The eerie sound of tapping reverbrated in the large room. Calloused, metal digits— the source of the incessant tapping— are slowly lifted up and brought down one by one, a clear show of confidence by the intimidating mech. A lone figure, one of the only two bots in the room, sat lazily sprawled on the throne, shrouded in darkness of the absence of much light in the throne room.

The other arm is leaned on the armrest, propped up against a cheek. Patronizing nonchalance oozes from the mech, the intense glow from his optics illuminating the room while the rest of his face is cloaked in shadow.

The bot kneeled in front of the throne trembles with barely concealed anxiety. A drop of condensation drips from the scalding metal and only the cold floor from a helm hung low. The bot squeezes his optics shut, not daring to look up.

The mech on the intricately carved throne shifts. The digits tapping in a synchronized pattern slows to a stop, resting on the equally cold metal.

Silence envelops the room until the mech finally stands up. He descends the stairs from his throne, each step echoing in the vast, empty space.

The kneeling bot gulps, feeling the approaching footsteps grow closer, each one heightening his anxiety. He shifts nervously, trying to discreetly relieve the pressure on his shaky knees without attracting the attention of the other bot.

Suddenly, a loud, shrieking sound of metal crashing against metal erupts, causing the kneeling bot to look up in confusion.

He is falling down the stairs, tumbling left and right and flailing like a startled sparkling. The bot scrambles back, wide-eyed, as the mech skids to a stop just before him, somehow defying the laws of physics. A heavy silence blankets the room.

The mech jerks back upright, raising an optic brow at the hesitant bot on the ground as he brushes off invisible dust particles, feigning nonchalance. The bot quickly kneels again, looking down while stumbling over an apology. His words trail off as he catches movement in the corner of his vision. Discreetly, he glances upward and sees two gray pedes standing right in front of him. He swiftly looks back down.

“Your request is accepted.” A rough, baritone voice seemingly resonates through the room, sparing not even a corner of the expansive place. The kneeling bot snaps his helm up as a wide, frantic grin splits his faceplates.

“Yes! T-thank you, oh glorious lord!” The bot shakily stands up, giving a swift but deep bow. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lord Megatron!”

Yes, the other mech in the throne room is Megatron! The scourge, the tyrant, the conqueror, he is the supreme commander of the feared Decepticons! He is the fear of all galaxies, the black hole that swallows the solar system, the monster creators talk of to their sparklings, the true leader of Cybertron! He is desti—

Suddenly, the large thick doors burst open with a great speed, pieces of reinforced steel flying everywhere.

“YOU! You- you… you!! You!!!” A loud, high-pitched shriek rings through the hallway,

Both bots in the room don’t even bat an optic at the loud screeching noise, as the not-kneeling-anymore bot books it out of the room. Megatron watches as the bot does a impressive spin and a heel click on the way out, quickly evading the other mechs walking in and disappearing behind the shattered gates. Excited cheers and whoops of excitement could be faintly heard in the distance.

Megatron diverts his attention to the new spectacle happening.

Starscream’s flails his limbs around comically, his loud intake open and screeching loudly at the bot next to him. Megatron groans.

“—Simply unbecoming, if I must say so myself. It is impractical to assume that—” Shockwave stands proudly, the monotone and bland vocoder familiar.

“I know that, you blithering fool! Do not take me for an idiot, unlike you.” The last part was grumbled in a stage-whisper, meant for the recipient to hear loud and clear. Starscream turns towards Megatron.

“And there he is, the brainess mech, sulking on his shiny throne with his shiny aft.” Starscream dramatically gestures towards Megatron, rolling his optics. Megatron glares viciously.

“Do remind yourself that I am still your commander, Starscream. Speak to me like that again and I will weld your intake shut myself.” Starscream snickers.

“What can you really do anyways, Megatron? Don’t you remember the rules of the peace treaty?” Starscream jeers. “You’ve probably forgotten, with your old age and all.” He clears his intake as he shifts, resting his sharp servos on his hips.

“Clause 5209: Leaders must not physically, mentally, or emotionally abuse any individual under their rule, command, or title, including their own subjects and those of other leaders. The great divine prime has mandated himself!” Megatron discreetly clenches a servo behind his back. One of the many times he found himself regretting ever signing that damned treaty before remembering that after signing the peace treaty, the prime now allows Megatron to stalk him without beating him up anymore, making him swallow back up all his regrets. Megatron dreamily sighs to himself.

(“That was the only clause I memorized just so I could use it against him.” Starscream whispered to the exasperated Shockwave as they stared at their daydreaming leader. He paused. “That and that we can finally frag cross-faction bots now.”)

Megatron was still lost in dreamland. His thoughts naturally went to Optimus Prime, his only worthy rival ever. The prime and his dazzling strength and blazing optics and full dermas and—

SNAP OUT OF IT!!!

Meagtron frantically shook his helm, physically shaking his thoughts away. He coughs, turning towards Starscream once again.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but you are-” Megatron shakes as if it physically pains him to say the glyphs. “You are- you are- you are right.” He massages his neck as if clearing his intake of some bitter oil.

“I, as your mighty leader, has brought happiness and peace to this species by graciously granting the Autobots and their leader their disgustingly-optimistic goal of peace by benevolently allowing myself to sign the peace treaty.”

“Boo. You did it to get laid, Megatron. You wanted to get into the prime’s metaphorical, shiny, mental pants. You’re a pathetic loser.”

“Hm, it is… logical to say that Megatron is a pathetic loser.” Shockwave adds in his infuriatingly monotone vocoder.

“Megatron: Pathetic Loser.” Soundwave chimes in. All three mechs turned to look at the new mech.

“When the slag did you get here, Soundwave?” Starscream spits, ever so rude.

“20 kliks ago.”

Megatron was incredibly offended as he watched his former three subordinates insult him such casually. His temper rose, climbing higher and higher as he watched Starscream continue his grilling on the Decepticon leader.

“As I was saying… you pathetically signed that treaty but here you are, alone on Valentine’s Day, no less! HAHA! Oh, how our ‘glorious’ leader has fallen into some pathetic freak for his situationship ex-enemy.”

“Starscream, pardon me if I am not correct, but it is illogical to say that when you too are also alone.” Shockwave cuts in, jabbing at Starscream and subtly diverting his gaze away as Starscream rapidly turns towards him, starting a one-sided screaming match with the ex-crazy scientist.

Megatron growled, calming himself down. He looked up as Soundwave approached, smoothly dodging Starscreams flailing arms and wings.

“Soundwave! What is not to like about me?” Megatron inquired, jerkily turning towards Soundwave, causing him to slightly jump.

“Soundwave: Does not understand Lord Megatron’s query.” Megatron swiveled around, turning to pace around the large throne room.

“As much as it begrudges me to say, Starscream isn’t completely incorrect. It’s Valentine’s Day and I haven’t been able to woo the prime! Whatever shall I do…” Megatron rants, moaning in despair. Soundwave tilts his head.

“Soundwave: Might suggest taking advantage of the prime’s weak spot towards acts of sanitarian benevolence— including ways to sweep Optimus Prime off of his pedes— metaphorically or physically.” Megatron turns his helm towards Soundwave, stroking his chin as if deep in thought.

“Yes… Yes! Yes, of course! That prime wouldn’t be able to resist an upstanding sanitarian trying to right his wrongs of society! I would practically be forgiven immediately! Then, I could seize his emotions, twisting his negative feelings for me into affection and love! Aha! Yes, I’m so smart…” Megatron cackles in triumph, patting himself on the back for his incredible idea in satisfaction.

“That’s such an incredibly stupid idea, but then, alas, I remember that it’s Megatron we’re talking about!” Starscream cackles in return, prowling, like Ravage does when fixed on a cyberbird, closer towards Megatron and Soundwave with Shockwave close behind.

“Sweep the prime of his pedes? He would immediately forgive you? Hah! I’ve always taken you for a fool, Megatron, but now I can’t help but wonder how we never truly lost in that eons-long war. It only shows that prime was really only pitying you the entire time. How does it feel to be so played, Megatron?” Starscream snickers, pleased.

“Soundwave’s idea is illogical. Optimus Prime would not forgive so easily, nor would he fall for you that quick, lord Megatorn. I implore you to reconsider.” Shockwave offers, singular optic glowing in the dim lighting.

Megatron hums, considering. “Then what would you suggest if you know so well, Shockwave?”

“My idea is quite simple but effective. It is logical to assume that Optimus Prime would only be swayed by true vulnerability in a battlefield instead of in peace. I suggest that something such as— ah, artificially creating a scenario in which Lord Megatron has to—”

“What, save the prime to paint Megatron as some kind of slaggin’ knight in shining armor? Bah, that’s a fool’s gambit!” Starscream mocked, groaning loudly. He throws him servos up as if complaining to Primus Himself.

“Shockwave: poor strategy.” Soundwave chimes in.

“I have evaluated my idea and see no illogicalities.” Shockwave shoots back, the glaring red glow from his optic shining brighting towards Starscream. The mentioned seeker groans, crossing his arms.

“There’s a clear flaw that I see, dear Shockwave.” In a mocking, taunting voice one would use when humiliating, Starscream walks closer to the scientist, heels clicking on the cold ground. “The prime is soft to an insanic degree. He’s so optimistic that it hurts to even think about it. But I think what the prime actually yearns for deep in his matrix-guarded spark, is the think that everybody wants but not everybody has.”

“Healthcare would be the most logical answer.” Starscream shoots an indignated look in his direction.

“No, you fool. Obviously I meant gifts! Things that show the prime how wealthy and strong you are. As always, what’s a little harmless bluffing?” Starscreams avoids making optic-contact with Megatron as he shoots him a glare. “Both of your ideas are trash. But mine is foolproof! Who wouldn’t say no to expensive, optic-catching gifts? Extravagant, almost exorbitant presents! Perfect for the tradition of Valentine’s Day.” Starscream looked very pleased, obviously proud of himself. “This is the only thing I would accept, of course. Anything less would be an immediate rejection.”

“Your argument is incredibly, entirely illogical. Optimus Prime has shown zero interest into material gains before the war, throughout the war, and currently. Optimus Prime has put his own ideals and goals over the idea. It is almost guaranteed that Optimus Prime will not be ‘swayed’ by things mortal possessions, namely jewelry, weapons, collectibles, and such.”

“Starscream: Idiot.” Soundwave chimes in.

“You—!” Megatron ignored the noisy argument that started once again between his three subordinates in favor of diverting his attention to the real issue at hand after many kliks of useless talk. He rolls his optics in thought. A wicked grin appears on his faceplates, stretching his dermas wide to show his gleaming, polished dentae.

Instead of choosing one of the three ideas made by his ex-commanding officers, why doesn’t he just combine them all? If it doesn’t work, then he could always just individually try them all.

“This is going to be sparkling’s play.” He hummed to himself and nodded, pleased.

With that, he made his way out of the throne room, ready to make sure everything would be ready for the day to come. Megatron looked around when he made it out into the long hallways, making sure nobody was there to see him. After making sure that nobody would witness him, he sighed in content and tried to do a heel click.

After getting up from the floor, Megatron looked once again, coughing to himself as he walked with swagger.

Optimus Prime ran towards the plaza, evading the screaming citizens running the opposite way. He paused as he got closer and closer to the cause of all the panic and noise, communicating to somebody through his comm.

“I’m at the scene, Elita.” Optimus’s optics darted around, taking in everything. He helped a carrier and her sparkling up from the ground, directing her in the way of his rescue commanders.

“ What’s the damage, Optimus? ” Elita’s vocoder crackled through, calm to anybody who didn’t know better. Optimus could detect the well-hidden undertone of stress and worry seeping out of her. Optimus observed the large mechanoid being, a disgusting assortment of plating, wires, limbs, and organs from a multitude of different mechs and femmes, crudely fabricated together to create an artificial monster incapable of clear thought, likely programmed to only sow chaos and cause destruction. Optimus told Elita just that.

As the grotesque colossus grew dangerously close to a small shop filled with frantic bots, he pulled out his ion blaster, catching the monster’s attention with one well-aimed shot. A high-pitched, garbled noise came out of multiple melting intakes as the monster came rapidly shuffling his way. Optimus braced for the attack, ready to defend.

Megatron prances closer towards the screams, a self-satisfied smirk on his faceplates as he swung around the corner, only to skid to a stop.

“Simply release one of your old lab creations.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, lord Megatron?” Shockwave’s vocoder came ranging through his helm, reminding of their interaction a few kliks ago. Megatron waved him away as he observed the monstrosity shrieking and clashing around the tightly-enclosed space, the same exact monster that was to be unleashed into the public.

“Of course it is. After listening to your and Soundwave’s ideas, I have decided to take a sliver from each idea and have well thought this out. The prime is foolish.” He cackles. “He is still untrustful, even after the signing of that blasted peace treaty, cautious around me like all his subordinates still are, but just a little less so. If I came in at a time of need, showing the prime that I truly had a ‘golden spark’ all this time, he would immediately swoon and fall into my lap! Ha! Haha! Hahahahahaaha—”

“So your plan is to just order Shockwave to ‘accidentally’ release one of his old lab creations from the war. One of his lab creations that violated all rules of galactical war.” Starscream struts in, slapped a manicured servo on his faceplates. “You’re all fool. Idiotic, stupid fools.”

“Starscream: Use of words are synonymous.”

“Shut up.”

“If I dare say, lord Megatron, Starscream’s argument is logical. My lab creations are intensly violent and would pose as a great danger to the general public. If Optimus Prime would figure out that it was you who released it, it would not go well for your goal.” Megatron rolled his optics.

“Bah! Who cares about war crimes?” Megatron puffs his chassis out. “The more dangerous it is, the more Optimus would fall helm over heels for me!” He smirked, chuckling to himself.

Starscream groans, a deadpan expression directed to an invisible camera. “Fools. You’re all fools. Megatron is a fool.”

Megatron observes the damage, a slight amount of worry appearing. Many structures are destroyed, consisting of two office buildings, a library that Optimus frequents (Megatron would know), and Optimus’s favorite cafe, all reduced to crumbled metal and dust as the monster continues its berserk rampaging.

Maybe he should have listened to their warnings, Megatron thinks, before brushing that stupid idea away. Of course not. He could still swoop in like a knight in shining armor.

He looks around, quickly spotting a blur of primary colors he knew too well. Optimus was already at the scene, alright fighting the monster. He was clearly having some trouble, switching between helping citizens and directing them away from the danger to attacking and defending from the versatile monster.

He takes a look at himself through some shattered glass in a nearby ruined building. He brushes off some stray dust, punching some metal back from his impromptu fall in his throne room, and practices some smirks and one-liners. He only noticed the femme on the other side of the window as he does his Devilish Smirk #32, scramlbing back. Silence as both bots freeze. Megatron coughs, looking away, acting indifference. He mouths ‘you didn’t see that’ before turning back towards the subject of his goal, ready to make his presence known with a dramatic entrance.

“Optimus Prime! It is I, your arch-nemesis, Megatron!” Megatron declares, his calm and unperturbed composure a stark contrast between the screams of fear in the distant background. “I am here to offer you my valuable assistance in defeating this knave.” He poses, flashing him a smirk.

Optimus barely spares him a glance, helping shield a stray sparkling from a projectile aimed from the monster. Megatron blinks. He coughs, thinking that Optimus didn’t hear him the first time.

“Are your audials broken? It is I, Megat—”

“Get here and help me, Megatron!” Optimus shouts, pulling a femme right before a large squirming assortment of welded-together arms came down and smashed the place where they were a nanoklik ago. Megatron cursed, his entrance gone.

As Megatron came closer, Optimus turned to him.

“What is this?” Megatron scratches the back of his neck. “Megatron?” Optimus’s gaze intensified, glaring daggers.

“Wh- How would I know?” Megatron looked away, avoiding the prime’s gaze. He continued, offended.

“I’m sparkbroken to see that you immediately assume that all monstrosities come from me, prime. I never knew you could hold such large, petty grudges.” Optimus blankly stared at him, before rubbing his faceplates with a sigh.

“There’s.a Decepticon insignia on the monster, Megatron.” Megatron swiveled his helm towards the monster, and true to Optimus’s word, a giant Decepticon insignia was planted on what was assumed to be the back of the monstrosity.

Megatron coughed. Optimus continued glaring at him.

“It must have been Shockwave! Only he would create something such as this. I promise you, Prime, that I will punish that wretched scientist! I cannot believe that he would go under my rule and create something such as this… ahem.” Megatron trailed off, looking away as Optimus scrutinized him.

“…But fear not, prime. I conveniently have the perfect weapon to combat this forsaken monstrosity!” Megatron laid a servo on his chassis, pulling out a weapon with his other. "Behold! The Oneshot-The-Monster Gun 2000!” He held it out for the prime to see. It was slightly falling apart and rather unaesthetic, a bunch of powerful parts frantically pieced together by a rushed Shockwave after Megatron demanded that it be finished in thirty kliks.

Ignoring the exasperated look from the prime, Megatron aimed it at the monster (that was currently engrossed with a stray wire). Right before he shot, he looked back at Optimus, who had his arms crossed. Despite the signature mask on his face, Megatron could still feel the irritation flowing out of his EM field. Megatron ignored it.

Megatron smirked.

“I will protect you.” He pressed the trigger, flashing a sexy smirk. Fortunately for the prime, it was quickly covered by the smoke coming out from the crudely-put together gun as a loud blast echoed in the plaza, out from the gun…

…and backfired into Megatron.

Optimus facepalmed.

Far away, two autobot guards stood guard on the edge of the area filled with evacuated citizens. A loud shriek was heard far away, coming in the general vicinity of the plaza. A guard slowly leaned towards the other.

“Hey mech, ya think the prime defeated that thing?” The other guard frowned, visor-covered optics darting to the direction of the plaza.

“Uh, doesn’t that sound like the sound Megatron would make whenever Optimus beat him up on the battlefield?” The first guard looked at the other, then back towards the direction of the plaza.

“Wait… actually, you’re right, mech.” Both guards blankly stared. “Huh. Weird.”

“—Should I check your processor for damages too? Maybe something’s fried, hm?” Optimus sighs as Ratchet continues his onslaught of reprimands.

They were in Ratchet’s clinic. Megatron was on the other side of the room, being patched up by a snickering Knockout. Elita was leaning against the wall, optics closed in feigned rest as Prowl glared at Optimus, daring him to rebutt. Jazz was playing with with a little piece of scrap plating, bending it around.

“I saved many citizens.” Optimus tried, but shut up as Ratchet’s glare intensified.

“Oh, that’s your fraggin’ excuse now? Huh?” Optimus looked away. “Jazz was on his damn way. So was Prowl, and Elita, and Ultra Magnus.”

“Woah, hey there, mechs.” Optimus swiveled around to see a very familiar mech transforming back into his root mode, a fond smile spreading across his faceplates.

“Jazz!” The cyber-ninja stood up, his doorwings fluttering as plating shifted and adjusted to fit back into his frame. “Hey, OP. Heard you needed some help.” He glanced at the monster that had turned its faces towards the three mechs after Megatron’s failed shot, inching closer at a rapid speed. Jazz pulled out two photon rifles, aiming at the creature.

“Sheesh, faces only a carrier could love.” Optimus followed suit, readying his ion blaster as they silently communicated, their connection strengthened by vorns of fighting side by side. Before facing the monster, Optimus turned back to Megatron, who glared at the piece of scrap-metal that had once been a gun.

“If you’re going to stay here, Megatron, I reccommend you make youself useful.” He tossed his ion blaster to Megatron, who caught it effortlessly. Optimus then pulled out a gleaming sword and turned back. Megatron rolled his optics.

“I always am.”

Elita and Prowl followed suit after Jazz’s arrival, turning the tide. In the end, Optimus and Megatron were rushed to Ratchet and Knockout to mend their injuries.

“They wouldn’t have gotten there on time.” Optimus mumbled, feeling like a scolded sparkling. He internally chuckled to himself. Seems like some things never change. Ratchet sighed, loud and long.

“Heya, Ratch. Maybe take a few vents in and out? Ffffff— auhhhhh— ffffff— aughh-”

“That’s enough of that!” Ratchet fixed a glower at Jazz who laughed and hid behind Prowl.

Megatron, on the other side of the room, was grumbling. Jazz had ruined his plans! In lieu of Megatron rightfully coming in and saving the sol, that idiotic autobot spy had to rush in and save Optimus instead.

“Hahahaaaaa, c’mon mech, cut Optimus some slack. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. Love is in the air!” Jazz shrugged, throwing his servos up as a charismatic smirk spread across his faceplates. His visor shined in the bright lighting. Prowl sighs. Megatron freezes, which goes unnoticed by everyone except for Knockout, who looks at him weirdly.

“Actually, on that topic,” A calculating expression fixes itself on Jazz as he turns to look at Optimus. “Hey OP, have you got any- y’know, huzz yet? Bots must be throwing themselves at you.” Jazz drawls his words, walking towards Optimus and leans on his shoulder. Optimus looks at him in confusion.

(Knockout, in the corner, looks between Megatron and Optimus with a thoughtful expression on his face before his optics widen, intake opening in a wide gape as his optics dart between the two leaders in the room.)

Prowl butts in. “As far as I am concerned, Optimus does not have any potential suitors.” Prowl looks at Optimus as if trying to confirm. Optimus confusedly glances between the two. Elita opens an optic, tilting her helm up as Ratchet grumbles, fishing through his medical supplies.

(Knockout puts his servos on his helm, silenting mouthing ‘oh my primus’ repeatedly as he digs through his memory, piecing together memories of confusion when it came to the relationship between the two faction leaders now that he’s gotten the final piece of evidence. His world is crashing down. Everything is making sense.)

“Prowl is right, Jazz. Besides, it would be in senseless and ridiculous to crush on an old, weathered mech like me.” Optimus responds before smiling, laughing to himself.

Every single bot in the room freezes to look at him, staring in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right Optimus?” Elita speaks up, walking towards the prime. Optimus turns to look at her, puzzled at their implications.

“Hm? What?” Optimus looks between the bots around him, clearly bewildered.

Elita drags a servo across her faceplates, optics furrowing. As she opens her intake, a loud bang is heard from the doors.

All bots quickly turn towards the door.

“Hey Optimus!” Bumblebee shouts excitedly, waving his servos around overzealously. Optimus smiles at the scout, standing up and walking towards him. Ratchet doesn’t stop him, still frozen in disbelief, just like the other mechs.

“Hello, Bumblebee. Did you need anything?” Optimus asked. Bumblebee smiled. “Nah, nothing much. I just came to ask if you could help me with something— uh, Valentine’s related.” Bumblebee mumbled the last bit, looking away. Optimus chuckled.

“Of course, chum. Lead the way.” Bumblebee brightened, grabbing Optimus’s servo and dragging him out of the room, leaving the baffled bots in the room to come to terms with Optimus’s words.

Elita groans in irritation. These idiots, I swear.

The day goes on.

After Optimus leaves the clinic, the room burst in noise.

No way OP is that dense, mech, Jazz says. It wouldn’t bee too out of character, says Prowl. He left before I was done patching him up! Ratchet exclaims. Oh my Primus, Knockout whispers.

Megatron leaves after that, not deterred in the slightest. Even though, apparently, Optimus’s denseness is thick enough to somehow ignore the general population’s opinion on him (“It must be some sort of mental affliction,” Elita says. “Nobot normal can be this dense,” Elita says.). This only meant that Megatron still had a chance!

The day goes on.

Megatron was determined to win him over.

MEGATRON’S AMAZING IDEAS ON HOW TO WOO OPTIMUS PRIME

1. Tag along with Optimus for the day. Find times to sweep him off his pedes!

Failure. Instead we came across an illegal underground fighting ring operation which Starscream was apparently hiding behind his back. Optimus disbanded it

2. Gift him an endless supply of dessert and eye-catching jewelry! Nobody can resist that!

Failure. Optimus donated everything to refugee charities

3. Be unnecessarily, disgustingly kind and benevolent to every single bot! Show Optimus Prime that you’ve changed! You’re no longer the terrorist he’s grown to accept after all these vorns! You’ve realized the error of your ways, and are ready to be redeemed!

Failure. All the bots ran away at my face

The setting sun bathes the surface of Cybertron in a beautiful assorment of warm hues. Bots are packing up from their lovely picnics in newly-made parks, going home together after romantic outings of spending Valentine’s Day together, dragging boxes of gifts back to their homes, even the occasional dramatic, sob scene, bots winning back their lovers just like in trashy, two bit movies.

Megatron groans in disgust as yet another couple walk away, servo in servo, making lovely-dovely noises in their own worlds.

He grimaces, looking at the darkening sky. The cycle is coming to an end, after a sol of failures. A golden glow settles warmly over the surface of Cybertron, onto the shining metal and techno-organic beings. The warm light is reflecting on shining windows, the streets are quiet, everybody is disappearing into their homes.

(“For interfacing, probably.” Megatron spits out. No, he’s not jealous.)

A beep alerts Megatron, taking a look at his comms. A message is there, sent from Soundwave a few nanokliks ago. He clicks it open.

—

:: SV-143011 ::

-SOUNDWAVE: OPTIMUS SPOTTED ON CLIFF ARVAS. THIS IS LORD MEGATRON’S CHANCE.-

—

Megatron’s optics widened. This is his chance!

He picks up speed, transforming into his alt mode as he speeds down the road. On the way there, he passes a closing florist shop and snatches a bouquet of crystal flowers from the servos of the florist, who yells indignantly.

…

Megatron rushes back and throws a giant handful of shanix at the florist. Before driving down the streets once again.

Optimus is the exact place he was describd to be, servos clasped behind his back and looking out over the sun-bathed Cybertron. Optimus turns around when he hears the commotion, a surprised expression spreading across his faceplates.

“Megatron? Why are you here?” Optimus expression of surprise turns into a wary, guarded one. His face only hardens when Megatron stomps up to him.

Megatron shoves the rapidly deteriorating flower bouquet into Optimus’s face, crystal petals falling off and stems limp from his rough handling. Megatron looks away in embarrassment, face flushing.

“H-Happy Valentine’s Day, prime.” He stammers out, looking everywhere but the prime in front of him.

After a heavy pause, Megatron hears the sound of metal clicking together, a sound he’s grow used to in war as the sound Optimus’s mask makes when being deployed. Usually, it meant that Megatron was in for a long beating. He takes a small glance at Optimus, and is bemused to see Optimus staring at the bouquet with wide eyes, a clear flush being being despide the mask that settles on the lower half of his faceplates, not shielding its owner completely from the outside world. Optimus’s smokestacks are puffing out smoke.

“This isn’t a funny prank, Megatron.” Optimus looks to the side, optics furrowing. Megatron grumbles.

“This isn’t a prank, prime.” Despite his rough words, Megatron shoves the crystal flowers closer. Optimus becomes even moer flustered, stammering out before his jaw clicks shut with an audible sound.

Optimus shyly reaches a servo out, taking the crystal flowers. “Thank you, Megatron. I… I apologize, for I don’t have a gift in return for you.” He uncharictaristically mumbles out, optics fluttering shut.

Megatron smirks, a cunning expresison making its way on his faceplates.

“Who says that you don’t have one you could give, Optimus.” Optimus looks up, tilting his head, the perfect picture of innocence. Megatron lifts a servo and taps his cheek, grinning wickedly.

“Why, a kiss!” Optimus waning blush returns in full force. Before Megatron could react, he felt the foreign texture of something soft brush against his dermas. Optimus leans back with a face free of his mask, looking away. Megatron stares.

Did Optimus really give him a kiss!?

“Is that it?” Megatron says, expression undecipherable. Optimus glances back, a bit panicked.

Oh no, was Megatron upset that I went too far? Megatron did only ask me to kiss his cheek, Optimus thought.

I want to frag him, Megatron thought, before grinning brightly.

“How about another one then, prime?” He purrs out the title, optics half-lidded. Optimus stared before signing in relief, and smiling, chuckling lightly.

“Oh, alright.” Optimus leans in, bringing his servos behind Megatron’s helm, softly cradling it. Megatron smiled, hugging Optimus at the waist. They brought their dermas together, kissing under the setting sun with its calming, golden glow, together and at peace.