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The noble-caste were, as a rule, short.
This hadn't been something Optimus had appreciated until he was attending a gathering — they were far too uptight to call it a party — and dodging long strings of decorative crystal lights whenever he took a step. Unfortunately, that meant he was often stuck in one place at a time, free for any noble to come and start talking to him, even though he would really rather have had a quiet night in and an early recharge after dealing with the High Council all day.
"Ah, Prime, there you are." A mech appeared out of the crowd. Silverwire, heir to the noble house of Sulphite, if Optimus's frazzled processor was displaying the correct designation. He managed to give the impression of looking down on Optimus despite only coming up to Optimus's midriff.
"Can I help you, Silverwire?" Optimus asked as politely as his fraying nerves could manage.
"It's more about how I can help you," Silverwire said. "It's in my house's best interests to have the Prime relaxed and comfortable, so he will make the right choice when it comes to matters of politics."
Ah, this was going to be one of those conversations. One where Optimus would have to spend all his time sounding uninterested and dismissive or risk unintentionally taking a bribe.
His stance on the caste system and wealth distribution was not going to be bought by fine engex and shining jewels.
"I thank you for thinking of me," Optimus said, "however, I —"
"Don't be like that, Prime," Silverwire tutted. "It's rude to turn down a gift you haven't even seen yet."
"Be that as it may, I have a place at this gathering," Optimus tried.
"And the host wishes you to be comfortable too." Silverwire somehow steered Optimus through the throngs of high-caste without more than a few light touches to his elbow. "To that end…" They were approaching one of the side rooms. "Zeta — may he be safely guided to the Allspark's embrace — was always looking for a way to wind down after events such as these. I trust you'll have similar… desires."
Optimus's optics widened sharply as he recognised the door.
Oh.
Oh.
"I am not Zeta Prime," Optimus said, hanging onto his temper by a thread. "And I do not wish for —"
"Yes, yes," Silverwire said dismissively. He made a subtle gesture and a servant smoothly opened the door. "Don't worry, I've taken your, ah, sensibilities into account."
Given the way he'd been talking, Optimus had expected a slip of a brightly-painted pleasurebot behind the door. This waiting mech was not that.
He stood taller than Optimus — which hadn't been the case with any bot since Optimus's reformat into the Prime — and was a stark, unpainted grey. Red detailing only served to give the impression of rust in what was presumably low-caste chic. Vicious red optics glared at Optimus and everything else in the room.
"Since your origins are… less than ideal," Silverwire continued. "Sulphite thought that you'd prefer someone more suited to your tastes."
"I… excuse me?" Optimus said.
"No need to thank me," Silverwire said. Somehow simultaneously guiding Optimus further into the room and making his own way to the door. "But remember that the bill on spaceport tariffs will be in session in three days."
"Wait," Optimus said. "I don't —"
"I'll see you at Argonus's soiree next week," Silverwire said, already heading out. "Enjoy your evening, Prime."
"Wait!"
The door shut with a firm clunk and no indication that anything Optimus had said had been listened to. Optimus wished that would stop happening. Nobles were ever so bad at listening.
"I thought this was too easy," the big mech helping himself to some of the high-grade energon said. "So, Zeta's dead then?"
"I… yes," Optimus said. A chance to reboot his socialisation protocols would have been nice before having to deal with an unknown mech. "Who are you?"
The mech tilted his helm like Optimus had performed an interesting trick. "You can call me Megatron."
"I am sorry for this incident," Optimus said stiffly. "Please, could you —"
Hold on.
"Megatron?" Optimus repeated. "Megatron of Kaon? The gladiator?"
Megatron smiled dangerously. "Yes?"
"This is wonderful!" Optimus said, completely beside himself. To think he would be meeting someone of such regard at an event like this! "I have read transcripts of all your speeches in the arena. Your teardown of inherent proficiency was beautifully worded."
Megatron stared at Optimus, poleaxed. He looked at the empty cube he'd just drunk, then back at Optimus.
"What did you just say?" Megatron asked carefully.
"It is a pleasure to meet you." Optimus held out his hand.
Megatron stared at him for another long moment. Then, finally, reached out and took Optimus's hand in a firm handshake.
"I wasn't expecting… you," Megatron said.
It brought Optimus back to sharp reality. He wasn't safely ignored data clerk Orion Pax meeting his hero, he was Optimus Prime dealing with an uncomfortable buy-mech situation.
"My name is Optimus Prime. I only received the Primacy two weeks ago," Optimus said. "There has not been an official announcement made yet."
"Yet the high-caste all know you," Megatron said, optics narrowed.
Optimus winced. "Yes. They have been… insistent. I do not know the correct way to be the Prime and they have been helping me adjust."
He only wished they would listen to his suggestions and give him the occasional bit of space when he asked. It felt wrong to badmouth them after all they'd done for him, but maybe this mech would understand.
"I see," Megatron said, horribly neutral.
Or maybe not.
"Why are you here?" Optimus asked, trying to move past the awkwardness. "I didn't know that gladiators did… house visits."
"Gladiatorial fights only bring in so much revenue," Megatron said, waving him off. "The pit masters prefer to supplement their income where they can."
Optimus had once looked into buying a ticket to one of Megatron's matches. Once. The cost had far exceeded his careful budget and would've wiped out more of his savings than he was comfortable with. He'd still agonised over the decision for far too long.
It had occurred to him, since attaining the Primacy, that he now had the funds available, but no free time in which to spend away from Iacon. He could make a difference as the Prime. He had to believe that was worth being unable to pursue his more selfish desires.
"And I wanted to meet Zeta," Megatron continued, drawing Optimus back out of his tired neural net. "And… negotiate with him."
"You could negotiate with me," Optimus said quickly.
Megatron laughed.
"I have full access to the Hall of Records," Optimus said, annoyed, "I've read through countless debates on proposed casteless systems of government and reports of alien societies that function differently to ours."
"Tell me, Optimus Prime, what our worth as a species would be if we relied purely on outside influences?"
"It's not reliance," Optimus said. "It's easy simulation. No one society is perfect, but we can see what works for others and refine our own based on that."
"Which requires looking at our own society and fixing what is broken," Megatron said. "Forgive me if I'm suspicious of a noble-caste Prime claiming to be sympathetic to my cause."
"Oh, I'm not noble-caste," Optimus said. "I was a data clerk before I received the Matrix of Leadership."
"Really?" Megatron's mouth curved into what Optimus thought was his first real smile of the evening. "So, mid-caste Optimus Prime, how can you best serve the Deceptions?"
Optimus opened his mouth to reply when a swell of chatter distracted him. The walls and door of the venue were reasonably soundproofed, but it was a reminder that they were both in unfamiliar circumstances with many mechs of starkly different opinions around them.
"This might not be the best place to have this discussion," Optimus said wryly. "But I would like to meet up with you again to finish this?"
"If only such a thing were so easily achieved. I doubt I'd be welcome at the Prime's residence," Megatron said, amused. "And what are the chances of you being able to sneak off to Kaon?"
"Unlikely," Optimus said, shoulders slumping. "But I cannot let this opportunity pass me by. Though I did not ask for it, the burden of the Primacy has been placed on my shoulders and I must use it to help Cybertron strive for betterness. I believe you are essential to that better future."
Megatron moved into Optimus's space, close enough that Optimus could see the soft glow of his own optics reflected in Megatron's armour. "You are far more wonderful than I ever could have imagined."
Optimus's battle mask snapped shut in his hot pride and embarrassment. It startled him, he hadn't known the Matrix had added a mask to his frame.
"I have one idea for cover for future meetings," Megatron said, laying a hand high on Optimus's hip.
Optimus's fuel pump sped up. In all their discussion, he'd almost forgotten why Megatron was at this high-caste party to begin with.
"I will not ask you to do this if you do not want to," Optimus said. He finally found the correct command to release his mask and was aware that Megatron's mouth was now awfully close to his. "You should be free to choose here."
"I'm not," Megatron said with a shrug. "However, this is not a task I would resent. In fact," he leant back, a dangerous smile playing about his mouth as he looked Optimus up and down, "I might even enjoy it."
Optimus's engine revved embarrassingly. No one had implied that he might be attractive after his reformat — it had been rare enough before, as a van-alt amidst the data-caste — and this was Megatron saying it. A gladiator revolutionary who was so sure in everything he said and did.
"How should I take you, do you think?" Megatron mused.
"I have no particular preferences," Optimus managed, which he hoped was a less desperate way to say anything you want, please, just touch me.
"Excellent."
Then Megatron was crowding Optimus back onto the berth and Optimus was suddenly aware that he was the more fragile-framed of the two and he didn't have to be as delicate as he was when dealing with the high-caste.
Megatron lifted Optimus's leg and licked up his thigh from aft to knee. His glossa was hot on Optimus's plating. Megatron roughly palmed Optimus's aft, claws scraping teasingly against Optimus's panels.
Optimus realised very suddenly that he hadn't overloaded with his rebuilt array. He'd barely had the time to check it over during one of the few private cleaning sessions he'd been allowed since becoming the Prime. Combined with a lingering overcharge from all the high-grade he'd been given, Optimus was shiveringly close already.
"You're not the one I wanted at my mercy tonight," Megatron said, tracing a sharp claw over Optimus's abdomen and up to his windscreens. "But I find this far preferable."
Optimus's panels snapped open. Megatron made a noise halfway between a growl and a moan and surged forward, enclosing Optimus with his forearms and aligning their pelvic plating.
A low hiss, then a heavy spike was grinding against Optimus's valve rim.
Optimus moaned. "Megatron."
"Optimus," Megatron said back, teasing. "At least I get to impale a Prime this evening."
Optimus canted his hips up and was rewarded with the tip of Megatron's spike nudging into his valve. He was thankful to his newly rebuilt power subsystems for keeping his charge from cresting embarrassingly early — he had a lot more dynamo storage to work with now and it was keeping him running hot.
Megatron slid in and bit Optimus's finial as he started moving deep and hard and perfect. His vocaliser was rough and low from the ridiculous amount of charge sparking between them as he spoke into Optimus's audial receptor.
"We're going to change the world."