Chapter Text
After the War, Optimus Prime and his Second in Command, Elita-One, completed Conjunx Ritus. The celebration of their bonding as Conjunx Endurae was also the 10th anniversary of peace on Cybertron.
Peace, after thousands of cycles of conflict. First, the Autobot-Decepticon War, aka the Cybertronian Civil War. Then, a truce and alliance in order to join forces in the Second Quintesson Wars, which quickly gave way to what the archivists were calling the Second Autobot-Decepticon War. In truth, the first war never truly ended. In fact, until recently, it never felt like the fighting truly stopped. As a result, this entire period was colloquially referred to as the War.
Now: 10 cycles of peace.
It was far more than the short interim between the end of the Second Quintesson Wars, and the continuation of the Civil War. Although the entire planet was invited, Megatron still received a personal invitation to the celebration. An invitation that was embossed with Optimus Prime’s official seal, personally delivered to his office by Optimus himself. Megatron had never seen the Prime so ecstatic. Megatron and Elita agreed that it impractical, especially when a digital file would suffice, but Optimus was sentimental of all things Earth. It was easier to let him hand out paper invitations than to put a damper on his joy, and bear his petty sulking.
The Civil War ended 10 cycles ago, in Autobot victory, but mutual efforts to bring the war to its end began cycles before that.
The Ascenticon faction was born from a schism within the Decepticons. Megatron knew, better than anyone else, how some bots still held onto the old Decepticon ideology - a blend of the Cybertronian High Guard’s reverence of strength, and the declarations of his younger, angrier, self, who was still reeling from the shock of betrayal, and the collapse of his entire world. A younger, angrier self, who wanted to make the world burn. He had hardly been the only bot who wanted to remake the world anew from the ashes of the old.
After the schism, those who still called themselves Decepticons were too few in number to keep up a concentrated war effort. As a result of leading this split, Megatron remained a political and military leader in Cybertron’s new era. As a result, Megatron took the invitation as a gesture of political good will, maybe as a gesture of friendship, but nothing more.
He couldn’t allow himself to take it as anything more than that.
Megatron attended the celebration, held at the central monument of Iacon city. He watched from the front row as Optimus and Elita exchanged vows, shared a drink of engex, and kissed. A celebration in the style of an Earth Wedding. He grimaced as Autobots, Ascenticons, and humans alike tossed flower petals of all sorts of colors everywhere, yet couldn’t help but smile as Optimus scooped up Elita-One, spun her around as bright splotches of color rained down around them.Their laughter drowned out the cheers in Megatron’s audials. Their joy was infectious, and Megatron couldn’t help but smile as he applauded alongside everyone else.
Bright, multicolored petals were a welcome change of pace from the grey-black ashes of devastated cities and the dust of decaying frames.
They were happy together, and Megatron was happy for them. Truly.
Theirs was a partnership and affection that survived the entire war, even as they were kept apart for hundreds of cycles at a time. Theirs was a partnership, a friendship, that survived, even when the War forced them to choose between Earth and Cybertron itself. In the end, they saw fit to move the very stars themselves, so that both planets could live. So that no one would have to lose their home.
They’ve become what the Earthlings call a “power couple.” Given such devotion, they deserved to be with each other. Megatron didn’t believe happily ever afters were a thing, but if anyone deserved such a thing, it was them.
Megatron gave them his congratulations during the celebration that followed. At their request, he stayed for the after party, a small celebration whose guests consisted solely of the newly-conjunxed’s close friends.
A gesture of friendship.
He stayed until the party died down, and everyone began heading back to their residences. He was the last to leave. Elita had asked him to stay the night, especially since it was so late, and he lived on the other side of Iacon city.
Megatron didn’t mind heading back alone, he wasn’t even particularly exhausted, but Elita had insisted. Elita took Megatron’s hand, and led him to a door, which Megatron had assumed was their spare guest room, but when the door opened he was greeted with the sight of Optimus lounging on the berth in a nightshirt. The room was cast in a dim, warm glow, and red flower petals were scattered about. Optimus perked up, and made his way towards Megatron.
“I…I’d probably be interrupting, I’ll just go.”
“You wouldn’t be interrupting,” Elita said.
Megatron avoided looking at her.
“If you aren't staying, at the very least, we could walk you home” Optimus said, taking his other hand, and pinning him with an earnest gaze.
“No need to walk me home,” Megatron said, backing away. “Enjoy your night!”
Megatron did not transform and fly off as soon as he left the premises. The way Optimus’ finials drooped was probably his imagination.
Megatron has moved on.
Megatron has accepted that he lost. Lost the closeness that D-16 and Orion Pax once had with each other, lost any chance at the closeness Elita-One and Optimus Prime have with each other, now. Theirs was a closeness born of thousands of cycles fighting side by side. Thousands compared to the mere thirty cycles or so D-16 and Orion Pax worked in the energon mines together.
He knew that he lost Orion Pax when he processed that there was a gaping hole in Orion’s chest. Megatron has accepted that Orion Pax, D-16, and whatever they had with each other was dead and gone. The ghost of Orion Pax still lingered, in every harebrained scheme that the Autobots had learned to trust, in the multitude of times Optimus went missing only to be found recharging in the archives, in the subtle mischief that belied the fact that Optimus’ stoic leader persona was just that - a persona. However, Orion Pax, as D-16 knew him, was someone Optimus would never be again.
Sometimes Megatron’s right arm still ached. There was a ring of uneven metal on his upper arm, where Shockwave’s replacement was welded to the rest of him. A ring of uneven metal marking where Optimus had chopped his original arm off, and made it perfectly clear that his mercy was NOT unconditional. It was a choice he made, time and time again, but it was ultimately dependent on the depths Megatron would sink to.
Orion Pax never threatened to kill him, not even in jest.
Not even their arduous reconciliation, nor their eventually rekindled friendship could ever change the fact that Megatron lost the right to call the Prime by his chosen name. It’s all the proof he needs, to know that Optimus hasn’t fully forgiven him. Not that Megatron could entirely fault him.
Megatron has made his peace with that. D-16 has not.
D-16 lingers, a haunting, ironically, far more persistent than that of Orion Pax. It was his doing so in the first place, refusing to call Optimus by anything other than his Primus given name and title. D-16 kept reminding him that he can’t separate who the Prime is from Orion Pax. It was his choice to let go, his resolve to never look back (because there was no going back), to rely on none but himself and his own power. D-16’s longing weighed on him, leading him to seek replacements to fill the gnawing emptiness Orion’s absence left in his life.
Starscream: red, white, with blue accents. His mischievous genius, his brazen defiance.
Soundwave: blue, white, with red accents. His steadfast loyalty and devotion, his kindness even to the smallest among them.
It wasn’t fair to either of them, not when D-16 kept reminding him of all that they were not. It was most unfair to Soundwave, who bore all of Starscream’s jealousy and accusations of favoritism, who stuck by his side even through the Decepticon Schism.
Megatron has made his peace with the fact that he’ll never conjunx as D-16 dreamed of with Orion. Thousands of cycles were spent waging war across star systems instead of exploring them. He will be alone for the rest of his functioning. It’s no less than what he deserves, but he wants, and wants, and wants.
Megatron is mortified by his own greed.
Megatron wasn’t sure when he started wanting so much, he knew it was long before he admitted as much to himself. The Earthlings have a saying: “The heart wants what it wants.” Or spark, in the case of Cybertronians. His traitorous spark just couldn’t be content with one.
Optimus will never press the crest of his helm to Megatron’s again, much less hold him close and kiss the living daylights out of him, but Megatron’s spark still flared every time Optimus laid a servo on his pauldron and smiled at him with the one optic that remained a soft, energon blue.
Megatron scowled as Optimus’ unfairly sonorous laughter replayed in his processor, and punched in the code to his habsuite door. How dare his processor record that and store it to his long term memory. Alongside that, Elita-One’s resonant voice created a perfect two part harmony.
Elita-One…where would Megatron even begin?
D-16 didn’t mind that Orion Pax would try to chat up Elita-One, despite rebuffing any and all of his attempts at friendship. D-16 was most familiar with Orion’s persistence, and tendency to try making friends with just about anyone. Even the cogged transformers who chased him out of the archives.
Megatron always respected Elita-One. D-16 admired her practicality, her self-reliance, her quick and decisive decision making. She was what he wanted to be, except for the part where D-16 didn’t want to go back to NOT having a best friend. During the war she proved just as much, if not a greater force to be reckoned with than even the Prime himself. As a Commander of armed forces, she made the Autobot militia run like a well oiled machine, despite most of the Autobots having far less military experience than any of the former High Guard. Megatron always thought Elita would have made a terrifying Decepticon. In hindsight, he is thankful she wasn’t.
Of course Megatron carried a torch for an old flame lost, but Elita-One was… unanticipated. However, it made sense. D-16 always respected and admired Elita-One from afar, mostly because Elita-One had never let anyone get close. It was only during the Truce that Megatron had truly gotten to know Elita-One.
Megatron had long suspected that he and Elita would get along soundly if Elita-One ever allowed it. He was proven right when they worked side by side against the Quintessons. At first they bonded over Optimus (mostly over dealing with all his quirks and eccentricities), and their shared past as miners who actually did their jobs (most of the time in the case of D-16).
Elita-One had always thought that D-16 would have risen up the ranks just as quickly, if not more so than she did… if it weren’t for Pax. Megatron readily agreed, at the time resentful still, but then Elita said she changed her mind. Megatron, curious, had asked her what changed.
“I get why you stayed friends,” she had said, with a soft smile Megatron had never seen on her face before. Megatron, incredulous, gestured for her to go on.
“He’s a double edged sword, a two sided axe, if you will,” Elita said. A wry grin at her own joke. “His head is in the stars but his spark is in the right place, always, even if he makes things harder.”
“Exactly! This war could have been won far sooner if we simply wiped the Quintessons from the face of the galaxy.”
“It would,” Elita said, “but that’s not the Autobot way.”
Megatron paused. “You’re a realist. Like me.”
“That I am,” Elita said, taking a drag from her cy-gar.
Megatron glanced away, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why follow him?”
“Well, for one, you’re not exactly reigning in your trigger happy nut jobs,” Elita said. Before Megatron could retort, Elita added, “BUT! But mainly because my pessimism would have killed me, just as much his optimism killed him.”
Megatron frowned, “How so?”
“I didn’t have any hope, only a drive to survive,” Elita said. “Sooner or later I wouldn’t have been able to keep going.” Elita took another drag, and then exhaled slowly, blowing out a thick plume. “He told me, you know. What Sentinel said to you both, after your stunt in the Iacon 5000.”
“What, that we inspired everyone to work harder?”
“He has that effect, doesn’t he? It worked on everyone who joined us - the Autobots, I mean.”
“Inspire foolishness,” Megatron said. “I don’t suppose he gave you no choice.”
“There is being unaligned, and then there are your Decepticons,” Elita said. “The neutrals think that if they keep to themselves, the war will never reach them. Your Decepticons want Peace just as much as we do, but your idea of peace… well, ‘Peace through Tyranny?’ Really?”
“It would be tyranny, but at least we are honest about what it is,” Megatron said.
“Is that really what you want, though? Is that really the only outcome you can think of?” Elita asked.
“Do you really think that this could end with all of us holding hands and standing ‘together as one?’ After all the energon spilled? We are supposed to be allies, at least for now, and yet we still have incident reports piling up on our desks.”
“I doubt it, but that’s why I sided with Optimus. He inspires the best in us, inspires in us hope that this,” Elita gestured around them, to the nearly empty War Room, “is not all there is. That there is a better way, and that it CAN become a reality. That there is something worthwhile to strive towards.”
“His hope is blind.”
“And yet, he believes in it so strongly that you want to believe him too.”
Megatron groaned and dragged a hand down his face. Elita chuckled and offered him the cy-gar, which Megatron took.
“He hasn’t given up on you, you know,” Elita said as Megatron took a drag. “That’s why I haven’t either.”
Megatron returned the cy-gar.
Elita understood Megatron in a way that his High Command did not, in a way that Optimus didn’t either. Somehow that one conversation had made a crack in the wall of resentment Megatron had long held for Orion Pax’s troublemaking. A resentment that none of Optimus’ numerous apologies had ever dispelled, and that was only the beginning of it.
Megatron wished he had a cy-gar right now, if only to calm the thoughts flitting through his processor now that he came to a realization.
An indirect kiss! That was an indirect kiss!
It was not! She probably didn’t mean something like that. It was a gesture of sentimental camaraderie, nothing more.
A personal invitation! Sealed with his stamp, signed by them both! Taking you to their berthroom, an offer to accompany you back to your hab!
Politeness, courtesy, a mistake. Unneeded worry about the Decepticons who deemed him the ultimate traitor, and wanted his head.
They looked so sad to see you go.
They’re ridiculous. They’ll see me at work.
You want them. Both of them. It’s not unheard of for there to be a partnership of three. After all, sometimes seeker trines were romantic in nature.
Optimus and Elita are happy together.
And what if they wanted him too?
Banish the thought!
Even if they wanted him, he didn’t deserve something like that.
But what if?
The fact remains that they don’t want him like that. They’re conjunxed, for Primus’ sake! They have shown no interest!
An indirect kiss, a personal invitation, Elita taking you to where Optimus was waiting, offering to walk you home. They took your hands in theirs but YOU turned them down.
Megatron flopped face down onto his berth. Far flung fantasies of two loving partners took shape in his processor. Megatron let out a long sigh, which turned into a scream.
“Shut up! SHUT UP! It’s NOT gonna happen!”
After the celebration, life returned to the new normal (war was normal, peace was new) as daily life on Cybertron went on.
Optimus walked out the last meeting of the day. If you knew him, you’d recognize the slight pep in his step.
“Ah, finally. No more meetings, no more file work… at least for today.” Optimus sighed.
“You can spend all day on a research project about bureaucracy during the Thirteen’s era without complaint and yet you balk at the bureaucracy of your own era, ” Elita said, rolling her optics.
“That’s different.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much of a difference to me- Oh! Megatron!”
Megatron halted and turned around.
“Have a good night!” Elita said.
Megatron smiled and waved, then walked away, a little faster than normal.
Optimus stared after him.
“Alright, what are you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“I can see it on your face.”
“You can’t see much of my face.”
Elita gave Optimus an unimpressed look, and glanced at Optimus’ flicking finial.
Optimus hummed and then said, “Megatron has been… he’s been avoiding us. He accepted our apology but…it’s been weeks. He’s still avoiding us.”
“I wonder why,” Elita said, with a touch of sarcasm.
“Did I offend him by offering to walk him home?”
“What- Orion, how would that even-“
“Well, he never liked being seen as weak-“
“He’s not mad at you!” Elita exclaimed, then muttered under her breath and pinched the ridge of her nose.
“Ah, that’s good. If he’s not mad, he’s nervous, and he knows we’re not secretly trying to kill him… Elita, I’ve been thinking…”
“Have you?”
“I have.”
Elita stared at Optimus meaningfully.
“Do you think- Why are you smiling like that?”
“You’ll find out if you tell me what you’re thinking,” Elita said, smirking.
Optimus’ optic narrowed in suspicion at Elita.
“Do you think he actually DOES return our affections?”
“Yes,” Elita said, smirk becoming a smug grin. “I still can’t believe I figured it out before you did.”
“What!? How?”
“Why are you asking me? At this point I think it’s a miracle you two ever got together in the first place.”
“He’s not obvious about it! … wait-“
Elita sighed and flicked Optimus’ battlemask. “Primus should have named you Oblivious Prime.”
“I hate how fitting that nickname is,” Optimus sighed, letting his head fall to Elita’s shoulder.
Elita patted Optimus’ back in consolation.
“So… what do you wanna do about it?”
“I think you already know,” Optimus said, no doubt pouting under his mask.
Elita laughed. “Try again?”
Optimus straightened back up, and nodded seriously. “Operation: Seduce Megatron.”
“Or we can just ask him out to dinner.”
“Good, that's step one.”
“What’s step two?” Elita asked wryly.
Optimus interlaced his fingers, and brought them to his mask with a smile.
“Ah. Of course.”
Two days later:
“Join us for dinner?” Elita asked.
“I have to finish up-“
“It’ll still be there tomorrow, please, join us,” Optimus said. “Or, if they’re truly urgent, bring them with you.”
“Did you want to discuss the new committee they want in Vos? Happy to do that over dinner,” Megatron replied, “Just let me collect the documents.”
Megatron went to his office, gesturing for Optimus and Elita to follow. They did, a few paces behind him.
[How urgent is the issue of Vos’ new committee?] Elita commed Optimus.
[Doesn’t need to be finalized until the end of next week,] Optimus replied.
[Wow.]
They waited outside as Megatron collected his documents.
“Are you sure though? I can manage these on my own,” Megatron said when he emerged from his office.
“Absolutely,” Elita said.
“We’d love your company,” Optimus said.
“Okay,” Megatron said, optics casting a glance away. “So, where to?”
Optimus had made a reservation at The Scourge of Athenia, for a private booth with U shaped seating. Optimus slid into the seat first, Megatron sliding in next to him. Elita left to order them drinks from the bar.
“She knows they can bring the drinks here, right?” Megatron said as he flipped through the menu.
Optimus’ finial flicked, “Yeah.”
When Elita came back she set three glasses of engex on the table and told Megatron to scoot over.
“There’s-“ Megatron started, only to see that Optimus was sitting across from him.
Elita sat down, setting the drinks on the table, and Megatron was suddenly very aware that he was surrounded on two sides.
The waiter took their orders, after getting over the shock of seeing three of Cybertron’s most prominent figures sitting at a table together.
Megatron audibly reset his vocalizer as he pulled the datapad out of his subspace.
“So about the committee-“
“Nuh uh, nothing about work,” Elita said, pushing the datapad back down. “All we’ve talked about today was work, I think we ought to relax a bit, hm?”
“Yes, speaking of did you know that during the Age of Expansion…”
Optimus started rambling before Megatron could voice any more objections. He regaled them with his latest findings about Cybertron’s first expeditions into the stars, excitedly retelling the first hand accounts of Cybertronians’ early encounters with alien species, species that were mostly organic, most likely extinct or changed beyond recognition by now.
Elita only half listened, Optimus having already relayed this information to her, and instead watched as Megatron listened with rapt attention, watching as Megatron’s gaze flitted from Optimus’ masked face, to his gesticulating hands, to the subtle bounce of Optimus’ chest, and then back again.
Elita smirked and scooted closer to Megatron so that their thighs touched. Megatron stiffened and looked at her in question.
“He’s so passionate about his research” Elita murmured, leaning into Megatron’s side as Optimus rambled on. Megatron hummed in acknowledgement, and turned his attention back to Optimus, whose mask retracted with a quick shhk as he took a drink of his engex.
The hexagonal rings of Megatron’s optics spun at the sight of the rest of Optimus’ face, ultimately settling on Optimus’ scarred lips.
Elita winked at Optimus. Optimus smiled wider, lighting up with joy. Megatron sucked in a breath as Optimus licked up a stray drop of engex. Operation: Seduce Megatron was going very, very smoothly.
Optimus’ mask clicked back in place mid sentence as the waiter set their energon down on the table.
“- they bore an uncanny resemblance to Earth Spiders, except much larger, and more eyes. Relations with them coincided with the rise of the Fateweavers as a group.”
“The Fateweavers? Thank you.”
“Yeah, you both remember Airachnid, right?”
Megatron grimaced.
“Unfortunately,” Elita muttered.
“I’m pretty sure she might’ve been one of the last of them. They mostly resided on the colony world of Eukaris. Eukaris was one of the many colony worlds that fell during the first Quintesson Wars, and when it was hit, it was hit. Hard. The Fateweavers were able to divine the future, and for that, the Quintessons targeted them…hm…” Optimus fell silent.
“Pax, energon’s here,” Elita said.
Optimus’ mask snapped back again as he shoved a whole cube into his intake.
“Wha- can you stop skipping your midday refueling?!” Megatron said, aghast, but putting one of his cubes on Optimus’ plate anyways.
“M’ sorry…”
Elita smiled to herself. Some things never change.
“So, have you written any new poems lately?” Elita asked, then took a bite of her iron filing and mercury topped energon.
“None that are ready to share,” Megatron said. “I’ll let you read the draft when it’s ready.”
Optimus’ finials perked up. He smiled at Megatron and then downed the entirety of his last cube in one gulp. Megatron flushed blue as Optimus reclined and put his cleavage on full display, but continued to eat his energon as if nothing happened.
“Thanks for the extra cube,” Optimus said, “it was delicious.”
“As if you even tasted it when it went down your gullet,” Megatron retorted.
“Then…could I get another taste?” Optimus asked, smiling seductively.
Megatron rolled his optics, “Sure,” and picked up his last remaining cube, placing it in Optimus’ waiting hand.
Optimus placed it in his intake, the cube crunched under his teeth.
“Well?” Megatron asked.
Optimus surged forward, one hand cupping the back of Megatron’s helm as he locked his lips to Megatron’s and thrust his tongue into Megatron’s intake, which had opened in a quickly muffled exclamation. Megatron’s optics fluttered shut.
Elita remembered Orion Pax doing this to D-16 often. This would usually lead to the two of them disappearing for a while, provided they had punched out of their shifts. It was little wonder what happened while they were sequestered away somewhere, where there were less prying optics that could witness them. Elita held nothing against them for interfacing with each other. Plenty of miners sought solace from their grueling realities in each other. She was only irritated by it when Orion had the gall to make out with D-16 while on the job. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Elita was a bot of sharp words, and pointed, jagged edges. She held nothing back, even if it would hurt someone’s feelings. She was not nice, she was not friendly, she did not coddle. She threw herself into her work, determined to climb up the ranks to secure for herself a better guarantee of safety. She threw herself into combat training (she had always wanted to be a soldier, even though she never thought that would happen) to exhaust herself so that she’d fall quickly into recharge. She did it to forget the indisputable fact that she was lonely, longing for the intimacy that other bots shared with each other. Orion Pax and D-16 were the worst reminders of what she was missing out on.
Orion Pax was a liability. D-16 however, was dependable, conscientious. He had enough strength, as a cogless miner, to block the blows of cogged transformers with seemingly little effort, but with Orion, with his fellow miners, he was always so gentle. So careful so that he wouldn’t accidentally hurt them. Whenever Orion tried to help a fellow miner, D-16 was right there with him. D-16 berated Orion often, but did so as he patched up Orion’s injuries, and carried him to Ratchet. He complained often about having to bail Orion out of trouble, but nonetheless did so at every opportunity, even if it cost him a rank or two.
It was undeniable that he cared, a lot, perhaps too much, but Elita longed for something like that. Someone who would have her back as steadfastly as D-16 and Orion Pax always had each other’s, but she could not afford any liabilities. Not if she wanted to survive. Not if she wanted to avoid the grisly fate so many cogless miners met - dead, discarded, then forgotten.
However, much has changed since then. Now, she would allow herself to indulge in that which she craved, if Megatron would allow himself the same. What bliss it would be, to have two of the most devoted, loving mechs as her conjunxes. Besides, she’s grown to actually love these two idiots.
Megatron moaned into the kiss, tension leaving him as he leaned back into Elita’s embrace. One of her hands trailed up towards Megatron’s breast, and the other from his abdomen to the thickness of his thigh. There were dents in the metal.
She kissed the side of Megatron’s helm as Optimus separated, wiping away the remnants of a string of oral lubricant. Optimus smiled with wonder and satisfaction at Megatron’s dazed expression.
“As I thought,” Optimus said. “Delicious.”
Megatron snapped back to awareness, and jerked out of Elita’s embrace only for his face to end up a hair’s breadth away from Optimus’ bosom. Optimus chuckled.
Megatron then dived under the table, emerged on the other side, and dusted himself off.
“I- I forgot I have a previous arrangement with Soundwave,” Megatron hurriedly said, and then bolted. Optimus and Elita watched him weave between tables, and then break into a run as soon as he got to the door.
Optimus’ mask clicked back into place.
“Was that too much?” Optimus asked.
“No, it was very effective,” Elita said, and kissed the silver plane of Optimus’ mask.
“He ran away… again,” Optimus lamented, finials drooping.
”He wanted it,” Elita said.
Optimus fiddled with his fingers.
“Pax, I know you’re worried, but I don’t think he didn’t want it. He let you kiss him… at least, until he got embarrassed.”
“He’s cute when he’s flustered, isn’t he?” Optimus said, smiling with his one visible optic.
“Fine, you were right! I get it, but you two were still obnoxious, especially you Pax.”
“Teehee,” Optimus said, a hand over his mask.
“I still feel secondhand embarrassment all these cycles later, and you, you’re still a fool. How did you even manage to charm him?”
“I don’t know… my foolish charms seemed to work on you,” Optimus said, resting his chin on his hands in a cutesy gesture.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around?”
“We can both be charming.”
“Hm… so we try again?”
“Perhaps, but I still don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what exactly?”
“He wants us, we want him, and yet still he runs away.”
“Give him some time,” Elita said. “I think he got our message.”
Megatron ran about a block before he slowed back down to a walk. He should have known something was afoot, especially when Elita and Optimus’ finials began twitching with barely restrained excitement as soon as he assented to joining them. No, they’ve had dinner together innumerable times. An invite to dinner, and excitement after a period of not spending much time together outside of work was nothing unusual. He should have left as soon as they cornered him in the seat - it was such an obvious maneuver.
Why did he stay for so long? His excuse sounds ridiculous in hindsight.
Will never kiss the living daylights out of you again, huh?
Why?
Have shown no interest?
It should have been impossible.
They want you, you’ve been a fool to deny it.
He doesn’t deserve it.
Yet you can have it.
He doesn’t deserve it
Why? Why shouldn’t he let himself have what is so freely being offered?
Because he has hurt almost everyone, in ways that should be unforgivable.
Optimus was right.
When Megatron had torn Bee’s vocalizer out of his neck, Optimus had shown no mercy, for the first time in their numerous confrontations, and Megatron deserved it.
When Megatron had meant to shoot a captured Ironhide through the spark chamber, Optimus had cut off his arm, and threatened to kill him in the skirmish that followed.
And yet, they had all forgiven him when his efforts to end the War and make amends proved earnest.
Bumblebee wasn’t around as much anymore, but that was because he felt more at home on Earth than on Cybertron. Bee had forgiven him before Optimus did, in fact, Bee had to convince Optimus not to take revenge on his behalf… though it took a long time before Bee stopped flinching at Megatron’s very presence. Even Jazz had advocated for him, urging the others to give Megatron a chance. In time, they began to accept him and those who followed him in the Decepticon Schism into their ranks.
Megatron had thought making amends was going well. Optimus had been cautious at first, but slowly became more friendly with him, extending him the same camaraderie as the average autobot soldier, but with the due respect of another leader.
Optimus claimed the war wasn’t about him, or them. Perhaps for Optimus, that had been the case, but for Megatron, it was about their relationship, just as much as it was about their differing ideals.
Megatron had called Optimus by his chosen name in a meeting between themselves and their high command. Optimus suddenly rose to his feet, mask snapping back as he snarled, long canines flashing, electricity dancing across his frame, booming voice making every mech at the table flinch.
Optimus had seemed surprised at himself, but he didn’t apologize as his mask snapped back in place, and he excused himself from the room. Megatron had sat, stunned for a solid click.
When Megatron tried to talk to him later, Optimus had jumped over the railing and slid down the roof of the building.
It hurt. It hurt more than when his arm had been severed.
Bumblebee once told him it was better to let himself feel, acknowledge, and process than to bury his emotions.
“They’d still be there,” Bumblebee had said, voice box finally restored, the scar on his neck another reminder of what could happen if Megatron let his emotions build, and build, and build until they exploded in an uncontrollable burst. Another instance where in a stroke of luck, the damage could be repaired, at least partially.
“You gotta figure out what they’re really telling you,” Bumblebee said, “then you can decide what to do about it with a clear head.”
Megatron knew exactly what they were telling him.
Despite Megatron’s reputation painting him as a cold, violent warlord, at his core, Megatron was quite the opposite. He always felt too intensely for his own good. He supposed this is part of what made Soundwave remain so loyal to him, made Soundwave enamoured with him, even now. When he had asked, Soundwave described his emotions as clear, steady songs full of passion and conviction.
A Decepticon in the crowd could not see the tear tracks on his face when he gave his most rousing speeches. Whether it was grief, rage, or love, Megatron tried, and failed to rule over his emotions rather than be ruled by them. His love is obsessive: he wants all of it, or nothing at all - even if he’s learned to dispel his petty jealousies before they made him act out.
His love is all consuming, specifically, it consumed him from inside out.
He didn’t know just how all consuming it was until Orion Pax died in front of him. That moment was D-16’s worst nightmare brought to life.
Megatron wasn’t sure what would have become of him, of Cybertron, if Optimus never emerged from the Well. Megatron didn’t want to imagine.
He’s afraid.
Megatron slumped against the door of his habsuite as soon as it closed behind him. There were dents in his thigh. When did-?
Megatron grumbled as he pulled himself off the floor to get a blowtorch. An easy fix where the metal would mostly be molded back into shape, and his nanites would take care of the rest.
He’s afraid.
Megatron scowled as the metal of his thigh popped back into shape.
He loved, with all his spark once, and it nearly destroyed him. To love two bots like that?
Megatron shoved all of those feelings back down, and took a vent to compose himself.
Nothing happened, things would simply remain as they are. Megatron will keep them at arm’s length, just as he keeps his bleeding spark at arm’s length.
You know they will ask. You lie, and Elita will see right through you. Megatron had once asked Elita if she could read minds, like Soundwave could. It was unsettling, how she almost always knew what he was thinking. She can’t read minds, she confirmed, but she could read him like an open book.
You could just tell them you aren’t interested, they would stop regardless of if it was a lie.
Except he wants, he wants and wants and he could have it-
Optimus kissed you. Elita touched you, kissed you. They deserve what they want, at the very least?
That was a dangerous line of thought.
Megatron clutched his helm, held in a wordless shout, and paced about.
SLAG IT ALL!
Optimus may be plagued by doubts, even when he is correct. Elita will be certain, and she would dispel his doubts, and then they both - and then Megatron wouldn’t be able to-
So there’s no avoiding it. There never is.
So what to do about it?
Memories of Orion Pax filling D-16, D-16 burying himself in Orion’s soft warmth, imaginings of the same, but with Elita as another participant. How would three of them…?
The remembered sensation of Optimus’ lips on his, of his tongue entangled with Megatron’s own tingled through Megatron’s sensory net. The heat of Elita’s frame at his other side, her touch leaving hot impressions on his metal. Burning arousal and embarrassment shot through his circuits in equal measure. His frame expelled a burst of hot air through his vents.
If they didn’t change their minds…Megatron shook his head. They haven’t changed their minds despite Megatron’s lack of reciprocation.
He blamed Optimus for this.
Even if he didn’t deserve their desire, who was Megatron to deny them? Especially when he wanted them too.
Megatron picked up a pen, a datapad, and scribbled frantically. He had to calm down.