Chapter Text
After several days of cutting corners and hoarding every moment of time that could be spent with Megatron, Optimus had no small backlog of work to do. Even non-urgent tasks had to be done eventually. Today he had a mostly clear schedule—two meetings, one short interview, and he was expecting Prowl to storm in and complain some time in the afternoon—and he'd had the bright idea of sorting out the audit while Starscream was still in recovery.
It was a sensible choice. The only sensible choice, in fact. Megatron had not been speaking metaphorically when he said that the audit might start a firefight inside the CDTD: Starscream was possessive of his tiny empire there. There were so many, many, many things that could be going wrong, even if you discounted the fact that Starscream had, at one point in his life, used his political position to embezzle public funds. So having him out of the place for a few days right as the auditors began their work was a blessing, even if it had come at the cost of Optimus' sanity, and Optimus had been entirely right to usher a crack team of forensic accountants and auditors and other mechs who did things he didn't remotely understand into the building to get whatever hard drives and datapads they needed before Starscream dropped any more of them off a 160-storey building.
All he had to do now was wait. It would take a few days. Crosshairs was leading the team now, and he was not the type to submit a preliminary report too early. Even though he knew Optimus actually wanted the as early as they possibly could be produced so he didn't have to sit in his office fighting the urge to go check up on things. Checking in was pointless: he didn't understand what they were doing! He just had to get on with his paperwork, and try to enjoy having no distractions. Even Megatron was out. Out of the building, out of the city for the day, with his comms set to emergency only.
No distractions.
Other than the pair of freshly repaired wings sauntering into his office. Starscream perched himself on the edge of the desk without a word of greeting and said, conversationally, "I had an interesting conversation with Megatron last night."
Despite his better judgement, Optimus put down his work and engaged. "What did he say?"
Starscream's smile confirmed that this was a mistake even before he spoke, in the most lascivious tone Optimus could imagine. "More than he meant to, I'm sure. Honestly, the biggest surprise is that it took this long. I thought the two of you must have been going at it since the ceasefire, the way you kept looking at each other." He looked at Optimus expectantly, waiting for confirmation or denial.
"Is that so?"
Unphased by either vagueness or the warning in Optimus' voice, Starscream continued. "Even before that. Sometimes after fighting you, if he still had all his limbs attached, he'd frag me so hard my screws rattled. It might be fine for you, but having that block of steel shoved in me while half my fuel volume is puddled on the floor is no picnic!" He leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret. "He makes up for it though, doesn't he? Three or four times, if I'm lucky." The present tense was grating on Optimus more and more with every word, which was no doubt its intended purpose. "It can't be out of the goodness of his spark. I wonder sometimes if he knows it's the only reason I put up with him, or if he just likes the taste of his own transfluid. I do make sure to remind him that he's only getting inside my panels if he makes it worth my while, but between you and me, putting up with his spike isn't such a terrible burden. I remember last time in the war room," was that 'the last time we fragged, which was in the war room,' or did he mean ' the last time we fragged in the war room'? Why did the thought drive Optimus so crazy? "He was so riled up I thought my valve was going to give out. He gets that way when he's breaking the rules. Wants to get his money's worth, I guess."
Optimus wanted to tell Starscream to get out and waste someone else's time, but that would have required unclenching his jaw, which he wasn't sure he was physically capable of. Starscream was lying. That went without saying. But about what exactly, Optimus didn't know, and thinking about him and Megatron together was making his worst instincts howl and scratch at the door, begging to be let out. Intellectually, he didn't want anyone to know what was or wasn't going on between them. Right now, in his spark, he wanted to brand his name on Megatron's chest. Other parts of him, too, while he was at it.
That particular angry fantasy was interrupted by Starscream's cackling laughter. He leaned on the table for support, optics sparking at the edges, he was laughing so hard. "You're too easy," Starscream wheezed. "You wouldn't have lasted a week as a Decepticon, Prime."
In a feat of pure willpower, Optimus managed not to pin Starscream to the wall by his throat. The way he stood up was still enough to make Starscream scramble back. "I doubt you would have lasted long yourself among mechs less inclined to play games." He moved in closer, crowding Starscream back towards the wall. "What exactly did Megatron say that you think is so worth my time?"
"I don't know!" His hands came up in immediate defense; Optimus wondered if that kind of thoughtless, reflexive answer was usually met with immediate violence, when it was Megatron he dealt with. All it took from Optimus was a look and another moment of waiting. "He just... came in, nattered on about peacetime and hospitals, and then he threatened to bring me up on criminal charges. As in enforcers, and trial, and prison! Me! On trial! I thought he had some sort of brain damage and then I remembered the one thing that reliably makes what little brain he has stop working and," Starscream smiled, "haven't you been busy? I've never seen him so pent up. And believe me, I have seen him—felt him—pent up."
"Enough," Optimus said, hard and final. "I have had enough of your games. Next time you lay a finger on him, I will deal with you." He saw Starscream's eyes widen, saw the real fear there and hoped that meant for once he was listening. "And Starscream, I will be less forgiving than Megatron."
"I didn't even DO anything! He came up to my office and attacked me for no reason! You can't expect me not to defend myself!"
"What happened this time is irrelevant. I know you will try again, if it's tomorrow or in a year's time, it makes no difference. You. Don't. Touch him." Starscream had his hands spread in front of his throat, shoulders hunched protectively, eyes flicking frantically between Optimus' face and his frame. This close, his field was palpable: frantic oscillations between terror and resignation, a buzz of energy so intense it could almost be heard, and something under it too strong to be hidden. What was that? Rage? It didn't feel like any anger Optimus had known. There was something instinctive in Starscream's response: something ingrained. It was enough to make Optimus step back in shock, realising who else Starscream responded to that way. Making Starscream too scared to think wouldn't do either of them any good. He took a half-step back, and saw a modicum of ease return to Starscream's face, followed instantly by suspicion. "If you've said what you came to say, you can go."
Still that suspicion in Starscream's face, and probably that same anger behind it. "Whatever you say, my lord." Rich with sarcasm. The words lingered in Optimus' conscience long after Starscream had left. Presumably that was what they had been intended to do.
There had been two meetings in Optimus' calendar at the start of the day: he was sure of it.
He was used to having drones handle his timetable, but in the past they had been fairly basic things. There had usually been someone around to handle the complex stuff: if all else failed, Ironhide was very good at the "Is this important enough to interrupt him?" game. The new drones had a lot more autonomy, which meant a lot more surprises in his schedule. So far very few surprises that had turned out to be a waste of his time, but... surprises, nonetheless.
Today he was not annoyed by it, because today it was Crosshairs. They hadn't had much more than a day since Optimus escorted them through the CDTD's doors, half-expecting gunfire. They must have found something. Maybe something that he could hold over Starscream long enough to forestall whatever he planned to do with his newly confirmed suspicions: they would both only be delaying the inevitable, and Optimus would be giving Starscream time to get away with something, whatever it was, but there was always a chance it might be worth it. He could only wait and see, and hope.
Crosshairs came in with his usual bright expression. "Sir."
Optimus gestured to the seat, already knowing he wouldn't take it. "You've got something for me?"
"Um." The following pause wasn't very long: just long enough for Optimus' hopes to crash and burn out, a little pile of ashes added to the many gone before them. "Actually, sir, I have a... note." Optimus wasn't fool enough to hope that his 'note' was a complaint about Starscream. He waited. "Pinpointer, sir, works down on the fourth floor."
Oh no.
Oh no.
There were times when Optimus envied Starscream, because Starscream wouldn't hesitate to trigger an emergency evacuation. True, Optimus would have to explain himself to someone afterwards, but that someone wouldn't be Crosshairs. Would explaining himself to Prowl and Megatron and Soundwave be better than having this conversation? There had to be some sort of excuse he could give.
"He likes the quiet down there." Crosshairs looked nervous enough at this point that Optimus would normally take a little pity on him. Not today. Maybe if Optimus gave him nothing to work with, no reassurance at all, Crosshairs would give up and go away. A mech could dream. "There has been... some noise."
"Noise." Hopefully his tone there indicated 'And you are now realizing you can deal with it yourself' instead of 'please, continue!'
Crosshairs grimaced; he'd got the message. He was continuing all the same. As much as it annoyed him, Optimus admired that in a mech. "Yes, sir. Repeated loud noises in one of the other offices during and after work hours most days. Typically for half a joor, sometimes for one or two joors. Loud enough to disrupt work." They tried to keep the noise down. Optimus was sure of it. He could remember Megatron putting a hand over Optimus' mouth as he overloaded, muffling his moans. Megatron stifling noises with heavy kisses, or pulling Optimus towards him to bite down on his throat, or giving him three thick fingers to suck on and bite. And the noises Megatron would make when Optimus bit him: not so much with his mouth as with his engine, its unsubtle growling and rumbling that Optimus could feel through the floor. Not to think of the noises they must make shoving each other into position, crushing each other into walls, grinding together, straddling each other... And Crosshairs only continued with his careful litany of purely factual observations. "The other offices on the fourth floor are empty during the day, sir: their occupants work off-site, or off-world. The only people who have been seen on the fourth floor at the time of the disturbances are yourself," a microscopic pause as he tried to read Optimus' expression, and continued on regardless, "and Megatron?"
The question in his tone there lit up like a weak spot on a tac net. That wasn't implication, it was confusion.
Crosshairs didn't know what was going on. When Optimus asked himself 'What did Pinpointer tell him?' he realized the answer, knowing Pinpointer, was obvious: as little as possible. Finally something Optimus could work with. If they had to be overheard by someone then thank whoever there was to thank that it was someone who rivalled Soundwave for silence.
He waited a beat, letting Crosshairs stew in it, before saying, "Does this strike you as an urgent matter, Crosshairs?"
"Yes, sir, it does. Pinpointer is refusing to work until he's assured that there won't be any more interruptions. In addition to his role in the audit, he's also responsible for payroll." Ah, yes. There was that. Crosshairs shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "I don't like to break anonymity, sir, but I wanted you to understand the scope of the issue. He doesn't ask for much and he works very hard. He keeps this whole place running smoothly without anyone taking any notice." He grimaced. "And I thought it would be pretty obvious, anyway. You only have to go downstairs to see that there's only one person who could have complained."
Yes, it would have been much easier to be Starscream at times like this. Or even Megatron. Someone who didn't care about a mech working tirelessly without thanks or recognition. Internally, Optimus groaned. Out loud he said, "Please tell Pinpointer I will look into the issue personally, and make sure he isn't interrupted any further."
Crosshairs sagged with relief where he stood. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't let me keep you from your work. Starscream is back on his feet today and I'm sure your team will find themselves on the front line sooner rather than later."
Two interruptions in one day would have been too easy. Optimus wasn't even counting Prowl storming in, which was so predictable it might as well have been scheduled. The third and final distraction came by his office in the evening, just as Optimus was thinking about packing up and going home. As Megatron closed the door behind him, the serious expression on his face softened at the edges. "I hear you've been defending my honour."
Optimus crossed his arms. Whatever patience he might have had for this conversation had been quickly worn away today. "That's not how I'd describe it."
"No? Perhaps you'd describe it as falling for Starscream's bait?"
Had he come here just to rub Optimus' face in it? "Is there some point to this conversation?"
Megatron came to sit on the near edge of Optimus' desk, facing him. Looking up from his seat gave Optimus a perspective that made his spark race. "I can defend myself, you know." He didn't sound particularly upset.
"Perhaps if you did so, I wouldn't need to deal with Starscream at all."
There was a look in Megatron's eyes that Optimus filed away for closer examination at a later date, when he was less distracted. There was something there that he was missing, and neither he nor Megatron was quite sure how annoyed they should be that he was missing it. Nothing with Starscream was ever straightforward but under all the tangled mess, his motivation was always the same: he wanted whatever worked out best for him. It was just so hard to keep track of what he thought that was at any given moment, and what path he thought he could take to get it. How did Megatron feel about it, about him? Trying to answer that would drive Optimus insane. Not that that would stop him. The expression passed, as Megatron moved on to the next concern. "Regardless, he's quite sure he knows something now, which means we had best be prepared for other people to know it, too."
When Optimus had stormed into the hospital in a blinding rage only to find Starscream mangled and unconscious, his anger hadn’t faded as he might have hoped. It had only been joined by a sick sense of dread at knowing how irrational and how unyielding he was when it came to Megatron. That sick feeling returned fresh and ready to Optimus' core. He thought about trying to bargain—surely Megatron had ways of stopping Starscream when he really wanted to—but Starscream wasn't stupid enough to waste this opportunity on something small. Whatever he wanted, it would be big, and illegal, and Optimus would live to regret it. That was the point, with blackmail. Megatron was right: they ought to prepare for the fallout, get their stories straight, present a united front. They had to tell people—tell them what? "Can't you stall him?"
"What would that accomplish?"
It would give me time to think of something, Optimus didn't say. "I would be happier telling people something if there was, in fact, something to tell them.”
“I doubt it’ll be necessary to discuss things in that kind of detail.”
It wasn’t that Megatron seemed unbothered by it all, but that imperturbable egotism never left him. When it came to war, Optimus could understand it: they’d both had their judgement proven right in the face of all doubt time and time again. He wished his confidence carried over to peace as well as Megatron’s had. “That’s not my point. It’s simply that… I will have more patience for invasive questions in twenty-three days’ time."
Megatron grimaced, and Optimus' spark sank even before he said, "About that-"
"FIND ANOTHER WAY TO PUNISH HIM, SOUNDWAVE."
Soundwave shook his head sadly. For what it was worth, he really did seem to regret the situation. "The rules are clear: infractions thirty through a hundred are met with one or more days without overload, depending on severity."
That last little clause did wonders for Megatron, usually. Kneeling at Soundwave's feet still and silent as the dead, waiting for judgment, was as close to rapture as he ever hoped to get. Here and now, he wasn't enjoying things quite as much. It was the worst of both worlds: he still had to wait, still had to admit his failure, but now had to do so in the knowledge that Soundwave had been lenient with him. That hurt worse than any reprimand.
"It’s only one day," Ratchet said, and it was clear how much he regretted getting involved as soon as the words left his mouth.
"Then next time Drift is away, you tell him to take an extra day getting back. Let him stop and have a break on the way, how about that?"
Megatron couldn't decide how he felt about things. Obviously an extra day was bad, but he always liked seeing Optimus angry. If only he could do what he wanted to do about it. He wondered idly whether fighting each other might help. There was every chance it would be too good: not much better than fragging Optimus, if it came down to that. If he had Optimus pinning him to the floor, it would take a titan to tear them off each other. Oh, but he needed something. Seeing Optimus like this put a sharp edge on his need.
The agony of it was brutal, all-consuming, a knife twisted deep in his spark: so utterly perfect, everything he could have asked for. The worse it got, the more he needed to get down on his knees and do something about it, which every time only made it worse. That was a steep spiral down into madness and he was too far gone to dream of turning back.
"Don't give me that look!" Optimus snapped. "You bastard, you knew. You knew what the consequences were and you did it anyway!"
"I wasn't thinking clearly after -"
"Oh no! That's not working this time."
That was the other side of the coin. Optimus really was very upset. As Megatron would be too, no doubt, if he could think at all past the static buzz of charge and desperation. He had woken up so tightly wound, thinking of the way Optimus' hips had ground into him, the slick clench of his valve on Megatron's tongue, the need rolling out in that low, commanding voice that had haunted Megatron's nights for a thousand millennia: his hand had been on his spike before he could do anything about it, and he'd had to rely on every trick in his book to stave off overload each time. He couldn't count how many times he'd run a memory dump. So often that he could scarcely remember the moments in between them, with his mind reduced to a fog of disorientation and need.
"Come here, pet," Ratchet said, in the sternest tone Megatron had yet heard him use. He could see irritation warring with instinct in Optimus' face, but he sulked over to Ratchet and dropped down onto his knees, sitting on his heels as if doing otherwise was physically impossible. Ratchet stroked his helm gently. "I think you need a break. It's been too long since you were tied up, huh?"
"I don't need a break," Optimus snapped. "What I need is to-" Ratchet slapped him.
It wasn't a hard slap, not even enough to move Optimus' helm, but the sharp crack of it still shocked all of them into stunned silence. "I'll decide what you need, since you've given me that responsibility twice over, and you were never good at it to begin with." Optimus stared at the ground, not looking at any of them, his jaw clenched. "Have I been too soft on you, pet?" He rubbed Optimus' helm roughly, one thumb stroking across a twitching antenna.
Soundwave answered for him. "There are no consequences for his behaviour. He doesn't know how to wait."
There was a baleful look in Optimus' eye but he said nothing. "Tonight, then?" Ratchet asked. "I'm sure I can think of a consequence by then."
Megatron began to mentally shuffle his calendar, trying to work out how much paperwork and report-reading he could get done in the rest of the day, before realising that he didn't have to. Answering that question was Soundwave's responsibility: not his. Some unnoticed tension seeped out of his shoulders. Soundwave looked at Megatron in silence. Without the restraint of rules and obedience, Megatron returned his gaze calmly and waited. Regardless of what he wanted, Soundwave's decision would be the right one.
"Tonight," Soundwave agreed.
Whatever Ratchet had planned for them, Megatron was sure he would live to regret it. He couldn't wait.