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Life as the Academy student sure wasn't for the weak. Few got the privilege to learn there, and even fewer stuck around to graduate. Once a demanding training facility has turned into an even more demanding university, some years after the war for Cybertron. It offered a plethora of majors along with an obligatory military training, a remnant of times long gone. Despite changing its main purpose, the Academy was just as prestigious an institution as ever. This was mostly caused by the professors who taught in its lecture halls. Most of them were well-known characters in the history of Cybertron, commanders and strategists who chose to share their knowledge with younger generations.
While on paper, this whole deal seemed fine and dandy, in practice, studying at the Academy required many sacrifices. One was waking up early to make it to the lectures on time. Such misfortune of staying awake in the morning befell Mip-07. Like many other students, the femme marched in a hurry to save a seat for herself and her friends.
When Mip-07 arrived, the only available space was in the very front of the room. It wasn't that bad, per se, as the professor wasn't a cutthroat in any way, and she'd listen anyway. The only problem was that her friends would have to experience the late walk of shame through the middle of the hall. Well, they would live. They always did that anyway, so she patiently waited.
It was the professor who entered the auditorium first, and trudging behind him were NK-12, along with M1sh, bickering about making each other late. Upon entering of the mech, the whole auditorium quietened. After hurriedly greeting Mip-07 and finding a place to sit, NK-12 and M1sh too fell to complete silence. It was a common occurrence, as the students learned very quickly that their professor wouldn't speak otherwise. The reason for that was his old-fashioned sense of respect, but it wasn't like the mech had to demand it. After all, when Optimus Prime, Chancellor of the Academy, professor of Human and Earth Sciences, History, as well as Law of Cybertron, and many others started the lecture, everyone knew to listen.
It was kind of a coincidence that Mip-07 and her companions found each other in a course supervised by the most important figure of recent cybertronian history. They all just needed ECT points from electives and chose what sounded best. One can only imagine the younglings' shock when they first attended the lecture on Introduction to Human Anthropology and Sociology. As if welded to the ground, they stood near Optimus Prime. Everyone technically knew he was their Chancellor, but to teach a class was unheard of for the mech.
When their shock passed and the friend group realised how lucky they were, anxiety settled in. Of course, it was a great opportunity to learn from Optimus Prime, but he was probably a strict and demanding teacher. Maybe he required exceptional cognitive abilities or detailed knowledge of the history of Earth. He also had to be the author of any and every source material on the topic. In horror Mip-07, NK12 and M1sh sat their clunky afts down and began to listen.
It turned out that the classes were quite all right. Sure, the professor had a lot of material to lecture on, but the course turned out to be a rather pleasant experience. Students were honoured to be taught by Optimus Prime and soaked up his words like dry sponges. The information he shared was invaluable, as most of the time he spoke from experience. Midterms were a challenge, but everyone was willing to ace them only to attend more of Prime's lectures.
He usually stood before a huge hologram depicting their current topic while describing the societal structures of humans. At first, lecture attendees were too intimidated to ask questions, but that changed after their professor stated with a look of resignation, "to please ask if they had any questions, for this was a course for them to learn from and not a storytelling club of his".
Somewhat scared into compliance, NK12 blurted out (to the sheer horror of her friends) a rather basic query on the nature of human relationships. The whole auditorium fell silent. Only Optimus Prime chuckled lightly and answered her with no mean sentiment. That set a precedent, and shortly after, classes became more lively. Students slowly found the courage to interact with their awe-inspiring professor. Humans, too, turned out to be an endless topic of discussion, as some of the cultural differences were baffling to young mechs. Prime usually agreed with their assessments, as he too still found Earthlings’ behaviours strange. He then explained humans’ logic to his best abilities, yet sometimes even that wouldn’t suffice. The phrase ‘Man-made horrors beyond cybertonian comprehension’ was thrown around quite often after that first happened. Needless to say, the lectures quickly became everyone's favourite course of the year. Many were proud to attend the course and boasted about being taught by Optimus Prime himself.
Well, today it was really hard not to slip into recharge mode for Mip-07. The only thing that kept her away from doing so was a box that sat on her professor’s desk. It was decorated with golden geometric shapes shining in the room’s artificial light. Was it study material? But what was it doing on Prime’s desk? The mech never really brought anything with him, relying on hologram transmissions and his memory. NK12 also noticed the strange object resting upon the desk, as she not so lightly nudged M1sh and pointed it out to him. Her friend could not care less, though, so she turned her optics to Mip-07. Their silent conversation, consisting of many ambiguous gestures, was abruptly stopped by a voice they both knew very well.
“Do you two have any questions on the topic?” asked their professor, looking amused at their scared expressions.
“Well...” started Mip-07 only to be interrupted by NK12 asking faster than her processor could handle, “Isthereahumanartifactinthebox?”
“Is there a what?”
“We thought that maybe you brought something from Earth with you for this lecture, like an artifact,” suggested ever so direct NK12.
“Well, no, not really,” the response of Optimus Prime brought a shadow of disappointment to the students’ faces. "However, this is a good idea, so such an object may appear in our classes in the future. As for the nature of what this box contains, it is a gift from my sparkmate.”
Those words sent a silent shockwave through the lecture hall. Optimus Prime had a sparkmate? Which mech would be granted such honour? Whom did he hold in such high regard to bestow them this title? Millions of questions and none on the topic of their class went through the students’ heads. Meanwhile, Prime went on with his lecture completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t dropped a bomb of information upon his poor, unsuspecting pupils.
“We have to find out who it is,” decided NK12 right after they left for another class and proceeded to go on a rant guessing who could be the sparkmate of their professor. Mip-07 wasn’t really convinced. Everyone, even or especially a mech like Optimus Prime deserved every degree of privacy available. On the other hand curiosity was only natural in this situation. Deciding not to fuel her friend’s obsessive behaviours, she switched the topic of conversation.
“I didn’t get to ask before, but how was your physics lecture?”
“Oh actually!” gasped NK12 “Actually it wasn’t THAT bad this time, I still didn’t understand shit though.”
Well, that was news to Mip-07. All she heard about her friend’s aerodynamics and discrete math professor’s classes were curse words of cybertonian and now also human origin. The mech supervising those subjects had no mercy for his students. It was kind of ironic but also very on brand for no one else than the old warlord Megatron to make his undergrads miserable in any and every way possible. From what NK12 had said, the mech was as ruthless in grading exams as he once was on a battlefield. The level he expected of his students was nowhere near realistic, yet every year, some attending his lectures miraculously passed to the next semester. Admittedly, after the second, third, or even fourth attempt, many gave up, and no one blamed them. Megatron probably thought of them as pathetic, but it was implied he considered 99% of his students incapable. Why he was even teaching was one of the greatest mysteries of the Academy.
One of the few reasons may have been the sheer genius of the mech. While sassy, sometimes outright mean, and immensely intimidating, the professor wielded his knowledge like a sword, pointedly and deliberately. It was unheard of for scholars in their era to take an interest in more than one branch of science, let alone a theoretical brand of mathematics along with complex physics. He was also a brilliant strategist, and even though Megatron didn’t teach a class with such a name, he utilized his abilities in different ways. His curriculum was one of the most systemized, methodical, and detailed programmes to have ever graced the Academy’s students. Those who survived to graduate were leaving with an understanding of their chosen sciences in a new light. Sharp, white, scrutinizing light that deconstructed every inch of any given problem and built a solution based on data as well as intellect. To reach that stage, however, students had to suffer thoroughly.
That was exactly what NK12 has been doing for a year now and not even once has she stated “it was not that bad”. Something must have happened and so Mip-07 inquired about it immediately.
“Well, he wasn’t giving us the “understand this or perish” glare today and answered some of the questions he would usually deem “too basic to even consider”. I have no idea what was the reason for the change of his spark today but I pray to Primus that it happens more often.”
“Huh.”
“No. Don’t question it. Just let it be and hope it stays that way.”
Whatever made her friend happy, Mip-07 mused. She was immensely glad she didn’t choose a technical major, opting for graphics and visuals instead. It had its moments, too, but all of them were worth it. From what she had learned from her classes about humanity was apparent that more than one lifeform felt the need to create and express themselves. Earth stood out with its well-developed arts despite such short history of its inhabitants. Mip-07 was hoping that Cybetron would also flourish with this sentiment in the future. She was contributing to this goal herself.
As it turned out, being taught by Optimus Prime himself had some perks. Well, one would call them perks, but others would say they were downsides. Why, would you ask? As chancellor, Mip-07’s professor had the power to change how the Academy worked. More specifically, how the Academy’s employees worked. Such was NK12’s misfortune that when she was ranting about the rigorous teaching and examination methods of one and only Megatron, Prime happened to pass by. Mip-07, who stood in front of the other femme, blanched as NK12 started to feel her parts freeze in utter terror. Her optics were conveying the message of “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”, to which her friend could only nod. Well, it wasn’t the old Decepticon, but complaining about professors near the chancellor wasn’t exactly ideal either.
In desperation, NK12 turned around, so that both young femmes were facing Prime, not knowing what to say. They stood in heavy silence.
“Now, which teacher in here deserves such harsh critic?” inquired the professor, but then promptly added “ah never mind, I have my guess already. He tends to be like that sometimes, please forgive him” he sighed exasperatedly. “Anyhow, please do discuss these matters in a more private setting in the future” he added and left to only Primus knows where.
Shortly after, NK12 and Mip-07 run away in the exact opposite direction.
That encounter led the poor artistic femme into a lecture on discrete mathematics the very next day. NK12 was too scared to go alone and dragged Mip-07 as well as M1sh with her. The study hall filled up pretty quickly, and nearly every seat was taken. No one dared to be late. Except for that fact, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, Megatron entered the room. A physically detectable sense of dread filled its every corner. The atmosphere suddenly became tense. It must have been because of his walk, that of a superior officer who demanded respect and subordination from his troops. This and the lightning bolts that were coming straight from his optics, the scowl on his faceplate, and sharp claws clenched into a fist. Mip-07 wondered if this was Megatron’s usual module of operating or was he rather pissed on that particular day. She would find out very soon, as the professor’s booming voice startled the students into focus.
“The lecture will commence as usual, after a short announcement.” He smiled wryly. “I hear that some of you have comments on my style of teaching. Next time you have the bright idea to share those remarks with others, I would first recommend reaching out to me. I am open to any suggestions.” While speaking, his optics carefully scanned the crowd, looking for his prey. Mip-07 could see that NK12 was trying not to start shaking violently. “Ideally, you wouldn’t just go straight to our busy Chancellor, but meet with me first. I have informed you of my office hours at the beginning of this semester, and I hope you make use of them from now on.” That sent a murmur through the auditorium, as filing complaints at the highest level was unheard of and virtually impossible. Who could have direct links to THE Optimus Prime? Most of the students were assured that it wasn’t any of their peers.
Most, because the three mechs that indeed knew the truth of the matter were busy putting their best poker faces on. Two of them were also regretting ever coming to a lecture which they didn’t even have to attend. Megatron was playing a waiting game, it seemed. Using good old reliable war tactics even now, thought Mip-07. She didn’t even consider Optimus Prime mentioning anything he heard to Megatron. Everyone assumed the two weren’t even on speaking terms.
Maybe it was the truth, but her chancellor’s sense of morality forced him to confront the other mech. Anyhow, the issue must have been a serious one if he brought up this topic to his old archnemesis. Sometimes Mip-07 wondered how Megatron agreed to teach under Prime’s supervision. Maybe occasional reprimands were worth the price of torturing students of the Academy on a daily basis. Maybe he was just passionate, but that only Primus would know. Megatron also had a bit of a flair for dramatics, it seemed, as he let the room suffocate in tense silence for several minutes before speaking again. Things only went downhill from there.
The lecture was something akin to a battle itself. The professor was constantly dropping questions at students as if they were bombs. Every prolonged silence felt like a shock wave after a grand explosion, until a brave spark dared speak up. If they were right, a curt sign of approval was issued their way. If they answered wrong, though, the frustration and disappointment in Megatron’s voice pierced further than any bullet could. Despite his tyranny, the undergrads wanted to prove themselves to their teacher. It was a fascinating sight. They feared him, yes, but it was clear that the students had a lot of respect for their tormentor.
Ultimately, Mip-07 was immensely glad for the lecture to be over, as every time Megatron even looked her way expectantly, like she should’ve known the answer to his question yesterday, she wanted to straight up disappear. To be frank, she was too intimidated to know what he was even on about. When she shared this thought with her friends, M1sh only shrugged and admitted to not even trying to listen and working on his architecture project from the very beginning. He simply did not look up even once from his datapad to avoid any contact with the professor. Mip-07, however, couldn’t stop looking once she examined Megatron’s actions closely. He held such grace in presenting mathematics that it started to look stunning. Still not comprehensible, of course, but impressive in its craft. NK12 also reassured her that enrolled in the course or not, you wouldn’t get a lot of what Megatron presented. Granted, she had a datapad full of notes to study, but that was a worry for another day.
Optimus Prime was full of surprises. After the “human artifact” incident, he did indeed bring a device Earthlings called a computer. Everyone was fascinated by its similarities to their build. It was kind of a bizarre experience to see a mech’s parts used in such a pragmatic, soulless way. That fact, however, was quickly forgotten as students found out what “video games” were. Suddenly, the existence of a computer was completely reasonable. Every pair of optics in the room followed the screen as their professor played Tetris. Shortly after that lecture, Mip-07 and her friends got the courage to ask whether they could borrow the machine, only to examine it more thoroughly, of course. To their surprise, Prime smiled and agreed.
“I know you will only use this for educational purposes,” he said with a hint of amusement, and added to return it to him sometime, as he also needed to study the device in more detail”. Who knew he would be one to enjoy human entertainment? Needless to say, by the end of the week, he wasn’t the only mech who appreciated The Witcher 3.
From that point on, he remembered to bring more objects of Earthen origin. Nevertheless, that was not the biggest shocker of his class. While interesting, none of them held a candle to the lecture he gave before the end of the semester. Instead of doing a short introduction of a topic or presenting another fascinating human device, Prime started reciting.
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authórizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are:
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense—
Thy adverse party is thy advocate—
And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence.
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an áccessory needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
“This is a sonnet written by an Earthling who lived centuries ago. I believe that it serves as a good preamble to what we will talk about today. You see, humans just like us feel what we and they in our language call love. You may have already figured they are creatures of emotional depth and reflection, but I wanted to share this particular work as a basis for broader consideration. Their lives are so short in comparison to ours, yet they exhibit similar notions in the arts to those of Cybertronians. Love, however, seems to be a prevalent theme no matter the literary period; it is what humans know the best.” He stopped there for a minute, as if weighing the words he was about to bestow upon his students. “Before coming to Earth, I too did not understand this emotion completely. Well, I was assured I did, however, my visit to that planet changed my perspective. See, they would go to war for their beloveds. They were ready to burn the whole world down to make things right for those they cherished so.” Prime’s optics seemed to be pointed at a fixed place, then, somewhere at the back of the lecture hall, his gaze was full of sentiment and overwhelming fondness. “Earthlings were also ready to sacrifice themselves for a better tomorrow for those close to them. In love, they find the strength to destroy and rebuild, such a force of nature it is. Actually,” he mused, “it is powerful enough to transcend stars.”
A sigh could be heard from the very end of the room, but none of the students paid attention, transfixed by their professor’s words. “It is not to say that greed and pride play no part in human lives. Those, too, caused many tragedies, but among them, love seems to be Earth’s redeeming trait. A double-edged sword, if you will, never covered in even a spec of rust. In my world, it was once morality that prevailed above all. I found out, however, that I am no match for affection so overwhelming it made me forgive and understand so much. My actions could not compare to how much it could change. See, humans perceive wrath, fear, and resentment, or fear like ours. Yet it was them who came up with the saying love conquers all. I hope you understand now why I believe we should study their history and behaviours, as Earthlings have much to offer to us, maybe more than we could ever offer to them in return.”
After that particular lecture, many took the course more seriously. Suddenly, humans seemed to be not just another intelligent species out there, but also a quiet force to be reckoned with. Frail and reckless, sure, but also incredibly persistent when they needed to be. Moreover, their entertainment media seemed to be top-notch. That, however, was not the only thing that preoccupied the minds of undergrads. The lecture was way too personal to be just an abstract of teaching, everyone decided. New theories of who the mysterious sparkmate of Optimus Prime could be were created.
“Maybe it was a human!” proposed NK12. “Look, Earth and its inhabitants are his great passion, so it wouldn’t be that surprising if he had a relationship with a human at some point. He also did everything in his power for the planet not to be destroyed at some point, and I sure as hell would do that if someone I loved lived there.”
“That would be extremely sad, don’t you think?” said Mip-07. “If that were to be true, the Earthling is probably long dead.”
“I guess so, I mean, did you see the forlorn look in his optics?”
“Wait a second. Didn’t he say he got something from his sparkmate like a few months ago? If it were a human, it would be virtually impossible.” The femme decided. “Maybe he has a connection with an Autobot that went to Earth alongside him instead?”
“Yeah, that would also narrow our circle of suspects,” smiled NK12.
“Our?”
“Oh, come on, don’t say that you’re not at least a bit curious. I know you are, don’t lie to me, lying is bad, you know?”
“That doesn't mean I will take any action to find out, though.”
“My sweet child of Prime, that will soon change.” And if this didn’t sound alarmingly similar to Megatron, Mip-07 wouldn’t know what did.
I have news. Comm me your location ASAP. Was not the message Mip-07 expected to receive from her friend in the middle of her graphics class. It’s not like she had an idea for this particular piece, but was this really that serious? With that in RAM, she excused herself and went to the nearest breakroom, sending her coordinates to NK12.
“Mip.” Said her engineering friend as soon as she burst into the room. “I found out something.” Her faceplate wasn’t indicative of anything good. Uh-oh, so it was indeed that serious. NK12 first checked whether any cameras were installed in the room and turned her back to the doors.
“It’s Megatron,” NK12 uttered with the expression of a Cybertronian war veteran who’s just heard an explosion. Okay, so this could go two ways. He terrorized his class enough for her friend to drop out, or he straight up got offlined. “He has a fragging conjunx.”
That was certainly news. Unforeseen and shocking, sure, but not as tragic as Mip-07 expected them to be.
“Good for him” was her curt response. It wasn’t met with much appreciation.
“Good for him!? He is a spawn from the depths of energon mines that was sent here to torture me for my whole Academy life. You saw him, you even heard him speak and teach.” She shuddered, her plates rattling. “How do you think this kind of a mech would find somebody? Anybody. Even his old Decepticons wouldn’t touch him with a metal rod, I bet. If in his private existence, he’s anything like when he’s lecturing, then I have his sparkmate in my prayers to Primus. How do they tolerate him on a daily basis?”
“I mean, I can see the appeal.”
“You what. What an appeal. There is no Megatron appeal. The only appeal this mech will get is mine when I don’t pass his class. He better accept it then.” Muttered NK12 menacingly.
“He has this aura of power around him, maybe there are mechs that find it hot, just saying.”
“And you are not one of those mechs, right?”
The lack of response from Mip-07 was an answer itself.
“How did you even find out he has a conjunx?” she blurted out in hopes of changing the topic ever so slightly.
“I was in the middle of trying to understand whatever he was telling us, so the usual. Then, he asked a question. Of course, no one knew what the problem even about so we shut our audio transmitters. He might have gotten a bit annoyed, and I felt it in my cabling that he would go off on one of his “you are in no way qualified to attend this Academy” rants. In the moment he was deciding which snide remark to call us, he got a comm. A voice comm at that. The whole room was relieved already, because that was hopefully enough to distract him. We didn’t even expect him to respond to the call; that would be wishful thinking. Well, he fragging did. Provided, with his most annoyed voice and a scowl on his faceplate, but he did. All I heard was “And what does my sparkmate want from me in the middle of my lecture?” while he was leaving the hall without even a comment sent our way. Everyone was kind of too stunned to speak or move, all of our processors short-circuited for a second. Before we could even comprehend fully what had just occurred in front of our optics, he came back as if nothing had happened. At least he seemed to be less annoyed.”
So it was true that Megatron had a conjunx. Megatron was in a romantic relationship. Frag, those were news of the week for their academic afts. Not like they didn’t have better things to do, but Mip-07 was sure NK12 wouldn’t stop yapping about it soon. What was worse, she probably wouldn’t only yap about it to her. Other students who attended the lecture would also spread the word. Mip-07 only hoped that this wouldn’t circle back to their professor, as she believed that the discrete mathematics course could, in fact, get worse.
Next time, NK12 got to tell her riveting story when she was drunk on 5 litres of spiced energon. Everyone was under the influence, as the occasion of their whole friend group meeting was worth celebrating. They picked their favourite dingy bar near campus, where prices were reasonable and drinks tasted exceptionally good. That or maybe after the second litre, no one could tell the difference between energon and engine coolant. Nevertheless, it was a go-to spot for Mip-07 and her friends. They could meet there only because Prime as well as Megatron called off their lectures the next day. While a cancellation from their humanities professor wasn’t that shocking (Prime mentioned earlier he had some business to attend to), when NK12 got the notification about her maths lecture, she emitted an ultrasonic sound of pure joy.
Now babbling something about how it must have been Unicron himself who decided to bond with Megatron, she didn’t even notice two tall figures entering the bar. None of the seven mechs sat at the table did. All of them were far too gone to understand anything that was going on in the background of their conversation. While 81eGAL was recounting her dreadful experience from her job, M1sh started to feel his thought processes turning off and decided he needed to go out for a moment. Stars were as bright as the Academy lights in the night. He decided to stare at them until they stopped spinning and then head back. Soon world swayed in his optics, and his position became horizontal. Maybe he could fall into a recharge cycle right here. The ground was so cool, and the night was quiet.
He didn’t know how long he had stayed there. It was minutes and maybe hours of his processor staying blissfully blank, until a noise spurred him from his haze. More accurately, the sound of someone speaking did.
“Oh, Primus, look at this poor mech. Maybe we should wake him up?” A vaguely familiar voice broke the silence. M1sh couldn’t recognise it, though, and frankly, he didn’t really care at the moment. He just wished they would go so he could continue his slumber.
“If I remember it correctly, we were leaving to engage in activities other than helping some drunken younglings.” Responded a mech that sounded rather annoyed and scary. That awakened some survival programming in M1sh as he opened his optics. What he saw had to be some sort of energon-induced system malfunction.
Before him, or above him really, stood two gigantic mechs. One had his servo on the other’s skid plate. That wasn’t what shocked him, though. It were the features of the two figures that stunned him the most. Blue, red, and silver… holy Primus, it couldn’t be THE Optimus Prime, right? While M1sh’s processor was going into overdrive, his maybe-lecturer spoke again.
“Your insatiable aft can wait a bit, this poor thing couldn’t even stand up if he tried. We will have the whole day tomorrow for ourselves, I promise.”
“I see. Well then, maybe let’s help him a bit.” Responded the other mech, whose voice grew sharper. Oh frag. M1sh knew that voice. Granted, he heard it only once, but it was enough to remember its owner. NK12’s terrorist of a professor stood before him, as if it wasn’t crazy enough that Optimus Prime was speaking to him beforehand. Wait, if it really was his professor, then that meant… That meant that Megatron was currently holding Prime’s aft in his servo. That made M1sh jump up despite his trashed state. The pair in front of him backed up slightly.
“I’m all good, no need to help me.” Was all he could utter and stumble back into the bar in shock.
The mech was quickly noticed by his friends. They waved him over and assaulted M1sh with questions of his whereabouts of the last hour. He however, couldn’t emit a sound, sitting with stunned expression on his face plate. That made the others worry and soon someone was putting a servo on his chassis, asking if he was okay and unharmed.
“I think I had some sort of malfunction in my optics or processor area.” Was the only response they got. Then the mech decided that it would be way nicer to spend the rest of the night GR3g0R. His friends agreed and commed for him to pick his wasted conjunx up. When he arrived and M1sh was saying his goodbyes, the mech stopped at Mip-07, looking her straight in the optics.
“My hallucination was that Optimus Prime and Megatron were fragging, just so you know.” He informed his friend and left the bar. She just laughed because it was a ridiculous malfunction to experience. Next’s finals at the Academy would change her opinion soon enough.
It all started in Megatron’s office, or rather in the exam hall of his poor students, Mip-07 supposed. Finals were upon them; every one of her friends, including her, was suffering immensely. They lost rest cycles over unfinished projects, reports, or mathematical equations. A lot of mechs were in rather sour moods, too focused on studying to feel or perceive the world around them. It was NK12 that awoke them from the lethargic state they were in. That in itself was a surprise, as she was flying around stressing about her discreet maths exam the previous day.
The femme barged into the Academy’s archives with the speed of sound. “You will so want to hear what just happened!” and then she went on a long and unnecessary tirade that could be delivered way more effectively. Outline of the events that transpired in a shorter version was as such:
NK12 went to get her maths exam graded by none other than Megatron. She was in the middle of being chewed up by her professor (“it is clear that you do not comprehend what I’m trying to teach you, you uneducated cogs” were the exact words) when he got a comm. The femme assumed he would ignore it and at least let her leave early. It was not the case. Megatron excused himself and picked up the call. A hologram of not-so-happy Optimus Prime appeared in front of the two mechs. To his credit, NK12’s professor’s faceplate fell immediately.
“Did I hear correctly that an esteemed mathematician and physician of our Academy has already failed 50% of his students this semester?” the chancellor inquired.
“Not my fault their processors aren’t brazed properly.” At this point NK12 was looking at a fixed point in the office, not daring to move. This was a nightmare and she would wake up from it any second now. It had to be.
“I have gathered intel from others teaching similar courses. They all said the questions you gave them were practically impassable.” Countered Prime, who apparently came prepared.
“Maybe they should rethink their ability to process.”
“Maybe if it were not Shockwave that told me that the exam was incredibly demanding, I would have believed you.”
“Out of all the mechs here, you chose to ask Shockwave? Really Prime?”
“I do not see anything outrageous in that action.” Shrugged the chancellor. His optics turned to NK12. “Megatron, were you in the middle of failing another student when I commed you?"
“That is not a matter of importance right now.” Responded Megatron, who was completely unbothered by the terrified femme in the corner of his office.
“For Prime’s sake, of course it is. In this case, please do get back to your duties and try not to fail the rest of your poor undergrads. We shall continue this discussion on a later notice.” Were the last words of Optimus Prime before the hologram flickered off.
In that moment for once in their lives NK12’s and Megatron’s thought processes aligned. A resounding “oh frag” resonated in their helms, albeit for two very different reasons.
Shortly after, the maths professor composed himself and continued torturing his subject. The femme didn’t even care anymore. She just wanted to leave as fast as possible. This mercy was given to her after Megatron’s final comment of “Well, that was not impressive at all”. She evacuated from the enemy line as soon as she could. The most important part, though?
“I PASSED,” NK12 roared, disregarding one of the most important rules of the archive. “Bless Primus and bless Prime. If he didn’t comm him in that moment, this spawn of Unicron would’ve failed me, I’m sure of it.”
“Good to know he has any sense of respect towards at least one mech.” Murmured M1sh, who was starting to believe his energon-induced malfunction wasn’t really off the mark.
NK12 proclaimed it a finals miracle that would save many students’ academic careers. Everyone congratulated her and decided to go and grab energon from the nearest bistro as a form of celebration. They all needed refuelling to study well into the night and probably the next day. Finals season wasn’t anywhere near finished, and exams wouldn’t pass themselves. They never fragging did, so off the mechs went.
Mip-07 was the first to order at their student-friendly energon place. Because of that, after receiving her fuel, she was tasked with finding them a spot to sit. The femme decided they could go somewhere less crowded than the main parlour and ventured closer to the Academy buildings. There she heard a familiar voice.
“I know it’s frustrating for you, dear, but you have to give them a fighting chance.”
Well, that was surprising. Optimus Prime only mentioned his conjux once, not ever revealing their identity. Her friends still had bets going on who the mysterious Cybertronian was. Many decided it must’ve been one of his wartime friends, others thought he found someone in their newly rebuilt world. Mip-07 was the least to care about the bets, it was the sheer curiosity that pushed her a bit further around the corner of the Academy building. What she registered there nearly made her processor stop working.
In front of the professor’s offices stood two mechs that anyone could recognise. That wasn’t Mip-07’s problem at all. She knew the red, blue, and silver paint of Optimus Prime, just like any other Cybertronian did. The issue was manifested in the plating of the infamous figure that stood suspiciously close to her humanities professor. Steely claws and the build towering even over Prime were all she needed to know. The realization hit her like a truck. Then came the questions to which she couldn’t possibly know the answers to. How did this even happen? When did it happen? Weren’t they at war for over half of their lifetimes? Weren’t they each other’s sworn nemeses?
While poor Mip-07’s processor was working itself into an overdrive, the culprit of her malfunctioning spoke up.
“My sweetspark, you didn’t see how utterly hopeless they are, truly a wonder they’re still alive at this point.”
His what now. No, this must have been a dream. She tripped on a pipe and was currently creating imaginary scenarios in her forcibly induced recharge state, which was the only feasible explanation. To see the pair even talk to each other was an event Mip-07 never considered witnessing. Then there was a creeping realisation of the two being sparkmates. That was enough data for a whole year of processing. Sweetspark, though, seemed outright excessive, as if its only purpose was to horrify the femme even further. Of all the mechs, Mip-07 would never accuse fragging Megatron of being fond of pet names.
Seeing as this must have been a hallucination, she decided to listen a little bit longer. It was not like any more harm could be done to her after what she’s just experienced. That was, in fact, not the case, as Optimus Prime put his servo on his conjunx’s faceplate, cradling his helm. Holy Prime, they were that kind of sparkmates, lovey-dovey even after thousands of years. What in the frag happened between the war and this, she wondered.
“And if I did not manage to pass your exam, professor, what would you do then?” Hopefully, this was not a weird foreplay for them. Mip-07 could only pray and continue watching.
“Oh don’t even try comparing yourself to those glitch-heads darling, you are no match for them.”
“What is it that I have to do to change your mind, dear?”
“Accept better students for starters.” Murmured Megatron.
“Those are the best of Cybertron’s young minds, and you know it. Start appreciating them more, you make them try their hardest.”
“Sometimes that is not enough.”
“Don’t make me laugh dear” Optimus smirked “you of all the mechs should know that trying does get you places.”
“No, it gets you places, sweetspark, very specific ones at that. Truthfully, I still haven’t exactly figured out why.” Murmured Megatron, who seemed to be a bit exasperated by this point.
“Well, until you do, I’m willing to use this advantage to further your students’ academic achievements.”
Frag, this was definitely a weird foreplay for them. Mip-07 needed to go and warn her friends not to ever, under any circumstances, walk by the professors’ offices. It was not worth the data scraping they would have to undergo afterwards. Maybe she could delete those memory files and try forgetting about the whole ordeal. No, this was way too big to be overwritten by other matters. She would store it in her hard drive, whatever the consequences of such action may bring, she decided.
In another part of her RAM, Mip-07 started to form a list of reasons why Optimus Prime would romantically involve himself with Megatron. It was not long enough. A soft clang broke her out of her descent into madness. They were kissing now, there was no other way to describe it. With two servos around Megatron’s helm, Optimus pulled him closer so that their chassis met. This was so not the way Mip-07 thought her afternoon would go.
Unaware of the traumatised femme, the two bots continued to make out like some younglings who had just bonded. Megatron, a highly esteemed and feared professor, was currently putting his servos on Optimus, a fragging Prime and also a highly respected scholar, more accurately, his waist. Were they even allowed to do this in a public space? A chancellor and his employee at that, how scandalous. They probably didn’t give a slag. Moreover, if anyone did find them, they would probably get a taste of Megatron’s old battle skills. Intent on staying a fully functioning mech, Mip-07 decided that this was the point where she returned to where she came from. Before making her escape, however, there was one thing she had to do.
With a picture saved and a newfound level of respect for Megatron, she left the sparkmates to their own business. If by the next day the Academy gets hit by the wildest rumour to ever grace its halls, well, that will be tomorrow’s Mip-07 problem.