Megatron stared unblinking at Optimus, a challenge in every tense line of his frame, as he poured electric pink energon into his glass. Optimus pulled the glass near but did not drink.
"It's not poisoned, Prime," Megatron sneered, pouring himself some as well and dropping into his seat with a loud clank. "I'm not Starscream. Now hand over the latest relic you've chosen to taunt me with."
Optimus sighed as he pulled the golden datapad out of his subspace. "I wish only to share information, Megatron, for the greater good. If that is a problem, I can keep it for myself." Nevertheless, he slid the datapad forward. Megatron gave Optimus a glower of suspicion as he pulled the "relic" into his grasp, as though he expected the Autobot leader to leap across the table and attack. Instead Optimus just gave him a weary look.
Megatron examined the datapad closely, turning it over in his hands, running his fingers over the expert metalwork. His expression was not gloating, but cautious.
"I'm surprised at you, old friend," Optimus said. "All the obstacles you have overcome and this is the one that stops you? Has it been so long that you have forgotten how to turn on a datapad?"
Megatron rolled his optics. "As though I could forget such a thing when you used to leave them littered across every surface. Did you know Soundwave considered making Laserbeak's alt mode one of these, back then? I told him no; we would never find her again in the clutter."
Despite everything, Optimus couldn't help but give a quiet laugh. Megatron's optics flew wide for a moment, as though he regarded this levity as some form of attack. Then he grunted dismissively, turning on the datapad and scrolling through the text as soon as the screen loaded up.
The Covenant of Primus was a lengthy document. But Optimus had inserted the fraudulent "new material" among the grandiose prophecies about war and heroes, victors and vanquished, which he knew all too well were Megatron's favorite passages.
Optimus still felt conflicted about his deception. But how could he turn away from a bloodless solution that would save his remaining Autobots . . . and perhaps even the Decepticons, in a manner of speaking? Would the feint work, though? Megatron was reading the datapad with narrowed eyes.
Narrowed . . . or squinting? Megatron's optics were thin red bars behind scrunched lids as he moved the datapad, held upright between his hands, farther and farther from his face.
When it was almost at arm's length from the warlord, Optimus cleared his throat.
"Megatron, if you wish to fetch your reading glasses—"
"Reading glasses?" Megatron glared. "The Matrix has filled your spark with insolence to suggest that I, the scourge of Kaon, would require such a thing!"
Ah. "Nevertheless I'm sure Ratchet would be happy to look at your optics if they are troubling you." 'Happy' was another untruth, but at the very least Ratchet's dedication to his profession could be prevailed upon—no matter how he grumbled about it. "At your age, one should not neglect his upkeep."
The datapad banged against the table "'At my age'? Are you suggesting I am obsolete?" Megatron's voice rose to a roar before dropping to a threatening growl. "Need I remind you, Optimus, that I have bested you in every way? I have the best warriors, the best armaments, the best medics—" He stopped with a scowl, perhaps aware of the petulance creeping into his voice.
"We are of a similar age," Optimus said peaceably. "Whatever headstart you may have had has become insignificant over the years, wouldn't you agree?"
"I agree you are insignificant." Megatron shoved the datapad forward with the heel of his hand, sending it scooting towards Optimus. "Read it, Prime. Aloud. I command it."
"Er, Starscream, are you feeling all right?" Knock Out glanced at the furrows the Seeker's talons were digging in Soundwave's desk. "You seem . . . tense."
"Tense?" Starscream said through clenched teeth. "Why would I be tense when our plan is going perfectly?" He wrenched his gaze away from the monitor, where the Prime was reading poetry to Megatron over a romantic glass of energon. With mood lighting! He should have known the untrustworthy Autobot had an agenda of his own.
"Well?" Starscream rounded on Soundwave, who had—with uncharacteristic generosity—allowed Starscream the seat directly in front of the computer. "Aren't you going to do anything about this?"
Soundwave cocked his head, a question mark appearing on his mask. The nerve!
Before Starscream could properly berate him, Breakdown scratched his head and said, "What's there to 'do anything' about, Screamer? Everything's going pretty good."
"Indeed." Knock Out patted Starscream's shoulder in an overly familiar manner. "Megatron hasn't shot the Prime through the spark yet and, look! He's even listening to him now!"
Starscream did look. And the sight of Megatron sinking into a relaxed pose, resting his cheek on his hand as he gazed towards Optimus, did nothing to improve his mood. Metal shavings curled around his fingers as he sat rigid, listening to verses rolling out in the Prime's low, rumbling voice, Megatron interrupting here and there to challenge or berate him. In other words, flirting shamelessly.
"Why doesn't he have his battlemask on?" Starscream said.
Knock Out looked puzzled. "Who, the Prime?"
"Of course him, you imbecile!" Knock Out began to puff up in indignation, but Starscream gave him no chance to speak. "Why is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, sitting in the presence of his mortal enemy without that obvious bit of protection, hmm?" His brows lowered, as did his voice: "Because he wants Megatron to stare at his . . . his sensual lips."
Neither Knock Out nor Breakdown seemed to have anything to say to that, simply gaping idiotically, and Soundwave being Soundwave he just tilted his helm the opposite direction. Not that Starscream cared; he had reached a decision.
The chair scraped backwards as Starscream stood, so abruptly that Knock Out jumped.
Slowly, deliberately, Starscream said, "I am going to kill him." Whether he meant Megatron or Optimus he couldn't have said. It would likely be a double homicide.
Starscream was striding for the door when two of Soundwave's blasted tentacles whipped out, wrapping around his arm and leg. As if that wasn't enough, Breakdown hurried forward to block his path, holding his arms comically wide as Knock Out hovered off to the side, dithering.
"Starscream, seriously, are you feeling ill?" The medic put a hand to Starscream's forehead. "I know it's hard to sit here doing nothing, but the Prime will convince Megatron, I just know it! We simply need to give him a little more time. Once he's finished charming our glorious leader—"
"Then what, praytell?" Starscream sneered. "Will you be the next in line for the Prime's charms, Knock Out? Hm, you do like a big bot, don't you. I expect you'll be begging for his 'divine intervention' as soon as your partner's back is turned."
Knock Out's jaw dropped. Then he snapped his mouth shut and aimed a hard slap at Starscream's face.
Starscream was ready for him; he pulled his arm up just in time for Knock Out's servo to impact full-force against Soundwave's tentacle.
Silently recoiling even as his tendril writhed in pain, Soundwave's grip loosened enough for Starscream to yank his arm free. He dove between Breakdown's legs, using them for leverage as he heaved himself across the floor, kicking at the remaining tentacle wrapped around his leg. He was so close! He just needed to reach the hall.
"Steve!" Starscream yelled into his comm, to be heard over Breakdown and Knock Out, who were shouting various entreaties and threats. "Come to Soundwave's quarters! I need your help!"
"Hiya Commander! Aw gee, I'm sorry but I can't right now. I'm working on something. Maybe later, okay?" Steve hung up.
Starscream froze in shock, losing some ground as Soundwave pulled him backwards. But then—oh miracle! a pounding at the door! Steve had come through after all . . . sent one of his Vehicon friends stationed nearby, perhaps.
"Breakdown!" Starscream snapped in his most authoritative tone, no matter that Knock Out was trying to pin his arm behind his back. "Answer that door! Immediately!"
With a look of bewilderment—and no pushback from Knock Out, who was busy snarling threats in Starscream's audial—Breakdown obeyed, slapping his enormous hand over the palm-pad.
The door hissed open, revealing none other than Shockwave.
"Someone has destroyed 67.2% of the experiments in my lab," Shockwave said, addressing the tangle of bots struggling and crying out and falling over, "resulting in unacceptable setbacks."
Behind him, on the monitor, Megatron idly drummed his fingers on the table, smiling slightly as he gazed into Optimus' eyes.
"—and so I would suggest that this passage likely cautions against unwanted medical experimentation," Optimus said.
"Hmm." Megatron swirled his glass in his hand. "So it would seem. A pity your predecessors did not heed these words, Prime, it would have spared Shockwave and many others a terrible fate."
When Megatron put it like that, Optimus didn't feel so bad about falsifying a religious text. "A great pity," he agreed. "Poor Shockwave . . ."
"Compassionate to the end." Megatron shook his head in disbelief. "Shockwave has adapted. I doubt he would return to his former state—mental or physical—even if he had a choice."
"The important thing is that he does have a choice," Optimus said, "as we all have regarding our frames. That is what you fought for, is it not?"
"Hm. Yes." Megatron's expression was unreadable. "That is . . . true."
"Something on your mind?"
"Staffing issues," Megatron said dismissively. "The Covenant has given me new insight." And, Megatron being Megatron, he had to add: "Which only one with a destiny such as mine could unlock."
"Of course," Optimus said.
Megatron gave him a suspicious look; Optimus made sure his expression remained calm and unruffled. After a moment the warlord untensed, taking another long sip of his drink. Still, Optimus decided it was safest to keep the conversation moving.
"And what of your own frame, Megatron?" Optimus said, thinking of Ratchet and eye exams. "Won't you submit to an inspection?"
Megatron swirled the glass cupped in his hand; the electric blue liquid curled in a thin wave, casting dancing highlights over his fingers. "Is that what you wish, Prime?"
"I do." It was increasingly clear that Megatron was farsighted, in a decidedly non-metaphorical way. Encouraged by Megatron's lack of aggression, he added, "I prefer it when you call me Optimus."
"Optimus, then," Megatron purred. The undulating ribbons of light slid over his frame as he moved to a modest stereo set in the corner. Lazy strains of music began to drift through the room. "You have so generously shared this relic with me, Optimus. Allow me to return the favor, old friend, and share something with you."
Optimus' spark brightened at the words. Megatron was at last realizing that Optimus was not his enemy, he was renewing their friendship and even offering a relic as a show of goodwill and trust, he was . . . leaning over the bed, aft towards Optimus, and . . . his plating was shifting, folding away to reveal a bright, luminous — oh no—
The door to the hallway hissed open; its soundproofing was impressive, as it had apparently been muting screams and insults primarily coming from Knock Out and Starscream, though Optimus caught glimpses of Soundwave and Breakdown in the fray. In the background Shockwave droned on about personal property and damages.
Before Optimus could recover, Starscream shook himself free of the rest and stormed in.
"Come back, Starscream," Knock Out hissed, only his fingertips and head visible as he peeked around the door frame. "Please!"
"Starscream! What is the meaning of this?" Megatron demanded, hurriedly turning around and cupping his hands protectively over his open plating. "Leave, immediately!"
Starscream gave Megatron a look that could have cut through steel, but did not pause as he marched up to Optimus. Claws lashed out, catching the Prime's neck-well and pulling him down so that he and Starscream were eye to eye. Starscream's optics were wild, his ventilations deep, as though it took every bit of air his vents could suck in to keep his systems from combusting on the spot.
Yet his gravelly voice was surprisingly low and measured as he grated, "Get out." He shoved Optimus, harder than the Autobot would have thought him capable of, and turned away.
"Ah, yes. I'll just . . ." Optimus began backing into the hall as Starscream flung himself at Megatron, who met him in a heated kiss without the slightest hesitation. Starscream's thin arms wrapped possessively around the warlord's neck, his burning red optics still glaring at the Prime.
The last thing Optimus saw, as the massive door slid shut, was Starscream's chestplate splitting apart, spilling forth light as he decisively shoved Megatron over the bed.
The Decepticons in the hall were staring at the door too. Even Shockwave had fallen silent. No one seemed to want to look at each other.
"Well," Knock Out said in a strained voice, then lapsed into silence once again.
The patter of metallic feet distracted them; a purple Eradicon was trotting towards them. From the slot-like cut through his chest and his cheerful demeanor, Optimus knew it was Steve.
"Hey, Starscream said he needed my help," Steve said, "but by the time I got to Soundwave's room he was gone! Anyone know where he went?"
One by one, the Decepticons looked at Optimus, expectant. Decepticons really did not play fair.
Optimus cleared his throat. "I believe he is occupied at the moment."
"Oh . . . oh, Optimus Prime! I didn't see you there!" Steve pressed both his hands to his cheeks in a gesture of . . . delight, possibly? "I . . . I was hoping to run into you, actually." He twirled his pointed toe against the floor, as though digging a little hole with it. "I know it's only been a few hours since we met, but I've been thinking about you sooo much that it feels like I'm running out of RAM. So, oh boy I'm just gonna say it, would you like to go out with me?"
"WHAT?" Knock Out said loudly as Soundwave's visor flashed the word 'TRAITOR' repeatedly.
It had been a trying day, but one that proved change was possible, if one was open to it. "Steve, I would be honored," Optimus said.
"Oh my gosh!" Steve clasped his hands together. "I promise you won't regret it! Oh—and here, take one of these!"
He pulled a handful of large, glossy stickers out of his subspace, each featuring a chibi version of Optimus (posed on one toe, winking and saluting) beside the words 'Optimus Prime Fan Club'.