"And just where in the slaggin' Pit could I have learned to?"

Megatron enquired at the top of his – Optimus's! - voice then followed it up with a scathing remark about the puny vocalizer's range and pitch and yanked the wheel to the left again, with his, by this time usual crudeness and ferocity. The wheel gave a pitiful groan, which Optimus silently echoed, the big truck's wheels squealed on the road and bumped back up the tarmac, leaving a plume of dust as contrail behind them from the hard shoulder. The Autobots wisely kept a considerable distance around them, partly for diverting unsuspecting human traffic, partly because even Jazz with his lightning-quick reflexes was afraid to come closer to the erratically lurching huge red and blue truck that seemingly found even the four-lane highway too constraining. The quick crash course of the controls before they could start the way home apparently helped very little to Megatron's ability to actually drive a truck.

"I thought you had a different alt mode before the war. Umm. Ack." – Optimus slid across the seat and bumped into the backrest as the truck suddenly and for no reason braked and lurched ahead jarringly again. He felt sorry for his poor, abused brakes too and wondered why the gaspedal was so… jerky? – "I mean you couldn't have had a gun alt as a miner, right?"

He desperately wished he had a servo in this accursed gun mode. Or a tentacle. Something to keep him from unintentionally visiting parts of his own cabin he never had the opportunity before. The seat-belt was a joke. Then they stopped and Ratchet wedged him into the edge between the seat and the backrest and Optimus didn't have the spark to ask him whether he remembered what part of his anatomy that was. Surely the medic knew. Worse, Megatron also had to know it by now, though he thankfully never mentioned it in his angry tirades. Nevertheless, Optimus was actually kind of glad when Megatron swerved off the road completely, into the shallow ditch, blew a tire and the resulting bump dislodged him from the undignified position. But his suspension was not designed to fly even for a few meters and Optimus's spark ached as he heard the tortured noise erupting from it when they touched down. He thought he had heard the Seeker's cackling laugh from above, but it must have been his imagination. He couldn't have flown so low to see it, right?

"Miners didn't have alt modes, slag you and your high-and-mighty kind!"

Since then it was bump after bump, lurch after lurch and yanks, rolls and slides nearly continually. Optimus started to suspect after half a joor of the excuse for driving that Megatron was playing it up and seeking out every bump and pothole on the road deliberately while jerking the wheel completely random to make him even more miserable. He certainly had no affinity for the gearshift and hefted it like it was a weapon's shaft. Optimus warned him once what would happen if he broke it and Megatron certainly skirted that point a couple of times since. It had to be deliberate. The warlord would harm himself gladly if it meant a jab at Optimus and really, how can somemech be unable to drive to this degree?!

"How should I have known that? Every mech I knew had alt modesSSS!"

He hardly finished the sentence when another sudden screetch sounded from underneath and Optimus was launched into the air, flew blindly a little inside the cabin before momentum made him crash into his own windshield. He felt rather than heard two relatively small cracks keenly – one was the gun's safety which was like a strong pinch on his frame, a cruel pinch of a metrotitan; while the other was the clear steelglass now sporting a nice spiderweb of cracks. An expletive was in his vocalizer, ready to shout out by comms as they were conversing so far, when a louder snap cut his thoughts in half and made the truck lurch violently again.

"For Primus's sake! How many wheels do you intend to blow yet?"

"You have far too many, Prime!"

Megatron sneered back, appearing blithely unconcerned by the rapidly amortizing frame he was residing in. It was clear from the beginning that for some reason the warlord was particularly offended by the tires. Maybe it was his automatic 'roll out' when they started? Optimus hoped not. It was just a rote sentence he recited almost automatically these orns. His magazin ached from the whack it got from the impact and the place of the broken off piece – such a tiny thing, but so important – stung far more than Optimus expected from such a little part.

"I'll have you know that at the next bump I'll shoot."

"Empty threats, Autobot, empty threats."

"No, really. You just broke my safety. Your safety."

Optimus was too tired and battered even to laugh at the sudden silence that greeted his announcement. The violently surging truck slowed down a tiny bit and it's eccentric course on the tarmac evened out slightly. Just in time, Optimus thought, he had counted five burst tires and was very concerned by the sound of the third axle. Not to mention the gearshift, the suspension and… slag you, Megatron, nearly everything. He got that one hit back with generous interest.

"Worried, Megatron?"

"I know my specs." – came the surprisingly calm answer from around him – "If I… I mean you shoot inside you… I mean me, we'd probably both be deactivated."

"Does that mean that you'll now drive more carefully?" – Optimus enquired acidly from his position under the pedals where the last surge wedged him. The announcement froze his insides a little bit because it sounded honest. Too honest. He was suddenly glad of his stuck state that prevented further tossing in the cabin, even though the gun's sight now stared permanently at a dead bug somehow sharing the space with him, showing it in great detail. The sight was incredibly precise and the bug was mere inches from it. Optimus idly wondered about the species. Megatron's voice echoed cheerfully around him. It was a so patently false cheer Optimus didn't even bother to mention it.

"Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of it finally. Still too many wheels though – how can you control them all?"

Optimus counted the first one hundred digits of the pi before answering. He still had a tactical display and it was swamped with purple at every bump and lurch. He needed every trick to stay calm, especially now with the broken safety. Though as the time went on he more and more considered ending the war for good even if it included his own sacrifice.

"You don't have to control them all one by one, you know? It works without blowing them all too."

"You don't control your own frame?"- the sneer was back in his voice.

They were almost driving in a straight line now. Optimus got several comms from his Autobots enquiring what Megatron was doing now and put them to rest quickly.

"Well, let me put it this way: How do you control that subroutine so you don't shoot Starscream all the time? It's very annoying."

The laughter echoed again and Megatron made small corrections with the wheel. He still wasn't as smooth as Optimus would have liked, but at least he was staying on the road now. Even the laughter sounded less forced now.

"Well, it takes practice. I mean to know when to actually shoot the brat."

Optimus lifted a brow-ridge mentally. He saw nothing – the dead bug didn't count - and sensed nothing and to dispel the slightly claustrophobic feeling of where he was – quite literally under Megatron's pedes-pedals – he kept talking.

"I wouldn't know. Never tried to shoot Prowl."

"He probably doesn't try to depose you every decaorn."

"Why would he?"

Optimus felt the raised brow plates in the sudden silence of the cab. Well, silence being relative over his straining engine.

"Why wouldn't he? It's the way of advancement. It is expected, just like it is expected of me to put Starscream back to his place when he tries."

For the life of him, Optimus just couldn't understand how such a system worked. How could they trust each other? Ohhh, right, they didn't. Even now, driving among the Autobots' vehicle modes, Optimus felt that part of Megatron's field – and some sensors – were directed upwards, where he supposed the Seeker was flying above them and laughing himself to an early deactivation. It was clear that the tyrant's tactical assessment still considered the Seeker as the biggest threat – the Autobots wouldn't harm him in Optimus's frame, but for Starscream it must have looked as a golden opportunity to get rid of him, enough so that he, too dared the Autobots' company alone.

"It just… I suppose it seems wasteful for me."

"It brings out the best from him – and if I take his suggestions, I don't have to credit him."

Megatron sounded almost calm by this time and Optimus was inordinately glad for it. Partly it meant a much smoother ride, but also it gave him a rare insight into the Decepticons' mindset and inner workings. The callousness though… it galled him.

"Why not give him that? Wouldn't he be a little… less treacherous then?"

"Who cares?"

"One orn he will succeed, you know?"

They were slowing down. Primus, Optimus hoped that they were nearing the Ark finally. It would still be a chaos to get back both of them into their proper frames, but he didn't think he could take much more of the ride. Megatron turned down from the asphalt road and into the gravelly one leading to the Autobot ship. He grumbled about the rocks hitting his undercarriage, the first real sign that he, too hated the drive as much as Optimus suspected him to.

"Not while I live!"

For a nanoklik they were both silent, but as Megatron stopped, the ridiculousness of the sentence suddenly became obvious to them and they started to laugh, a totally surprisingly friendly and companionable laugh… The cabin shook around Optimus and when he heard the horn going off he felt the Autobots transform and stand around them suspiciously. The shaking got worse and Optimus felt like…

"Hey…!"

… transformation sounding all around him and he was airborne once again, slightly panicking as he remembered the lack of safety, before he dropping down and hitting something hard… and still inside his cab so he didn't dare to transform back to a more manageable frame.

What the frag?

His narrow tunnel vision of the gun's sight showed him the spiderweb cracks on his windshield… from the inside – and the Ark's mountain through it, his Autobots standing around… and Optimus realized what happened.

"Megatron! Let me out of you this instant!"

"Huhh?"

One of the windshields swung open and Optimus was inelegantly yanked out. The dizziness of the sudden motion was very annoying, just like the nonchalance with which Megatron swung him around. Optimus had had enough of being handled. He shook all over and initiated the transformation sequence not even waiting for Megatron to let go of him. The change was just as disorientating as the first time. Optimus dropped onto his still too heavy pedes, grunted as the weight settled about him and glared at Megatron. For this he was glad for the red optics, they made a much more satisfying angry glare than his own blue set. The height difference, slight as it was, also helped. Megatron took a step backwards.

"Hey, it's not like I ever take on passengers!"

"You did it deliberately!"

"I did not!"

"Just like the driving!"

"I deny any pointless accusations!"

"You blew five tires! FIVE!"

Optimus knew he was shouting and that he should stop. But he couldn't help himself, the long and bumpy ride home, the damage to his frame he kept listing in his processor, and the annoying insistence of the purple-swathed tactical display eroded his patience. Megatron of course needed nothing to answer in kind and fuel Optimus's fury even further...

"They were obviously inferior!"

"I never blew a tire in my function!"

"Well I never broke my safety before either!"

"That's your fault as well!"

They strained towards the other, red and blue optics flaring in angry indignation and shouted at each other – until a hilarious cackle broke into their heated little circle. Starscream was obviously having the time of his life watching them make a fool of themselves. It ashamed Optimus – and obviously Megatron too, because he saw his frame take a threatening step towards the Seeker, right arm raised in a way very familiar by now to the Autobot leader…

"And just what do you intend, Mighty Megatron? You seem to miss the means for it!"

"Shut up, Starscream!"

Optimus glanced at the fusion cannon, suddenly glad that he now possessed it. Though the tactical display was still flashing at him its maniac suggestions, it did become easier with time to deny its mad requests. It was obvious that Megatron had far less inclination to do so.

"And how will you make me… My Lord?"

But true, the Seeker was far more obnoxious than even his tolerance. Optimus caught Prowl's displeased glance too and Jazz was more fidgety than usual as well. And they were still just outside the Ark, the research into the frame-exchange hasn't even started… how long were they stuck in each other's bodies still? How long they had to endure the blunders, the jokes, the verbal taunts from Starscream, the disdain from Megatron, the silent but perceivable displease from the Autobots?

Optimus whirled and stalked into the Ark's doorway, trying in vain to control his own displeased scowl. He paid no processor to how it must have looked on Megatron's visage.

It was a mistake to forget about Red Alert.