Archive of Our Own

Megatron had done a great many impossible things during his functioning. He had rose from a mere paltry miner, changed the face of cybertronian politics with his influential writing, overthrew the Senate, and sparked an all out insurrection. He should have met his end many times over, on the arena floor or in the suffocating depths of the energon mine. But if there was one thing Megatron believed, it was that any challenge could be overcome with she patience like the Pitspawn Prime did. Due to this, Megatron faced his greatest "impossible" challenge yet.

Make it an indeterminate amount of time whilst being shackled to the Prime.

The mere thought of his predicament made his lines boil with fury. Millions of years had led him to this exact point. This precise crux of absolute ridiculousness. Lives, planets, entire stellar systems gone to the wayside. Glorious victory and crushing defeat. All to here. His wrist bound to Optimus' like a matched set of damned idiots.

Optimus pinged him a message, and dragged him from his spiraling fury.

::Megatron, your accelerated venting is going to draw attention. Please do try to be quiet for our continued survival::

Megatron had a brief and vivid fantasy of ripping the Prime's faceplate off and forcing him to eat it. That would teach him to be quiet.

However it chagrined him, there was a small kernal of sense to Optimus' argument. Except all that did was make his fury well up again. Partly due to the Prime being right, and partly because it reminded him of how they got into this predicament.

The Opwandi people were the inhabitants of Sizix 9. Like many other planets, it had gotten inadvertently caught in the great Cybertronian war machine. Merely crushed underfoot in the race towards domination. Megatron hadn't even paid Sizix 9 enough attention to consider going out of his way to deal with it. The planet was not particularly rich in any valuable resources, and it's inhabitants were not advanced enough to be considered a viable threat. The only reason for conquering the planet would have been "just because". And while Megatron was not one to curtail his impulses; dominating the planet would have been an easy, simple victory, he was also no fool.

The war was at a crucial point, and he had to focus all of his attention and resources on high priority targets, like the Dyson sphere megastructure that his Decepticons were trying to build around Sizix 9's parent star. A supermassive blue giant, the star would burn bright and fast, but provide the Decepticons with enough's power to easily dominate the entire surrounding sector. Which is why the Autobots had so adamantly protested via their fists. It was only polite for him to extend the same courtesy.

However, the Autobots had not been the only ones to protest. The Opwandi people had not taken well to their planet being traipsed over, and had started working on a way to protect themselves from the metal beings that had dropped from space, ravaged their home, and dipped. Megatron could only assume that the Opwandi had spent the last thousand years developing the nasty piece of tech that was attached to him from the remnants of Cybertronians that had been left behind on their planet. That was the thing about organics, by the time you turned around twice they had evolved two new limbs and were suddenly puttering around in space instead of the mud.

It had happened suddenly, the Opwandi had dropped out of light speed at the end of his and Optimus' most recent battle. It had been quite spectacular. They were both still dented and damaged from the rumble. They had also been exhausted. Which is why the Opwandi had been able to simply drop in, and begin cuffing the spent warriors together. Why they did not simply have a set of cuffs for each individual was beyond Megatron. Perhaps they simply had not been expecting to be able to even get so many prisoners. Perhaps they had anticipated more of a fight. Or maybe the cuffs had been difficult to manufacture, and they had a limited supply. More likely though, Unicron was playing a practical joke on Megatron, as it just had to be Optimus Prime he had been cuffed to, likely because they had collapsed next to eachother in exhaustion.

Of course, not before that spawn of a glitch managed to disable his cannon. Fragger.

Whatever the case, they were stuck here. Wandering the dense vegetation of this alien planet in root mode. Together.

For the millionth time, Megatron though desperately on a way to free themselves from the infernal device. It was rather insidious. Built like a standard pair of stasis cuffs, except for the two projections that extended from the cuff into the anterior enegon line that ran into both of their wrists. Evidently, if the cuffs were damaged in any way, or even pulled on slightly too hard, they would ignite the energon running through their lines. It would be painfully fatal. The half processed energon running through any Cybertronian's lines was less explosive than raw energon, but still highly volatile. If merely the cuffs themselves exploded, then it wouldn't have been a problem.  Megatron's armor was more than sturdy enough to withstand a direct blast from any kind of explosive, he would probably walk away relatively unscathed.

Optimus would also be ok in such an event, an unhelpful subprocess offered. He shoved that thought to the side.

Having one's energon detonated within their lines was a guaranteed termination. Or, best case, survivable for a breem.

So now they were stuck. He couldn't break the cuffs without dying, couldn't transform to get away, and couldn't even consider being recalcitrant enough to make Prime drag him. On the same note, even if his cannon had been functional, he couldn't have shot Optimus unless he wanted to carry him the entire time he was out here. He supposes he could have shot him and then cut his arm off, but he did not know how deep the detonation wire ran. Perhaps all the way into their chests. Cutting the wire on accident was a surefire way to set the charge off. Calling for help wouldn't work either, all of their forces on the planet had been captured and the short range comms that their frames were capable of couldn't reach their allies in space. To top it all off they were stuck in a techno-organic jungle of some kind. Better than a completely organic jungle, but still biological enough that it made Megatron's plating crawl. Tall trees stretched upwards, covered with leaves and vines that looked like cables. The scenery was a dizzying contrast of green and silver. On the plus side, there might be something that could serve as an energon substitute, if they looked closely.

Primus. This is what his life had been reduced to.

***

They trudged along in relative silence. Briefly.

Optimus pushed back a cluster of foliage in his path. It promptly swung back and hit Megatron in the face.

“Prime!" He roared.

Optimus physically restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He turned back towards Megatron and narrowed them instead above the flat expanse of his battle mask.

::Do you wish to be recaptured? If you continue to stomp around and screech like that we will be.::

::Anything is better than being stuck here with you and that stick up your aft!:: Megatron shot back with an irritated sizzle at the edges of his EM field.

Optimus answered the irritating sensation with a pointed burst of annoyance in his field as well. Thanks to the lovely new fashion statement that the Opwandi decided to gift them with their fields were constantly intermeshed. Of course, it was possible to retract one's own field, but at this distance it wouldn’t do much. It seemed almost like Megatron was projecting his field out further just to annoy Optimus. However, if Megatron wasn't going to keep to himself, Optimus wasn't going to back off either.

He wondered how he and Megatron were going to survive this. The situation itself wasn't dire, but not exactly desirable either. He was more worried about what was going to happen with the two of them in such close quarters for an undefined amount of time. They would probably kill eachother, he thought wryly. He had no idea where they were, or where they were going. When the Opwandi were about to collect them, Optimus did the sensible thing, and ran. He knew that if his Autobots were going to have any hope he needed to find backup. At first he had to practically drag Megatron, but eventually the mech got his act together.

Just like him to be stubborn, Optimus ruminated.

They managed to trudge on somewhat cooperatively for several breems. The landscape was rough, and difficult to travel. As such he worked slowly and silently, carefully navigating the complex jungle flooring. Megatron was also silent; aside from his steadily simmering rage

After awhile Megatron must have deemed them far enough away from their enemies to facilitate a conversation verbally.

“So what's the plan, almighty Prime of Cybertron?" He inquired with no small amount of venom.

Optimus forced his voice modual to a polite tone.

“Hide from our enemies, find a way to contact our allies. Save the rest of our forces." He stated plainly.

“Our?" Megatron inflected snidely.

“Yes, Megatron, 'our'. Last time I checked you were in the same situation as me."

Megatron was trying to pick a fight, Optimus could tell. However, he was not going to rise to the bait.

“Fantastic Prime, glad to see that your wits and battle strategy and both as dull as ever."

He was not going to rise to the bait.

“Nothing to say? I'm not surprised, you've always been pathetically easy to beat."

Optimus forced himself to stay calm.

Megatron paused to duck under a branch, forcing Optimus to wait up unless he wanted to become a 20 tonne grenade. They would both have to do that off and on for the rest of their journey. If Optimus was being honest, it was already annoying.

Just like Megatron.

“Never doing what was necessary because you were too weak."

He would not cave.

“Come off it Prime, I can feel your irritation in your field. How about you get off that pedestal that you put yourself upon and come down here with us guttermechs?"

“Perhaps if your kept your field to yourself, you wouldn't be having this problem!" Optimus shot back testily.

“Why, don't tell me you're scared to swap paint with a low caste mech?"

The double entendre briefly threw Optimus for a loop, but he quickly regained control. He was just trying to get under his plating.

“I have never had a problem with your caste Megatron. What I have an issue with is your blatant disregard for life!"

Now the game was on. He could see fire of competition igniting in Megatron's red optics. He knew that look well, he'd seen it for most all the war.

“Typical. You're just like your predecessors. Your words speak of equality, but your actions say differently! You nobles mock from your high horse, when you are truly the lowest of all!  Upholding a system that is designed to keep millions oppressed, so that you few can reap the rewards! Offering just enough paltry compensation and mediation to keep the masses complacent. You and that wretched caste system are one in the same."

This time Optimus did not stop his optics from completing an impressive revolution. In fact, he stopped to face Megatron so he could see the look. Additionally, he broadcasted the derision into his field, which jabbed at Megatron's frenzied ripples.

“Megatron I have no idea what rock you have been living under for the past million solar cycles, but I do not believe in Functionalism! I never have!"

Megatron snarled and jabbed Optimus sharply in his windshields with the extended finger of his free servo.

“Lies! Why fight me in my quest to tear down a system that you do not even believe in?! Have your logic centers finally corroded from all the radiation that that stupid bauble in your chest gives off?"

For the second time in a row, Optimus was thrown off balance during the conversation. He furrowed his optic ridges.

“How did you know that the Matrix emitted radiation?"

“Seriously Prime, do you think that 'know your enemy' advice they hand out just for the Pit of it?" Megatron stated with an "you idiot" reverberating unsaid, but felt, in his field.

“First of all, I was uncomfortable with the idea of fighting you at first. I used to think that your cause was just before I became Prime. Back in the early days. However, as time went on it became readily apparent that you were ultimately fighting to gain power. Your means did not justify the ends. You became greedy and I could not allow your reign of destruction to go unchecked. I will admit though, I agree with you on this much: the Functionalist mentality should burn. The people of Cybertron deserved equality and the Council was not doing justice by its citizens. They grossly abused their power, and yes, they did oppress millions.”

He felt a ripple of surprise and something else run through Megatron's field. Something almost like... respect?? It was gone far too quickly for Optimus to fully analyze.

And before Megatron could open his big fat mouth again he quickly threw in, "Secondly, the radiation that the Matrix emits may be high energy, but it is not harmful to me or anyone else. Ratchet had me tested."

And then the most unexpected thing happened. Megatron laughed.

It was sharp and sudden, but also genuine. And for a moment Optimus was struck by the sight. Megatron's head was tilted up ever so slightly, exposing the cables of his neck. His ruby optics were scrunched into pleased crescent shapes. The great pauldrons of his shoulders bounced with his laughter, making him shake slightly. It rang through his field in as much as the air, transforming the abrasive edges of a few minutes ago into ripples of amusement. They collided against Optimus' field like soft waves on shore. He had heard Megatron laugh on the battlefield before, it had been sickening then, a sure sign of impending doom. But this... there was something almost charming about it, about his genuine laughter. It made him seem like a different mech.

But then Optimus remembered himself, and who specifically it was that he was admiring. He wrenched his gaze away and very firmly repressed any emotion of the moment, as to not display it in his field.

“Of all the underhanded things you did, I don't think I could ever forgive you for stealing the best medic on Cybertron." Megatron rattled off with a bit of a chuckle. "Although I hear he still earns that terrible nickname.”

Optimus winced slightly behind the mask. Ratchet's bedside manner could be... abrasive at times. But he did care. Idly the thought that Ratchet put the "tough" in "tough love" flickered through his processor.

“Yes, there may be some truth to that statement." Optimus admitted quietly.

That sent Megatron off into another fit, struck funny by the Prime's admission.

Megatron turned sly eyes towards Optimus.

“Do you remember the little squabble we had on that desolate asteroid 1,279 cycles ago?”

Optimus shot him an incredulous look.

“Since when have we ever had 'little squabbles'? You and I-“

Oh. Yes. He did remember. Matter of fact, he had spent a significant amount of time trying to forget that particular "squabble" as Megatron so elegantly deemed it.

It had come down to the two of them slagging it out on the battlefield, like it always did. The standard unstoppable force meets immovable object. This time though, it had been down and dirty. There was no semblance of restraint in this fight, it had been all out.

Prime had blocked a hook by Megatron with his forearm guard, and ducked underneath the offending limb to jab harshly at the vents on his side. Megatron jumped back only to spring forward immediately, catching Optimus with a dizzying uppercut that scrambled his processor and made his helm snap back. Megatron had roared something incomprehensible, then made his play.

Without further ado, he painfully ripped off one of Optimus' smokestacks, and then proceeded to stab him with it.

All in all, over millions of years of war, getting stabbed loses its shock value. Eventually it gets to where getting stabbed is annoying. Being stabbed with a piece of your own frame? Just infuriating.

And in a fit of temper that Optimus so rarely experienced, he threw himself forward with a roar and tackled Megatron.

Right off the edge of a cliff that encircled a massive crater.

And oh, by Primus, when Ratchet had got his servos on him...

First there was swearing, all fraggers and "Pit-Spawned idiot, what were you thinking?!" And then there was yelling, concern for safety, lectures, and threats to permanently remove his modesty panels if he wasn't more careful. Projectiles of various shapes and sizes were vaulted towards Optimus when he was stable. Some sharp and some not. And... well, it had been quite the dressing down.

“-what about it?" He finished after an extended pause.

“What did Ratchet do once he got his servos on you?" Megatron asked, picking up the pace and starting to walk again.

“I'd rather not recount it." Optimus said with a shudder.

Megatron let out another chuckle of acknowledgment.

Thinking back, Optimus said slowly, "Wait a moment, doesn't Shockwave handle your repairs?"

“You see now Prime? That's why I wanted Ratchet. He may be acerbic, but he's the best medic to ever live. Shockwave is simply a scientist who will slap me back together with whatever means necessary. No artistry whatsoever."

Under his breath Optimus mumbled, "What a tragedy."

They trudged quietly on after that. Optimus was hit by a strange sense of vertigo. Had they seriously been discussing colleagues? Them?? It sounded like the intro to a terrible joke, "The Pitspawn and the Prime walk into a jungle.."

Times like these made him remember that before the war, Megatron and Orion Pax would have been great friends. They had both wanted a better future for Cybertron, one that provided equality for all of it's citizens. And in a way, they had both been working to better the world. Just in different directions. With disastrous results. Not even to mention that Optimus had long known that their personalities were quite compatible, they were both stubborn and passionate. Determined and fierce. He admired that much about Megatron. He did not approve of the things he had done, but he thought that it took great dedication to pour oneself wholeheartedly into such an endevor. Megatron had goals, and he would not stop until he reached them. He did not stagnate or falter, he rose up. Had the gulf of the war not separated them, they would have been good friends.

Maybe even more than friends.

And just like that, Optimus took that thought process and shoved it into a whole other section of his processor. One unofficially labeled "Good Primus Why Did I Think That". He avoided that folder at all costs. He took great and protracted effort to make sure that his field stayed neutral.

Changing trains of thought, Optimus thought of his team. He hoped that they were ok, but there were so many unknown variables in play that he couldn't even begin to hazard a guess. He just knew that they needed to get out of this jungle, and fast. He and Megatron were working their way across the terrain at a somewhat steady pace, but not near as fast as he would like. They had to continually work together to make it around rock formations and dense vegetation so as to not pull too aggressively on the cuffs.

Speaking of which...

The somewhat "amicable" silence that had come from their previous conversation was quickly shattered when Optimus, still somewhat stuck in his reverie, was caught off guard when his pede fell into a depression in the ground that had been covered by the detritus and foliage that coated the jungle floor.

He stumbled briefly, and he then felt terror wind through his lines. If he fell even halfway to the ground the pull might detonate the cuff. He wouldn't be able to slow himself fast enough.

Which is when Megatron, with his centuries old reflexes, darted in front of Optimus and caught him against his chest, wrapping his free arm across Optimus’ back kibble.

“Dammit Prime! Are you trying to get us blown into the next system?! I knew you were dumb, but this is a new category of stupidity! You've truly raised the bar this time! Somewhere in prison Starscream has just been hit with the realization that he is being usurped somehow!"

Optimus narrowed his optics and revved his engine aggressively. Considering that Megatron had not yet relinquished his grip upon him, he considered the effect to be multiplied, the vibrations transferring through the shared contact points on their plating. Just like that, the waves of irritation/anger/I'm going to beat the slag out of you were tangling in their intermeshed fields.

“It was an accident Megatron, those do happen on occasion. Now would you release me?!"

Optimus moved to jerk back, but Megatron just gripped him harder.

“Why Prime? So you can trip again and kill us both? Is that a part of your plan?"

Optimus very much broadcasted "that is the dumbest slag I have ever heard" through his field when he sharply retorted, "In what universe would my plan be to escape with you only to kill us both before rescuing my team?! That doesn't even make any sense!" He wriggled in Megatron's grasp.

“Oh I don't know, you do idiotic slag all the time, so at this point I've come to expect it from you.”

“Release me. Now," Optimus said, deadly calm and serious.

“Is that a threat?" Megatron challenged.

“It's about to be."

***

They began stumbling around haggardly, Optimus trying to free himself while Megatron simply held on stubbornly. They might have had more success if they also had not been very paranoid about not tugging on the cuff in the process. The end result looked like dancing, but drunken and with more murderous intent.

As such, neither of them noticed that they were stumbling towards a sunken pit that was filled with a mixture of tar and mud, created from technoorganic plant byproducts and acidic rain.

Those fools

***

That damned Prime was such an idiot. Apparently being gifted the Matrix did not mean that a mech would also be gifted with Common Sense. The jungle floor was bound to be even more treacherous than it already looked, Prime should have been more alert! Pit, Megatron felt that Optimus had been overthinking something just by his field before he tripped. Knowing Prime, it had most likely been something pointless and inane as well.

He was Megatron. Not being killed by incompetent idiots was practically his job at this point. Primus knew that Starscream made it so. He was not going to let himself be terminated by Prime, in any sort of fashion.

Now he was squirming quite ineffectively in his arms, hollering things like, "Release me this instant," and "You're being absolutely ridiculous, Megatron!" All the while he was pounding his free fist upon Megatron's chest plate. Megatron had his arm hooked around Optimus' back, fingers gripping tightly to a seam. He knew that Optimus could dish out worse, but he was holding back due to the cuff.

At least he had that much sense.

Megatron had to keep stepping back to ensure that they didn't both fall over in the midst of their petty grapple. In hindsight, this was the beginning of the end.

Megatron had been using a modified version of a program that had been left over from his mining days to ping obstructions that might be behind him as he walked backwards, that way they wouldn't trip. However, he was not paying attention to what the ground was made of. So, when he had picked up a pede to take another step back, he had not anticipated for it to be firmly stuck in some sort of sticky substrate.

Things happened quickly after that. He was off balance, and he knew he was going to fall. He couldn't risk him and Prime landing incorrectly and detonating the device, so instead he gripped Optimus even tighter as they fell, sideways into the glue-like substance.

Frag.

The pool was warm. Very warm in fact. It probably would have cooked anything fully organic. It was probably geothermally heated. It was somewhat deep, coming about a third of the way up their chests. It was gummed up in their arms and legs, and some of it had even gotten on their helms when they had fallen. This was going to be miserable to get off

“Spawn of a glitch, Megatron! What in the Pits is this?!"

Distantly, Megatron thought that that was the first time in millennia that he had heard Optimus swear like that. He had almost missed it.

“If my guess is right, some kind of tar mixture." Megatron replied in an exhausted deadpan. He had seen stuff like this in the mines before. It was usually a waste byproduct.

And it was stickier than anything he had ever seen.

“Excellent job Megatron. In trying to solve a problem, you caused exactly what you had set out to fix. Almost like something else you've done."

For the second time during their little excursion, Megatron vividly imagined making Prime eat his face plate. He wasn't even sure if he had a proper mouth, but dammit, he'd make it work somehow.

He could feel the irritation/exasperation roiling in Optimus' field. He sent a very clear "shut the frag up" in response.

“So how are we going to get out of this one, oh wise and all knowing Lord Megatron?" Sarcasm practically dripped off the question, unlike the viscous tar that they were partially submerged in.

“Glad you finally decided to listen to me, oh Prime the self righteous."

Megatron could see and feel Optimus gearing up for some kind of lecture when he interrupted him.

“Your transformation sequence allows your hips to pivot 180 degrees, correct?"

He felt Optimus stiffen in his arms as a snap of shock ripped through his field. He probably hadn't expected Megatron to know that. Megatron had studied Optimus for millennia, even his specific transformation sequence. Knowing which way parts of his frame bent was practically second nature at this point. Pit, he’d seen him transform enough as is. It really shouldn’t be this surprising.

“...Yes?" Optimus answered after an extended beat.

“Then if you simply rotate your hips 90 degrees towards the ground, you could push up with your legs. Once we are up enough, I'll get my legs underneath me and we can both get up and walk out."

For a second, Optimus almost looked petulant.

“And what if Idon't want to?"

Their proximity made it hard to not look intensely into the Prime's optics. They were a vibrant blue as they had always been, brighter now that he was irritated. He was so close, he could even see the tiny aperatures behind the glass, making minute adjustments to light levels. Right now, he and Optimus were curled up in a mockery of a lover's embrace. His arm was wrapped around Optimus' waist, across his back, while Optimus had one arm trapped between them, palm flat on his chest. And, of course, their other hands were cuffed together.

Suddenly the whole moment felt intensely, innapropriately intimate.

“I don't know Prime, maybe we will just lay here and starve to death while our troops have who knows what done to them. Does that sound good to you?" He growled.

Optimus narrowed his optics, and Megatron had the explicit feeling that if he did have a mouth under that mask, it was frowning.

He felt Optimus shift his hips as he grumbled something like "always cleaning up your messes," and "Primus give me strength."

Slowly, but surely, Optimus got his legs in the proper position and pushed up. He had to continually widen his stance to ensure that Megatron's extra weight didn't immediately drag them both back down again. Additionally, he has to work against the tar gumming up his joints. He worked slowly, which made Megatron antsy, but he knew it was better to be cautious than to risk falling in a position that they couldn't get out of.

Once he was able, Megatron got his legs underneath him, and helped push them both upright. They both slowly shuffled their way out of the muck. It was hard, but not impossible.

Once they were outside of the dreck, a shared ripple of victory/relief slid through their fields.

Now to separ-

They both started to take a step back, but were held firmly in place.

Then something new spread through their fields. It was an overwhelming sense of horror/realization/dread. It seeped out, like ink dropped in water. Their optics locked, and Megatron watched Prime's widen marginally.

He tried to lean back slightly, Megatron followed. He pushed against Megatron's chest, but didn't move. He stepped back, and Megatron's frame came right along. He shimmied to-

“Enough Prime! Quit your pathetic squirming!We are obviously stuck together! The tar mixture must have hardened while we attempted to stand up."

Optimus gunned his engine to a pitch that Megatron usually heard on the battlefield, but now he felt it rattle through his armor as well.

“What are going to do now?! We're stuck together in this ridiculous position, in the middle of nowhere, with no help! How are we supposed to get this off! We can barely walk like this, let alone navigate an alien jungle! It will take us weeks to-"

By that point Megatron stopped paying attention to whatever drivel Optimus was spouting. If he was just going to sit there and shout the obvious then he was no use right now. Megatron needed to think and come up with a solution. They couldn't afford to stay like this, and he didn't want to stay like this. "On the bright side," some rogue bit of his processor thought, "it's unlikely that we could set the cuffs off like this now." They were glued together far too intimately to do so on accident, if one of them went down they were both going.

He began turning his sensors outwards, trying to estimate the tar thickness and composition.  It wasn't looking good. Their torsos were the worst affected, glued together firmly from shoulder to hips on one side. Their uncuffed side. It appeared that Optimus' arm, the one currently against his chest, was glued from elbow to mid-forearm. That left his servo free enough to still smack at Megatron's chest plate,  which he was doing now in a rapid, irritating rhythm. The arm that Megatron had curled instinctively around Prime's waist was firmly glued in place. There was so much tar on his elbow joint that it was practically fused in place. Like a certain glitch, his servo was mostly free to move back at the wrist joint, but that was the extent of his mobility. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was fairly certain that his servo was positioned over the Prime's aft. He could not confirm, however. He couldn't see behind Prime and he had made no comment about it yet.

He briefly surfaced from his thoughts to focus on Optimus' face. Judging by the way his face mask bobbed up and down the Prime was still running his vocalizer. His eyes were nothing more than thin blue slits, orbital ridges furrowed downwards and nasal ridge crinkled as irritation pinched his expression. Megatron was no expert in reading fields, but he was pretty sure Optimus was saying something about placing his fusion cannon in places Primus had never intended it to be.

He smirked at that, which seemed to stop Optimus for a second, his visage relaxing in shock briefly, before narrowing sharply once again. His mask was really flapping about now, surely in the midst of some kind of tirade. Megatron took the chance to study his mask. He'd only ever gotten it off of Prime once, and he hadn't even gotten to see what was underneath. They had been in the midst of a large sandstorm and his view had been obscured. For not the first time, he wondered if Prime had a proper face. Some of their kind did not, but it made for a tantalizing mystery either way. Even when he had been a mere law enforcer he'd almost never taken the mask off. No images existed of what might be underneath. Megatron should know, he had Soundwave look once. The mask itself was an interesting feature. From far away it looked rather plain. Unadorned and a base metal grey made of two sloping plates. Up close, however, was a different story. Each side was made into a dozen small plates, all which fit together perfectly. There was a symmetrical pattern of seams that went across each side, creating a mosaic of intersecting lines. The pattern was almost entrancing. That mask was quite a piece of craft craftsmanship. It had probably come with the other upgrades that the Matrix had given him.

Megatron wanted very suddenly, and very vividly, to trace his fingers along every line. He wanted to stroke his thumbs down the center, and follow that strong ridge. He wanted to fondle the edges where the mask met helm armor, and squeeze his fingers into-

That line of thought was quickly halted when Optimus had found it prudent to use the circuitry that would usually power his axe to instead deliver a sharp shock to Megatron's chest.

“You aren't even listening to me, are you?! Care to share what's so important that it's taking up all your spare processing power?!"

Secretly enraged that he had been caught in a moment of interest, caused by desires he thought he long since buried, Megatron snarled.

“Do you ever shut that vocoder of yours? I'm trying to think of a solution to get out of here," a lie, "unlike some of us!"

“And? Have you come up with anything of use?"

Then Megatron did actually catapult into thinking of a solution. He focused all resources on finding a solution as fast as possible, just to spite Prime. He dug up memory banks from back when they had first approached Sizix 9, when Shockwave had briefed him about the planet techno-organic planets were rare, but not unheard of. Apparently most of the planet's liquid was a mixture of water and a compound that was similar to solvents used on Cybertron. If they could find a stream or pond of some kind, then removing it should be simple.

“Actually Prime, I did." He replied with more confidence than one should have after being caught daydreaming. "If we can locate a stream of some sort the planet's water should be able to remove the tar."

“I think you were thinking about more than that." Optimus responded with a suspicious look.

“I think that it's none of your business what I do or do not think!"

“Well then Megatron, I guess we better get moving before you get too lost in that empty processor of yours."

They had bickered for quite some time about who would have to go backwards. Optimus would have won the argument, "It's your fault that we are in this predicament, you can walk backwards," when Megatron had promptly used his advantageous arm position to Pick Him Up and start walking forwards.

Optimus was about to lose it. First Megatron had held on to him to win his petty little arguement, then he had made them fall over, and now they were stuck together. Forget the war, Megatron could be infuriating on the very basis of existing. Like every possible thing he did was geared to get on every last one of Optimus' capacitors.

Optimus also knew that the irritation was a cover for the embarrassment that was also burning through his lines. It was honestly absurd, the way the two of them were intertwined. Megatron's arm was wrapped around him, so firmly and rock solid. Strong enough to pick Optimus' heavily fortified and armored frame like it was nothing. Not to mention that his servo was placed over his aft! It couldn't have been his back, no, instead it had to be there! The very thought made his faceplates heat a fraction underneath the mask. He was never more thankful for his mask when Megatron had picked him up, it had hidden the surprised 'o' his mouth had made involuntarily. That is, before launching into an appropriate reprimand for the actions taken.

It had been honesty disconcerting, the intensity at which Megatron had been studying his face with. He had very obviously not been thinking about possible solutions. "Master" of deception he may be, Optimus had known him for far too long to not at least have some idea when he wasn't telling the full truth. Regardless of that fact, what Megatron had actually been thinking was a mystery even to Optimus. Some possibilities threatened to make Optimus' core temp rise, even as he assured himself that that was ridiculous, Megatron would never.

Primus, he really needed to monitor his temperature closely. Arranged the way they were, touching shoulder to hip and everywhere inbetween, if he started running hot there was no way Megatron wouldn't notice.

He would try to focus on anything other than Megatron, but it was rather hard to do. Since he was stuck concentrating on matching his steps with Megatron's in a pantomime of a dance. Since their fields were so interwoven at this distance, due to their combined stubbornness. Since all that filled his field of vision was Megatron's face, all strong defined features and cutting expressions. If Optimus were inclined to lie to himself, he would protest quite vehemently that Megatron was not handsome, thank you very much. However, he was not. Megatron was handsome, always had been. With his sharp cheekbones and full lips and those optics. Optimus had always found them captivating. They reminded him of a crystalline formation that humans had favored on Earth. He believed they called it "ruby." It too, was highly favored for its deep red coloration. Hm. Tragically handsome indeed.

“He looks even better when he laughs," a rogue processor threw into his consciousness like a grenade. He tossed that, and the attached image capture from earlier, into the unofficially named folder.

He needed to think about something else. Now. Something was going to give him away, field or temperature. He needed a good old fashioned distraction. Something to divert his mental resources to, that would require complex thinking.

Bickering with Megatron should work. About something insignificant, of course. They didn't need to fight so much so that they stopped making progress.

And so, against probably better judgement, Optimus looked Megatron in the optics and said:

“So is the cannon supposed to be compensation, or what?"

Mentally, Optimus slapped himself. Petty? Yes. Smart? No. He could have picked a better topic.

Oh, but it did the job.

He felt the sizzle of competition flare through their fields as Megatron inclined his helm slightly downwards to look Optimus in the eyes.

“Excuse me?" He grit out.

No backing down now.

“You know, it's a popular mystery. Surely you've heard it, it's been wildly speculated on both sides. It's apparent that you could have a cannon that produces blasts of equal power while also being smaller. Especially with someone as scientifically skilled as Shockwave on your side. So why is it so big?"

Megatron appeared to raise an optical ridge almost imperceptibly. It would have been, had it not been for their proximity.

“What, precisely, are you trying to imply?"

“Nothing, it’s just that we’re stuck together, so I see this as a chance to get some answers. So, is it true? Do you use the cannon to compensate for your lack of battle strategy? To use some intimidation factor to try and give you the extra confidence you need to get out on the battlefield? From where I stand it does seem plausible, given how heavily you rely on it."

Megatron gave him an incredulous look. His field shifted from irritation to... disbelief?

“You're joking, right?"

“No? You do seem to rely heavily on your cannon, especially based on-"

Megatron started shaking rhythmically. Optimus then realized that he was laughing so hard that he wasn't making any noise, just convulsing.

Now Optimus was confused. "Why are you laughing?"

Megatron invented harshly, made a choked off sound and gasped out, "You do know that's not what they mean when they say I'm compensating, right?"

“What? I- no-"

“You know I have described you as naive many times before," Megatron paused to bark out a sharp laugh, "but I don't think even I thought it was this bad!"

Megatron was back to laughing again, so hard that Optimus' whole frame was moving with each shuddering invent. All he could do was stare at Megatron with a bewildered expression.

“Do you seriously not know what they mean, Prime?"

Optimus stayed scrupulously silent.

“Ha! Oh that's just fantastic! Tell you what-“

And then Megatron leaned his head towards Optimus, so that his nasal ridge was mere microns from his mask. Optimus began to feel trepidation build in his spark at Megatron's smirk. There was no way that was good. He then said in a tone that was ridiculously teasing:

“You just asked me if my spike was big."

Optimus felt his whole processor stop.

“No! I just- well I- you know! I- why would I ever-  the connotation was obviously not something I was aware of! I would never-"

Distantly, Optimus knew he was rambling. Shame was practically eating at his frame, both from his misunderstanding and his current reaction. He'd never heard Megatron say spike before, and the sound of it was still ringing in his audials. How had he not realized? The way it was thrown as a jab, the way other bots snickered about it! He should have known there was more to it than a jab at Megatron’s ability as a military commander!

“-I would never ask about your spike."

Frag. He winced slightly. Opened his mouth under the mask again, thought better of it. Shut it.

And the whole time he was speaking, Megatron had been watching like a feast was laid before him. He had looked very much like he had been enjoying himself. He stared for a beat after Optimus finished his rant. It had felt like eternity.

Seeming like he made up his mind about something, Megatron contorted his face into a grin that was practically salacious.

“My my Prime," he said in a voice that was a purr, "so easily undone?"

Embarrassment was running rampant through his frame now, he could tell that his core temp was rising. Which meant that Megatron knew his temperature was rising which only made him burn hotter, making Megatron all the more aware and so on in a vicious cycle.

“I don't know what you're talking about." Optimus vehemently denied.

Slag. That was a stupid response.

Megatron's optics narrowed but his smirk broadened. No way that meant anything good.

“You look absolutely delicious, all flustered like this."

His field was practically writhing with mortification and he just knew Megatron could feel it. His faceplates were flushed, he knew that much. For not the first time in his functioning he was eternally thankful for his mask. The tips of his finials were also practically aflame, and likely also tinged. He subconsciously shifted them back, away from Megatron. Of course, there was no way Megatron meant anything he was saying. He was just doing what he always did, finding a weakness and exploiting it.

Still didn’t help the embarrassment any.

“Had I known it would have been this easy to bait a reaction out of you I would have tried it millenia ago on the battlefield." His optics ravaged Optmus' face. "It's wonderful watching you squirm."

Optimus cursed mentally. He shouldn't be reacting like this, he shouldn't be so easy to rile up. It was just all... so out of his comfort zone. Being Prime meant that no one flirted with you,  it was a given. Who flirts with their commanding officer?! No one! He had had some brief passes with this kind of thing before he was Prime, but it had been so long.

Not even to mention that he wasn't braced for this kind of thing. Running out into heavy artillery fire seemed like a piece of cake compared to this. It was familiar territory. He knew the thundering of explosions. He knew the screams of others being injured. He knew the pain of having his frame ripped apart. When it came to that, he knew what to expect. He knew how to prepare, and how to respond when things happened. He knew how to go face to fusion cannon with Megatron. Or face to fist when it came down to it. Verbal insults with Megatron was just another day in the office.

But he had never, in all his functioning, prepared for Megatron to flirt with him. Nothing could have prepared him for this. It had caught him so off guard it felt like he was drowning. Just the sound of his voice, and that look he was giving him. Not even to mention how close they were.

And maybe, just perhaps, this reaction was partially influenced by some repressed feelings. But the less that he thought about that, or anything else in that accursed folder, the better.

It was all too much. Optimus was feeling beyond out of control, and no matter what he couldn't stop the embarrassment from rocking through his frame like a tidal wave for Megatron to see.

Megatron licked his lips, and despite his current state, Optimus felt enraptured by the motion. He manually disabled his cooling fans and tore his optics from the sight, refusing to look at Megatron's face.

Megatron's field was an intoxicating mixture. He felt it's teasing edge against his own field, curling with the tumultuous whirlpools his embarrassment was making. It felt horribly smug and self-satisfied and it was not helping Optimus' situation at all. Optimus had felt something else there, something he'd hesitate to call desire, when he noticed movement from the corner of his optic.

“What is that?" Optimus asked.

“Oh no you don't Prime, you're not getting out of that this easily."

Optimus' irritation allowed him to overcome his state for a moment.

“I'm being serious Megatron, something just moved-"

It was then that loud, shrill sound cut through the jungle. Megatron and Optimus both halted the backwards shuffle they had been doing. They both turned their heads to the side to locate the source of the shriek.

“What the frag was that?"

And no sooner than Megatron had stopped speaking, something had burst through the dense foliage of the jungle.

***

It had been such great fun teasing the Prime. Watching and feeling him get flustered was addicting in his own sense. He knew that it was a weak self indulgence born of his own desires, but it was so worth it. He knew that he would never be able to stop it. He wanted more of this, so much more. He wanted this Optimus. All rambling sentences and flustered fields. He had been so flushed that it had been apparent even with the mask. For the third time during this little adventure Megatron had envisioned tearing it off, but for different reasons this time. He wanted to see his whole expression. See what he looked like, so delectable and so easy to wind up.

And if anyone thought there had been some truth to what he was saying, he could say that he had been manipulating his enemy. Nothing more.

And so when Prime had started blathering something about something moving, he wasn't going to fall for it. He hadn't been ready to give up the game yet.

And then that... thing had come crawling out of the foliage.

It was horrible to look at. Megatron was honestly offended to exist in the same space as it. If he had been able to access his fusion cannon, he would have blasted it just on account of being that ugly.

It was fairly tall, probably just to the bottom of his chestplate. It walked on six spindly limbs, all a mixture of metal bits strung together with flesh. Each one ended in a single, sharp looking talon. At the top, where each disgusting locomotive appendage conjoined, there was a large head shaped like a flattened ball. It didn't have any discernible optics, but what it did have was a single grotesque mouth. It was wide open, and it reminded Megatron a great deal of Helex. Sharp blades spiraled inwards, down the creature's gullet. It was techno-organic, like the rest of this damned planet. The metal was the same silver as the rest of the jungle, which probably provided it camouflage. The "meat" that showed in between was a greenish shade, but not a vibrant color, more like a rotting one. Meat was actually a generous term, it looked more like exposed tendons.

Megatron finally gathered himself enough to speak again.

“Correction. What the frag IS that?”

The creature made that horrible noise again, and spun the blades in its mouth as it did so.

“No idea, but it probably wants to eat us."

The slight against nature began to circle them, humming ominously. Megatron had no doubt that he could kill it easily, had his only free limbs not been his pedes and had he not been attached to an entire Prime. Given their current situation, it might actually be a problem. Hmm.

The both rotated in time with the creature, so that they could both watch it. After walking for so long together, moving in unison wasn't that hard. It never had been. After fighting for so long, they both had an idea for eachother's rhythm.

The creature stopped, and looked like it was about to lunge. Optimus had acted first, turning away and starting to run, forcing Megatron to move backwards.

“Dammit, Prime!" He yelled.

“Move your aft, Megatron!" Optimus shot back.

At least this way Megatron could keep an eye on the creature while Optimus steered, he honestly preffered it that way. He liked knowing where his enemy was at. Then again, who didn't. Although they did have a problem.

“It's gaining on us!"

“I know! If only I could shift to alt! Pick your legs up high, big trunk!"

“Yes, I know! I sense it!" Megatron yelled as he complied.

Optimus steered them both around a particularly large tree. They zigged and zagged wildy as Optimus tried to choose a path that they could both fit through without bending over or having to jump too high.

The creature was even closer now, practically on top of them.

“Help me reach our arms out!" Optimus yelled.

Megatron did so, and felt the edge of a branch hit his forearm. Realization dawned on him as he felt Optimus grab tight to a branch as they ran past, and then release it once they were safely by.

The sound the branch made upon impact had been immensely gratifying. A solid crack like a lighting strike that had knocked the creature off its terrible little legs.

Much funnier when it happens to someone else, Megatron thought.

They were still running like all Pit when Optimus suddenly stopped.

“What the frag are you doing, Prime? Do you want to die?!"

“Look!" He said as he spun them enough for Megatron to see.

There was a huge canyon spreading in front of them. Too far for them to jump to the other side. It cut through the ground like a huge jagged slash. They both cautiously peered over the side. It was a long ways down. Not far enough to be fatal, but enough to seriously injure them.

The creature then made that Primus awful racket again. It sounded far too close. They both looked each other in the optics, and nodded their helms. They had both reached the same conclusion, unilaterally and without words.

They both faced towards the foliage they just burst out of, bodies perpendicular to the canyon.

The monster appeared and barreled towards them with furious intent. Its many legs were working rapidly as it drew towards its prey, bladed mouth spinning. It was a viscerally horrifying sight to see, but they stood their ground. Millions of years of war taught them that much, how to look death in the eye and not flinch. At the last possible instant, they both spun out of the way, almost like a dance. Thousands of years of battle together allowed them to slide smoothly, naturally.

The creature kept going, going, right off the edge. Or at least, it had been. Right until it had taken one of its miserable little legs and caught itself on the edge of the chasm. It was beginning to pull itself up. Alarm rang through their intermeshed fields.

And so, without speaking again, they both acted.

Right as that freakish little monstrosity heaved the bulk of its body over the edge, they both slammed into it at top speed. Hitting with their side that was glued together. The three of them fell towards the bottom.

The feeling of free fall was always disorienting. It felt like Megatron's fuel pump was a good ways behind him, and the roar of the wind as it cut past their frames was deafening. Megatron looked into Optimus' eyes and grinned. Not bad for first time on the same team.

When they hit the bottom, it had not been comfortable. Megatron's whole frame rattled, and he was pretty sure he dislocated the shoulder he landed on. His processor felt like it was in a blender. Optimus had landed on his arm and dented it quite badly, not that he had really had a choice in the matter. He blearily looked at Optimus, who looked similarly discombobulated. He turned his helm as much as he could and was surprised to find that they had landed in a river. It was moving at a fairly slow pace and it didn't look very deep. There were two small embankments on each side, maybe slightly shorter than they were tall.

The creature (which they had both landed on) was in its death throes. It twitched and jerked grotesquely in its futile struggle for life. Judging by the rate at which whatever fluid counted as its energon was staining the water, it probably had been punctured by some rocks that had been underneath.

“Good news Prime," his voice was edged with static, "we found that river."

“Ha ha." Optimus said in a deadpan tone. His optics crossed and he blinked harshly before pulling them into focus on Megatron. "It only took jumping off a cliff."

“True." Megatron replied.

“I think my leg is dented."

“Oh it'll be fine. At least now we can work on being separated. Besides, I think you dented my arm."

“My apologies Megatron, next time I will be more aware of your extremities when facing certain death."

Now Megatron wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. Prime was like that sometimes.

Using the same maneuver that they used to get out of the tar, they stood up on the creature and walked into the river. With Megatron going forwards once again. They headed upstream a ways from the carcass, neither one wanting to be particularly close to it.

Finally, they stopped next took a rock that was partially submerged. If they could sit on it they would be submerged almost all the way up to their should pauldrons. They would have to just sit in the river for awhile and wait for the tar to soften. Megatron thought about trying to scrub with their cuffed hands, but they couldn't reach the bulk of the tar, which was on the other side of their frames. There was nothing to do but wait in the water.

Optimus was staring at the rock in the water with an inquisitive expression.

“How are we going to sit on that? Are we just going to have to lay on the riverbed?" Optimus suggested.

Megatron wasn't particularly fond of laying down on the river bottom. If he knew anything about organic rivers, even partial ones, it was that the bottom was usually gross and covered in slime. He'd had enough of being covered in mysterious substances.

And then a solution came together in his mind.

“No." He said simply.

“Well then what are we going to-"

Optimus cut himself off with a high pitched sound as Megatron moved. He turned his back to the rock, wrapped one cuffed hand around the back of one of Optimus' thighs and hooked his knee underneath the other one. Then he simply sat down on the rock, forcing Optimus' thighs to spread wide and straddle his lap. There. That had been easy enough.”

“See? We can both sit on the rock." Megatron said very smugly.”

“The only response he got out of Optimus was an incomprehensible string of embarrased sounds. He was quite obviously avoiding eye contact, looking anywhere but Megatron's face. His armor was warming against Megatron's frame and it was wonderful. He was certain that under the mask he was blue faced. The flustered and shy quality of his field was such a new side of Optimus that it was intoxicating. The way that it only took some simple teasing to wind him up was too good to give up.

Oh. He was never going to let that bit of information go.

“There was the sound of cooling fans starting, and then being forcefully shut off. Optimus spoke in a voice that was wracked with static.”

“Megatron, are you sure that this is necessary?" He asked, still avoiding optic contact.

“Very." Megatron responded with a deliberate rumble of his engine.

“That is," Megatron continued, "unless you've decided that you like me so much you want to spend the rest of our lives together?" He grinned wickedly.

Optimus' frame jolted. "No!- just the way we are- um... and you! You did this! So it's not really me it's you!" He said with finality, like it settled something.

“Hmm." Megatron rumbled contemplative.

He started to pry on the arm that was stuck to Optimus' back. Slowly, he wriggled it until it was free all the way to the elbow joint. He then took it and began stroking up and down Prime's back kibble, working loose the excess tar in circular scrubbing motions.

Prime stayed silent, but his temperature climbed ever so slightly. The tar glueing Megatron's elbow to the sides of their frames was much thicker, so he took his time. He worked the tar off Optimus' kibble slowly, being thorough in his examination. He traced transformation seems with his fingers, trying to memorize their layout. He worked his way into ridges, scrubbing out the tar with the rivers help.

He could tell Optimus was trying to be perfectly still and silent. That wouldn't do at all.

He began tracing patterns and delving into what should be sensitive crevices. He hit a spot near the small of Optimus' back and he arched, making a choked off sound. Now there's an exploitable weakness. He went back and hit the same spot over and over. Optimus' cooling fans clicked on and were then shut off just as fast. He shivered hard.

Finally, Megatron's elbow separated from their frames now free to move his entire arm. The began working at the tar that was pinning Optimus' arm between the two of them, as well as keeping their chassis firmly attached. As much as he loved teasing Prime, he was also interested in being able to see more than his face. As well as being able to bend over again.

He repeated the same scrubbing motion on the thick glob of tar between them. Occasionally he raked his fingers through the mess, scraping it away so that more was exposed to the cleaning solvent in the river. Steadily he worked, until they were able to lean the upper halves of their chest plates away from each other. Then eventually Optimus was capable of moving his arm at the elbow, now unglued from Megatron's chest. Megatron mourned the loss of contact briefly, but focused on the task at hand.

Now all that was left was a decent sized glob that was anchoring their pelvic armor on one side. Optimus seemed hesitant to touch it. Megatron held no such reservations. He attacked it with them same vigor as the rest of the mess, scraping and massaging it away. When he brushed against Optimus' hip plating it was scalding, even in the water.

He looked at Optimus once more. He was staring at Megatron's hands with great alacrity. He was also still horribly embarrassed, that much was apparent.

“You do know that if you do not allow your cooling fans to engage you will overheat, right?”

“Get slagged.” Optimus grit out.

Megatron merely laughed in response. The moment they were finally separated Optimus jumped back from Megatron like he had been burned. He sat next to him on the rock and began scrubbing off the residual tar. Megatron followed suit, not enjoying the tacky feel upon his plating.

They sat like that in silence for awhile, just allowing the water of the river to remove the grime from their plating.

Megatron thought about his troops. They’d been gone for quite a few breems now. He’d honestly be surprised if Soundwave hadn’t found a way out of the cuffs by now. If he was really lucky maybe the Opwandi had dismantled Starscream. He doubted it though. He was like one of those Earthen creatures. A cockroach? He thought that was the correct name. Either way, the disgusting organic comparison was fitting.

Megatron leaned back into the river and began scrubbing the tar off his helm. It had been horribly irritating this whole time, making him itch ever so slightly. As he had scrubbed he heard an unfamiliar sound. Almost like a panel retracting.

He sat up out of the water and looked at Optimus. He was currently bent over and scrubbing his face in the river with his free hand.

He leaned up, and seemed to sense he was being watched. He slowly turned towards Megatron.

And for the first time in four million years, Megatron saw the rest of Optimus’ face. He did, in fact, have a mouth. He couldn’t tear his optics away from the sight. Matter of fact, he was already taking image captures and storing them away to look at later.

His face was so handsome it was honestly unfair. Megatron considered himself good looking, but he felt blown out of the water now. He had a nose that was fairly straight and narrow, sharp and angular. Upon closer inspection in tilted ever so slightly upwards at the end, which Megatron felt irrevocably charming. He had a surprisingly dainty mouth, small and pointed. On his left side Megatron could see an old scar that marred the protoform. Probably left over from when he had ripped the mask off or some other time.

On someone else it might have seemed a shame to “mar” something so beautiful, but on Optimus it was only all the more attractive. Upon seeing the whole face it felt like finding the missing piece of a puzzle. He knew that he was staring quite rudely, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was simply drinking in the sight.

“Wow.” He whispered softly before he could stop himself.

Then the most wonderful and tragic thing happened. Optimus’ face flushed and, oh, he already loved it. The way the color creeped across his cheeks and nasal ridge, the way his eyes were wide and the way his mouth twisted slightly downwards. It was something Megatron doubted he would ever forget. Optimus captured a small part of his bottom lip and tugged on it as he averted his eyes. Slag, now Megatron’s processor was wildly speculating about what it would feel like caught between his teeth. The answer was very, very nice. And just as quickly as it had happened, it was over.

That dammed battle mask slid into place. Oh, he was definitely going to rip it off now.

Optimus spoke at last, in a strangled quiet voice.

“You know, it’s not polite to stare.”

“I was simply admiring the view.” Megatron said without thinking twice.

***
Optimus had hit his limit with Megatron’s teasing. He was tired of being flustered and egged on. What was worse was when he stared at his face. He knew that the scarring was bad, that’s why he kept the mask on. He had simply removed it to get off some tar that had somehow gotten underneath when he had thought Megatron to be preoccupied. He hadn’t expected this.

And he certainly hadn’t expected to be mocked.

“Enough Megatron! I tolerate plenty of slag out of you, but I will not tolerate you mocking me in such a manner. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I’ve handed your aft to you many a time. And I’ll do it again once we’re free of these wretched cuffs.”

Megatron seemed surprised at the threat in Optimus’ tone.

“Mocking? I was doing no such-“

“Yes, you were! I know I’m not precisely a paragon of beauty, but of all the people to ridicule me about it I had never expected you.”

Megatron moved suddenly, and clasped both servos on either side of Optimus’ face. Not seaming to care that Optimus had to scramble to keep up with him to not pull on the cuffs. The pressure from his servos was firm. Optimus immediately moved to free himself from the grip, taking both of his hands and wrapping them around Megatron’s wrists. He began to move his helm back and drag Megatron’s hands down, but he stayed strong.

“Release me now.” Prime said threateningly.

“No,” Megatron answered, “not until you-“

“No, Megatron. You are going to release me this instant, I am not going to listen to more of your insults-“

“Please.” Megatron said, softly, sincerely.

Optimus stopped moving. Megatron had never, not once, said please in four million years. Especially not to Optimus. It was so very strange to hear in that voice.

“I am not lying when I say that I was not mocking you Prime.” He started, looking Optimus dead in the eyes. “I would never mock you on something as silly as your appearance. Believe me,” he said with a smirk, “I could do much better.”

“Matter of fact,” he said drawing in a deep invent, “I think your face is wonderful to look at. A paragon of beauty indeed.”

Optimus was stunned. Whatever he had expected to come out of Megatron’s mouth, it hadn’t been this. He opened his mouth under his mask and closed it. Megatron was still looking into his eyes, almost reverently. He began to take his thumbs and drag them softly across the flat expanse of his battle mask. A soothing gesture.

Optimus hestitated for a few moments, before allowing the mask to slowly part down the middle and fold back.

When it was finally out of the way, Megatron gave him a beaming smile, and then leaned in an kissed him.

Optimus’ entire processor went up in flames. Ever last comprehensible thought he had went out the window. Megatron was kissing him. His sworn enemy, his rival, he was kissing him. Their lips were pressed together modestly, and Megatron’s optics were closed. This was wrong. He should not-

And then Megatron nipped at his lip, and everything else didn’t matter. Shivers ran up and down his spinal strut in waves and his face felt like fire. His spark was pulsing wildly and his lips tingled wonderfully. Their fields were mixing to the point where there was hardly any difference between them, it was all electric fire and the need to be close to each other. Years of repressed longing bubbling up to the surface.

It was fantastic.

And then Megatron was sliding his glossa into Optimus’ mouth and he made an involuntary and mortifying moan. Which seemed to be the correct response, because it only egged Megatron on further. He was moving his servos then, talking their cuffed ones and intertwining their digits. He took his other servo and pressed it against the back of Optimus’ neck and used it to deepen their kiss. Optimus made a pleased little hum in response, and Megatron revved his engine. Upon some horrible impulse Optimus took his now free servo and put it on Megatron’s chest, except this time it wasn’t glued. He felt Megatron’s frame thrumming beneath his fingers and he thought it felt lovely to feel him moving and living beneath his fingertips.

He didn’t know when their cooling fans turned on, but now they were both whirring loudly. He didn’t know how long they kissed for. He didn’t care, he never wanted it to stop. He wanted to absorb this feeling and wear it like a coat of paint around his spark forever.

When they finally surfaced they both looked a little intoxicated and out of breath. They panted hard, simply leaning with their forehelms pressed together, staring into each other’s eyes from a ridiculously close distance.

“Hi.” Optimus whispered.

He mentally punched himself. “Hi”?! Really?! After that kind of make out?? But then Megatron chuckled in a good-natured manner, and it soothed the sting.

“Hello to you too.” Megatron whispered back.

They sat like that for a few seconds of blissful silence, when reality hit Optimus like a full processor reboot.

“Oh my Primus,” he whispered horrified, “what have we done?”

***

Things had been going quite nicely for Megatron. He was finally unstuck and not in any immediate danger. He had finally got to see Prime’s face, and he had even managed to kiss him.

And now Optimus was freaking out again.

“We’re enemies! This was so inappropriate! We’re going to have to go right back to slagging it out on the battlefield! Oh Primus, wHAT IS RATCHET GONNA DO TO ME?! I CAN’T-“

Megatron leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Optimus’ mouth.

“Who said anything about going back to fighting?”

Optimus looked confused, an expression that was adorable without the mask.

“What?” He said, eloquently.

“We’re you lying to me earlier when you said you thought Functionism should burn? When you said you thought all Cybertronians deserved equality?” Megatron asked.

“No, I wasn’t. On my spark Megatron, I meant every word.”

Megatron smirked. “Then I think we can come to some kind of agreement.”

“It won’t be that easy. You know that. Do you seriously think you’d be willing to compromise with me? Even if it meant giving up power?”’

“I’m not willing to release all the planets I’ve conquered, but what if I let you manage how we interacted with the native species?”

“I’d say that’s more than I ever hoped out of you. But why now, Megatron? Why compromise now?”

“Lets just say I’ve found something I’m equally determined to pursue as the cause.”

Optimus gave him a considering look. “I don’t think it will be as easy as you’re making it out to be, but if you’re willing to try, I am too.”

Megatron squeezed the fingers that they had threaded together. “I am.”

He opened his mouth to speak again when he got a comm from... Soundwave???

::Soundwave?:: He answered.

::Lord Megatron: please remain still. Soundwave: en route with Autobots.::

He turned to Optimus. “Soundwave is on the way with some of your Autobots.”

“I know, Ratchet just commed me. He’s with them.”

::How did you escape?::

::Soundwave: will explain upon arrival.::

“It appears we won’t be alone much longer then.” Megatron directed at Optimus.

Megatron leaned in and kissed Optimus hard one last time. When he finished he sent Optimus his personal comm frequency over a short burst.

“For negotiations.” He said with a wink that sent Optimus into minor spark arrest.

The sound of an approaching shuttle sounded at the top of the canyon, a sure sign that their forces were close.

“Oh, and Optimus, you might want to put the mask back on.”

He heard it slide back into place so loudly it sounded painful. He cackled at the sound, for which Optimus smacked him.

The shuttle landed a bit upstream from them, fitting easily into the broad canyon. The dock at the back opened and out stepped Ratchet and Soundwave. Along with a few others.

“Prime!” Ratchet yelled. “What the frag are you doing in a canyon?!”

::Looks like someone’s in trouble:: Megatron sent.

::Shut up!:: Optimus replied.

“It’s a long story Ratchet. How did you all escape?” He asked.

“Oh please Prime, have you forgotten what my hands can do? Let me get that off of you.”

Ratchet walked over and Megatron made no move to stop him. He moved so fast that his hands were a blur. One second the cuffs were on, and the next they were gone.

“Soundwave, have all of our troops been freed?”

“Yes, Lord Megatron. Soundwave: made sure of it.”

“Turns out the cuffs were the only thing the Opwandi had to capture us. After I got them all off escaping was a breeze.” Ratchet added in.

“Well I am thankful that everyone made it out safely. What do you say that we all get out of here?” Optimus said looking back at the shuttle.

“Sounds good to me.” Said Ratchet. “Although, you are going to allow me to give you a complete medical workup and you are going to tell me everything that happened here.”

::The Hatchet strikes once more:: Megatron sent.

::You know, I’m already thinking about blocking you:: Optimus sent with great exasperation.

And then they walked up the ramp of the shuttle, towards the future.

Together.