Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Megatron.”

D-16 jumped, helm snapping upwards to meet blue optics glowing from within the darkness of the head archivist’s office. The chill - which seemed to emanate from the archive’s very walls - sunk deep into his frame, but he refused to shudder as he took a single step forward. His yellow optics stared straight ahead, forcing down the popups in his HUD that screamed ‘danger.’

“Thank you, head archivist, but my designation isn’t Megatron.” He stopped in front of the barren metal desk, a part of his processor wondering why the head archivist would not have any datapads on it. He let out a small vent. “Were you… expecting anyone else?”

A momentary spark of fear jumped within his spark, which was ridiculous since Dee knew that he would have to compete with other mechs for the job position.

But it had been astroweeks since his last freelance security work, and he needed a stable full-time position. It was all he could do not to break down and beg .

And he would rather offline than suffer that indignation.

“Huh? What are you—” The head archivist cut himself off, and an awkward silence engulfed the room. 

Dee tried not to fidget as he turned his helm slightly to the side, wishing that the room had any light source. Unfortunately, as the secretary had mentioned, the office was nearly covered in shadow - the only source of light filtering through the door panels that led to the hall, and the head archivist’s blue optics that seemed to scour his entire face.

“Oh, right… Sorry, so much information, you know?”

Dee didn’t know what the head archivist meant, but he laughed along with him when the other mech chuckled. 

“So! D-16… Hm, I still think… Well, you’ll get used to it later. So, D-16… No… Okay, I’m going to call you Dee.” Before he could protest, the other mech continued on. “Congratulations, you’re hired!”

Dee felt his fans kick up, his processor trying to catch up with the other mech’s words. He didn’t understand what just happened, but he wasn’t going to ruin this. “R-really? Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll work twice as hard as any other security mech—”

“Oh, you don’t have to push yourself, Dee! I want you to be comfortable with me— I mean, comfortable in the job.” He heard a noise from within the darkness, those blue optics disappearing momentarily as the head archivist shifted. “It’s a full-time job since you’ll be my personal security, but I promise that you don’t have to do anything, just stand there and look— Uh, I mean, stand guard beside me.”

“...Personal security?” He felt his spark sink inside his chassis.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not a hard job. I rarely leave the archives so we’ll mostly stay here—”

Dee supposed he should have expected the catch. 

While he was desperate for full-time work, he couldn’t handle full-time personal security. After looking through many job applications, Dee has come to understand that such work usually meant that he had to stay near his employer. To any other mech, a full-time job that had live-in benefits would be a dream, but that was not what Dee wanted. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think I’m fit for this position.”

“And I’ll be a great conju— boss. Wait what?”

Dee let out another vent, turning his face away so that the head archivist wouldn’t see his embarrassment.

It was his own fault.

Who decides to send their resume because of a dream they had?

It was just an incredible coincidence that Dee had sent his resume at the same time that the head archivist was searching for security personnel, but Dee should have looked through the job requirements instead of impulsively sending a message.

This is why he planned because he didn’t want to embarrass himself like this.

“I can’t, sir. I’m sorry, I… I sent my resume on a whim without checking the job requirements. I really can’t do this. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Without another glance behind him, Dee tried to quickly rush towards the door panels.

It was times like these that he felt so uncomfortable in his own frame.

It didn’t help that his pedes were beginning to hurt after running through the archive to file forms for the job. Pair that with the long walk from the Kaon district to the main center of Iacon, and Dee’s frame was beginning to suffer from exhaustion.

Before the door panels could slide open, a blue servo slammed itself against the wall beside his helm. Dee jumped back, weapon systems nearly activating before he realized that it was only the head archivist. With his back turned to the door panels, he felt trapped though he could tell that the head archivist was at the same height as him. Those blue optics stared straight at him.

Maybe he felt fear because despite being close to the door, Dee still couldn’t see the head archivist’s frame, as if the shadows were cloaking him—

“You’re perfect for the job though.” 

Dee would have laughed at how the other mech whined, but his spark was thrumming too much in his chassis.

He choked out, “I’m flattered, sir, but you don’t have to lie. My resume warned you about my… condition. It’s a good offer but I can’t do this work for the entire solar and lunar cycle. And… I can’t move to the archives to accommodate you. My carer—”

The head archivist must have known about his condition. Dee had no choice but to put it in his profile.

This was why he could never hold down a full-time position for too long.

Who wanted a security mech who couldn’t transform and easily exhausted?

But the head archivist should have already known that.

The closest excuse he had, and it wasn’t an excuse because Dee would never have agreed to any full-time job with a live-in position even without his condition, was that he didn’t want to leave the home that his carer had raised him in.

Terminus may not have been Dee’s real sire or carrier, but he could not abandon the old mech and the memories they’d had. The old mech may have offlined cycles ago, but Dee refused to leave their home.

The reason he was so desperate for work was because the rent was due, and he needed the shanix.

He was sure the head archivist could pay him well, and the live-in benefits were great, but that wasn’t what Dee needed.

Slowly, as though forming from the shadows themselves, a face neared his.

Dee could feel his cheekplates rush with energon.

The head archivist was… pretty.

His voice box let out a small burst of static as he glanced away. “I’m sorry, but I need the job to keep my carer’s house, and if you need a security mech that’s with you constantly then I can’t—”

“But your house is so faaaar.” The head archivist whined, and Dee’s optics widened as the other mech used his other servo to cage him in. “I want you to be comfortable but I can’t have you making that trip every solar cycle. How am I going to impress your creators if I let you suffer that way?”

“What?” The fear had given way to confusion now. He reached a servo to grasp at the other mech’s arm, wanting to push the head archivist away from him. “Listen, I don’t know what this is, but if you think you can intimidate me.”

As soon as his servo wrapped around the other mech’s arm, a jolt of electricity surged through his frame, and he let out a scream. He felt his frame shudder as another presence made itself known inside his processor. Servos grasped at him, and no matter how hard he tried to summon his cannon, he couldn’t get his weapons system to activate.

“No, no, I already ruined our first meeting… It’s okay, Optimus, you can still turn this whole thing around.” He felt himself be lowered gently onto the ground, the head archivist’s frame settling right on top of him. “If you remember this later, please don’t tell your sire what I did. I haven’t quite mastered scrambling processors, but I promise this won’t hurt… I hope… Primus, I hope it doesn’t.”

He felt cables latch against the sides of his helm, and Dee let out a scream.

The last he heard before his systems shutdown was the head archivist crooning down at him.

“It’s okay, Megatron. I’ll take care of you.”

—

Dee scrolled through the datapad, though the words didn’t register in his processor as his yellow optics kept flicking towards Pax.

Sunlight poured in from the windows, brightening the head archivist’s office, though if asked Dee might say that the sunlight was nothing compared to Pax’s bright smile.

He turned his gaze away as soon as those blue optics looked up at him, embarrassed to have been caught staring. It was difficult not to though, not when Pax was only a table away from him. 

He let out a vent, which he really shouldn’t have because that made Pax jolt from his seat, his own datapad nearly flying from his servos.

“What’s wrong? Do your pedes hurt? You could go back to your quarters if you want—”

“Pax, I’m your bodyguard.” He rolled his optics, placing his own datapad on Pax’s desk. He leaned his back against the soft back of his chair. “And we haven’t moved from your office since we got here. I’m fine.”

It endeared him, really, that Pax despite being his employer - though Pax insisted they were friends - cared so much for his comfort. In his previous work experiences, he had to stand by his former employers for joors on end. At the end of most solar cycles, he could hardly feel his pedes by the time he went home. Pax had refused to let him stand when there wasn’t a reason for it.

Dee had protested the plush chair that Pax had ordered specifically for him, but that was short-lived.

All it really took for him to agree was Pax suddenly carrying him and gently placing him down on said chair.

Now, he didn’t doubt that Pax couldn’t handle himself. But Dee was a bulky mech, and he really didn’t expect Pax was capable of actually carrying him.

He did not want a repeat of that incident again.

“If you say so, Dee.” With great hesitation, Pax sat back down, blue optics still focused on him. “If you want a break though—”

“I’m fine.” He could feel an ache starting in his processor. Dee can only hope that Pax dropped this. Once Pax got started on something, it was difficult to stop him.

If he wanted Dee to rest more, he would insist until Dee finally went into recharge.

If he wanted Dee to have a meal with him, he’d insist until Dee was eating energon with him at the roof of the archives.

If he wanted Dee to sell his carer’s house and move in with him then—

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you…” He glanced up, and Pax’s cheekplates lit up with energon as he realized how that sounded. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about your condition and—”

“Pax, you’re one of the most brilliant mechs in Iacon, but you’re not a medic.” Dee laughed, shaking his helm as he lowered his optics. “I appreciate it but you should stick to being an archivist.”

A part of him did not want Pax anywhere near the medical bay.

For the sake of Cybertronians everywhere, Orion Pax should never become a medic.

Sweet as the gesture was, and Dee could feel his spark thrum at the thought of it, Pax could spend his time researching on much easier subjects.

There was nothing he could do for Dee.

Dee had never felt comfortable in his own frame.

Since he’d first gained sentience, a part of him always felt wrong.

Terminus had loved him despite it but Dee could never erase the unbearable itch deep within his frame and buried underneath the wires. It was within his code.

There had always been something terribly wrong.

The countless medics that Terminus had managed to scrap enough shanix to send him to couldn’t find the source for his condition.

There had been nothing like it in the medical databases.

Bots who couldn’t transform did exist, but that usually happened due to missing or malfunctioning t-cogs. Dee’s was completely fine, but no matter what he did, he was just unable to turn into any other alt mode.

As for his unexplained exhaustion and aching pedes if he stood or walked for far too long, they couldn’t find a reason since most of his systems were in perfect working order.

They didn’t know how to fix him.

Dee had spent a long part of his life accepting that.

It didn’t make his life easy, but it made it hurt less.

He was created differently, and he learned to live with that.

“Okay, but Dee… Just hear me out.” He shook his helm, breaking away from the thoughts in his processor just as Pax slid his datapad towards him. 

Dee caught it, optics scanning quickly at the screen before he gave Pax a disbelieving look.

The head archivist gave him a cheeky grin, as though what he just showed Dee wasn’t the craziest theory he’s ever heard in his life, and Dee has had to talk to many medics in his life.

“Merformers.” He could feel his processor begin to ache. Maybe he did need that break. “Pax… merformers are… myths. I know I told you I’m a fan of the Prime mythologies but this is—”

“Oh come on! Just think about it, Dee!” Pax suddenly lunged forward.

Dee couldn’t help but jump, though he didn’t leave his seat.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but think that Pax moved… weirdly.

As though the metal of his frame was… shifting in ways that no mech’s frame should move. He was quick in ways that sometimes made Dee need to process that Pax had moved at all.

“Just read it, okay?” 

He let out a vent, trying to ignore Pax’s pout, but it was too late.

He glanced down at the datapad in his servo, shaking his helm. Why did he feel so compelled to do what Pax wanted? They had only known each other for a few astroweeks and yet…

Dee’s yellow optics followed the sharp sketches of merformers on the datapad.

He did know a few facts about them, mostly because he was interested in the Prime mythologies and his favorite among them was Megatronus - who had been described to be a leviathan.

“Okay, Pax, but I am not a merformer. There are no such beings like that in Cybertron.” He laughed, the sound seemingly captivating Pax who had moved past his table and had settled right next to Dee. The chair he had ordered was big enough to fit two mechs, a fact that Pax exploited since if he could help himself, he would insist on sitting right next to Dee all the time.

The head archivist grinned, blue optics seemingly brighter than the sunshine as he settled his chin against Dee’s shoulder pads.

“I don’t know, Dee. I think you’ll find that some myths are based on history.” He tried to keep his optics on the datapad, but it was hard when Pax was leaning against him.

His processor felt fuzzy.

“Just trust me, okay?” He could feel Pax’s grin against the side of his neck cables. “I know.”

He didn’t know why, but he felt his optics shut down as he slowly began to fall into recharge.

“...Dee? OH, NOT AGAIN!”

—

“Ughhh, it’s so unfair!” Optimus let out a vent, his frame collapsing against the metal table as he closed his optics.

The lunar cycle had begun, and the entirety of the archives had settled back into darkness. Aside from a few of the security mechs that roamed the premises and Megatron who had gone to recharge far too earlier than intended, Optimus was completely alone. Carefully, he felt his frame begin to shift, releasing the cables and wires that he was forced to tuck inside too-tight metal during the solar cycle.

The cables quickly latched onto the ground and onto the walls, his processor whirring happily as he felt himself be connected once again to the archives - and to his carrier, Alpha Trion.

‘Patience, Primeling. I adore your energy, but I warned you not to get so attached so easily, not when Megatron is still unaware of who he is.’

“But how could I not? I know him!”

‘In the dreams, my Primeling. Dreams he does not remember yet.’

Optimus let out a groan, feeling the top of his helm unlatch as the wires in his processor latched onto the metal table.

It wasn’t great to be his Cybertronian alt form, but he doubted that Megatron - or Dee as he apparently went by - would react calmly if he saw Optimus’ real form.

No, he could save that for when they were closer… like maybe when they were conjunxes…

‘Primeling, you will have to wait a few more cycles for that. Then there is the matter of Prima—’

“Megatron adores me, I’m sure his creators will feel the same.” 

Especially since Optimus would be bringing him back to them soon.

He enjoyed the few astroweeks he had spent with Megatron, but he knew it couldn’t last long.

It was a coincidence really.

Optimus hadn’t even meant to stumble into Megatron’s dreams, but as his carrier had been tutoring him on entering Cybertronian’s processors, he had been drawn to Megatron’s immediately.

Alpha Trion’s presence had been with him, and it was his carrier who had realized who Megatron really was.

While his carrier couldn’t do anything for Megatron, Optimus could.

It had taken a long time, but Optimus had finally managed to get Megatron to remember one dream, to convince him to come to the archives so that Optimus could watch over him until he could bring him back to his creators.

But since it had taken so long, Optimus had come to… know Megatron through his dreams.

How could he not love him after a lifetime spent within those dreams?

Which is why it would be so difficult to let Megatron go, now that everything was prepared. Optimus had found a good route to get Megatron into the energon lake. It had taken a few processor scramblings but he got the path cleared. By the time the senate realized that there had been a breach, it would be too late. 

Optimus can only hope that this time the senate didn’t decide to take Megatron out of the lake because they got lucky the first time, as his carrier said.

The senate was lucky they hadn’t woken Prima or Megatronus (or even both!) when they had removed Megatron from the smaller lake inside the mountain Prima was currently in.

“You don’t think Megatronus would wake up once I…”

“He will, but he will not harm you. He will return to stasis once he understands there is no immediate threat.”

“So can I introduce myself—”

“Let them have their reunion, my Primeling. You have spent your time with Megatron, and you will have more time.”

Optimus rolled his optics, a frown settling on the dermas of the face he wore during the solar cycle. His real face was hidden underneath the wires and cables, and it didn’t quite have dermas.

“After so many cycles of waiting. I can’t even visit him in dreams after this because his creators will be there.” He let out another vent.

“Cycles will pass by quickly. Until then, there is much information to be archived and processed.”

At least Optimus had that to look forward to. It was his life’s passion, his very being.

That’s why he enjoyed playing the role of head archivist even if he didn’t really need to. 

His carrier had chosen to become Iacon’s archive, and Optimus could have remained within the walls himself, but he wanted to understand the Cybertronians closely. It was why he’d created and used his Cybertronian alt even if it felt wrong.

He wondered how Megatron could live like that, living underneath a frame that wasn’t right.

But, he’d never had the chance to know his real form.

At the thought of it, Optimus felt his wires rattle against the floor and the walls.

“What’s wrong, my Primeling?”

“I’m just thinking of Megatron.” He could feel himself shudder, and if he didn’t contain himself, it could cause a major disturbance among the databases. Optimus tried to force himself to calm down. “It must hurt, right?”

“Yes, and so it is necessary he be returned to where he belongs.”

Optimus could understand why his carrier was insistent about it. 

Aside from the Primes being close, even after millions of years under stasis, his carrier had a secret that Optimus knew - though Alpha Trion probably never wanted him to know.

When Optimus had first emerged, a Cybertronian had found him hiding deep within the archives, a sparkling seemingly abandoned.

He had nearly been taken out of the archives before his carrier had realized what was happening and had… intervened.

He wondered what his life would have been like if his carrier hadn’t saved him in time.

Would he be like Dee?

Optimus shook the thought away, immersing himself instead on the limitless information within the archives.

This was why he needed to bring Megatron back.

Even though he hated that he’d have to be away from his future conjunx - a fact that Optimus had decided would happen a long time ago in one of their many dream adventures - it was the right thing to do.

Besides, when the solar cycle comes that the Thirteen Primes are awakened once more from their stasis, they’ll have eternity to spend together.

And maybe by that time, Megatron can finally love him back.

—

The stars greeted him as he opened his optics.

A haziness had sunk into his processor.

He could hardly feel his frame.

The floor beneath him shifted, as though the ground itself was moving. 

A familiar face blocked out the night sky.

“Pax…?”

“You’re supposed to be in recharge, Megatron.” The other mech let out a soft vent, reaching down with a servo. He felt the chill of it against his cheekplate, and Dee couldn’t help but lean his helm into it. “I wanted this to be a surprise but… it’s my fault, you got used to the processor scramblings.”

“What…?”

Pax leaned closer, servos reaching for his arms as he felt himself be hauled up and leaned against the side of… his optics reset, and it took him a while to realize where they were. Even underneath the darkness of the lunar cycle, Dee could see the moving waves as the large body of energon they were on shifted.

“Don’t freak out! I mean, you should be happy, you’re finally going home!” Pax went on as a fear began to settle in Dee’s spark. “Well not yet, but once I get you into the lake then you’ll be okay!”

“Pax, no— What are you doing?!” He could feel the strain in his voice box as the other mech began to push him backwards. Stray splashes from the energon lake hit the back of his frame, and… Dee can’t lie, it did feel familiar but—

“It’s okay! It’ll be okay!” Pax’s voice wavered, his blue optics - bright, always so bright in the darkness - widening as he continued to push Dee off the boat.

Panic and rage began to settle in, but like before (Before? He didn’t know why but he’d done this before, right?), he couldn’t access his weapon system.

“I’ll miss you, Alpha Trion said it might take cycles before we meet again but I’ll wait for you. Maybe then you’ll remember all those dream adventures we went on.” Pax grinned, and this time Dee could feel the lake fully against the top of his helm.

Pax’s servos were latched onto his waist plates.

All he needed to do now was let go.

Dee choked out more static, his voice box whirring wildly as he struggled to grasp onto the side of the boat. “PAX! P-PUT ME DOWN! This isn’t funny! I don’t.. I don’t know how to swim!”

Because this had to be a joke, a sick joke.

Pax wanted to test his ridiculous merformer theory and Dee just had to go along with his stupid antics.

But this wasn’t stupid anymore.

Instead of being apologetic, of feeling ashamed for pushing Dee into one of his crazy schemes again, Pax only smiled down at him.

“You do. You always did.”

Then, as if to apologize, Pax leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss against the side of his helm.

Then he let go.

And all Dee felt was the cold energon engulf his entire frame.

It was…

Comforting.

As he sunk deeper into the lake, large blue optics emerged from the deep gloom.

Chapter Text

“Has anything strange happened in the archives since last astroweek, head archivist?”

He stared up from the datapad on the desk, digits tracing the edge as he tilted his head to the side. His false Cybertronian face had an easy smile on it, the default expression that he had created for his head archivist persona. It made it easier for bots to trust him. Especially annoying bots from the senate who thought they could barge into his office without so much as an appointment.

At least his carrier had warned him to quickly transform into his Cybertronian alt before he could be spotted in his true form.

“No. Unless you count the occasional missing datapad, senator.” He chuckled, narrowing his blue optics. That really was a problem Optimus needed to fix.

“No strange energy fluctuations? No indecipherable texts in any of the databases?” The senator continued to trail off, their optics trying to maintain a level of strictness and authority that made Optimus want to laugh. He didn’t need to enter their processors to know they were scared. “With the sudden rust storm, the senate wanted to ensure—”

“I assure you, senator, that the Iaconian Archives is completely unaffected by the rust storm.” He kept an even tone, though deep down Optimus was fuming that what he was saying was true. “Every information is accounted for and the archives are functioning perfectly as ever.”

“Alright. You understand this is merely procedure, don’t you? The Iaconian Archives is one of Cybertron’s most beloved and oldest heritage sites. It also houses the entire history of Cybertron—” A lie. “And the senate deeply cares that it will not be affected by the rust storm. We haven’t had one of this magnitude in cycles. Actually… How long have you been the head archivist? I can’t seem to—”

The senator’s voice trailed off, his optics turning glassy as Optimus leaned ever so slightly forward. As the senator had continued to speak, one of the wires that made up his true form had slithered past the fake Cybertronian frame he wore and had lodged itself between the other mech’s plating. Carefully, Optimus tore through the senator’s processor - hoping to remove any of his fears so that he could get out of his office faster.

“I understand, senator.” Optimus let a genuine smile appear on his face. “I care so much for the archives.”

He loved his carrier so much, and he’d rather offline every bot in Iacon than let anything happen to Alpha Trion.

“Yes, yes… Well…” The senator shook his helm, blinking his optics as if he was trying to remember why he was there in the first place. “It appears you have everything in order here, head archivist. I shall take my leave. Please, if you find anything strange, anything at all, do not hesitate to come to the senate.”

Optimus nodded sweetly, waiting patiently until the senator stood up, disappearing behind the door panels. He let out a soft vent, leaning back against his chair as he closed his optics.

The senate needed to get off his aft.

He could almost hear his carrier chiding him at the thought, but Optimus was so tired of receiving their messages - and now a senator had chosen to visit.

It didn’t help that the rust storm was caused by one of the Primes.

Optimus tilted his helm, letting the heavy Cybertronian frame sag in the chair as his true form let loose through the panels. He never did enjoy being confined in it. 

Through the window, he could make out the heavy cloud of gold rust that enveloped the entirety of Iacon. It upset him more that because of the rust storm, he wasn’t able to see the statue of his sire. He couldn’t be too upset though because he knew this wasn’t an ordinary rust storm. His carrier didn’t need to tell him, every part of him knew that this was the doing of another Prime.

Since last astroweek, a heavy cloud had settled over Iacon, but rust storms were a naturally occurring phenomenon. What really unsettled most bots was the sudden intense feeling of being watched. Even Optimus, who was safe inside the confines of the archive, had felt that lingering gaze fall upon him before it disappeared. 

Honestly, it had excited him.

It meant that Prima Prime was awake.

It wasn’t brief lucidity from the stasis, but a full awakening. 

Even Prima Prime wasn't capable of this storm if he was locked fully into stasis. 

Optimus couldn’t help but grin.

Really, if the rust storm continued to worsen, it might break the others out of stasis. 

While he was always with his carrier and was never too far from his sire, Optimus wished to see them, not just have Alpha Trion as a voice and a connection, but to see them awake.

For cycles he’d felt so alone, unable to really bask in the presence of anyone like himself until Megatron - and even that had been short since he had to return Megatron to his creators. Optimus couldn’t wait to see him again though…

Shaking his helm, he tried to put his processor back to work. He had databases to organize and information to analyze. He knew this rust storm was Prima Prime’s doing, but that didn’t mean this would be the cycle that all Thirteen Primes would awaken. He wanted it to be but Optimus had to prepare himself for the disappointment if it wasn’t.

With one of his wires, he began to connect himself to the archives - switching off the lights in the office as he activated the curtains to automatically close around the windows, basking the room in darkness. 

He was just about to escape the false Cybertronian frame when loud banging from the door made him pause. Optimus’ wires shook, rattling in irritation as he forced himself back inside the heavy frame again. 

If it was the senator again…

He made his way across the room, his pedesteps loud and heavy as he forgot to maintain any semblance of his head archivist persona.

As the door panels slid open, Optimus had just missed the warning ping from his carrier before a punch immediately greeted him. He reared back, not so much in pain but in shock as a familiar silver frame pushed his way into his office, the door panels sliding close. Familiar yellow optics glared straight at him, though this time, they had the faint glow of gold.

Megatron stood right in front of him, his entire frame trembling. Though there was a look of rage in the other’s optics, Optimus could tell that the shaking wasn’t from his emotions. His legs were trembling, and as he took another pedestep forward, he nearly collapsed into Optimus’ arms as if he had forgotten the ability to even walk. Rough servos gripped at him, enough that Optimus was sure the other would leave dents.

“What in the name of Primus is wrong with you?!”

—

After an entire joor of Orion Pax - or Optimus as that was his real designation - trying to calm him down, Dee sat sullenly by the head archivist’s desk. It was still the same chair that the other mech - if he even was a real mech - had bought for him. His scowl didn’t waver, even as the other tried to bribe him with energon treats. No matter how starved he felt, he refused anything from Optimus.

He didn’t want to end up in the lake again.

“You’re the cause of the storm…” Optimus spoke up first before Dee could start screaming again. He had settled on top of the desk, his frame shrouded in the darkness of the room that Dee could only see his blue optics. It felt familiar somehow. As if they’d been in this position before, and if Dee was right, they probably had. “How did you get out of the lake?”

“How did I—” Dee could feel his processor start overheating. His HUD flashing warning pop-ups of an imminent breakdown if he didn’t calm down, but right now, he could hardly contain his rage. “The question, head archivist, is WHY in the pits did you push me into the lake? WHY did you leave me to drown? And… and this is very important, WHAT was in that lake?!”

He wanted to pummel the other mech, wanted to see the metal dent beneath his fists but Dee controlled himself as another burst of pain tore through his frame. He groaned, curling into himself as he tried not to purge his tanks. He hadn’t gotten a decent amount of recharge since last astroweek. Dee had been hiding in alleyways, trying to avoid the sick feeling of optics roving over his entire being. If he didn’t know any better, it was as though the presence was seeing right into his spark.

“Answer my question first.” He could hear the pout in Optimus’ voice, and Dee… he was tired.

He let out a shuddery vent, offlining his optics as he curled himself on the plush chair. Everything ached.

“After that… thing—” Dee stopped, letting out a small sob as the presence that had haunted him since he’d arrived back in Iacon pressed down against his processor, easing as fast as it had come. “After you… threw me in the lake. I couldn’t see anything but two blue optics. I felt a large servo wrap around me… my entire frame, as if any normal Cybertronian could possibly do that. The lake was murky and I don’t know if I went into stasis lock but at some point I must have went online again. There was something holding onto me and I just started fighting back. I don’t know what came over me but I… bit down on it and the shock of that must have made it let me go because somehow I made my way back up to the surface. I swam back to shore and made my way back to Iacon. My pedes are sore…”

Dee vented, recalling the long journey. It was mostly a daze since he’d been in excruciating pain for a majority of the walk back to Iacon, and by the time he had arrived, the rust storm had hit. He’d been surviving in Iacon’s alleyways, making a slow move towards the Iacon archives so he could confront the mech who had tried to offline him.

“Here, let me—” He heard the other shift closer, digits wrapping around his leg struts.

He immediately lashed out, gritting his dentae as his pede hit metal. He didn’t know if it had any effect aside from hurting himself. “Get your filthy servo off me, Optimus.”

The other mech tightened their grip, though as if thinking better of it, Optimus eventually let go. Dee let out a vent of relief, his helm sagging against the side of the chair. 

“I was only trying to help…” The other mech muttered, though almost as if he was talking to something else, and Dee realized that the overbearing presence had shifted off of him for a few kliks. “I won’t do anything… yet.”

A sudden fluctuation of energy nearly sent Dee into stasis. He pressed his helm deeper into the chair, that presence wrapping around him even more. More warning pop-ups rose in his HUD but he tried desperately to dismiss them. He didn’t want to go into stasis with Optimus in the room.

“Are you… going to answer my questions?” Dee gritted out, trying to focus on why he had come back to the archives despite the danger. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah! Sorry, Megatron.” Optimus let out an embarrassed laugh. Before Dee could correct him, the other mech had begun speaking again. Before, Dee might have been endeared by how quick the other spoke, but right now it was only making him more nauseous. “I told you, I was just trying to bring you back to your creators. Also, you can’t drown.”

Slowly, he reset his optics, narrowing them at Optimus who had returned to where he was sitting. He could hear the grin in the other’s tone as he continued, “And you know, for someone who claims to love the Prime mythologies, you really couldn’t recognize Megatronus Prime?”

A frown slowly made its way to Dee’s face, and he stopped himself from correcting the other mech that in his defense, he could barely see anything in the energon lake. “That… that was the Megatronus Prime?”

“Cool, right?” He heard the other mech shift closer, those blue optics glowing brighter. “I always wanted to meet him myself. Alpha Trion says he was the strongest Prime that ever lived.” 

Another fluctuation of energy, though this time much lighter as if the presence around Dee was not as angry as before. It didn’t stop him from nearly purging. He pressed a servo against his dermas, resetting his optics again.

“And what? Y-you think that…?” Dee could hardly wrap his processor around it. “Fine, I believe you, the Primes exist. Why not? Next you’ll tell me Primus also exists.”

The silence that answered him was enough.

He let out a frustrated groan, wishing this was all some sick dream and he would wake up back at the old apartment he shared with his late carer. “But I’m not… Optimus, I’m not like them or you. Because… you are… something else, aren’t you?”

“Awww, thanks Dee. I know, I am something else.” 

He couldn’t see it, but he just knew that Optimus was giving him that annoyingly endearing smile of his. Dee didn’t return it.

Sensing that Dee was not in the mood for his nonsense, Optimus let out a small noise. “Yeah, I’m not Cybertronian. We’re not Cybertronian. It’s… it’s a long story.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Dee rolled his optics, pressing deeper into the chair. Even if he wanted to - and he did - he couldn’t go anywhere without that presence following him. 

“Not that I’d let you.”

“What?”

“What?” Optimus stared back before quickly moving on, “You know how the Primes were mythical beings that Primus created and they watch over all of Cybertron? Well… that’s what the Senate wanted everyone to believe. No Cybertronian would feel safe if they knew the truth.”

“What truth?” Slowly, the pain began to disappear, though his frame still ached. The presence still lingered over him but it no longer threatened to have him fall into emergency stasis.

“The Cybertronians worship Primus, how do you think they’d react if they knew that their perfect god made mistakes?” While Optimus sounded amused, he could almost sense a layer of hurt in the other mech’s voice. “The Primes were one of his first creations. He… didn’t like how they turned out. Too many optics. Too large. Too small. Too molten. Too wire-y. The current Cybertronians that populate Cybertron today are what he considered his perfected creations.”

He’d heard Pax lecture before. He’d always held a tone of indifference, as if there was a layer between what he was stating and what he truly felt. Here, Dee could tell that Optimus wasn’t speaking based off of a database.

“So the Primes, unwanted—” Optimus rolled his optics. “Went into stasis after a few cycles of being hunted down by the senate.”

Dee thought back to the lake, to where Megatronus Prime was, and shuddered. “You woke him up though.”

“Temporarily.” Optimus insisted, “I had to return you to your creators. You shouldn’t even have been in Iacon!”

“You’re here.” Dee raised a servo, pointing an accusatory digit at him. “What? You can break the rules, but I can’t?”

“My carrier is here.” Dee really wished he could see through the darkness, because he needed to see Optimus’ face. He couldn’t tell if the other mech was lying.

“Here? I don’t remember seeing any of those mythical Primes here, Optimus.” Dee couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I think I would remember if I saw some thing —”

He bit his glossa, pain shooting through his processor as the presence bore down on him again. He reset his optics and as he curled even deeper into himself, he felt servos reach out for him, slipping beneath him.

Dee didn’t have the capacity to protest as he felt Optimus shift him into his arms, carrying him deeper into the office. He pressed his helm against the other’s chassis, praying that he didn’t purge his tanks because that would really be the worst. 

He heard the hiss of door panels opening and light flooded his optics as Optimus carried him into an adjoining room. Gently, he felt himself be placed down on a table before the other mech walked back into the office. After a few kliks, Optimus came back with the plush chair, carrying it with ease.

As Dee’s optics adjusted to the light, he realized that… Optimus looked differently.

He felt nauseous as he noticed the unprotected cables that came out from the other mech’s frame, the wires slithering along the floors and walls as if connecting themselves to the wall.

He had accepted that Optimus wasn’t a normal Cybertronian but to see a glimpse of what he really was…

Dee didn’t think his processor could handle it.

Placing the chair down by a large holo-display of Cybertron’s map, Optimus came back towards him, carefully lifting him up. Then he was back on the chair, the pressure disappearing as the presence stopped haunting him again.

Dee glanced up as Optimus tapped against the map.

“The Primes went into stasis and the senate covered them up.” Optimus gave him a soft smile, gesturing around them. “The Iaconian Archives is Alpha Trion, my carrier.”

Dee reset his optics, static bursting from his voice box. “WHAT?”

Optimus pointed to another location. “The lake - Tronus Lake as most mechs call it - where I threw you? That’s where Megatronus Prime resides. The mountain, or you know as they call it Prime Mountain? That’s where Prima Prime is, he’s your sire and he’s here… Sort of. Watching over you.”

Dee could hardly keep up as Optimus began to list down places, some that Dee knew from lessons he’d been taught as a sparkling about some of the more famous places in Cybertron, and which Prime resided or was that place.

Mostly, Dee was still stuck on what Optimus had said about who his creators were.

He’d known that Terminus had adopted him, even when he was just a sparkling. It was the strangest story. When the Iaconian Orphanage had taken him in, they said he had been found by one of the mines near… Tronus Lake. A miner had found a crying sparkling and had taken him back to Iacon. Nobody could pinpoint who his creators were so he was placed in the orphanage where eventually Terminus adopted him.

Was he really…?

That explained a lot.

“...And the statue that’s the heart of Iacon? That’s Zeta Prime. He’s my sire. I visit him sometimes but unlike my carrier I can’t talk to him.” There was a sadness in Optimus’ voice as he finished, his blue optics casting down to the ground. “But… thanks to you, maybe I can.”

“Huh?” Slowly, he realized that the presence that had followed him from the lake was completely gone. His frame still ached and he doubted he’d be able to make it a few pedesteps if he were to run right now.

“I didn’t think this would happen, but thanks, Megatron!” The other mech approached him, wires slithering forward with him that he couldn’t help but lean back. Optimus didn’t seem to notice his fear as he leaned closer, grabbing Dee’s servo in his own. “I really only meant to return you to your creators, but I guess a part of you just didn’t want to go into stasis, huh?”

“Optimus, what are you talking about?” He tightened his grip on the other, realizing now in the light that even as those digits began to dent underneath his hold, Optimus’ face didn’t seem to show any pain. 

If Megatronus Prime was a… merformer… What was Alpha Trion?

What was Optimus?

“So, and this is really cool, on Prime Mountain there’s a small lake on it. It’s really cool, it’s a lake inside a mountain inside of a larger lake!” Optimus laughed, as if he thought Dee would find this interesting. “Alpha Trion said that Prima and Megatronus designed it that way because you were supposed to be in that lake. He… doesn’t know how you got out of that lake but I guess you must really hate being in stasis, huh? I get it, nearly got mechnapped myself when I was a sparkling because I refused to stay in the walls with—”

There was… a lot of information that Dee needed to unpack from that but he could think about it when his processor wasn’t still hurting and when Optimus actually answered his question. He let the other mech’s servo go, reaching up to grasp Optimus by the shoulder pads. He shook him hard, “What. Are. You. Talking. About?!”

Optimus shook his helm, optics resetting as if he was just remembering what Dee had asked. 

He hated that it was a trait of his that he still found endearing.

The mech tried to drown him but Dee still found him endearing.

Primus above he hated himself.

“You woke up Prima.” The other mech admitted softly, he turned his helm to the side, and they both watched as the rust storm outside slowly began to end. Dee should feel relieved but… something about it made his spark churn inside his chassis. “Megatronus Prime can’t go on the surface. Unlike you, he’s unable to transform into a form that can walk. He must miss you. I know my carrier would be upset if I were to go too far from him.”

“What does that mean?” Dee felt like he already knew the answer.

“Well…” Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “Prima has to come get you now. Alpha Trion says that Prima gets very emotional, and the strength of his emotions alone are capable of awakening the other Primes…”

Optimus grinned, as if sharing good news.

“It’s really exciting, isn’t it, Megatron?”