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The first time Megatron saw him felt almost like a dream, a hazy memory that was like molasses in his mind, painting the edges of his thoughts with the smell of asphalt and the stretch of leather across golden skin that peeked through.
Starscream had nearly harassed him over a cigarette, sneaky fingers cleverly pressing into his shoulder, fingertips ghosting over the neat seams of his button up blouse. Starscream was smart, but not smart enough. Megatron caught his wrist, red optics cycling, unimpressed with the attempt. “Why can’t you buy your own?” he grumbled.
Starscream huffed, snatching his wrist away from the bruising grip of his coworker, rubbing the tender skin. “It wouldn’t be fun if I just had my own now would it?”
Megatron rolled his optics, taking out a cigarette from its box and placing it between his teeth. He was glad Starscream at least caught up, murmuring swears underneath his breath as he lit the cigarette with the fiery red lighter he kept as a souvenir. He never said who it was from, but Megatron had a hunch. He leaned back in his chair, early summer air brushing over his skin. His lunch breaks always felt too short; one minute you’re sitting down to eat and suddenly your phone alarm is going off. Just thinking about it pissed him off. But something about today felt different. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
Starscream put another piece of fried calamari into his mouth, hogging the appetizer like his life depended on it. Megatron didn’t even like seafood, so really, it was unnecessary. He took a drag from his cigarette, body shivering from the way his lungs burned, his shoulders relaxing in ironic tandem. He suddenly couldn’t remember the name of the cafe Starscream had dragged him to. All he remembers is the smell of food wafting all around him and his coworker pulling him to the outside tables.
He was pulled out of his stupor by the sound of an engine, loud and obnoxious, revving every few seconds. Megatron grimaced, looking over to see the public nuisance and hopefully mean mug them out of existence.
A motorcycle. Great.
The bike revved again, slowing down and neatly parking into a space across from where he sat. His optics wandered to the leather bodysuit that hugged a figure that was, honestly, very easy on the optics. It reminded him of a movie he saw long ago—something with computers and every actor wearing sunglasses.
When the helmet came off, Megatron felt like the wind was knocked out of his chest. He didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not droopy blue optics that swam with kindness or a timid smile or tall blue finials or even sun-kissed skin. He blinked once, twice, thrice-
Starscream snapped his fingers right in front of his face, eyebrow raised. “What are you staring at you brute?”
Starscream followed his gaze, gasping at the man that stepped off of his bike. Megatron’s gaze followed his movements and the way the leather stretched and accented his curves and muscles. The man turned his head, ocean blue gaze meeting his own crimson one. He smiled, waved, before walking down the block, out of sight.
Starscream babbled on beside him, shrill and high. But Megatron’s heart only hammered in his chest, blood rushing audibly in his ears.
Oh shit.
*
Megatron blew out another puff of smoke, cigarette lazily placed between his lips. Ever since that day, he fancied the cafe. Nearly everyday during his break he’d sit down outside, the humid summer breeze ruffling his hair and a black coffee untouched in front of him.
The chair in front of him was moved and then someone sat down. Megatron nearly jumped out of his seat, seeing the leather-clad beauty right in front of him. His face up close to was even more beautiful—tiny moles dotting his face, long eyelashes that hooded his optics, a cowlick that hung in front of his face.
He looked worried, looking back as if someone was there behind him, finials twitching. “I’m so sorry… I think someone is following me.”
His voice was deep and rich, like the wildflower honey he drizzled on his toast that morning. He cleared his throat. “I’ll keep you company. No worries.” he tried to keep it cool, taking another drag from his cigarette.
The man smiled, looking a little more relieved. “Thank you. Oh, I think I remember you. Do you work in the area?” he asked, eyeing him up and down. Megatron simply nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded against his rib cage. It was embarrassing! Unbecoming!
He gestured his head the other way, to a building that stood out amongst the others in Iacon. “A coding firm.”
Optimus nodded, placing his helmet in the chair next to him. “Oh dear, how rude of me. I’m Optimus.”
Megatron’s heart slowly came down, his blood pressure slowly dropping as he calmed down, taking in the man’s—Optimus’s—presence. He let his name roll around in his mind.
“Megatron.” he introduced.
He looked over, seeing the familiar matte black motorcycle parked in the same spot as last time. A fond smile, almost playful, stretched across his lips. “I never thought someone like you would ride that.” he pointed over towards the bike.
Optimus flushed, covering his face, leather stretching. “Yes I… I’ve gotten that a lot.”
Megatron shook his head. “No, it’s impressive. I like it. I like the duality.” he smirked.
Optimus looked at Megatron between the gaps of his gloved fingers, smiling shyly. “Thank you…”
He looked back inside, letting out a sigh of relief. “I think everything’s fine now. Thank you, again, Megatron.” Optimus smiled, standing up, leaning down and pecking Megatron’s cheek, placing something in front of him. He picked up his helmet and left the cafe.
Megatron was stunned, the feel of Optimus’ lips lingering. He looked down, picking up the piece of paper and reading the neat print.
Call me xx
Megatron couldn’t help but smirk, looking up and watching as Optimus got on to his bike, helmet shielding those beautiful eyes and golden skin. The engine revved and as Optimus pulled out of the parking lot he waved over to Megatron before speeding away.
Megatron put his cigarette out into an ashtray adjacent from him, thinking of the ocean and leather.