Dear readers,

this is my first foray into the Transformers-fandom, although thanks to Corona, I have been consuming an insane amount of Transformers-fanfiction lately. Thank you therefore to every author who has contributed to my entertainment :-)

I have to admit that most of what I know about Transformers, I have read up on, since I don't recall much of the original Cartoon, and have only watched bits and pieces of TFP. Criticism and/or additional information is always welcome, as is feedback generally, so please don't hesitate to let me know what you think :-) This is an AU on purpose, because it was what felt safest for me to write, knowing as little as I do, but that doesn't meant I'm not trying to stay somewhat true to the characters.

That said, I totally blame all of this on COVID-19.

Enjoy!

"Come on, Megatron, rise and shine!"

Megatron grunted as someone shook him roughly. An annoyed vent could be heard, then someone bent over him and hot air met his plating. It was not comfortable. "Megatron, you need to be in the kibble room in less than half a groon, and I swear to Primus I won't drag you out of berth again! If you wanna be late, fine, be late! See how Optimus Prime is gonna like that!"

Megatron was generally very good at ignoring threats like that, and he had long since perfected the art of recharging as long as possible and still be in the kibble room on time (a skill one acquired when one was a young actor fresh out of school and jobs and had to work at all odd groons to make ends meet). The designation, however, had his processor booting up at record speed.

Starscream sniggered at him, arms crossed, as Megatron almost fell out of his berth in his hurry to rise. His red optics gleamed with satisfaction. "Oh, I should've thought of this way sooner!"

"Shut up!" Megatron growled and swatted at him. "Get away from me!"

"Soundwave's still in the washracks, so you'll have to polish your plating in here!" Starscream sang as he left Megatron's berthroom. "Don't you dare use the common area, you've left enough polish stains on the furniture as it is!"

"I don't polish myself in the mornings!" Megatron growled at his retreating back and then shook his helm to clear the last threads of recharge fluxes from his processor, sighing heavily. Great. So Soundwave was in the washracks, which meant that Megatron would have at most ten kliks to shower. He groaned and dropped his helm into his servos. Yes, he remembered now that he was indeed due in the kibble room early today. Because today, they were recording the first real battle between Orion Pax and Megatronus, and that meant that today, Megatron was going to share the kibble room with Optimus Prime as they were getting ready.

Joy.

He could either wait for Soundwave to finish up or get to the studio early and use the washracks there. Knowing Soundwave, his chances of actually having enough time to properly clean himself were about 40% higher if he went to the studio.

Without further ado, Megatron stood and headed out, throwing Starscream a glare – which, of course, the glitch ignored – and threw himself into the air from their balcony. He could walk, sure, but flying would get him there faster. It was only about seven kliks from their apartment to the sprawling complex that made up Matrix Studios on the outskirts of Kaon, right behind the less smoke-producing factories, and air traffic at this time was sparse. Most mecha in Kaon lived according to the shift patterns in the various factories and energon mines that cemented Kaon's importance, and seven vorns ago, the miners and workers had finally succeeded in negotiating shift patterns that would allow every working mech to enjoy at least some groons of the day-cycle. Megatron remembered those times before the change, remembered going out in the dark and returning at dawn. He had been built as a miner, a heavy-duty frame, and he had never forgotten that, despite not having worked as a miner in six vorns now. Matrix Studios, owing to the fact that it mainly produced low-budget sparkling holovid series, did not pay their actors a lot of shanix, but its location on Kaon's outskirts meant cheap apartments were fairly easy to come by, and Megatron was almost always in work. With his huge frame and raspy voice, he made a formidable villain. It wasn't the kind of roles he had dreamt about when he finished his night-cycle courses at the Kaon Academy of Arts, but it paid the bills and, well, Iacon and its high-brow theatre and holovid scene were overrated anyway. Like Starscream kept telling everyone who would stop long enough to listen, if he had to watch one more adaptation of The Turning of the Screw, he was going to offline himself. Personally, Megatron was more bored with what felt like adaptation ten thousand of Sense & Sensory Ability. In any case, scriptwriters in Iacon weren't any more inventive than those in Kaon, so whatever.

Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself. He had known from the start that as a mining frame, it wasn't going to be easy for him in the holovid business, unless he wished to go into a very specific branch of it, where huge, bulky mecha were always welcome. To be honest, Megatron much preferred shooting sparkling holovids, even if his roles there were limited to the bad guys, while the good guys … well …

He touched down on the landing strip just outside the complex, transformed and headed in, the guards at the gate barely looking up as he passed through. Good, he still had 19 kliks left. Enough time for a more thorough shower before he had to head to the kibble room, and anyway, now that he was at the studio, nobody was going to complain much if he was a few kliks late. He wasn't planning to, of course, so he quickly put his head through the kibble room door and grunted a greeting at Knock Out and Breakdown so they knew he was around before he slipped into the washracks, rather satisfied with himself. His new Iaconian co-star wouldn't be able to accuse him of being late, in fact, he was here early. Every bit as professional as the Prime.

To his surprise, he was greeted by damp air and the sound of running solvent upon entering the washracks. Megatron's optic ridges shot up as he picked up one of the fresh towels and rounded the corner to the actual washracks. This was a first. Usually when he turned up at this time to use the studio washracks, he was utterly alone. Everyone else (read: everyone who didn't share an apartment with Soundwave, who would take a groon in the washracks if Megatron or Starscream didn't specify by when he had to be out) much preferred to shower at home.

Well, it appeared that he was going to have company today. That was fine by Megatron. He wasn't a shy mech by any definition of the word, and in any case, he wasn't going to clean any intimate parts, just make sure the night-cycle's grease was out of his joints before the kibble came on, because he would be itching all day-cycle like the pit if he didn't. It was maybe a tad embarrassing to have to shower here instead of at home, but most of the other cast and crew were familiar with Soundwave's habits (or rather, Starscream's endless complaints about said habits) and wouldn't dare to ask any weird questions or draw any weird conclusions.

He rounded the corner and stopped dead at the sight of silver, blue and red plating covered in a slick layer of foam that was gently spread across a broad chassis by a soft sponge. The mech had shuttered his optics and held his face up to the spray of solvent, looking utterly content and relaxed, more so in fact than Megatron had ever seen him.

And then, before Megatron could even think about turning around and hurrying to the washracks in the next building over, the mech apparently sensed the optics on him (or heard the cooling fans turning on, which was much more likely), unshuttered his own and looked over his shoulder pauldron straight at Megatron.

"Oh," said Optimus Prime, his brand-new battlemask suddenly snapping shut with a loud click, "Megatron. Good morning. Uhm. The washracks in my apartment are broken."

Well, so much for that.