Based on AskyPanda's 'A Chance to Change' Idea belongs to her. I just wrote a ff for it.
It was a dark and stormy night-Wait, hold up, what? No, under no circumstances am I using that overused (and cliché) beginning.
Okay so it was indubitably stormy, gray sheets of icy sleet pounding down on whatever poor sod got caught out in the porous weather. Lightning flashed in the night sky, thunder crackling ominously in warning.
Out tale begins looking through a hole blown wide open in the side of a colorless building, thick cracks radiating from the open space in the wall.
From it you could see a familiar (or at least, he should be familiar) Seeker's form. He was gesturing wildly as spouted on and on about some inane topic. A large grey cylinder leveling at him cause him to freeze, only his helm moving to look between the fusion cannon and its owner. The red, white, and blue mech shank back slightly giving out a nervous laugh. Flashes of light soon lit the room, Starscream dancing about to avoid the low level blasts.
"'Slag, frag, Pit's bubbling, boiling dregs!"', The Seeker mentally cursed, hunkering down against the wall. He pried open an optic, zeroing in on the cracked tear in the stone beside him. Starscream plastered himself against the crevice, digging his claws into the cracks and pulling himself over the edge. The Seeker fell a slight distance, wind rushing along his frame before his T-cogs kicked in and the jet was streaking off into the down pour.
Megatron panted, calming as he approached the opening. Panic flashed in purple optics in reflection of the lightning striking the brightly colored Seeker form. Black skid marks scuffed the floor as the Decepticon leader spun on his peds, whipping on an energon-colored rain slicker and bolted for the door. The space was left open and empty until a blue and white frame peered around the edge. A sigh of exasperation was sounded from Soundwave, shoulderplates sagging.
|-X-|
Far from the Decepticon base, other issues were arising for Megatron's counterpart. His TIC and SIC were having at each other, something about reports, record keeping and overworking prudes. In his opinion they just needed to shut up and frag each other already. Ironhide was growling at the twins, the two of them attempting to explain and downplay the incident that they had caused in the rec room involving the minibots, rubber chickens, glitter, wire, and a waffle iron. The duo was gesturing quickly trying to diffuse the violent mech's anger so as not to get their helms bashed in.
The blue and red prime was leaned over to rest his elbow joints against the table, throbbing helm settled in his servos. 'Maybe Ratchet can help with this pit fragging processor ache,' He thought, setting out to go find the medic. Said medic was currently grappling with Wheeljack over some experimental device the inventor had almost set off in his medbay. The annoyed red and white mech swung his arm back to slam a wrench into the stubborn flashing helm only for his elbow joint to wham into a very different, blue helm.
Optimus nearly groaned, processor ache intensifying as he laid his servo to his side helm panels. Something in that very processor parked ominously, a dark crackling spreading through his EM field. The negative charge caused his paint to flash in eerie grey and red tones as he screeched out a haunting sound. He had heard it enough in the Vosian archives during his stint there as Orion, the Seeker cant equivalent of "'Shut the slag UP!"'.
The other mechs in the room stilled, a few in nearby rooms and halls did as well, the echoes ringing in a terrifying manner. Ironhide stepped forward as the frightening aura dissipated and the Autobot leader visibly wilted, servo returning to his helm tiredly. The concern on the red mech's face hardened as he began reprimanding the others in the room.
Noise volume rose, new arguments rising up. Optimus sighed, giving up and leaving, closing off the sounds with the door behind him. Trundling along, he had to note that the weather seemed to reflect his mood. Dark, morose, and aggravated. Sleet battered at his outer panels, distracting him so that he didn't notice the smoking form of Starscream until they collided in a shower of sparks.
|-X-|
Static sounded softly in his audios, unpredictable grey smatterings dancing in his HUD. Optimus rolled up onto his elbows and knees from where he had reverted to his root form, tensing slightly as his onlined with another processor ache. Standing carefully, he noted a still figure. Slowly he walked towards the downed seeker.
"'Is he deactivated?'" The Prime thought, processor still mildly fuzzy. So much so that he could not prevent his ped sliding along the slick turf, sending him tumbling down a steep incline. Optimus was offlined before he even rolled to a stop.
|-X-|
A grey form dropped to his knees beside thee Seeker who lay unconscious on his side. Strong arms cradled the smaller mech as red optics slowly onlined, staring uncomprehending at the grey and pink shoulder in their line of vision. Another pair of red lights watched concerned while the tired Seeker slipped into recharge.
|-X-|
Smudged white plating knelt next to the downed Prime, rolling him carefully to observe the minor dents and scratches covering his form. Blurry weak optics caught sight of a red cross on a white shoulder before the mech drifted off.
|-X-|
Purple. He woke up to a lot purple. Sitting up he lifted a servo to his helm, rubbing his digits along his face plates. "'And let's not forget the processor ache,"' He thought grimacing. Sighing, the mech slid out of the berth. He glided wearily past a glimmering mirror, blue, white, and red plating reflecting back.
"'Wait white?"' He froze before spinning back, bracing his (blue, bright blue) servos against the reflective surface. Panicked red shone not familiar cyan, black helm not blue, seeker not grounder.
"'Uh-oh"' Optimus thought, glancing at the white red wings twitching nervously in the shining silver surface. "'Oh Primus."' He swallowed down his fear/panic/dread, image of a human tombstone appearing in his processor, knowing that's what would happen if he started freaking out.
Behind the silently contemplating seeker, another pair of red optics onlined sleepily. Distracted red didn't notice the grey form rising in the mirror; he was so focused on the curious sensation of soft air currents flowing across brightly coloured wing panels.
Turning his helm, Optimus finally catching sight of the mech behind him, red lights widening. "'Eep."' He covered his-not really his-faceplates, shimmering coolant pooling at the edges of his-but not his-crimson optics. "'Might as well get this over with."'
Taking in a deep ventilation, he lifted the black helm-not his never his-unknowingly baring sparkling crimson that reflected along slightly wet faceplates. The effect caused him to appear even more attractive, a foreign expression across a face that /wasn't his/.
Strong, warm arms looped around the seeker's waist, a sly grin stretching wide. A pleased shiver danced along white backstruts as wings that weren't his were caressed in a questioning manner. And so he got a lover that was most definitely his.
|-X-|
A pleased purr chirred from raspy vocals, back struts arching as blue servos stretched skyward. Slipping from the berth the grounder-turned-seeker faced the mirror. Over his-not his-shoulder he could see the peaceful, still form of Megatron. One servo curled into a fist against the polished metal, light derma tilting down into a frown.
Quiet peds traveled swiftly drawing their current owner to the communication console. Servos quickly worked to send a link offer to a very specific frequency. Soon enough a red and blue form was revealed.
"St-Optimus," The seeker intoned lowly. "We need to switch back." He crossed his forearms in a vague switching motion.
The other mech scoffed. "Now why would I do that when I can finally rule an army of my own?" The smug tone from a very familiar voice was rather strange.
"Oh well," The real Optimus sighed airily, waving a flippant hand. "Then I suppose I must say, have fun living as a –what is it you called them? Oh yes-Groundpounder."
Starscream-the real Starscream-froze, unconsciously turning to stare at where his wings should have been. Optics refocused on blank air as the illusion shattered. A sigh escaped covered vents, blue helm nodding sadly. "I'll come."
|-X-|
"I'm heading out for a flight," Optimus chirped in false happiness to mask the heart-wrenching disappointment at leaving the few bonds he had made while in the seeker's body.
The gunmetal grey form of Megatron leaned towards him, pressing a kiss against his fore-helm. "Be back soon," the Warlord murmured quietly.
Once outside the base, he turned his helm to stare despondent at the grey structure that had housed him. The light clattering of thick plating drew his attention to the familiar frame that he now had to tilt his head to see properly.
"Here we are. Now how do you suggest we switch back, exactly?"
"We-ell, theoretically a Sparkline connection could transfer the sparks back to their original host bodies." The scientific side of the other mech could concede to the fairly probable theory.
"Alright."
"So-" The Decepticon in an Autobot body could see the Autobot in a Decepticon body gearing up for some long, boring speech about some noble thing or another. "'Easy solution."' The sensation of kissing lipplates that were previously his own was curious, blue digits clasping a darker blue helm.
Luminous red blinked startled before easing up against the familiar crimson chassis. Delicate wires passed between them, connecting and pulling the duo closer.
Dual cries escaped, a bright flash flickering through the air. Over bright optics snapped open, red slipping closed as their owner turned away flippantly. The larger mech was thrown off balance by the unattached attitude.
Optimus-the real Optimus-shook his head, huffing out a light-hearted, "Decepticons," as the seeker flew away.
|-X-|
Entering the Ark, his attention was caught by the others such as Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz all snapping to attention. A gray faceplate twitched, the mental image of a darker, sterner version of himself flickering across his processor. He could imagine the Decepticon ruling stern, but fair, if one just remembered his own previous treatment.
Optimus shrugged off the peculiar feeling of homesickness-for the Decepticon compound.
|-X-|
Cyan optics flicked to the com console, black servo maneuvering along the keys to accept the unexpected vid call. The sky-colored lights blinked in alarm at the seething seeker on screen.
"I would like to have a discussion with you." Starscream's low hiss and clipped tone booked no argument. At the Prime's hesitant nod he snapped. "You created this issue and you will fix it!"
|-X-|
The truck-former huffed, crossing his arms and tapping his ped as he waited on the absent flier. The repetitive motion ceased as the jet came into view, landing harshly and striding towards the grounder.
Before the Prime could query as to the purpose of this meeting, Starscream tugged down on his gray facemask and kissed him determinedly.
A crackle of electricity sizzled across their plating, a snap of light sparking in the air.
Krasni flickered dazed, pale wings fluttering gently to counter balance the dizzy spiraling of the flier's processor. "'Wait, what?'" Blurred vision refocused on the taller form standing smug. "Starscream!"
Raspy vocals whined. "'Why me? Why this again?"' The once more grounder-turned-flier hugged the slender form he now resided in. With a sigh he resigned himself to the fact that he may not be going back.
A firm hand laid itself on the white-red edge of his wing, startling him from his thoughts. Strong, familiar grey arms slid around his slim white waist.
The flier-turned-grounder smirked in satisfaction, bright blue optics twinkling and winking in a newfound joy.
Optimus ceased his squirming, relaxing in Megatron's arms and sighing once more.
Calculating red turned to the sturdy form that cuddled him close. "'Might as well make the most of this."'
Many highly enjoyable days followed for the Warlord and his Second in Command.