A/N: Enter the Decepticons! Bluefeather4299, you were right on the money :)

And the 'Cons are a lot of fun to write! I haven't played with them before, but I'm certainly going to do so again.

Enjoy the second chapter!


Arc 1: 'Tis the season


Chapter 2: A time for trusting


When the call came through on his console, Rumble couldn't quite believe it. Sure, every now and then there were calls from the Ark, but they were always for Megatron from Prime, and never at this time of night.

No one ever called at this time of night.

And Prowl certainly never called. Especially not for Soundwave.

Rumble re-booted his optics, just to be sure. It didn't change anything.

*Um. Boss?*

*Rumble?*

*There's a call for ya at command, could ya come take it?*

*Acknowledged.*

Thank Primus Soundwave recharged lightly. Waking Megatron would be a pit of a task, he'd tried doing that before.

When Soundwave arrived at command, Rumble just indicated his console and moved aside expectantly.

As Soundwave took the call, the Autobot SIC's face appeared on the screen.

"Prowl," Soundwave acknowledged.

"Soundwave," the Autobot nodded. "Thank you for taking my call. I know it's late."

Rumble looked from the screen to his master as Soundwave obviously – to the symbiont, anyway – fought the surprise of being thanked by an Autobot for the first time in his existence.

In the end, he just nodded.

"Prowl: desires to talk to Megatron?"

"Only Prime can talk to Megatron directly," the black-and-white replied. "I have a… proposition that I want you to put to him."

Soundwave paused for a moment. "Soundwave: listening."

"I want to offer a truce," Prowl said without preamble. "A twenty-four hour truce. During that time, there will be a… gathering of sorts. And I wish to ask you to attend."

Well, that made no sense at all. Rumble could tell that Soundwave thought the same thing.

"Query: why?"

"What sort of gathering?" Rumble piped in.

If the two commanding officers thought he was rude to butt in, neither made any sign of it. Then again, Prowl was certainly the only one in either faction who could match Soundwave for lack of expression, even without a mask and visor.

"These are the terms," the Autobot continued. "The Decepticons are invited to this gathering provided they come unarmed and vow to not break the truce. The Autobots will adhere to the same terms. In return, the Autobots will see all participants fully fuelled, without restriction. We will also provide entertainment."

"Hang on," Rumble said. "Fuel and entertainment?"

"Yes, that is correct."

A slow grin spread across Rumble's faceplates. "So… it's a party. You're inviting us to a party."

"Yes," Prowl conceded. His face almost had emotion on it for a moment.

Soundwave, though, hesitated. "Query: why?" he repeated. "Inviting Decepticons: not usual. Prowl's actions: illogical."

Rumble grinned at hearing the Autoscum who was more tactical computer than he was mech being called that.

It was true though. The Autobots inviting the 'Cons to a party really was illogical.

Prowl paused, and suddenly a data packet came through. "The humans have something in their history called the 'Christmas peace'," he explained. "When the humans fought the first of their world wars, there was an instance when the fighting just ceased on Christmas Eve. It was a spontaneous thing, not coordinated – the soldiers just stopped fighting, and instead met on the battle field as friends, talking, exchanging presents and such." He frowned slightly. "I want to recreate that. If the humans could do it, we should be able to as well. Christmas Eve is in a week."

Soundwave skimmed through the datapad, then commed Rumble while still watching the screen.

*Query: Christmas?*

*It's a human holiday, boss, from one of their religions. It's all about presents, family, peace on earth and good will to all men and all that slag.*

*Understood.*

"Soundwave: will discuss terms with Lord Megatron," his boss said out loud, looking back at the screen.

"Thank you, Soundwave," Prowl said, and Rumble could barely conceal his own shock at the second thanks within a breem. "I appreciate it. Would you send Laserbeak with your reply?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave nodded. "Laserbeak: will be at the Ark tonight."

"Good. I'll send back the coordinates and the rest of the details then."

Soundwave nodded and moved to disengage the comm. He paused, though, just before actually ending the call.

"Prowl: has personal interest in this. Why?"

The Autobot's gaze moved from the camera to the floor and back. Rumble had never seen him show that much emotion. "You're right. I want to demonstrate to our soldiers that peace is possible. And that we're all still Cybertronians. We're all the same."

Soundwave nodded slowly. "Soundwave: understands. Thank you." Then he ended the call.

Rumble just stared at his boss. It must be a night for firsts – as far as he knew, his boss had never thanked an Autobot for anything before either.

"So are we going to a party?" he grinned, when he thought the silence had lasted long enough.

"Unknown," Soundwave replied. "Soundwave: will try to convince Lord Megatron. Goals: understood. Terms: acceptable."

"So I guess we'll see," Rumble concluded.

Soundwave rested a hand on his cassette's shoulder. "Affirmative."

Rumble grinned as his boss walked back out of command. He was fairly sure what kind of reaction that suggestion would get, but he really hoped Soundwave could talk the big boss into it. This party sounded like fun.


(On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…)

Prowl stood enthralled as Jazz walked in. The second in command was listening intently, no part of him moving, optics shuttered and doorwings vibrating gently on his back.

Jazz had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

"Ya like it, Prowler?" He laced his arms together around his mate's waist, leaned a chin against his chest.

"I do… I don't know – how did – Jazz, this is…" Prowl's voice, normally so controlled, was laced with static.

Jazz grinned, pushing himself closer up against the SIC. "Turns out, b'tween me and Blaster, we have everythin'. The chimes of the Gran' Temple in Iacon. The Polyhexian parade drums. The bells that were used to announce the arrival of Prime in Simfur. The Academy gong. The Vosian Summonin' Call." He paused there before continuing. "The Crystal Chimes of Praxus."

Prowl sank slowly into his mate's embrace, his legs giving out on him. Jazz lowered him gently to the ground. "How?" Prowl whispered.

"Well, the verse said 'twelve drummers drummin''. Ah thought that was dumb. So Ah went with twelve chimes chimin' instead, tried ta summon the sounds of home for ya." He nuzzled his mate gently. "Did it work?"

"Oh, Jazz…" Prowl's voice was more static than anything else, and he leaned into his mate, intakes hitching. Through their bond, Jazz could feel every emotion running through the other black-and-white: joy, intense sadness, awe, loss, despair, gratitude, grief.

Yeah. Yeah, it had worked.

They stayed there on the floor until Prowl's emotions quieted. Then they listened to the chimes again, the Praxian wrapped up in his lover's arms.


The next day, Prowl summoned every mech on the Ark to a meeting. He waited until the last two mechs had filed in and shut the door behind him before walking up to stand in front of them.

"Welcome," he said. "I just have a short announcement. I promise I won't keep you from your duties for long."

"Oh, please do," Sideswipe called. He obviously wasn't looking forward to monitor duty that night.

"As you know, Christmas Eve is approaching," Prowl continued, ignoring the frontliner. "On Christmas Eve, there will be a gathering for invited participants at an external location. I have secured the necessary permissions and fuel. You all are, of course, invited."

Dead silence. Apparently, the Autobots in general were as surprised as Prime had been to hear Prowl, of all mechs, extending invitations.

"So…" Sideswipe grinned slowly. "So it's a party."

Prowl's mouth plates quirked slightly to hear the red twin echo Rumble's words. "Yes, Sideswipe, it is."

The room erupted with cheers, and Prowl found himself the subject of back-patting and hand-shakes both from command staff and others. It was all quite unusual. Jazz was grinning at him – he could feel the saboteur's joy and surprise to the bond.

So, for the part they wouldn't like. He held up his hand to ask for quiet.

"There's more. I have extended the invitation to others, as well as an offer of truce for twenty-four hours." He looked up at the mass of suddenly frowning and uncertain mechs. "The Decepticons have been offered fuel and free passage on the condition that they come unarmed and do not break the truce. I have just received confirmation that many of them will be there as well."

There was a deep silence, and then a heavy clunk. Prowl sighed. "Ratchet, will you see to Red Alert, please?"

The medic shot him a look full of daggers – as well he should, Red's processor glitches were difficult and time-consuming to deal with – before going to the downed Security Director's side.

"Are you out of your processor?" an angry voice called. "You invited the slagging 'Cons?"

"Yes, Cliffjumper, I did," Prowl replied. He had expected this.

"What in the pit for!? You know they will never honor any truce or cease-fire."

"I invited them because I deemed it necessary," Prowl said, raising his voice slightly.

"Necessary for what, exactly? To reduce fuel consumption by having more Autobots killed?" The angry red minibot was standing on a chair now, fists raised in front of him.

"Cliffjumper, that is enough," Prime said, moving to stand next to Prime. "Prowl has my full support in this. We have many of us forgotten that the only thing that separates us from the Decepticons is the side we ended up fighting for. I firmly believe that most of the Decepticons are not evil mechs at spark. This will give us a chance to remind ourselves what we are fighting for, and what we stand to lose. It is no secret that our race stands on the threshold of extinction."

Ironhide moved from where he had been leaning up against the wall, off to the side. "The 'Cons agreed to a truce?"

"Twenty-four hours, starting at 10AM on the twenty-fourth and ending at 10AM on the twenty-fifth," Prowl nodded. "Megatron accepted the terms."

"No weapons?"

"No weapons on either side," Prowl specified. "Both factions will abide by the same terms."

The weapons specialist was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Sounds good ta me. If the 'Cons can abide by that, it increases our chances at workin' out a long-term peace treaty, too."

Cliffjumper sputtered. "But – they – Ironhide?"

"Thank you, Ironhide," Prowl said smoothly. He was glad that his surprise was invisible to most of the mechs there, though a twinge of amusement from Jazz proved that not all of them had missed it. The saboteur was smirking at him. Searching the bond hurriedly, Prowl was grateful to find no trace of any negative emotion. Jazz felt proud, intrigued, excited.

"So, where's this party going to be?" Wheeljack asked. "And do you need any help rigging it?" There was a faint hissing from where the minibots were seated, and Wheeljack snorted, a sharp ex-vent full of derision. "Oh, come on, 'Jumper. Prime, Prowl and Ironhide says it's a good idea. Then it probably is a good idea."

"I'm still working on a suitable location," Prowl replied smoothly. "It will be established by tomorrow at the latest, and you will be informed. Dismissed."

As the Autobots filed out, their leader turned towards his second.

"So is this what came out of our talk?" he asked, the crinkle of a smile around his optics.

"In a way," Prowl replied, a hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you for supporting my decision, Prime. I know I should have checked with you first."

"I have no objections to you doing it this way," Optimus replied, still with those tell-tale crinkles around his optics. "It is something I wish we would have thought of before. I hope every single Decepticon shows up, even if that digs into our energon stores."

"Soundwave confirmed that many will show," Prowl nodded. "But I suppose we will have to wait and see."

"So we will," his leader replied. "So we will." He clasped his second's shoulder briefly before walking away.

Jazz sauntered up instead, falling into step next to Prowl as he left the room. "So, ya recreatin' the Christmas peace, Prowler?"

"That was the inspiration, yes," Prowl admitted, a slight quirk to his mouth plates.

"Ah like it. Though, Ah have to admit Ah'm surprised ya could even consider it without that logic center o' yours actin' up."

"I had to adjust the variables. And accept that there is a lesser chance of success than I would usually be comfortable working with. In the end, though, it's worth it. Maybe we could lay down the groundwork for ending the war." He reached out, took his mate's hand. "We could have a real chance of peace."

"Ah'd like that. Let's hope the 'Cons abide by the terms," the saboteur agreed.

"Yes," Prowl said. "We can but hope they do."


Prowl stood at Prime's right hand side, staring up into the dark sky, looking for lights signalling incoming visitors. He could hear the jet engines.

Predictably, Megatron was the first to land. He touched down directly in front of them, straightening with a smirk. His most prominent feature was lacking – there was no fusion cannon attached to his right arm.

"Welcome, Megatron," Prime intoned, holding out a cube of vintage high-grade for the Decepticon warlord. "I am glad that you accepted our invitation."

At his gesture, Prowl, Jazz, and Wheeljack walked over to the lead command trine presenting their own cubes. Starscream, lacking his null rays, sneered at the SIC when he came up to him, but as Thundercracker and Skywarp accepted their cubes he did as well.

"It is one of your most idiotic ideas yet, Prime," Megatron smirked. "I had to come see it for myself. And far be it from me to reject a free fueling of all my Decepticons at your expense."

"Nevertheless, it pleases me that you are here," Prime replied, and Prowl could tell there was a smile under that facemask. "Please, come with us."

He turned and walked in among the trees, heading for the little valley they'd decorated for this purpose. The rest of them followed, though Starscream in particular shot nasty glances at any Autobot he passed.

Prowl stood aside, waiting until everyone had passed. As the Decepticons passed him – all unarmed, all hesitant and arrogant at once, all shooting strange looks at the Autobots – Soundwave made his way towards him.

Prowl inclined his head slightly. "Soundwave."

"Prowl." The Decepticon third took up position next to him, eyeing the passing Decepticons. "Invitation: appreciated."

"You are welcome," the black and white replied. "I am glad your leader was agreeable to the idea."

"Megatron: intrigued," Soundwave monotoned. "Trap: expected."

"We have no ill intentions towards you tonight."

"Soundwave: understands," the cassette master nodded, and Prowl got the distinct feeling that the other was smiling. "Thank you."

"Come," Prowl said, a tiny smile of his own on his mouth plates. "Or all the best high grade will be gone."

The navy mech fell into step next to him as they followed Prime and the others through the trees.

"Soundwave: curious," he said after a while. "Mingling: intended?"

"Yes, I hope so, Soundwave," Prowl replied. "It would not be much point to this if no one talks to each other."

The TIC nodded. "Soundwave: will be an example, then," he intoned. "Cassettes: encouraged to talk to everyone." He pressed a button on his upper chest, opening his chest compartment to let all six cassettes out. "Caution: do not get overcharged."

Rumble grinned up at them. "Gotcha, boss. All of the fun, none of the chaos."

Prowl arched an optic ridge at the little cassette. If Soundwave could be an example, so could he. "I thought you and your brother were the very epitome of chaos?"

"Nah, that's your set of twins," Rumble replied with a mocking grin. "Me'n Frenzy are the good guys. You must have not gotten the memo."

"Apparently," Prowl said. "I will take note of that now, then."

"Rumble: desist." Soundwave turned to the cassette. "Behave."

"You got it." Rumble grinned, then took off like a speeding racer, aiming for the table of high-grade that Sideswipe was manning.

"Cassettes: young," Soundwave said. "Eager."

"That is good," Prowl replied. "It's as it should be." He turned to Soundwave, inclining his head. "Enjoy the party, Soundwave."

The cassette master nodded, and followed Rumble.


Jazz was enjoying himself. He still wasn't quite sure how Prowl had managed to come up with such a crack-brained idea without his processors locking up, but he was grateful. Everything seemed to be going well, too.

He ambled over to where Blaster was controlling the music now streaming from the speakers hung in the trees around the clearing. They'd agreed on the music together, balancing Earth's Christmas music with Cybertronian electronic melodies.

"Jazz, my mech," Blaster grinned. "Wanna give me a break? I need to let the little guys out."

"Sure thing," Jazz replied, moving over to stand where Blaster had been. "Ah saw Soundwave's lil' hellions were roamin' free on the way here."

"I did, too," Blaster said, opening his chest. "C'mon guys, out you get. Have fun, but keep your heads, okay?"

"Okay," Eject chirped, then darted off with his brother. Steeljaw stretched and shook his mane, gave Jazz an arrogant look and then wandered in among the groups of mechs that were coming together, fuelled by high-grade and the twinkling lights hung in the trees.

Jazz grinned at the sight. Sideswipe was serving up energon mixed to specs, much like one would find in a party back on Cybertron before the war, and damned if Jazz knew how he'd managed to pull that together. Still, it looked like everyone appreciated the effort. The invisible wall between Autobot and Decepticon was beginning to come down.

"Hey, man, look," Blaster chuckled, pointing. Jazz turned to see Bluestreak, sitting leaned up against Sunstreaker, with Soundwave's youngest cassette on his bent knee. Ratbat was chirping and moving his wings eagerly, and Bluestreak was grinning and nodding, while Sunny was absorbed in every move his lover made.

"And there," Blaster repeated. He pointed at the other side of the clearing, where Smokescreen was talking easily to Ramjet, the larger mech chuckling and shaking his head.

Now that Jazz looked, he could see it all over the clearing. In Rumble and Ratchet snarking at each other, both grinning, and Fireflight goofing off in front of an indulgent Thundercracker, in Reflector nervously approaching Wheeljack and Perceptor, in Silverbolt laughing at something Skywarp was saying, in First Aid and Swoop calmly paying attention to something Hook was showing them on a datapad.

"Primus, Jazz," Blaster murmured, turning to his friend. "Do you think Prowl just ended the war?"

Jazz laughed, somewhat disbelievingly. "Hard to see the war now, ain't it? Still… Ah think it's a good sign, but it's too soon ta tell. These're just foot soldiers." He turned, scanning the meadow for the key players. "We need ta keep our optics on command."


Starscream was still nursing his first cube, savouring it slowly. It was an ancient vintage, a pre-war brew from Iacon by the taste of it, and it had been vorns since he'd come across similar quality. It was not for guzzling, as he noticed his trine mates had done.

Moronic fools.

He had retreated to the edge of the clearing, hiding under a tree, sneering at the displays of camaraderie and enjoyment that were taking place in front of him. It was all horribly wrong – the Autobots were enemies, not acquaintances or friends - or dates, Primus forbid. And he could tell by the looks Skywarp was sending Silverbolt just what was going on, yes he could. He hadn't been sparked yesterday.

He growled under his breath, sipping at that excellent vintage again.

"Lord Starscream." The cultured, elegant voice disrupted his disdain at the so-called festivities. Starscream hated it instantly.

Still, it had called him Lord. Not many bothered with his rightful title these days.

He turned slightly, looking at the voice's owner. Looking up, into the bold blue optics of a barefaced Optimus Prime.

"Prime," he nodded, concealing his surprise behind his customary sneer.

"I trust the vintage pleases you?" the Autobot leader said. "It's from my own personal stock."

"And so you give it to the Decepticons," Starscream smirked. "That's typical of you, Prime."

"Yes, well, I thought the occasion merited something special," the Prime replied, turning slightly so he could see the crowd of mingling mechs on the valley floor.

"This isn't an occasion," Starscream sneered. "This is an excuse for Megatron to fuel his troops before he throws them into yet another puerile and ill-planned attack. Congratulations, Prime, that was an excellent plan."

To his surprise, Optimus chuckled. "I have to admit, I did consider that. I still considered it worth the risk."

"Why?" Starscream asked, curious despite himself. There was no good reason to fuel an enemy, was there?

Was there?

"Because of this," Prime said simply, arm sweeping to take in the scene in front of them. "Because I have to believe that we are not so far gone as a species that peace would be impossible. Because I needed to see that we could all work together if needed. Because I needed to know how much it would take to bring us back together." He smirked, a strange expression to see. Though, Starscream thought, any expression was strange to see on that usually covered face. "And, ultimately, because this decision was not up to me. Prowl merely asked me for permission to hold a party. He failed to mention the specifics."

Starscream couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed loudly, freely, shaking his head at the entire affair. "Not so all-powerful, are you, Prime?" he grinned, when he finally got himself back under control.

Primus, but that had felt good. He hadn't laughed like that in ages.

"I never claimed to be," Optimus replied, a pleased smile on his mouth plates. "Tell me, Starscream, do you dance?"

Starscream sobered instantly, eyeing the other with suspicion. What new trickery was this? "Dance?"

"Yes," Optimus confirmed. "I do believe Blaster has in his collection a piece of music I heard long ago, at an ascension ball for one of the Towers lords. And I know, considering your rank, that you probably had to learn all the dance styles from back then. So I ask you again," the Autobot leader said, setting his cube down and stretching out a hand in invitation to Starscream, "do you dance, Starscream?"


Rumble choked on his energon. The fuel went down the wrong way, leaving him coughing and sputtering as Frenzy pounded his back to get it back up.

"Forgot how ta drink high-grade, didya, runt?" Ironhide grinned from his seat next to them. "Ya have to swallow it, not inhale it."

Rumble shook his head, still coughing. "I - know that – you idiot - look!" He pointed with one energon-covered hand at the center of the clearing. He could hear Frenzy's gasp and Ironhide's grunt of surprise as they spotted what he had.

At the center of the clearing, a couple was dancing. The music had changed to something older than the pit, and Optimus fragging Prime was leading Starscream through intricate maneuvers that looked to have been made for a ballroom floor and not for rough pine needles and rock. Somehow, though, Rumble almost could believe that the rock and organic material was an illusion, and the couple dancing really were moving over a chequered floor beneath a domed ceiling.

Prime had a hand against the air commander's lower back, his other hand holding Starscream's own. Their movements were controlled, but liquid, graceful, neither of them looking away from the other through twirls, lifts and turns.

Starscream's optics were shining.

Rumble had never seen anything more nauseating in his life.

He looked down on his sadly empty cube. "If this is to be the order of the night, I need more high-grade," he pronounced. "You need any, Frenz?"

But Frenzy was staring at the dancing couple, wide-eyed and entranced. Rumble made a noise of disgust, taking care to knock against his twin as he passed.

He needed high-grade. A lot of it. Soundwave's orders be damned.


Bumblebee vented deeply. He could do this. If Prime was dancing with Starscream, he himself could slagging well manage this. Granted, Prime was bigger and had thicker plating, but Bumblebee was spec ops, for Primus' sake. That had to count for something.

Plus, if this really did go badly, there were certainly enough medics on site to fix him up.

He steeled himself, straightening and pulling his shoulders back, and then headed directly for the tall, grey figure.

"Lord Megatron."

Those red optics turned to him, instantly weighing and dismissing him. And Bumblebee almost lost his nerve. Shooting at Megatron? Sure. Attempting to blow up both him and the ship he flew in on? Sure, no problem.

Walking up to Megatron and offering him a cube of high-grade? Oh pit no.

Still, he was already there, in front of the warlord, with the cube in his hand…

"Lord Megatron, I brought you another cube," Bumblebee squeaked, instantly cursing his errant vocalizer.

"Hmm," the warlord said. "So I see. Why?"

"You see to have emptied yours, sir," Bee stammered. "And this is Sideswipe's special brew, with nickel and zink. You should try it."

"Nickel and zink?" The red optics widened slightly.

Bumblebee nodded eagerly. "Yeah, he says it gives an extra kick. You want to try it?"

The Decepticon leader stared at him for a moment longer, then reached out for the cube. Bumblebee held back a sigh of relief.

"Hnnh," Megatron grunted after downing half the cube. "He's not wrong. That has some power to it."

Bumblebee nodded. And since the Decepticon leader hadn't told him to get lost, he turned and leaned against the next tree over from him.

Megatron looked down at him incredulously. "What are you doing?"

"I'm mingling," Bumblebee replied, trying hard to make sure that his terror wasn't audible in his voice. "That was the point of tonight, after all."

"Hmm. And you thought it a good idea to mingle with me, did you?"

Bumblebee forced his intakes to remain steady, forced his fans to not kick in, even though his terrified frame was beginning to overheat. "Well, yes. You're an honored guest. You shouldn't be sitting here alone at the edge of things."

Megaton stared at him. "You do know I can flatten you with my pede."

Bumblebee made himself stare back. "Yes. Are you going to?"

There was a long silence. Then, surprisingly, Megatron grinned. "I suppose not. Not tonight."

Bumblebee watched in utter astonishment as the warlord sat down with a groan and the puff of tired pistons, and leaned his back against the tree. "So tell me," the warlord said, waving a hand in indication of the scene going on in front of them. "What do you think about tonight's entertainment?"

Bumblebee shrugged, sitting down as well. He didn't think the night could get any more surreal, after all. Might as well run with it.


A/N: So what do you think? Can Praxians make peace? Next chapter will be out sometime next week! And this is turning into a four-parter on me, though I don't know yet if the fourth is a full chapter or just an epilogue. Guess time will tell :)