Derailed (Megatron x Optimus Prime)

Tracks

Megatron wasn't an infrequent occupant of the dreams and thoughts of Optimus Prime. At first, he'd come along in glimpses, in nightmares, but now? Something had changed.

Optimus and his team were in the middle of fighting three Decepticons; the team of Blitzwing and Megatron, and then Starscream, who was doing his own thing, because when was he not? Optimus had been getting slammed by Megatron for a few minutes, while Bulkhead and Bumblebee were trying to deal with Blitzwing, Sari and Ratchet working against Starscream and simultaneously trying to evacuate the citizens of Detroit.

Optimus had been unusually focused on talking to Megatron that day, the two of them exchanging more and more banter with each interaction they had.

"What, can't keep up, my little Autobot?" Megatron smirked as he stepped closer. It was true that Optimus was struggling in their battle of sword-to-axe, continuously stepping back to avoid Megatron's much stronger blows, but he was going to keep up the lie that he was doing just fine for as long as he could. "I see you're struggling, poor thing... I should put you out of your misery."

"It seems like you're the one struggling, Megatron," Optimus grinned at the feeling of Megatron's stabilizing servos tripping over his and sending him falling forward a bit. "Never thought I'd see you tripping over yourself like- woah!"

It was good- a moment of weakness for Megatron, at least until the Decepticon fell all the way forward, dropping his sword and grabbing Optimus's arms in one servo, landing on the ground with Optimus underneath him, rendered useless. The Prime didn't even try to kick his legs, too stunned both by the sudden change and by their provocative position; Megatron on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, one servo pinning his arms down and a fusion canon held within inches of Optimus's face.

Only, Megatron's face plates changed. Intense vermillion optics softened into something delicate and wistful, grey faceplates burned red with a blush, that devious, sly look of his falling completely and his grin turning into something... Delicate. Kind, almost. Megatron hesitated and lowered his canon, but before Optimus could question what was going on, Prowl was roughly kicking Megatron off of him from the side and sending him flying into one of the nearby buildings.

Optimus let out a small sigh of relief and looked up at his savior. Megatron wasn't going to shoot him and he knew that based on the quick change in demeanor, but whatever that was, Optimus hadn't wanted to confront it.

"Thanks, Prowl."

"Cybertron to Optimus Prime," Prowl yelled, uncharacteristically loud as he jumped back and tossed his shuriken in Megatron's direction, only for them to miss and land in Starscream's wings. "You need to be careful or you're going to get hurt. Keep your optics off of Megatron and your helm in the game."

With that, the fight continued- but only for a little bit longer, for Megatron suddenly seemed to be urging his team to make a fast retreat- out of character for him.

It was early afternoon when they finally got back to the base, beaten up and with no Decepticons in hand, the group of criminals having escaped with light damage.

The moment Optimus got home, he was ignoring any questions from his team, ignoring the notification telling him to refuel, and failing to ignore the thoughts of Megatron that flew through his processor. He got to his room and plopped down onto his berth, staring up at the ceiling.

What did Megatron want? Why hadn't he killed him? And why was Optimus now suddenly wondering what Megatron's servos and lips would feel on him? Why was Optimus wondering what kind of energon was Megatron's favorite, or what position he recharged in, or what his favorite color was?