Relatively new to the tfa fandom but man have I been thinking about Blitzwing and trines
Don’t know where I got this idea from but I’m pretty sure he was experimented on, yeah? Anyway, what if Blitzwing was at one point a trine that got frankensteined into one body in some attempt to make a super soldier
And the separate personalities where the three trinemates
Sick Optimus is sick, in bed, and with Megatron catering to his every whim but also being the stern Decepticon nurse cause he cares and Optimus just take the damn medicine cause it’s good for you.
I regret nothing.
Ratchet was fraggin’ disgusted with Decepticons in general right now. And maybe Megatron in particular, but that was going to wait on whether Hook, Scalpel, and the rest of the Decepticon medical team had been right to hide under the operating table when Megatron came in, inquiring about Optimus’ health.
Ratchet really couldn’t believe that Megatron would throw such a fit over his partner’s minor cold that it would justify hiding under the fragging operating table and throwing the Autobot medic under the proverbial bus.
Granted, said minor cold had progressed to something more impressive, since Optimus had ignored it completely, and wound up collapsing in the middle of the bridge as a result, due to his vents clogging and the rest of him overheating. It had been scary, but more ‘my friend is an idiot’ than ‘my friend is actually in danger of life and limb’.
Still, he could hear Megatron coming the moment the mech stepped off the lift at the end of the corridor. The Decepticon warlord was, as humans would say, not “a happy camper”.
“He’s fine,” Ratchet said, before Megatron could get a word in edgewise. “Doesn’t even need the medbay for much longer. You can take him home when he wakes up.”
“He collapsed in the middle of the bridge!” said Megatron.
“Yup. Happens when you have a minor infection that you ignore. He needed more coolant and a vent cleaning.” Ratchet fixed Megatron with a stern glare. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary about him?”
Which wasn’t really fair, because Megatron had just returned after several days absence, but it shifted the blame. Megatron’s expression had gone from one of righteous wrath and concern to furtive and guilty. Ratchet felt a small glow of pride.
“No?” he said. “Well, he said he was tired when I returned last night.” And then, rallying heroically, “I leave for two days and my mate has worked himself to exhaustion? How could you let him–”
“I don’t ‘let’ Optimus do anything,” said Ratchet. “Surely you’ve met him? The short of it is he caught something, ignored it, and got sicker than he would have otherwise. The long of it is that he’ll need your help.”
Megatron perked up at that.
“Here’s what you’ll need to do,” said Ratchet, and didn’t grin. Very, very carefully didn’t grin. He was well aware of the optics of the Decepticon medical team on his back, and he was pretty sure that Hook was never going to try and sass him again.
~~~
“Do I have to take that?” Optimus eyed the offending spoonful of medication. Even through his clogged vents, he could smell it, sickly sweet, and medicinal, and bitter. It made his tank flop.
“You will if you want to get better, my dear,” said Megatron, looking altogether too smug, and sounding far too seductive. Optimus eyeballed him, and came to the conclusion that if he didn’t want Megatron to try and hold his nasal ridge to pop the spoon into his intake (as if he were some kind of protoform), he had better cooperate.
He opened his intake, glaring. Megatron looked even smugger, but fortunately didn’t laugh as Optimus coughed and sputtered at the foul taste of the medication.
A little later, shivering, he curled up against the heat of Megatron’s frame. “Just remember,” he said, a little more snidely than usual, “if I do get you sick, I’m going to take great pleasure in making you take that foul stuff.”
“If you get me sick?” snorted Megatron. “As if puny Autobot illnesses could fell me.”
Ok but I love the idea of Megatron and Optimus with Megatron (originally, in Optimus’ mind, this terrifying, ancient, but ultimately brilliant and responsible as hell, I mean he runs an army warlord) basically being a terrible influence and talking Optimus into doing all the dumb shit he was too uptight to do in the Academy (and then, too miserable to do).
And Optimus is just having the time of his life.
And meanwhile, Megs is in a similar position, because he’s never taken the time to do all that dumb shit, either – never had the opportunity, never had anyone with whom he could unwind like that – and he’s likewise having a blast …
And Strika just shakes her head and cleans up after them, because finally the big dope is happy.
SOMEONE WRITE THIS
Megatron was playing with his audial fins again. In public.
Optimus was torn. It was–well, it was something closer to a public display of affection than he’d ever really become accustomed to. Still a few steps down from the graceless (and frankly, weirdly performative) makeouts he’d seen Sentinel initiate (gleefully, in as public a space as possibly), but still, he shouldn’t encourage this. Even if they weren’t on duty. People might see.
What the frag right do they have to care? demanded part of his processor. It sounded suspiciously like Megatron.
And Megatron was right there, his warm frame leaned slightly against Optimus’ own, and Optimus shivered under the intense regard radiating from him. Fond. Perhaps even a little predatory. It was thrilling, to have the other mech’s full attention like this. You know. When they weren’t trying to slag each other.
Maybe even a little when they’d been trying to slag each other. There was a reason Megatron never remembering his name bugged Optimus more than he’d cared to admit. And well. The reason he’d been so willing to volunteer to fight Megatron on Earth hadn’t all been heroics.
And currently? He was the subject of Megatron’s focus, and the pressure on the audial fin was really, really nice. Maybe a little too nice for public.
Part of Optimus kind of wanted to be seen. Part of him didn’t care. Together, they outweighed the part of his processor fretting about propriety. He was considering leaning up and initiating one of those graceless makeouts when Megatron leaned down and murmured, “You know, my dear, the supply closet is vacant,” and Optimus almost choked on his oil.
He wasn’t sure if it had been Megatron’s suggestion that had done it, or the fact that he was very very into that idea, yes please.
~~~
Strika had been one of Lord Megatron’s lieutenants for several million years.
Strika had been under the impression she’d seen all of the possible slag Lord Megatron could pull, and then some.
As she looked at the ruins of the supply closet, she reminded herself that becoming complacent was a serious tactical mistake.
It seemed that Megatron had–what was the term the mecha who’d been on Earth used? Ah. Yes.–Megatron had rediscovered what it was like to be a “horny teenager”.
Ugh.
She was not cleaning this up. As happy as she was to see Lord Megatron cheer up, that was better left to one of the synchophants. Like Tarn. It was even odds whether it would send him into raptures or outraged insult and either way she didn’t care.
She chuckled a little to herself as she walked away. It really was about time Megatron found something that made him happy.
That that something was an Autobot? Really a minor detail. The young Prime had proven himself worthy by defeating Megatron, however temporarily. There were few enough mecha who could keep up with Megatron in the first place. That this one was also interested in him? Excellent.
Of course, if he broke Megatron’s spark, she’d have to kill him, but given that was the third supply closet they’d done in this week, she wasn’t terribly worried.
~~~
Ratchet wasn’t going to claim he was a pinnacle of responsibility, but when the two local love- (or lust-) struck idiots decided to frag on the outside of the (moving) spaceship, he had to take matters into his own servos.
He was pretty sure neither of them listened to him, but to be fair, his preprepared lecture hadn’t survived the revelation it had been Optimus’ idea.
“Well,” he said to Strika, “at least we’re not like humans.”
“Oh?” said Strika.
“Sexually reproducing. We’d be neck-deep in protoforms by now.”
“What is ‘sexually reproducing’?”
Ratchet explained, and considered the horrorstruck expression of one of the most feared Decepticon Generals as a good consolation prize.
~~~
“Now, see here, Optimus, I hear you’ve been fragging Megatron.”
A few months ago, Optimus would have internally panicked and frozen at Sentinel’s accusatory tone. Now, he just gave the other Prime a bored look. “So?”
“All over the place.”
Optimus didn’t dignify that with a response. He took another sip of oil.
“The leader of the Decepticons.” For a moment, Optimus wondered if that was accusation or jealousy he was hearing.
“We are at peace,” he stated. Megatron had emerged from the meeting room, finally finished after a day of treaty negotiations with Ultra Magnus. For a big mech, he could move surprisingly silently. Sentinel didn’t have a clue.
“What were you thinking? I mean, it’s not like you think a lot but that’s abnormally stupid, even for you, Optimus. Like… like how does that even work?”
“Spectacularly,” said Megatron from just behind Sentinel. Sentinel froze.
Megatron stepped around him and to Optimus, scooped Optimus up bodily, and kissed him. For a moment, Optimus considered a human gesture involving an extended middle digit, but decided against it. As tired as he was with Sentinel’s insults, and as suspicious as he was that Sentinel was, in fact envious (his ugliest mood–he couldn’t stand anyone, particularly Optimus, having the spotlight), and as much of a bad influence as Megatron was, he wasn’t quite that petty.
Cybertronian Database 