Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It's starting to get bad again. Optimus is surpised by it, Megatron is not.

Contentious figures or not, the attempted murder of the two biggest figures in recent cybertronian history isn't news to sweep under the metaphorical rug, nor is it very reassuring given the current political climate.

It started slow, in the depths of forgettable forums, but it spilled out the longer that nothing came from the so-called investigation.

Why the assailant is still at large is largely discussed in online forums and the occasional podcast. Digits are being pointed in directions that were previously thought to be impossible and every passing day makes matters worse. If Optimus and Megatron—the most prominent figures in modern times—weren't safe, then who was?

The tension reaches its high a vorn after the incident; protests begin for a public investigation threaten to turn into riots, a display of distrust towards the unified new council.

"I thought we moved past this." Optimus says quietly, settling the datapad with the news article detailing the latest protest that resulted in a few injuries.

Prowl's digit taps rythmically agaimst the top of the conference room's table. "We need to find a way to quell this. The last thing we need is to turn into a police state."

"To hear that come from you is ironic." Megatron says leaning into his chair, arms folded over his chest. "I'm going to assume no one is interested in pinning this on someone else?"

"We can't frame some poor bot for something that was my fault," Optimus sighs. "It'd be unethical, not to mention cruel."

"I can think of a few names that could fit the bill if that helps," Megatron says, blatantly ignoring Optimus' words.

Red optics carefully graze over Optimus' fretting figure; he's composed despite the growing tensions between ex-Autobots and ex-Decpeticons as they all consider the other party a fault; somehow the so-called killer had targeted their respective ex-leader in some variation of revengge for betraying their movement. The rift only seems to worsen with time, every unanswered question is a stain on the new councils ability to lead Cybertron.

Megatron finds it amusing that an incidental poisoning is what has caused their fragile peace to splinter, but he is aware that every other mech in the room would disagree.

Jazz lets out an long, pensive hum. "Well, there ain't much we can do about it. Maybe we gotta prove our worth again or somethin'."

"You have no stake in this, you're not even a council member," Prowl says, "what are you even doing here?"

"Emotional support for O.P." Jazz shrugs. "Mech looks like he's about to implode on himself."

"I just worried, that's all." Optimus says with downturned optics. "I didn't think this would become so…drawn out."

"Darastic, you mean." Prowl answers. "I can't deny it's ridiculous, but it doesn't change the fact that we are at a standstill with the public over this."

Prowl looks to a silent Ultra Magnus. "You're oddly quiet."

"Unfortunately, I could be convinced of Megatron's suggestion." Ultra Magnus answers with grit dente.

Optimus startles. "You can't be serious, Magnus!"

"What other option do we have?" Ultra Magnus shakes his helm. "If there is such a rift growing, we have to find a way to remedy it."

"By lying?" Optimus asks.

"By ensuring peace persisits," Prowl counters as he looks to Optimus with a sigh. "See reason, Optimus. This is the only way to ensure that the public does not fall into old habits of loyalty to their factions. If we can unite against a common enemy, then your reputation is saved and we can put this all behind us."

"I won't let that happen." Optimus snaps. "How can you all be so comfortable with framing an innocent mech?"

Prowl rolls his optics. "This is just politics, if we're to frame anyone then it's someone who deserves it."

"I'm inclined to agree." Megatron says. "Between incriminating you or throwing some nobody under the bus, I'd chose the later."

Optimus looks pained at the comment, but Megatron knows he's a little flattered.

"It's not an easy decision, Optimus." Ultra Magnus tries. "But if we can provide reasonable cause for an indeictment for a mech like…Overlord, then it serves to protect our fragile peace more than it does harm it."

"At least one of you sees reason." Megatron's helm lulls back, neck twistin got ease the tension in his cables. "This isn't much different than what any other major politcal movement does, it's only that the violent tendencies of our species tends to quicken the process."

"Would you jump off a cliff if everyone else did too?" Optimus asks.

"Depends on what's on the bottom." Megatron shrugs.

After a klik of staring at one another, Optimus turns away with a tight line for an intake; Megatron knows he's flustered, and is all the more willing to draft a list of guilty mechs for it. He'd hate to see such a pretty face on the front page of the next news cycle for anything but his persisted efforts to unite Cybertron.

Megatron supresses a sigh at the thought.

It became almost habitual for Megatron to fuss over Optimus, there was a strange solidarity he developed with the Autobot high command as a result of it. That constant, lingering need to know what Optimus was saying, thinking, or doing dragged him along the blue mech’s shadow like he was a pet. A spoiled, adored, beloved pet, yes, but a pet nonetheless.

But there were a few perks to the gig.

Optimus would cling to him like a scraplet, or a leech—not that there was a difference. Megatron could see it clearly behind his neat, blue optics everytime he looked accross the room. It was nice, at least, to know he was equally desired.

Still, it wasn’t a loud display of affection, even after a vorn Megatron could count on one servo how many bots were aware of their relationship—they all stood in the room with him, minus Ratchet and Soundwave, of course.

Not that Optimus or Megatron made it easy for anyone to notice, either. They had gotten so good at hiding their complicated feelings during the war, any time after the fact was only bolstered by the need to save face.

Megatron hears Prowl say something, but he can't be bothered to listen as he continues down the thought process of his realtionship with Optimus.

There were no extravagant gifts, passionate tussles in their offices, big-city trips to see the sights; nothing of the sort of romance Megatron would pretend not to read when he payed the local bookstore a visit, under the guise of ‘research.’ None of the wild romance that Megatron had intended for Optimus. Rather, it was quiet, demure, just like the mech it came from.

Megatron traded gifts for acts when Optimus finished work early and made dinner. Passion for tenderness, when a soft embrace soothed his mind away from work with a kiss on his helmet and reassuring words. Trips for stay-cations, wrapped up watching some stupid movie that Megatron couldn’t focus on when Optimus had found place at the crook of his neck; the soft murmurs of his commentary dancing along the seams of his wires, lulling him into recharge before the film's end. Even interface was robbed of its zeal, it rendered Megatron a stuttering mess by the end of it.

It drove him mad to think that he, The Megatron, would lose a war he was so sure he'd win. Megatron was the one who convinced Optimus to give in, Megatron should be bathing in the luxury of obtaining Optimus Prime for himself before any of his Autobots got ahead of themselves—the mech was the embodiment of victory. So why was it that Megatron was the one hearing a whip crack at the back of his mind every time they brushed digits?

Megatron was passionate, fiery, stronger and brighter than a star collapsing into itself to form the black hold that powered the anti matter of his fusion canon—one that stays safely locked away as per Optimus’ very polite request—and so was Optimus, or so Megatron thought. Apparently, the mech was all show, or maybe Megatron was, because the mech would sing him lullabies when the night got too late or his thoughts too dark. Optimus Prime, carrier of the matrix, general of armies and vanquisher of evil, singing. It didn’t matter if it was good or not, the novelty of it was more than enough for Megatron. Quickly, it became the highlight of Megatron’s day, sometimes he would stay up with the sole purport of urging Optimus to hum a simple tune to him. A servo tracing along Megatron’s back as he read.

Somehow, it was so much worse than a whirlwind love. It was delicate, hesitant, genuine. It was like the damn mech had never held a servo before, it was so sickeningly sweet that sometimes Megatron would have to hype himself up after work to make sure his knees wouldn’t buckle under the weight of Optimus’ infuriatingly soft smile welcoming him. Optimus’ neighbors would always give him weird looks when be practiced his breathing outside the door, hopping up and down on opposite pedes like he was about to enter the arena. Only for the facade to crack when the door opened.

It was embarrassing to admit that he had wanted to be loud about their relationship, some selfish part of him desperately wanted to parade Optimus around like a trophy—it was wrong to acknowledge the feeling, giving it some favor in his mind by allowing it to form a real string of code over a primal possessiveness he could brush off as instinctual. But a little wishful thinking never did him any harm, he managed through a war just fine with those thoughts. And anyways, they were thoughts, he knew better than to act upon them. Instead, he simply acted a little firmer in his displays. From doing Optimus’ work for him to wrapping his field over the other at any given chance—Megatron managed to appease his ego, and Optimus’ strict no PDA rule with minimal chastisement. Whether this endless coddling on Megatron’s part would be powered by love, worry, or a secret third thing, he managed it in the only way he knew how.

Silver digits came to softly caress Optimus’ palm when the prime came to sit down sighing at something he said—the meaning of it lost to Megatron.

Optimus’ palm twitches, and loosely curls around two of Megatron's digits. Enough time passed for him to treat Megatron’s touch as anything other than a threat, he shot down the mech's concern with a knowing look, softened by the new-found silence of the room. 

“I'm alright, stop looking at me like that.” 

Pulling back, Megatron shakes the dazed expression he most certainly had picked up. “I’m not.” 

“Well, not anymore, you just shook it off.” Optimus points out, adjusting himself to perfect posture in his seat. "And just so you know—all of you—I'm not going to let this plan persist."

"We hardly need your approval," Prowl comments dryly, "this is pretense so you don't lose your helm when the time comes."

"Don't say that." Optimus chastizes. "There has to be another way."

"What other way is there to unite Cybertron beyond our peace treaty?" Megatron asks, coming to meet Optimus' posture.

Optimus' helm tilts to the side in thought, a digit coming up to make his thought process visible.

"Well—"

Prowl cuts him off. "No."

Optimus' optics narrow at Prowl. "I haven't said anything."

"Whatever you're planning, the answer is no." Prowl persists. "Knowing you, you're brewing some kind of ridiculous, long-drawn answer to a conflict that is remedied by simpler means."

"Framing a mech is not simpler means." Optimus deadpans, then directs his attention to Ultra Magnus and Jazz. "Why aren't you two backing me up?"

Jazz points to Prowl with his helm. "Ain't a council member."

"For once you're input is useful." Prowl grumbles.

Optimus threatens to scowl. "But—"

"But!" Jazz adds. "If this is a way we can put a mech like Jhiaxus behind bars, well, I ain't gonna fight it."

Ultra Magnus points a stylus he is holding at Jazz. "That is precisely my argument as well. The truth of the crime doesn't matter if we use it to remove a threat that has evaided the law enough. It is a necessary evil."

"And Jhiaxus is your example?" Optimus inquires with disinterest. "He isn't even here!"

"But he will be," Ultra Magnus adds, "eventually."

Prowl nods along, slowly. "Jhiaxus isn't a bad idea."

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Optimus balks. "If you're going to frame someone, at least make it realisitc!"

"So you're in agreement now?" Megatron perks up.

Optimus helm whips to Megatron. "No!"

"What alternative do we have?" Ultra Magnus asks.

Optimus whips around to Ultra Magnus. "Anything else!"

"Such as?" Prowl asks.

Optimus shuts up pretty quickly.

Megatron sighs. "Exactly."

"I'll think of something." Optimus offers after a long pause. "If someone is guilty of a crime, they should be guilty of that and nothing more."

"Ugh you are such an idealist." Megatron groans, dragging his servos accross his face. "Just let us take care of this."

"For once, I agree." Ultra Magnus adds. "This is what is best for you, brother."

Blue finials flick back in annoyance. "Four million years at war, living as a commander, praised for my endless abilites and I'm being infantalized."

"Yes." Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Prowl answer in tandem.

Optimus' lipplates twitch, then purse when looks to Jazz with a pleading expression.

"Sorry mech, I ain't in a position to say ya ain't a bit too nice."

"That's a good thing!" Optimus tries. "Why am I being vindicted for this!"

"Because we know what's best for you." Megatron answers.

Before Optimus snaps something out in return, Ultra Magnus tries to calm him down with a raised. "I'm not saying it's the right thing to do, but it's the best option we have."

"You're telling me importuning some random mech who happens to be a criminal is the right thing to do?" Optimus deapans to his brother.

Megatron shrugs. "More or less."

"This is precisely what you are against!" Optimus exclaims.

"If they're already a criminal avoiding punishment, I see nothing wrong with entrapment." Megatron says cooly.

Optimus is upset enough to point a digit at Megatron. "You are a criminal avoiding punishment!"

"Precisely," Megatron agrees and proceeds to reach for Optimus' servo to plant a kiss upon it, "and I have been entraped."

"I have done nothing to accost you," Optimus snaps, pulling his servo back. "That was all on your own accord."

Megatron smirks, looking Optimus up and down. "You made it pretty easy."

Optimus covers his frame with an embrace and ducks away from Megatron's attention, choosing to direct his speech to Prowl.

"I am capable of making my own decisons." Optimus counters.

"Doesn't mean they're good decsions." Prowl snaps.

"I am older than you!"

"Then act like it!"

Optimus slams his servos on the table to hoist himself up. "This is absurd, I refuse to let my judgement be clouded by all of you." He snaps his helm towards Jazz and Ultra Magnus. "I expected better from you two!"

"No offense, O.P.," Jazz starts. "But if we have to make sure peace lasts, you gotta get your servos dirty."

Ultra Magnus chips in just as quickly. "It's inevitable, it's not as though things were any different when the events that trigger this originally transpired."

Optimus' optics flicker as confusion passes over him. "What do you mean?"

Ultra Magnus stiffens at the slip.

Jazz, Prowl, and Megatron all turn their helm towards Ultra Magnus; each expression is a little different. Jazz is amused, Prowl is glaring, and Megatron is suspicious.

All their reactions are expected, however, Prowl and Ultra Magnus were already planning the same thing when Megatron had fallen—that being frame someones and that someone would be Starscream, obviously. Jazz would go along since it all aligned with his morals and loyalty to Optimus. Megatron, however, was a loose canon.

Ultra Magnus coughs into his fist. "I mean that were are here to stand by you—defend you—when the situation requires it. We are only trying to protect you."

Optimus groans, "don't make me repeat myself."

"Then be quiet and let the big bots talk." Prowl snaps.

Optimus' intake opens, closes, and then he scowls.

"I don't have time for this."

As quickly as he grumbles, Optimus is out of his chair, out of the room, and down the hall.

Megatron stands up to try and follow Optimus, but Prowl grabs him by the arm before he gets the chance to exist the room.

"What part of 'secretly dating,' involves you following Optimus mid-tantrum out in the open?"

Megatron yanks his arm from Prowl. "I don't expect you to follow him out."

"Of course not, I let him wallow it out." Prowl scoffs. "He'll come around eventually."

"Doubt it," Jazz chirps from his seat, legs coming down from using the table as a leg-rest. "This is one of those unstoppable force meets an immovable object type'a situations. I dunno why you all pitched this to him, we all know he'd say no."

"It's like I said." Prowl takes a patronizing tone. "If he knows what will happen he will be less dramatic when it does happen."

"And you plan on seeing this through?"

"Do we have another option?" Prowl starts. "It's this, admitting Optimus is guilty, or letting the situation persist until accusations start being thrown around to real bots that hold high ranks. I'm not about to have a conspiracy on my servos."

Jazz's intake twitches. "And what if—"

"We are not admitting Optimus accidentally poisoned Megatron." Ultra Magnus cuts in. "We may know his true colors, and the extent of his misunderstanding but the public doesn't know that he's…a bit of an airhelm."

Megatron's pauldron shifts as he rolls his shoulders. "It's true, I may not hold anything against him for the accident but if some mech like Lugnut or Tarn found out…"

"It would spell disaster for the nearly non-existant peace we have." Prowl finishes. "Come on, Jazz. You should know this!"

"I do!" Jazz barks out with a laugh. "But y'all ain't let a mech talk!"

That manages to garner a klik of silence from the three other bots in the room. Jazz lets out another light laugh, shaking his helm in the process.

"I got an idea. Lemme talk to him. I can get through to him better than any of y'all."

"Are you sure about that?" Megatron taunts. "I'm his partner and I can't manage that."

Everyone knows Jazz is rolling his optics behind his visor. "I'm his bestfriend." He striaghts to rest hiss ervos on his his. "And I know I can manage that."

The sun is particularly dull the next day.

Not because of the weather, it was clear skies and a comfortable temperature, but because the sun's brightness paled in comparison to Optimus' disposition.

He was a second sun, a supernova in action, the brightest bulb that you could find in the box—metaphorically, at least. Optimus was happy, practically giddy, as he walked into the Governance Hall that morning. There were a series of odd stares and uncomfortbale shuffling of pedestrians moving out of his way as he all but skipped down the public enterance of the building.

Megatron gave him a weird look as Optimus approached his front.

"You're in a good mood."

He refrained from reaching out to stroke his cheek, having to hide his enjoyment at seeing Optimus so content after the previous day.

Optimus preens behind his mask, helm tittering with a happy twitch of his finials. "I am."

Megatron eyes him, both suspicious and endeared. "And why is that?"

"You'll see." Optimus shrugs just as he sidesteps his secret lover and slips away once more.

All of the sudden, Megatron cannot shake the dread that builds in his tanks.

The odd feeling sits in Megatron's tanks for the first half of the day, he can't shake it off during lunch either. More so when Optimus pays him a visit in his office holding his lunch—a simple mid-grade cube.

"You should eat more." Megatron comments, forgoing a typical greeting while eying the small cube.

"I'm not that hungry." Optimus answers, setting his cube down on the far end of Megatron's desk and walking around the length to stare at whatever document Megatron had open.

Megatron stares at Optimus' intruding presence with a content hum. "Then are you here with ulterior motives?"

Optimus' optics twinkle as he turns to face Megatron clearly. "You know me too well."

Megatron chuckles and leans back into his seat, prompting Optimus to turn and rest on the edge of the desk.

"Well?" Megatron asks.

"I have a solution to our problem."

The smile drops from Megatron's face in a matter of nanoseconds.

"Have you?"

"I have."

Once Optimus decided to detail his plan, Megatron too lost his apettite.

As it turns out, his insticts were right and, unfortunately, Prowl was right too.

“You’re what?!” Ultra Magnus’ voice boomed through their meeting room, shaking the minimalist paintings on the wall.

Optimus' intake opens. "Well—."

"Absolutely not!" Prowl voice echoes like a shockwave behind Ultra Magnus.

Optimus looks at Prowl, hopefully. "I was thinking—."

Jazz snort and starts laughing.

"Help me out here, Jazz!"

Jazz is halfway off his chair with a chortle. "You think I got anything to say?"

Optimus' finials flutter in fluster. "Do you?"

"Nah."

The same blue finials flatten as Optimus sets his servos on his hips. "I don't see why you're all overreacting. All I said is that we're getting bonded."

Ultra Magnus and Prowl yell in tandem:

"That's exactly the problem!"

"No it's not…"

"Yes it is!"

Ultra Magnus is quick to add with a howl: "That is not going to happen, not if I have any say in it!”

“Which you don’t.” Megatron called out from his spot, on the other side of the table, drinking away the death glares he was getting with the cube of mid-grade Optimus had abandoned when he entered his office with the proposition—which was a proposal, really. 

“I think this is a good thing.” Optimus offers comfort to his brother. “It’ll strengthen political ties.”

“Sure, if it were a vorn ago during the treaty’s drafting.” Prowl offers in contrast, lowering his voice as he leans into his ex-commander’s field. “Anyone other than you two will be vehemently against this.” 

“I don't mind.” Jazz quips as he rests his legs on the table, leaning into his chair. 

“You don’t count.” Prowl snaps.

Ultra Magnus returns with a sigh. “It's disingenuous for someone like you to marry him. Too soon. Too…”

“Weird?” Jazz finishes, then shrugs. “I say let the mech have his cake. Congratulations, O.P.” 

Before Optimus can answer with a thank you, Prowl's scoff interrupts him. “What? And eat it too? This is a disaster waiting to happen, if you ask me.”

“For once I agree.” Ultra Magnus sighs. “You deserve better, brother.” 

“I heard that.” Megatron sets his drink down.

“Good.” Ultra Magnus bites. “This is absurd. Much less under the premise of ‘love.’” He spits out the final word as if it were unworthy to paint his glossa. “How long have you been—how can I put this delicately…dating? A vorn? Less? This is moving too quickly.”

“Have some faith in my judgement, brother.” Optimus smiles with a newfound glisten in his optics. 

Megatron shoots a look over to his soon to be in-ritus, to find Ultra Magnus doing the exact same thing. They lock optics for a moment, waiting for Optimus to continue. 

“I know Megatron and I’s relationship isn’t exactly well-regarded—”

“That’s an understatement.” Prowl mumbles. 

Optimus ignores Prowl. “Which is why,” he snaps the attention back to himself, “I’ve devised a plan to ensure that we can put an end to this all.”

Megatron can see Magnus and Prowl—the shared head tacticians of the now Autobot political party—grimace in anticipation of Optimus’ never ending stream of well-intended but terrible ideas.

Optimus struts around the table to Megatron, he leans over the back of his chair and sets his servo on Megatron’s shoulders. “I shall make Megatron my Lord High Protector.” 

Megatron blinks, still looking for some reassurance that anything Optimus was spewing was worth something to Magnus by looking at his general vicinity again. 

The prime’s brother seems about as lost as he.

“Your what?” Magnus deadpans.

“Lord High Protector.” Optimus restates. “As a prime, my primary duty—no pun intended—is to my people, civilian matters, usually the church. And that does imply being…” He pauses for a moment. “Chaste.” 

Megatron can feel Optimus’ spinal struts tense from the way his servos twitch and tighten, the sound of his digits scrapes lightly against his pauldron leaving the scant remnants of scratches. He almost reaches to comfort Optimus if Jazz did not speak instead.

“We both know that’s scrap.” Jazz grumbles uncharacteristically.

“And it is.” Optimus agrees. “But that doesn’t mean the sentiment isn’t pervasive. I cannot count the number of blessings I’ve had to make up on the spot because some innocent bot thinks I came about the matrix in a sacred fashion.” He sighs, tapping the length of Megatron’s shoulder as he continues, “but I’ve done my research. There isn’t anything that points against the existence of a consort for a prime—”

A twinge of irritation bests Megatron, "and I won't be.”  

Optimus silenced him by flicking the back of his helm. “So, I took some liberty to make one.”

“I’m not going to add consort to my list of titles.” Megatron says, taking the arm Optimus still has in his shoulder to yank him forward to shoot a glare at the corner of his optic.

“This union is good for nothing if others don’t see an advantage.” Optimus offers in contrast.

Megatron applies a heavy hand to the hold he has in Optimus. “And you need the approval of others to bond to me?” He growls and throws Optimus off of him. “This is beneath you.” 

Optimus takes one step back with a look that softens into a glower. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re clearly implying it.” 

“Because I don’t want something to happen as a result of this.” Optimus offers in justification. “It’s insurance—”

“You don’t need to set down a tarp just to bond with me.” Megatron snaps, rising from his seat with two servos on the table. “This is a level of back-bending I haven’t seen since the council tried to justify functionalism.” 

Optimus’ jaw clenched for a moment. “I know, but I want to be sure.”

“Of what?”

“That something won’t happen to you.”

Megatron scoffs—loudly, at that. “I don’t need you to protect me, Optimus.” 

“Fanatics are a dime a dozen,” Jazz interjects. “Maybe you should take this, Megs.”

“I will do nothing of the sort!” Megatron snarls. “I will gladly bond to you, but to propose under the intention of fraud? This is shameless and cowardly. I will not stand for it.”

"You wanted to frame someone the other day!"

"That is different!" Megatron retorts. "At least we'll have loose ends to tie if we took the liberty to incarcerate an already guilty mech, it's open and shut. But what you're proposing is the lie that we will have to uphold for a lifetime."

"It is not!" Optimus snaps. "They—" he points outside, "don't trust us. What makes you think dragging another mech under into this will do? We haven't exposed any leads, the entire case is claimed to have gone cold, we would have to go out of our way to conduct a lie and manipulate legal proceedings! It will bleed out beyond us. What will happen if someone blows the whistle on the situation?"

Megatron's jaw tightens.

"If we have an arranged bonding, then we clear both of our names from involvement in the grand assassination attempt the public is set upon. This moves the assailant to be beneath us, beyond our council, and away from Decepticon or Autobot connections. It won't fix everything, but it will prevent infighting." Optimus finishes by gesturing to Ultra Magnus. "The common enemy becomes someone outside of the in-groups, it will give us time to find a better remedy."

"You're trying to build a bigger in-group." Megatron counters. "They will still demand justice."

Optimus presses a palm against his crest at a building helmache. "Then let me confess."

"Absolutely not." Megatron growls.

Optimus pulls away from his servo with a glare directed straight into Megatron's spark.

“Maybe it's not that bad of an idea.” Prowl hums, stroking his chin with a digit.

Megatron whirls around, taken aback. “You of all mechs should know better.”

“I do.” Prowl answers as he somehow manages to collect his previous wrath. “And what I’m hearing is that this will spare us the helmache of old soldiers falling into old habits. I don't approve of it, nor do I think it's a good idea. All I'm saying is that it isn't objectively bad. But I'm ashamed to say it might be the only decent option amdist this curent debaucle."

“Thank you.” Optimus offers with a shake of his helm. 

“Don't encourage him!” Megatron barks, turning to Optimus. “You can’t expect me to see this through.”

“Well,” Optimus shuffles back. “I’m not.”

“Then—”

“This isn’t just some off-hand idea. I really have given it some thought.” Optimus says, raising his arms in defeat. “You and I are controversial figures nowadays; we aren’t exactly welcome at this table.” He uses his helm to gesture at the group, to a small murmur of agreement from Magnus and Prowl. “If I’m a figurehead of the church, whether I like it or not—I've been reading those forums and there’s been an uptick in the desire to leave me out of it, a ‘separation of church and state.’”

Ultra Magnus opens his intake, to disagree, most likely, but Optimus beats him to the chase by speaking. “And they are right.” He turns back to Megatron. “We need to step down. A bonding ceremony is the chance to do that. We need them to feel comfortable enough to represent themselves, to demand what they want. By making you my Lord High Protector, you can take up a role of military and international duties. An emissary, if you will. This way, we’re both out of the political playing field.”

“By making his campaign off world like some paladin?” Ultra Magnus’ voices with an expression pinched in thought. “I can see your reasoning, but where did you discover this? The idea is thoroughly antiquated.”

"Because it is." Optimus laughs. “I’ve had the chance to look into some older information on primacy and knighthood popped up quite a bit. I’ll say some nonsense about how the matrix showed me the righteous path for future generations.”

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Megatron spat.

Optimus turns to him with a pout. “Give me some credit for trying. I’ve poked around and this is the only way we’re going to get the other’s to sign off on our bonding ceremony. Primus knows the Mistress of Flame will object.” 

“Why do you care about what they think?” Megatron’s tone nearly begs for an answer. 

“It’s my duty to care, I want to make sure this won’t ruffle any plating. Because…it’s selfish on my part. I want everyone to be happy.” Optimus answers plainly, that wretched detachment he would always hold towards himself and those unbound by primacy.

Rather than let Megatron try and psychoanalyze what he said, he uses his helm to point to Magnus. “My brother’s right, no one’s gonna want us getting bonded without some air of suspicion nor are we going to conclude this in a satisfactory manner…but it's a distraction. It will give them the right idea to move on, follow in our example."

Optimus tries appear a little more earnest. "So, we can just deal with it all in one fell swoop, plus, lying aside, it is advantageous. You can have major military power and you won’t have to deal with Starscream being president since you’ll be off world as you please.”

“Who said he's being elected?" Prowl grumbles.

Optimus shrugs. “He's got my vote.”

Megatron chooses to glare at Optimus, "and deceive everyone into thinking our bonding is purely political? That’s absurd! I won’t have another barrier to keep me from you, just because you want to make everyone happy.”

Megatron then adds: “If you want to bond with me so badly, I should be at the center of your life. Elope with me, run away, bury your feelings, but do not guard me with this moronic title.”

“Be reasonable, Megatron.” Optimus steps closer to raise a servo hesitantly, only to pull away with the knowledge on their audience. “The only thing that matters is that we know it isn’t.”

“Optimus,” Megatron sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me this was your original intention?”

"Because you would've said no."

"I am saying no."

"Well you already agreed to bond with me so—."

"That is besides the point."

Optimus’ servo twitches. “If I told you when I first thought of this, peace talks would have come to a standstill at a very awkward time.” He attempts to joke. “And anyways, you’re always on edge lately, you have struggled maintaining favor throughout Cybertron for the sake of victimizing me when I was a guilty party—I wanted to do something for you.”

“By making up this elaborate lie?”

“It’s not really a lie—it's merely the implementation of a new role under the guise of historical accounts taken with subjectivity.”

Megatron pulls away from Optimus. “A falsehood, nevertheless. I would have set up a few more safeguards so you wouldn’t have to jump through so many hoops on my behalf.”

“That’s precisely what I wanted to avoid,” Optimus says. “I’m doing this for everyone, especially you.”

“You’re abusing your title.”

“Just like those before me.” Optimus muses.

“I mean,” Ultra Magnus interjects suddenly, “getting bonded not even a vorn into your initial romantic relationship is suspicious, were it not political, let alone when neither of you are public about it.” Ultra Magnus counters. “Which is exactly the issue I have with this. Do you really care for this mech or not, Optimus?”

“You share my spark, Magnus. You know I do.”

Megatron felt his frame heat up at the nonchalant comment.

“Unfortunately,” Ultra Magnus grinds his jaw in answer.

Optimus pulls Megatron close by wrapping himself around Megatron’s now canon-free arm. “And anyways, I want to do it now.”

“It’ll pass.” Ultra Magnus says.

“I won’t let it.” Optimus answers with a sudden sternness, his grip tightens somewhat, enough that Megatron down to see Optimus pulling a serious face.

“For once in my life I feel sure about something without the matrix telling me so. After everything I’ve been through, endured, done. Don’t I deserve to be selfish? I want to relish every moment I can to have this—this happiness that I’ve craved from the moment I woke up under a new designation. I love him.”

He looks to Megatron. “I love you. I want to give you my spark, I want to be greedy for once and take everything you have and make it mine. Even if I have to lie to the world to make it happen, primacy be damned. I want to cling to this honeymoon love, infatuated and obsessed, until all that’s left is you. And even in the loss of this passion, I know that I will love you. I’ve always had.” His expression softens. “I will gladly kiss away the remnants of poison that trace your lips for an eternity if it means I can have this union with you.”

Megatron, for the first time in his life, is left speechless.

The pause that Optimus allows seems intentional, Megatron knows he has to respond with something but Optimus' frivolity with…that word was dizzying.

Love.

Megatron thinks that Optimus is being delusional—as per usual—because there is no way he had just said he loved Megatron.

They were close, intimate, romantically involved, but in love? Megatron found that a little hard to believe, even when they were about to get bonded. Optimus himself had refused to call it love until that point.

What changed? Was he saving face again? Has Optimus simplified his affections to mere love? Was there such a thing as something else than love, or was love truly the final form for…whatever secretly dating your ex-nemesis meant?Megatron hears the echos of the continuing conversation without much context, all he hears is the mumbling of words against his audials. Megatron doesn't know if he's ever been in love, not under these circumstances.

Then it hits him—does Megatron love Optimus? Then a second question; is Megatron even capable of love?

He loves power, he loves to win, he loves to compete, he dares to admit he loves himself and all of his abiltiies; but does Megatron love anything other than that?

He knows Optimus knows love, he loves everything to a fault. Optimus loves so much that is is more of a hinderance than it is a virtue, if anyone were to know what love is, it would be Optimus.

There a slight chill and crosses Megatron's plating at the thought of failed reciprocation. Optimus deserves to be loved in return, if Megatron can't give him that then what purpose does he serve to Optimus otherwise?

Eventually, Megatron realizes the room is staring at him, especially Optimus who appears to be anticipating something. All the prime is met with is Megatron's returned attention, and not a single word out of his intake. Megatron regrets instantly when Optimus lets out an awkward hum, turning away from Megatron and back to Ultra Magnus.

“I won’t regret this. Not for one moment. I promise you, brother.”

Ultra Magnus’ optics slant downwards, only to sharpen for a klik to shoot Megatron a glare. It dwindles when a sigh takes its place to relieve his frame of some tension. “You were always the reckless one. Fine, have it your way.”

Optimus breaks away from his previous mood, he keeps his tone even but it does not betray the brightness in his optics or field. “Thank you.”

Ultra Magnus answers with a dismissive wave and begins to pick up his things, an obvious tell that the secret meeting was over.

The others filed out of the conference room with snickers, congratulations, or not so much as a peep. It left Optimus and Megatron alone in the well-lit room, silent for a few kliks too long.

Only when Megatron is sure that all of the other mechs were well and gone, did he whip his helm back to bark at Optimus. “Are you serious?”

Optimus was as cool as a spring breeze. “Of course.”

Megatron bites the inside of his cheek, reeling in his emotions. "You should have told me this first.”

“I did just now.”

“With everyone in the room!” Megatron points at the door, as if the others would magically walk in and agree.

“The same way you all say things to keep me in the loop without regard for my opinion, why should I be condemned for doing the same?” Optimus shrugged.

“It's not the same.” Megatron growls out the words. “I’m not going to hide behind this ruse! There are limits to what you can ask of me, Optimus.”

“We want to get bonded, don’t we?” Optimus asked half-rhetorically.

“You want to get bonded.”

Optimus seemed a bit more soured at the retort, even the gall to look hurt crosses his face. “Don’t you?”

“I want you.” Megatron answers. “Those are two different things.”

“You make it sound so...carnal.” Optimus shudders.

“No, it means that I want nothing but you,” Megatron corrects. “Regardless of how I acquire the means to do so.”

Optimus pauses at the admission, shifting a glance back to Megatron's insignia—a growing habit as of late. “If it bothers you so much, just consider it a political advantage.”

“You want it to be genuine, don't you?” Megatron asks.

“It's one evil amongst many,” Optimus sighs. "It's this or bust. I will not let you all form a consipracy on my behalf."

Megatron lets out a profound sigh, using it to step closer without raising any warning signs from Optimus. “Are you happiest with this decision? Among all the possibilites?”

“I am.”

“—Without the pretense of,” he sets a servo between them, setting it onto Optimus’ chest. “Whatever it was you were getting at.”

“I’m not doing it for me,” Optimus’ ducks his helm away for a passing moment, only to turn back with a barely-there convince in his optics. “It’s for you.”

Megatron’s digits tighten, threatening to crack a windshield. “I don’t need you to protect me, Optimus.”

“But I want to.” Optimus implores. “I want to set up a safety net for you to fall into. I know how your reputation succeeds you . You saw how my commanding officers reacted! How can you think this would be easy?”

“It is telling of your power as their leader, were any of my officers aware they would leave it to my devices. They respect me.” Megatron snaps. “They have no reason to question my choice to be with you. To ever question me is unfitting without probable cuase. That is what makes it easy. It is not my fault your officers do not hold you to the same level of esteem.”

“Because I am their equal.” Optimus’ voice rattles.

“Do not lie to yourself. We all know of the dominion you hold,” Megatron laughs coldly, bringing the servo that rested on Optimus’ chest up to graze his cheek. “That is why you. create this elaborate lie to have your way.”

Optimus pulls away from the touch to look away. “If I had so much power, then I would not have to.”

Megatron uses the same servo to force Optimus to look at him. “Then why?”

The search for something he cannot find in Megatron’s optics drives Optimus half-wild. “Let me do this for you.”

Megatron’s jaw clenches at the insufficient answer. “Answer me properly.”

“I want to set an example,” Optimus’ thoughts scramble to keep up. “I—in the case of another prime. I cannot be the last. Maybe I can open a few more doors for them?”

The hold on Optimus’ face tightens. “You are doing this for the future? That's your final claim? You want others to take this worthless mantel of yours and work themselves to the struts as you have?”

Optimus presses into the half-hold Megatron has. “Just...let me do this for you.” His blue servos come to hold Megatron’s arm in place. “Please.”

Megatron pauses in introspection, beginning to stroke Optimus cheek. “You’re going to drive me mad worrying like this.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” Optimus tries to assure.

“Then there wouldn’t be a need for this.” Megatron counters.

“There is to me.” Optimus admits and lets out a small rush of air from his intake, the excess flows from his smokestacks in a secondary sigh.

“You exist on the other side of the line. Always have, always will.” Optimus says, his optics graze off into the distance—over the meeting table that now sits desolate and cold, touched only by a fading light. For a moment, his composure shakes.  “I don’t except, or need, you to understand the hoops I’m jumping through—but you need to understand that where your people will tolerate me, mine will despise you.”

Megatron makes no effort to pull away from the awkward embrace they have. “That is a given.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Optimus sighs, decoding to pull away to look up at Megatron on his own volition.

Megatron studies Optimus momentarily. “Is it not?”

Optimus steps away and paces towards the table to rest on it, his hips sit at an awkward position against the edge, servos come down to steady himself as he leans forward with a tired expression—barely hidden by the shuttering of his optics. “I’ve fought you for eons, I have vanquished your efforts of galactic conquest, terror, warmongering—I have anchored my very identity to keeping you in check so that you can’t hurt others. I exist as a barrier to your wrath.” He admits bitterly as he tries to face Megatron with a defeated smile. “Does it not strike you the slightest bit ironic that I have been irrecoverably in love with you the whole time?”

Megatron knows the answer, but he is more privy to delay it for Optimus’ sake. “I suppose so.”

“And what of my followers? The one who don’t know me as intimately as my brother, or Jazz, or Prowl? What will become of them if they find that their leader, the embodiment of all that is not you, finds himself happiest when you look at him for even a fleeting moment?” Optimus explains.

“Then why don’t we wait?” Megatron offers simply.

“I can’t.” Optimus pleads. “I am fighting against myself every day just to be with you, I am so happy to be able to talk to you like this, to know that you feel the same way sends me over the moon the moment I let reality catch me. I love my people; I love each and every Cybertronian that exists. But, somehow, I love you more than them, so much more that I will betray them for it.”

Megatron’s resolve snaps and he’s met with the creeping cold of the truth. He takes a klik to try and steady himself, to offer something, anything, to get Optimus to stop being so self-contained and suffering for it. He needs to say something to assure Optimus, but the panic keeps him quiet. The unfamilarity of the feeling begins to wear him down, strike the anger than stems from fear.

Optimus watches him with gentle optics, a little more in tune with Megatron's feelings.

"And I am fine with it.” Optimus whispers. “I can live with that betrayal knowing it will keep me with you forever. If I make you something untouchable, then they can’t take you away from me. They cannot lie and dispose of you like others have, strip you away from me like the war and functionalism had. If you stand as my knight—or whatever nonsense they would think sacred—then I will finally win against the stars and gods. I can finally be free.” Optimus smiles. “This has been a vorn for you and the world, but it’s been an eternity for me.” He stands to try and make is way back to Megatron with barely outstretched arms.

“I’m scared of waiting any longer.” Optimus admits with a choked-back cry. “I’m scared you’ll get sick of me like you have in our past alliances, and the thought of losing you like that again—it terrifies me. If I can have this now, if I can protect you from their greed, as well as mine, and it’ll be enough to ease this shattering void that lingers within me.”

Megatron follows quickly to catch Optimus' servos in his own.

Optimus is shaking despite his eased tone of voice, he finds Megatron staring at him and reaches out to trace along the seams of his faceplate. “I don’t want to let you go. I'm sorry for being so selfish.”

Forgiveness never came easily to Megatron, nor did understanding. He could feel himself upset at the prospect of Optimus bearing himself like this, he was upset over this, but the details of which were fuzzy. He could scream and cry out that this betrayal was to him, not Cybertron; that Optimus was selfish and self-serving, no different than him, no better than either of them thought. But in the same act, he could simply take Optimus here and now for being so open. That worthless piece of him was wished nothing but the worst for Optimus—also aware of affection Megatron held for him—cackled in delight. A small price, a tether in the form of a title, stood between him and finally tearing Optimus down to his level. He was presented with everything he’d ever wanted in the form of a lie.

Anger raged on regardless, mixing with the same affection that always resides somewhere within his spark—respect perhaps, venerate, even. It was dimly the same feeling of meeting Optimus on the battlefield.

Megatron accepted it despite the second thought.

“Then don’t.” He couldn’t be bothered to feel shame in the way his voice holds reverence.

The light in Optimus’ optics is enough to light the planet. He smiles.

“I’m not letting you go. I never will, we’ll get bonded and then you’ll be stuck with me.” Optimus' servos cling to Megatron, digging into the seams of his elbow-struts. “And we’ll be happy.”

Megatron finds adoration digging into him rather than the digits of his lover. “Aren’t we already?”

The grip eases slightly. “You were mad at me a moment ago.”

“I still am.” Megatron says. “But anger has never diminished what I feel for you—it’s fortified my fight for eons. How dare you keep all this away from me?”

Optimus tries to scoff, but it comes out as a soft laugh. “Aren’t you the same?”

Megatron actually scoffs. “Not even a little, if I cared so much of what other’s thought of me, I would have died in the pits.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Optimus hums. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? I don’t think you’ve ever bore yourself to me like this. I quite like it.” Megatron leans down to nuzzle against Optimus’ helm. “You’re surprisingly possessive. Why is it that I hadn’t convinced you to my side earlier?”

Optimus vent in sharply, albeit quietly, when Megatron manages to graze his finial with his nasal ridge. “I think you could have, if you held me like this.”

Megatron responds with a placed kiss on Optimus’ crest. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to employ this strategy more often.”

Optimus, for all his inability to read a room, manages to successfully manipulate the entire Cybertronian populous with a bright light from his chest’s bauble and a few careful words—he would simply call it a realignment of ideas. Even Megatron, well aware of the elaborate ruse, felt himself being half-convinced from a single glint from Optimus' steely blue optics. It was impressive, to say the least, the way everyone lapped up the idea of knighthood and its intricate fascinations of historical intricacies to beseech a criminal who ought to have his helm on a pike—but surely not Optimus, guilty of the same faults, only to be saved by the artifact that chose him. 

Of course, not everyone is convinced, merely muzzled were an objection to rise within them. Primus’ rulings were up for interpretation, religious devotee or not, but peace had painted the world in a much lighter color that there wasn’t enough push back to justify a future annulment. Optimus was victorious in light of so much doubt, it was a solid reminder of Optimus' abilities as a leader.

Gracious congratulations and curt nods that served as silent words were matched as Optimus and Megatron made their way from the front of the governmental building where the announcement was just made. 

“And here I thought it was just a fling,” Starscream snorts. “Millennia at war and you decide to get bonded when it smooths out, huh? You sure there weren't any close calls before that?” His wings perked up teasingly, primarily aiming it at Megatron.

Yet it is Optimus who answers. “Actually, I don’t think I could have surmised this conclusion in another million years.”

Starscream shoots Optimus a look from the corner of his optic. “Really now? I sensed it from a mile away.”

“You’re better than me in that sense, Sir President-to-be.” Optimus laughs. “I’m hopeless if it were not the matrix guiding me every other decision.”

“And that’s why I’m going to be elected,” Starscream retorts. “Landslide victory too, I’ll have you know. You two can have your little rendezvous under the moonlight, with or without Primus’ justification for all I care, I have a planet to run.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Optimus answers as Starscream departs with a harrumph.

As it seems, Optimus Prime is indeed Ultra Magnus’ brother. The red and blue mech rolls his shoulders back, cranking his neck over to meet Megatron’s gaze. “See? You won’t have to deal with that, you should be thanking me.” He notes, and makes a renewed effort to make way to his office. 

Megatron follows close behind. “I’ll consider it.”

“A little late for that.”

“You know what I mean.”

Optimus elbows Megatron’s side. “You’ll be a great Lord High Protector.”

“How? I’ll be the first.”

Optimus stops without answering the question, to peer at a mech to is making his way to them with an expression drawn from determination itself. There is a sudden switch, again, in Optimus’ demeanor. He pushes Megatron behind him.

“Hello.” Optimus starts as the young bot reaches his front. “Can I help you?”

“Is it true the matrix told you to instate a Lord High Protector?” The bot, and purple and balck sports car asked.

“It did.” Optimus answers easily. 

“Why?” The purple bot asks, their voice a higher pitch than Optimus' by a wide margin. “Don't you have a duty to fufil?”

Optimus shoots Megatron a look that serves as an equivalent to ‘stand down’ before the other has a chance to interject with his own thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

"You were built with a purpose." The bot says, determined but somhow insecure in their mannerisms, shifting on their pedes. "Weren't you to destroy him?"

"Oh." Optimus blinks. "I suppose so."

"Then…why will you bond to him?"

Optimus hums. “Because I have chosen to forgive him.”

The bot begins to look a little lost. "I don't understand…"

"I may have been rebuilt with a purpose, but purpose is not linear." Optimus admits. "War wages, time passes, and fighting has done nothing to solve it—violence never solves anything."

Optimus lets out an amused hum, muffled by his mask, when the inquiring bot falls further into confusion.

"There is a human saying you know."

"Human?"

"Earthling."

The bot nods along in understanding.

"'All is fair in love and war.'" Optimus says with a smile, "and we are not at war anymore."

The bots red optics flash a bright red, silent realization.

"Does that answer your quiry?"

The young bot ducks away. "Yes…a little."

"I'm glad." Optimus chuckles.

Inching closer in on themselves, the balck and purple bot mumbles something to themselves and offers a curt nod of thanks—it's unfitting for their soft features, but a charming image nevertheless. "Thank you, Optimus Prime."

"You're welcome…" Optimus pauses, a small flutter of emberassment for not asking the polite question sooner, "may I ask for your desigation?"

A flash of hesitation is visible in the red optics of the bot, quickly weighing their options. However, they slouch a little in defeat at Optimus' earnest gaze.

"…Flowspade." The bot says just louder than a whisper and scurries away.

Optimus watches them depart, a little confused. “Flowspade,” he repeats out of habit. "What an odd name."

Megatron remains at Optimus’ back, watching the sports car transform and depart without so much as another word.

He realizes, at that moment, that Optimus is incredibly manipulative.

“You…” He starts. “How do you do that?”

Optimus doesn’t face Megatron, intently focused upon the departing figure of Flowspade. “Do what?”

“Shift things in your favor like that.”

“You get used to it.” Optimus shrugs. “Good at it, after a while.”

Megatron offers a calculated look. “How?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to learn that lesson.” Optimus muses, before hooking an arm around Megatron’s, nuzzling the gunmetal gray plating. “Do you see why I’ve had to do all this now?”

Megatron shrugs against Optimus’ hold, “I suppose so.” He follows the direction where Flowspade dissipated to, but finds it devoid of the mech, and looks down at Optimus. “Do you think religious zealots intend to cause me harm?”

“You never know,” Optimus admits. “But it’s good to know that your little shield works.”

“Yes, thank you, my prime, because I need the protection of a Prime’s holy word to fight off a few fanatics.” Megatron drawls sarcastically.

Optimus’ optics darkened. “I won’t let anything happen to you, now or ever.”

Megatron fights to downplay the giddy feeling that encompasses him with an annoyed groan. “Save it for the alter, please.”

“Fine.” Optimus concedes. “Now let’s go pick out cape colors.” 

“That’s a stupid question.” Megatron snorts, as if it were an obvious choice. “We’re going to wear purple.”

Optimus, unwilling to get Megatron riled up with his distaste for the color, simply drags him back to the office. “Uh-huh, sure.”