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Last couple of megacycles had not been the easiest time for Optimus.
Crash landing on a foreign planet during transit not that long after having to fight for his life – for the sake of Cybertron and Earth alike, no less – was just the beginning of the list of what went wrong; from there on was the realization that nobody was responding to his distress signal on the open channels, through the relief that no more Autobots were dragged with him through the atmosphere onto the harsh ground, to reach the horror (and subsequent exhaustion) at noticing just who else had been caught in the fall.
"You know, it would probably be easier if you just uncuffed me."
Not looking back at the Decepticon commander, the red and blue bot struggled to drag with him what he managed to find in the forest into the clearing at which he left Megatron decacycles earlier, stasis cuffs still active. The tree-line was low, so if the warlord managed to by some miracle to get out of them, he would have a hard time sneaking around, being this tall; that was slightly re-assuring, but he could have done without the never-ending commentary from his enemy as he tried to keep them both alive until they figured out how to get them back to Cybertron.
It made him curse the fact they didn’t put a gag on the mech when they put him in the holding cell for transport; that in turn made him ignore the knowledge that he was too soft for his own good, and would have most likely removed it briefly after they landed, finding it excessive.
Megatron was barely capable of movement, to the point that he had to adjust the settings manually to allow the mech to walk at all – he didn’t want to lose energy by trying to drag the heavier bot, especially since the other was still injured; Ratchet fixed the worst of it before they took off, grumbling the entire time about ‘wasting resources and skill on scum’, but hauling the Decepticon on the rocky terrain would not be of any help.
Putting the bundle down, he glared at the legendary slagmaker in annoyance. "Well, unfortunately for you, I don't do the 'easy way' so you need to be patient," he muttered, getting onto the task of setting the rest of the camp up.
Previously they considered staying by the wreck site, but when megacycles passed, they both agreed to move to somewhere less in the open – preferably reach some civilisation, if one existed there, to find help. When the day on the planet started to end, after a small argument they decided to rest before continuing the way in the morning. He only received a token resistance from the warlord before he moved to adjust the cuffs again to prevent him from wandering off anyways.
This on its own was concerning to the Autobot, making him frown as he walked away into the trees to search for some supplies; he had been refueled to full capacity before they left, but the Con had not been granted the same privilege, only receiving a small portion at medic’s insistence ("I did not fix him up only for him to starve before you reach Cybertron," Ratchet complained as he sent his team leader with a ration for the defeated mech; Optimus and Megatron were both uncomfortable about the matter, but he managed to get the flightframe to comply, sipping the fuel through a straw angrily).
The flier was most likely already hungry before the ship went down.
Face betraying nothing of the possible weakness, the Decepticon only shrugged his shoulders, careful to not set off the cuffs into causing a paralysis. "Suit yourself, Optimus Prime," the larger bot mused, perched on a rock at which he was left at before being left alone with his thoughts – with nothing to do, limited to smallest movements, he tried not to compare this to being stuck in Sumdac’s lab, focusing on escaping instead.
For now, his one and only possibility was trying to start a fire – what for, he didn’t know, but perhaps the civilian frame found the lower temperature uncomfortable; or he wanted to get some light to keep an eye on the big, scary monster he decided to guard.
Smiling at the thought, he watched the struggle to get the organic matter to catch on from the spark between his fingers like the finest entertainment, letting out a mocking "bravo!" when the first flares appeared, making the other scowl. The tiny Prime was adorable, trying to make himself look intimidating – to Megatron, it made him look like a newspark having a tantrum.
Grimacing for a moment, he had to remind himself that he had been defeated by said newspark – as humbling as it was, he had grown some respect for the Autobot.
Clearing his processor, he observed the mech ensure the fire would not go out, before he started to sort through the findings from the forest, back facing the Decepticon. The flier pushed down the indignation at not being taken as a threat; until he managed to win against the Bot, it wouldn't do him any good to delude himself that he would still register as a major threat to the little Prime’s combat module.
He could feel a smirk pull on his intakes – good.
Let Optimus underestimate him.
He arranged himself very slowly into a less awkward position, mindful of the range of motion allowed by the bindings. "What pains me, though, is that as you walk around searching for resources, I'm stuck here, alone and defenseless," he pointed out with a hint of genuine apprehension coming into his overall forcibly subdued tone – the way he was sitting on the rock meant his back was unguarded, throwing his systems into a twist, as they searched for any attackers ceaselessly.
Perhaps Blitzwing was right - maybe he had spent too much time around Starscream.
The small Prime snorted, looking back at him for a moment, looking him up and down in exaggeration. "Right, you and defenseless," the mech sniggered, shaking his helm as he turned slightly, letting himself keep the warlord in the edge of his vision feed as he carried on with his self-imposed task.
Megatron could feel his spark flutter for a moment at the sight – he wasn’t seen as a completely harmless bot, then. "Well, at least majorly inconvenienced," he chuckled, already pleased to not have to play to the other’s ego. He knew the big-chinned Prime would have been an easier character to deal with, sure, but there were many ways to manipulate a bot; the less internals-wrenching humiliation was involved, the better.
Optimus rose from the ground, tired but satisfied. The fire was going to last for a while, bathing them all in its soft slightly green-tinted glow; he had no idea what was the organic matter the trees were made of around here, but it burned just as well as Earth’s wood. The materials he gathered were laying in neat piles, ready for use – most of it was to keep the bonfire going, anyways.
"Look, if there is anything here stupid enough to try to attack you, you can just fall over on them, you're heavy enough to squash whatever fauna lives here, judging by the size of everything we saw so far," the Prime offered half-jokingly, dismissing the odd understanding of his enemy’s point – his own defenses were working overtime trying to not overheat from the effort it took to not jump at every twitch from the warlord, nor from the sounds of the forest around them, unfamiliar to their audials.
If he was picking them up, the Decepticon would have most likely have it worse, weathered by war as he was. He undoubtedly heard the far away movements of something heavy in the distance, and was being reminded of it when silence fell between them.
It would explain why he was talking so much after having been left alone for decacycles when Optimus looked around.
"Amusing idea, truly I’ve been beaten in combat by Cyberton's brightest," Megatron retorted, letting his helm fall back to laugh briefly, undisturbed by the pout on the blue faceplates.
"You obviously have a problem with that if you brought it up, so I offered you a solution - what you do with it is your own problem," the Prime replied, mildly offended; he hadn’t seen anything bigger than them, after all – the thing they were both worried about could have been just very dense.
The flier grinned, leaning forward as much as the cuffs would allow. "What if there are more, though? Did you consider that idea?" he queried, intrigued at the possible suggestion. His small enemy was an enjoyable distraction, and he wondered what would be his breaking point before he refused to answer him any further.
The red and blue Autobot gave him a dry look. "Not really, I had other things in mind - especially with someone being very loudly critical about everything I do," he countered, optics narrowing at the larger mech, before he shrugged his shoulders as well. "You could probably roll over on them, too," he mused, imagining the Decepticon commander turning to roll sideways over his enemies at increasingly high speeds, cackling the entire time maniacally.
"Effective, if a bit undignified," the flightframe agreed, luckily not aware of the exact vision in the other’s helm, judging by the barely-concealed shaking of the other’s body, masking the mech’s bemusement.
"Undignified beats dead, in my book," the Prime added, pulling himself together, no longer at danger of laughing the larger bot straight in his face – he would not be able to explain the reason for it without making it awkward.
"Indeed," Megatron acquiesced with a shallow nod, pensively, before he finished more somberly, looking to the side:
"To a point, though."
Optimus groaned loudly, putting servos over his audials, startling the warlord. Tilting his helm, intrigued, he was about to ask for the reason for such a reaction, before the other beat him to it.
"I am not discussing politics with you," the Bot informed him with puzzling level of conviction.
The flier had to pause, checking his audio feed for errors. "Why not?" he queried in honest surprise; not many Cybertronians today would have connected his off-hand comment to the early Decepticon movement’s slogans, having been shoved into a note in history books by the victors of the conflict. Had the tiny Prime been familiar with the topic beyond the level of an average young Autobot? That would open some interesting avenues if confirmed…
The other mech watched him with suspicion, looking for any signs of mockery that would suggest the question possibly meant as a jab in some way. Finding none, he sighed, before answering:
"I may have not been online during the war, but I know listening to you talk is dangerous."
Oh yes, judging by the faint blush on the blue faceplates, someone was very familiar with the effect he had on those who did decide to listen.
Optimus coughed into his servo, looking away in denial of the heat he could feel on his cheeks. "If you want to talk about something else, sure - but right now? Where we don't know where we are or if anyone is looking for either of us?" he suggested instead, covering up his insecurity with rationality, talking himself into believing his own words; he could nearly convince himself he was avoiding this topic because it was what made sense. Shaking his helm, he muttered:
"No. I need to keep a relatively clear processor for us both."
Megatron watched the other with glee, once again changing his estimate of the small Prime - he kept on uncovering something new about the colorful mech the more they spent together. The reveal of the fact that he was interested in the Great War, and the subsequent unwillingness to engage him in debate on that topic meant he had opinions that would clash with the Autobot propaganda; otherwise why wouldn't he just spew it back, or ignored the reference altogether?
If there was even a slither of sympathy, he would capitalize on it ruthlessly - perhaps not right away, but he will sequester this intel for future use.
"It sounds like you're already one step ahead of your colleagues," he complimented the Bot, leaning a little bit closer. "But I can't help but notice you make it sound like you're afraid I'd talk you out of-" the warlord began to speak, hoping to draw the bot into the matter anyways, before he allowed himself to be shushed by a small blue servo on his face, feigning offense.
Seeing the maneuver did halt the flier in his speech, the grounder reveled in a moment of quiet, before he realized he was touching the Decepticon leader straight on the intakes - ones that were starting to curl up.
As if scalded by hot metal, he drew his servo back, checking if he hadn't accidentally lost any digits when he wasn't paying attention. "I said no politics," Optimus cautioned him again, bashful; catching himself acting strangely again, he withdrew and reached into the piles prepared before, muttering resolutely:
"Especially while eating."
The Prime held out some containers he managed to salvage from the crash site before - this time sloshing with some unknown liquid. "When you were sitting here, all pretty, I found something to snack on," he admitted with pride, motioning for the other to look inside.
"Do you know what it is?" the silver mech questioned, already knowing he would not like the answer; he had been used to drinking a variety of fuels on both ends of the enjoyability scale, but that only meant he was intimately aware just how bad could this taste.
Optimus briefly looked over the contents again. "Not exactly," he admitted, taking in the sensor data to run it through his database again, before he finished up with "but it should work - scans return clear, if a bit less refined than Earth's fuel."
Megatron looked at the container judgmentally, sniffing it briefly, before he nodded wearily. "I am going to put my trust in your sense of duty, since otherwise you would have given into personal feelings and gutted me when we landed," he noted, causing the Prime to scoff, sipping from his own already. Amused at the reaction, he bared his denta in an ominous smile. "Also, as a prisoner of war in transit, it doesn't make sense for you to kill me now," he brought up to the mech, pulling on his tether knowingly - testing the boundaries.
The Autobot didn’t react beyond a roll of his optics, visibly uncomfortable at the reminder.
"Though I am intrigued if you ran the analysis with flightframes in mind," he mused faintly, lifting his bound servos to reach for the offered container at an extremely slow pace, unwilling to get paralyzed by being careless. "Otherwise my engines may stall, causing me unspeakable agony and possible spark failure," he added as If in an afterthought, digits nearly at the edge of the item, when the flier noticed the Bot reach out, stopping him in panic.
He couldn’t stop laughing, watching the Prime scan the thing over once again, adjusting the parameters to what he could recall from Ratchet’s brief lectures.
The sample came back clean and safe for them both for digestion.
"Slagger-'' he cursed, putting the thing back down, putting his helm between his servos, stress leaving his body – giving room to quickly raising anger, which he was trying so much to keep under wraps; it wouldn’t do well to lose his cool around the damn manipulator, but he had a very long day. "You know, we wouldn't be in this mess if not for you!" he snarled, pointing at the other in accusation.
Megatron grinned, enjoying the lapse of control of his self-appointed minder. "Me? I didn't do anything, sitting in the tiny cell I was shoved into fresh from the fight," he assured, projecting obnoxious innocence.
The Autobot didn't buy it even for a second, getting even more frustrated. "Well maybe not you, personally, but because of you the transport got attacked - these Decepticons were obviously looking for you!" Prime insisted, gesturing widely - in contrast to the sitting warlord who didn't (and couldn't) move beyond making his smirk even more satisfied.
"Maybe if the pilot didn't try to shake them off through risky flying, the ship wouldn't have been overtaxed, making it split up and throw us both on this Allspark-forgotten planet," he countered, reminding them of the panic that took over the vessel at the first sign of being boarded.
Annoyed about the memory of the glaring lack of professionalism of his fellow Bots, Optimus huffed, crossing his arms. "And maybe if you didn't make such a fuss when we were loading you on, you wouldn't have destroyed my jetpack and gotten yourself in flight locks, meaning we are grounded for now," he spit out with more venom in his voice than he was aiming for.
The weight on Megatron's pedes made itself known, ruining his mood partially. "If you weren't a coward, you could remove the locks and let me get us both out of here," he rebutted with a cold gleam in his optics, his defensiveness rising.
The little Prime only leveled him with a look. "I am not going to be carried by you, so don't even go there," the red and blue mech bit out; the echoes of sensory data in his databanks came up to him, providing references of being at the Decepticon’s mercy. He was so small compared to the warlord, the slagger could hold him in his servo without much difficulty.
"I can always just haul you on your grapples all the way, if you're afraid to have me touch you," the silver Con proposed, glancing intently at the blue arms. He didn't know their range of load they could support or forces the wire would withstand, but it had to be at least relatively sturdy…
It didn't help Optimus at all, the image of being tied down with his own wires and held up like a piece of furniture crossing his processor at once. "I'm not afraid - I just know that I'd rather not get smashed up to pieces. It's called having common sense; you could use it, you know?" he muttered, falling short of sounding cynical; his frame was still unsure what he felt about being held, but he wouldn't classify that as fear.
If his interface array had been allowed to weigh in the matter, it would have agreed to the deal at once - and at times like that he was glad he held more self-control over himself, or this all would have ended in treason that even his victory on Earth wouldn't be able to balance out enough to avoid court-martial.
"Whatever you call it, it changes nothing that I'm the one with the capacity to fly, and you are worth more to me alive than dead right now," Megatron noted pragmatically, taking his chance with the reasonable side of the mech. "Let me out of those and we can talk terms."
Prime only shook his helm again, dismissing his jumbled thoughts as well. "Just shut up and drink this," he poised the container right by the warlord’s servos, waiting for him to grab it. Digits twitching, the silver mech took an evaluating look at the offering, before smirking and looking the Autobot straight in the optics.
"Oh, Optimus, I'm afraid I can't do that."
Watching the bewildered expression on the other’s face, he congratulated himself on his choice. "I believe I'll need your assistance," he smiled sweetly, bending lower so the other wouldn’t strain too much on his shorter legs.
The Bot only dragged his servo across his face, asking himself again if he was cursed to suffer by the universe. "I wish I could kick your aft right now, but that's against Autobot guidelines of handling POWs, so consider yourself lucky," he muttered, with resignation lifting the container to the edge of the silver dermas. "Here, drink up," he prompted, tilting it gently, focused on keeping it from slipping from his grip; he wanted to get this over with quickly, so he could forget he was feeding the slagmaker (again).
Finding the taste only slightly too bitter for his liking, the Decepticon commander let his own systems work on getting the impurities out; with each gulp, he was feeling less weary, the edge of starvation going away as his tanks registered the fuel as acceptable equivalent in the dire circumstance. When the last drop was consumed, Prime took the container away, intent on moving away to get himself ready for a restless night, prepared to watch out for signs of danger - or attempts to escape from Megatron’s side.
A moment too late he registered the signs of movement, before an absurdly heavy weight fell on his back, pinning him down. "Wait, what the-!" he shouted, face in the dirt; with a groan, he realized the object on him was none other than the bastard he just helped out.
"I'm listening to your advice," the silver bot chuckled, face right above Optimus’s helm; the vibration from his frame like a full body massage for the Prime, making him nearly moan from the pleasurable relief coming from the pressure. "Get off me, you bastard!" the mech demanded with the last shreds of his functioning processor, trying to resist falling into recharge after such an eventful day.
"Well, let's see if I can…" the warlord considered, voice a low purr, as he tried to move himself to the side; for a moment it nearly seemed to have worked, but the cuffs activated, paralyzing him before he could actually roll off. "Hmm, what a pity - it seems your theory failed," he said without surprise, letting himself start to drift off, for the first time since the crash feeling some of his anxiety fall away. "At this angle, I'm unable to roll over with active stasis cuffs," he mumbled, as the mech below him tried valiantly to remove himself, only to fail to move even an inch from below his bulk.
"You are insufferable!" the Autobot bemoaned, letting his helm fall down with a dull thud. The Decepticon snorted into his audial, before he murmured pleasantly:
"That I might be, Optimus, but I think I have nothing better to do than to recharge under the watchful optics of my warden."
"Megatron!" Prime squawked, but it was about as useful as talking to a wall - the slagger had already started to power down. With a sigh of his own, the Bot could do nothing else but to join him, waiting to face the day when he woke up.