turned to Optimus at his side. And found the mech positively beaming, behind his mask. “See?” he clapped a hand on Optimus’s shoulder. “I told you you could do it.”
Optimus made an inarticulate sound, and lurched forward to wrap his arms tight around Megatron, masked face pressing into his neck. Megatron returned the embrace with force, Optimus’s sturdy plating creaking under his arms but not quite giving. “Thank you.” Optimus gasped, static-laden, and when he pulled away there was coolant brimming at the edges of his crinkled optics, already beginning to leech out into the creases of derma that indicated he was smiling under his mask.
“For what?” Megatron frowned, letting Optimus pull away further, though Optimus kept his hands rested on Megatron’s forearms just above the wrist.
“For- well, for saving me. Again.” he chuckled, looking away, finials lowering. “I wouldn’t’ve trusted myself, after, if you didn’t as well.”
“It was nothing.” Megatron assured Optimus, who turned back towards him with a determined set to his shoulders and finials.
“It was everything, Megatron.” he insisted, Matrix-blue optics boring into Megatron’s like he was searching for an answer. To what question, Megatron had no idea. “You’d just seen that I couldn’t resist, and you put yourself in my hands anyways. Having you close, your field- you kept me grounded, Megatron. I could never have done it without you.”
“Nonsense.” Megatron shook his helm, lifting a hand to clasp Optimus’s shoulder. “You never needed my help to fight Quintesson control. Even when they had you so firmly they thought to use you as a weapon, you were fighting.” and it had been horrifying to witness, to see the spark of Optimus Prime surface from the dull-opticked drone made of his frame only to beg for death. But such things were behind them, now. Megatron would make sure of it.
“Still... it helped.” Optimus conceded, smiling harder as more tears leaked from his optics. “Knowing you were with me.”
“Then we should do it again.” he said, the words out before he fully processed what he was saying. Optimus’s optics widened, and in his peripheral vision Megatron saw Starscream’s wings twitch. Fraggit, in for a shanix in for a shipyard. “There is no other mech I trust to wield me against the Quintessons, in either of our factions.” he squeezed Optimus’s shoulder, and wished fervently that Optimus had use of his EM field. At this point though, there was no way out but through, and so he barreled on. “And, should you falter, I can simply turn on my own safety. You’ll never fire on an ally under Quintesson control.”
“Megatron-” Optimus’s voice was choked with static, and Megatron cracked a smile.
“Well, except Starscream, but I promise I’ll make it non-lethal.”
Optimus laughed, sharp and sudden and bright in a way Megatron hadn’t seen since they were squabbling over pointless nonsense back on Earth. A moment later Optimus shoved at his chest, face scrunching like he was trying to frown, but his optics still crinkled with mirth. “You shouldn’t joke about shooting your own mechs.” he scolded, though his voice lacked the gravitas of command.
“Prime, coming to my defense?” Starscream scoffed. “Megatron, are you sure we retrieved the correct mech?”
“I can still shoot you.” Megatron threatened. Optimus swatted him on the chestplate again, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Can, Optimus, not will.”
Starscream gave him a look, and Megatron had to consciously not tense under the weight of it. “May I ask, Megatron, why such a fearless leader as yourself didn’t personally lead the boarding party?”
“And leave Optimus with you?” Megatron scoffed, turning to face Starscream fully. “Your presence is worse than solitude, Starscream.”
“Rude.” Starscream snorted. Surprisingly, Optimus made a sound of agreement behind him.
“Regardless, Onslaught can handle eradicating Quintessons well enough, and Soundwave is present to strip their databanks.” Megatron waved a hand dismissively. “Unlike you, Starscream, I can trust my subordinates to perform their duties.”
“Be nice, Megatron.” Optimus murmured startlingly close to his audial, and Megatron rolled his optics.
“I’ll treat my Decepticons how I please, Prime.” he said, leaning just slightly into Optimus’s weight at his back. “If you want something to do, I’m sure there are injured who could use assistance getting to medbay.”
“Mmm, I’m content here.” Optimus’s voice was low enough Megatron could barely hear it, certainly too low for Starscream to evesdrop, and Megatron realized Optimus’s engine was slowly downshifting towards the low idle it only ever fell into when the mech recharged.
“You’re tired, Optimus.” Megatron informed him. “You should rest.”
“Here.” Optimus mumbled, and Megatron sighed, bracing himself for the now-inevitable moment when he’d end up supporting all of Optimus’s weight. He could always just order Optimus to go to medbay, but it seemed a step too far, to use the Quintessons’ conditioning to his own ends, no matter how benign his intentions. Well, he could always make one of the Constructicons take him, once he passed out fully. Until then he just had to stand still and ignore the smirks Starscream was sending his way, which shouldn’t be hard considering how much he already ignored Starscream on a daily basis.