Optimus stepped onto the cold wasteland, inner functions regulating as much heat as it could to protect his outer hull. He surveyed the damage.
"Report, Ratchet." Optimus said wearily, attempting to keep the tiredness from his tone.
He had sped through two continents just to get to this cold wasteland. Only to find his autobots scratched up, on guard, but fortunately mostly intact.
"It's strange Optimus. From what we've gathered, they've already drained quite a bit of energon reserve, but they still remain. As if they *want* to keep fighting in this slaggin' cold pit." Ratchet responded, hands focused on repairing what damage it could to Bumblebee's charred chassis.
"You got that right." Bee hummed negatively, "But we can't see why."
"That's right." The ninjabot was suddenly next to Prime, his appearance as silent as ever, "The longer they stay to fight, the more of the energon reserve we take back."
"I see..." Optimus's blue optics looked concerned.
It seemed his staying away did little to stop the Decepticon leader from holing up long enough to face him.
"What is it, boss bot?" Jazz asked, pulling up next to them.
"Nothing." Prime said with a forced grin, "Let us just hope they don't plan on a prolonged stay here. I doubt your thick hulls are doing too well in this harsh climate."
"They're at it again, Prime." Ratchet said urgently, servo pressed against the side of his own red helm as he caught the distress signal of one of the Autobot patrols.
"Let's roll out." Prime commanded, inspiring contented grunts and grins all around, that familiar tone setting them all at ease.
Little did they know just how conflicted their leader was, down to his very troubled spark.
-o-o-o-
Megatron was shooting another Autobot dead on, red optics not phased by the fact that he had extinguished another spark.
When suddenly Starscream commed him.
::Lord Megatron sir! The leader of the Autobots-::
"WHERE?!" Megatron demanded, solely focused on that irritating voice in his head, interrupting the flier mid sentence.
The moment Starscream stuttered the coordinates, Megatron was transformed and jettisoning into the air. His sleek form cut through the cold air of the battlefield like a hot knife through butter. Optimus could not avoid him forever.
And there was one word going through his mind at the thought of having the mech in his sights once more.
Finally.
-o-o-o-
Optimus was aiming down his cannon, stopping an unruly con from decapitating an ally, when a thunderous voice gripped his spark.
"*PRIME*!"
That rough vocal, the familiar voice-
Optimus whipped in the direction of the enraged roar, aiming upwards a split second too late as his blue optics widened. The Decepticon leader was diving in from the sky, transforming midair to his base form.
Then Megatron collided into the ambushed Autobot, Optimus's shot firing off wildly as they tumbled hard across the ground, Megatron having the element of surprise to help him end the roll with him on top, pinning the smaller bot to the snow.
"Megatron!" Optimus growled, struggling to throw the larger off him, "What is the meaning of-"
"*You* have been avoiding me, *Prime*." Megatron interrupted bluntly, the way his menacing voice caressed his name sent a metal shiver running through the blue and red hull.
"No I have not-" Optimus grunted.
Optimus almost had his arm free, but the Con quickly reasserted his grip, slamming the appendage back into the snow with a stronger hold, a growl reverberating through his chassis.
"DO NOT *lie* to me." Megatron warned, voice dangerously low.
Optimus stilled, taking in his vulnerable position below the larger mech. Realizing the impending danger of the situation, his processors stalled. Megatron could probably offline him, should he so choose.
He could not leave his Autobots. Not to this tyrant.
"Fine." Prime growled, "Perhaps I was... avoiding you."
Pleased that the Prime was playing along, Megatron relaxed his chaffing hold, content in just holding the other there as he questioned, "Why?"
"I don't have to explain myself-"
"*WHY* Prime?" Megatron demanded, receiving a thrill from just looking at those defiant, blue optics glaring up at him.
"And why would I tell you?" Optimus hedged, feeling hopeless but not beaten.
Ever the optimist. Never one to give up. Definitely a quality the Decepticon leader could admire.
"I'll call off my troops." Megatron said simply, as though he spoke of picking daises off the lawn.
"Just like that?" Optimus asked suspiciously.
"Just. Like. That." Megatron enunciated clearly with a purred growl, his curling heatedly against Optimus's covered faceplates, "Of course, this is assuming you do not try to lie to me again. Try it, and the offer is off the table."
Optimus remained silent as he weighed his options, gaze fixated distractedly somewhere below that pointed chin.
With a weary sigh, Prime inquired hesitantly, "What was the question?"
"WHY were you avoiding me, Prime?"
"I..." Optimus glanced off to the side, "I didn't want to think about us. About *you*..."
"Optimus, are you... afraid?" Megatron asked haltingly, almost in disbelief, hopes already raising at what the Autobot leader was admitting.
The mech wouldn't bat an optic were he to sacrifice his spark for the greater good. Wouldn't think twice to sever his own arm were it to save a life. Feared nothing. Bowed to none.
And here he was, playing footsies with Megatron because there truly was something he was anxious about.
"Not afraid... just..." Optimus trailed, trying to find the words. His first inclination was to deny it, but from the look on Megatron's face, he knew the con was serious. If he lied...
"You know me Megatron." Optimus tried to explain, "From before this whole war started."
"Yes," The Decepticon replied, curious as to where this was leading, "As Orion Pax, and now as the next Prime. Though both as equally naive."
"Yes." Optimus bit out at the normal barb, before continuing with a soft exhale, "And I never quite like situations that are..."
"Out of your control." Megatron finished with a knowing grin.
"And this... well *us*... I'm just not sure-" Prime said haltingly, feeling the cold of the snow seeping into his frame. Offset by the heat of the mech on top of him.
"I see." Megatron rumbled, pausing before he said, "Optimus, retract your battle mask."
"Excuse me?" The Autobot leader demanded, trying to cover the anxiety bubbling from within with bolstered bravado.
Megatron deflected it with an ultimatum, "Retract your mask. Either you do it, or I will rip it off for you."
Watching the other warily, Optimus held out a moment longer, before meeting the strange request. His battle mask slid open with an audible clank. Better to still have it functioning and open rather than whatever Megatron planned to pry it open himself.
"Why?" Prime asked, not missing the way that hot gaze followed his exposed lips' every movement. He felt naked, all of a sudden, shifting. Uncomfortable with the intense inspection.
Instead of a verbal reply, Megatron swooped in, unable to hold back any longer.
"Mmfh!" Optimus made a sound of muffled protest as that hungry mouth devoured his own.
He struggled, but the talented swipe of a large glossa had his processors rapidly melting, his attempts to get away decreasing in power.
He tugged his pinned arms once. Twice. Before relenting to the heated assault. He grunted as Megatron purred and nipped his lip in approval, glossa swiping across his exposed lips, asking permission.
Optimus had his mouth pressed tight in adamant refusal. But as the kiss deepened, he felt his resolve crumbling. His lips parted in nonverbal assent, and the con was quick to take advantage of the invite. That infernal tongue was exploring his insides once more, filling the void and drawing a melodic moan from the captive mech beneath him. When the wet appendage sought out his own, Optimus tried to pull back. But Megatron persisted, grip tightening. Tentatively, the Prime allowed his own glossa to be pulled into the heated dance, even letting that huge tongue lead him into Megatron's heated depths.
The bigger mech growled when Prime only halted near the entrance, forcefully sucking the slick glossa into his own mouth,
Prime could deny this heat all he wanted. Deny it verbally, mentally, stubbornly. But he could not deny the physical reactions that mere contact with the Decepticon elicited from him. The way his very spark surged and energon-filled veins rushed in a dizzying sort of way. Not unpleasant.
And when the bigger mech pulled away, surveying the dazed look with a smug air, Megatron purred, "I believe the setting up of a truce may be in order, Prime."
Optimus could hardly believe those words had come from Megatron's lips.
Though he was filled with trepidation at what this first step could mean, he could only hope for the best future for his own mechs and mechs of both factions. Megatron's motivations aside, he could not pass up this opportunity. It's not like the Decepticon could get away with too much without Prime's say so.
Optimus grunted in assent, pushing past the con to stand to his own feet. His spark fluttered at the crimson look Megatron shot his way, as if devouring his very core on the spot. But he quickly gathered himself, calm and in control once more as Prime borrowed the words of his soon-to-be potential ally, "We shall see, Megatron."
Pleased, Megatron stuck out his hand in a peaceful gesture, back on his feet as well. When Optimus clasped his larger hand firmly, the Decepticon pulled the Prime closer, deep voice making the smaller shudder involuntarily, "You *won't* regret this, Prime."
And for once, Optimus hoped the other was right.