The response to this has been pretty great. Big thank yous to anyone who reviewed. Layla Xtar receives virtual American History Brownie Points for knowing that "Wolf by the Ears was Thomas Jefferson, the great proponent of personal liberty who was also a slave owner. His philosophy and his life were totally contradictory. He owned hundreds of slaves, including a woman he had a decades-long relationship and four children with, but constantly said things like:

"I have sworn on the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man."

And

"I have never been able to conceive how any rational being could propose happiness to himself from the exercise of power over others."

The "Wolf by the Ears" quote is on the wall of the Jefferson Memorial in Washington DC, and refers to the Very Bad Things he saw on the horizon if slavery continued, i.e. the American Civil War. Slavery was an evil thing that the country couldn't quit doing, lest it be savaged…

I will now remove my Nerd Hat and return you to your regularly scheduled fic.

Eventually, they were released from the maximum security labyrinth that was the Stockades, and Optimus, Megatron, and a phalanx of guardbots proceeded to the palatial apartment that Optimus had been issued by the Elite Guard when he came back to Cybertron a hero. At the time, he had thought it was over the top, though useful when he had his friends visiting him. Now he was very glad of the space. At least he wouldn't be constantly tripping over the massive Decepticon warlord in his life.

At the tech's prompting, he had issued orders to Megatron that he would not attack or harm any Autobot, though Optimus insisted on a modification that would allow Megatron to respond with force in urgent self defense situations. He was not leaving a mech under his care completely defenseless like that. There were a lot of Autobots who would try to harm the Decepticon leader, slave coding or no.

To his delighted relief, Ratchet was there when the door opened. He was actually a bit surprised the rest of the team from Earth wasn't there, but he was grateful for it, nonetheless. The thought of Megatron sharing his living room with say, Bumblebee and Sari was mildly horrifying.

The guards finally left, and the three of them were left alone.

Aaaaaaawkward.

Fortunately, Ratchet was good at ignoring awkward until it shriveled up out of embarrassment and went away on its own. The medic looked Megatron's huge, battered frame up and down. "Well, you'd think they would have at least repaired you while you were in custody. Those are the same field patches I put on you after the Battle of Detroit."

Megatron snorted. "The staff of the Stockades were unconcerned with my wellbeing, Autobot. It was obvious that I would not expire, so they did not bother to enact further repairs. I imagine that they knew I would be the little Prime's responsibility soon enough." His stance was proud and unbending, despite his situation. Optimus couldn't help but admire that.

"I…I'm sure you're hungry. Please, sit." He said, and went to collect cubes of fuel for all three of them. It was excellent mid-grade, which he wouldn't normally indulge in during the middle of the day (he was a little surprised it was still so early) but he had expended a lot of energy, what with the, well, overload earlier. And Megatron would undoubtedly be less than optimally fueled after his time in prison.

By the time he got back, Ratchet was already critically examining a corroded-looking weld on the Decepticon leader's back, and grumbling about Stockades medical staff and dereliction of duty.

To Optimus's surprise, Megatron looked mildly amused. He must have felt it over their fledgling bond, because that hard mouth quirked in a tiny smile and he shrugged slightly (which made Ratchet grumble at him). "Medics" he rumbled. "Real ones, at least. Not those mad scientist lap pets of your pit-spawned council."

Optimus deposited two of the cubes on a side table and handed the other one to Megatron. The mech just looked at him. Ratchet snorted. "He isn't going to take a cube from you, kid. Take a sip, or let him choose which of em he wants."

The Decepticon turned narrowed optics towards the medic. "Pardon me if I have had several
unfortunate experience with substances that Autobots have tried to convince me to ingest of late, medic." He said coldly.

"Um. Right." Optimus said. He was so very much in over his head here. He was hardly going to let his...whatever Megatron was now starve, though. He took a sip and tried giving the mech the cube again, quirking an optical ridge at the Decepticon.

A tiny, bitter smile curled at the corner of the hard gray mouth. "On the other servo, I suppose you hardly need to resort to drugging me at this point. Master."

Optimus failed to completely hide his wince.

Ratchet harumphed. "Well, this is a fine kettle of whales, as the humans say. First things first. After you finish that energon, you need to get cleaned up, and later I can coat these injuries with nanite solution. Optimus, he's going to need a lot more fuel than an Autobot, and the two of you need to stabilize that bond. You can start by scrubbing down his back plating and helping him clean out his joints."

Optimus nearly choked on his fuel. "What?"

Megatron smirked at his dismay. "Afraid I'll bite, Autobot?"

Ratchet sighed. "Sparklings, pay nice. The two of you just spark bonded, even if it's a slave bond and not the real thing. It's going to throw both of your systems off until you get used to it. Megatron, your programming is going to re-write your reactions to prioritize protecting Optimus. Plus it's going to force you to obey his direct orders. Optimus, you're going to be at least distantly aware of Megatron all the time. You'll learn to pay attention to the bond or ignore it as necessary. Eventually."

He finished with the weld he was expecting and gave Optimus a Look. "Arcee and I have been doing some research. The kind of Programming we're dealing with here hasn't been used in thousands of orbitals. You should come to visit us on Omega, where we can have a little chat."

Megatron heaved an aggrieved sigh from his vents and rose from the low couch he had been sitting on to let Ratchet reach his damaged plating. Optimus couldn't help but notice the lethal grace of the simple movements. "I shall take myself to your wash racks, if the two of you feel the need to plot behind my back. Do inform the little Prime of why this programming fell out of favor, medic." With that, he swept out of the room like he was leaving the deck of his flagship, lord and master of his domain rather than moving around the new apartment of his new master.

Optimus looked at his friend and medic, who didn't seem nearly disturbed enough by that last part. "Ratch, I'm doomed, aren't I?"

Ratchet actually chuckled. "I doubt it. He's not as confident as he's acting. Thing about this programming. He technically has to protect you and obey orders, but if he tries, he can exploit any loopholes or contradictions in those orders halfway to the galactic core and back. He could, for instance, probably fight that programming just enough to be a split second too late in throwing himself in front of a missile for you, in which case the slave code goes dormant again."

"Lovely." Said Optimus. "So I now have a bodyguard who would like me to get killed, and a whole lot of Decepticons who want me dead to free their leader. And here I thought the Council actually wanted me in charge. At least as a figurehead."

"Well, they probably don't want you dead so much as they're simultaneously testing you and hoping you can solve a major problem fore them. That problem being Megatron, of course. He scares them, and you're the only Autobot in a very long time who's been able to deal with him. Even Ultra Magnus had a lot of help last time he fought that mech." Ratchet replied.

"I had the Magnus hammer, the jet-pack Sari made me, and Prowl, Ratchet. It's not like I fought him with my bare servos and came out victorious."

"Hah." Ratchet replied. "I seem to recall you fighting him and a crowd of his top lieutenants with nothing but your axe and a handful of civilian space-bridge repair bots. That's impressive as pit. Everyone on Cybertron knows it, and so do the Decepticons. Thing is, that makes the Cons a lot less likely to try to assassinate you out of hand. Unless they think you're treating their captured leader dishonorably, that is."

"Ratchet, they just made me forcibly spark merge with him while he was being hacked. I'm pretty sure that's dishonorable by anybots book."

The old mech snorted derisively. " Optimus, you were under coercion. You objected loudly and publicly, and they had to give you a direct order as a member of the Elite Guard. It's not like you went and molested your captured enemy for some kind of sick self-gratification." His mouthplates quirked in a little smile. "Which reminds me; how was it?"

"Ratch!"

"No, really. This is important. Did you overload? Did he?" Despite the earlier joking, the medic looked serious.

"Well...yes. Why?" asked the Prime, trying not to flush with the heat of the remembered sensation.

"It's an indicator of compatibility. A slave bond like you and he have is actually a code-modified spark bond. Like any bond, it's a lot more solid and healthy if the two sparks involved are compatible. There are a lot of reasons that no bot has this coding any more, and not all of them are because of politics or morals. If the two of you turned out to be a really incompatible match, the artificial bond could start to damage your own spark's cohesion over the long term. Which brings me back to the original question. Did both of you overload, and was it any good?"

Optimus privately wondered just how many more mortifying things were likely to happen to him today. "Yeah, Ratch, both of us overloaded. And...it was...amazing."

"Well, that's one less thing to worry about, then. Now, on to stabilizing the bond. You're going to need to spend some time together, preferably in close proximity. Which brings us back to you helping him clean all the joints and plating he can't reach. He's got some nasty corrosion starting from being in prison with no repairs and not enough energon."

Optimus shifted uncomfortably. "Ratch, I really don't think he's going to want me touching him. I felt it during our...bond. He hates me, and he was so angry and disgusted. I've never felt such rage before." He shivered a little. "Pit, I'm bonded to a bot who hates me.

The old medic gave his young friend a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like you need to spend some time convincing him not to hate you, then. Probably a good start would be bringing him another cube and seeing to his injuries. After that, the next step would be refraining from any more interfacing that he doesn't initiate."

The horrified widening of Optimus's optics made the medic guffaw. "Don't worry about it, kid. Just get though sharing the same wash rack as him for right now. Hopefully he won't actually try to bite."

"Gee Ratchet, thanks for the vote of support." Optimus said dryly. "If I have to bathe the Decepticon, you get to tell the rest of the team all about my new roommate. I know Omega and Arcee are figuratively sitting on Bee, Sari and Bulkhead to keep them out from underpede during this little transition."

Optimus hesitantly stepped into the cleansing facility. It was warm and filled with steam from the mild solvents that the wash racks defaulted to. The place was the size of his Academy dorm room, and he had shared that with another bot. When he had first seen his new apartment, he had wondered if the Elite guard had bought this place from some sort of hedonist, for the size of its facilities. It was an older building, and perhaps it had been designed back when Cybertronians tended to be larger than they were today. The master berth was huge, too. He heat-flushed at the thought. Yes, of course it would be. They knew who he was going to be living with, after all.

In this day and age, Autobots were smaller than their forebears, and apartments like this were most likely to be inhabited by mechs who entertained a lot. Either lavish parties or a lot of lovers. Or both, of course. It didn't have enough rooms to be suitable for a family or team group, but instead had a smaller number of large, high ceilinged rooms.

Sari had taken one look at it and started talking about how he needed to personalize it so it wasn't so cold and unwelcoming. He privately agreed. Bulkhead had given him a painting, which was still in storage, and Professor Sumdac had told him he would be sending a "Autobot sized bonsai" with daughter the next time she returned from a trip to Earth.

It also had a cleaning facility with both a cleanser shower and a soaking pool. It was beautiful and luxurious, very different than anywhere he had ever lived before. Megatron was using the shower, the solvent gleaming off his battered armor.

Optimus really hoped that Xaaron hadn't had a hand in picking the place out.

Megatron didn't say anything or look directly at him as he entered the room, energon cube in servo. The mech was scrubbing at one of his elbow joints, and Optimus could see that there were dents from the restraints in the heavy armor. He took a deep invent and walked into the spacious, luxuriously appointed wash rack. He felt a lot like a glitchmouse foolishly approaching a turbofox in its den. Unfortunately, they were in Optimus's den, and the turbofox was going to be a permanent resident.

"Ah, Ratchet said you would need more fuel." Optimus said awkwardly. "Do you want me to try it first?''

The Decepticon looked haughtily down at his new captor, then sighed. Optimus realized that he looked tired, almost haggard. He was reminded how very much older than him Megatron was. "I suppose it hardly matters at this point. I shall try to contain my instinctive distrust of fuel from an Autobot's hands for practical reasons, little Prime."

Well, Optimus supposed it was something, at least.

Wordlessly, he handed the grey and burgundy mech the cube, noticing the careful way those great, scarred servos with their lethal talons curled around the container. He wondered suddenly if Megatron had to make a habit of being gentle with his surroundings, to avoid breaking things with his war-modified strength. He looked up, met those red, red optics, and hastily looked away. First aid. He was just going to provide some much-needed first aid to a captured enemy. That's all this was. Perfectly honorable, perfectly Autobot, and completely innocent.

The fact that he could still feel faint, tiny thrums of pleasure through his systems after that intense overload against the Warlord's spark was immaterial. His systems were just confused, thinking that he was near a bonded lover, sharing a washrack with a mech who meant enough to him that they would share sparks. They would get with the program soon enough, and hopefully he and Megatron could settle into a nice respectful "captured enemy being treated honorably" sort of relationship. That was the only reasonable way to go, after all.

Wasn't it?