[Animated] Concessions
Nov. 27th, 2014 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: A response to my open prompt fest in an attempt to boost my NaNo word count. I'm still 4400 shy. So close!
Title: Concessions
Universe: TFA, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Optimus, Megatron, background Decepticons
Rating: K+
Warnings: None
Description: In which Megatron's agenda is as inscrutable as ever.
For dellessa's prompt of The Art of Self-destruction- Optimus/Megatron- Decisions
Decepticons have been wandering in and out of the training room since Optimus took up residence in the corner. He's ignored them, for the most part. He's grown used to Decepticons staring at him.
Even if Blitzwing's random personality left him perpetually on edge. Lugnut had muttered some comment about him being not worthy of Lord Megatron's attention. Slipstream had sneered, but kept her comments to herself.
They weren't attacking him and Optimus finds that such a change from the usual pattern, that he considers it a relief. He can handle some disdain. What he doesn't like is being surrounded by the enemy, with no one to watch his back should one of the soldiers decide a little payback is in order.
Either Megatron has better control of his troops than Optimus suspected, or he's seriously underestimated the Decepticons. Neither explanation bodes well for his own state of processor.
His thoughts are awhirl. Prowl's meditative techniques have proven useless. There's nothing to entertain in the tiny room that's considered his. For the first time, Optimus actually misses the noise of Bumblebee's video games. He wants to hear Ratchet grumbling from the other side of the room. He wants to hear Bulkhead and Sari laughing. And he wants to not-hear Prowl until it's far too late.
Sneaky ninja.
The loneliness, Optimus thinks, is the worst. He's not blind to Megatron's obvious overtures. But it's a difficult game to play.
He wants to live. But whatever he must do in the name of survival might kill him by the end.
On the other side of the room, the door whooshes open, announcing the arrival of another Decepticon. Optimus braces himself for the glares, the snide commentary. Who will it be this time?
“Are you the best the Elite Guard has to offer?”
Optimus startles, nearly losing his place in his routine. He had not expected Megatron. After all, the Lord of the Decepticons does not seek out his pets. He sends others to track his minions down.
Optimus pointedly picks up his routine again and does not look at the warlord. “I was never in the Elite Guard,” he answers, a truth which stings but costs him nothing. “I washed out.”
“I should be so surprised.” Megatron circles the mat, coming into Optimus' peripheral vision. “Though if Sentinel is who they consider the best, then the Autobots have lowered their standards.”
Despite himself, Optimus chuckles, until he realizes that it is at Sentinel's expense and from the mouth of his mortal enemy. Pompous windbag Sentinel might be, but he is still an Autobot.
Optimus gives Megatron a sideways look. “Is there something you want?”
“You should know that by now, little Prime.” Megatron tips his helm, optics performing a leisurely scan of Optimus' frame as though taking stock of his strengths and weaknesses. “I've seen sparklings with greater skill.”
Optimus grinds his denta. “I've beaten you before.”
“With luck. And help from the Allspark.” Megatron makes a grand gesture, baring his chestplate as though in challenge. “On even ground, however, you might discover a different outcome. I have been fighting before you were even a glimmer in the Allspark's energy.”
“And a murderer, too.” The accusation slips out before Optimus can remind himself that it is a poor idea to insult his host.
Megatron, however, simply offers a grating laugh. “We are all of us killers, little Prime. We do what we must.”
Concentration shot, Optimus gives up on his routine and fully faces the warlord. “You like making me repeat myself. Can I help you?”
“It seems more that I can assist you.” Megatron moves closer to Optimus, but only to circle him slower, causing Optimus to turn to keep his optics on the warlord. “You have speed. You can think on your pedes. But your technical skills far short.”
Optimus' optics cycle down. “Are you offering to train me?”
“No. I'm choosing to fix you.” Megatron's lips curl in a smirk. “Unless you'd prefer to remain mediocre. It must not bother you that there is not a single Decepticon on this ship who you could best in combat.”
Optimus twitches. “Why?” Because there has to be motive for Megatron wanting to improve his battle skills.
Megatron clasps his hands behind his back, still moving endlessly. “Because I can.” His field creeps through the room, heavy and proud.
Arrogant.
Cooperate, Optimus reminds himself as he looks into Megatron's optics and fails to divine the mech's true intentions. Megatron is as inscrutable as ever. But that arrogance? It is all too familiar.
Cooperate and he might just find his escape.
“Fine.” Optimus says, and he lets his battlemask slide shut. “I'm willing to learn.”
“Excellent,” Megatron purrs. “I'll make a Decepticon out of you yet.”
Optimus grits his denta. We'll see about that.
****
a/n: More to come! I've answered all the prompts, save one which I'm halfway done with, wrote a sequel to another oneshot out of nowhere, and am working on those last little words. Now that I have a functional keyboard, it's much easier! :)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Title: Concessions
Universe: TFA, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Optimus, Megatron, background Decepticons
Rating: K+
Warnings: None
Description: In which Megatron's agenda is as inscrutable as ever.
For dellessa's prompt of The Art of Self-destruction- Optimus/Megatron- Decisions
Decepticons have been wandering in and out of the training room since Optimus took up residence in the corner. He's ignored them, for the most part. He's grown used to Decepticons staring at him.
Even if Blitzwing's random personality left him perpetually on edge. Lugnut had muttered some comment about him being not worthy of Lord Megatron's attention. Slipstream had sneered, but kept her comments to herself.
They weren't attacking him and Optimus finds that such a change from the usual pattern, that he considers it a relief. He can handle some disdain. What he doesn't like is being surrounded by the enemy, with no one to watch his back should one of the soldiers decide a little payback is in order.
Either Megatron has better control of his troops than Optimus suspected, or he's seriously underestimated the Decepticons. Neither explanation bodes well for his own state of processor.
His thoughts are awhirl. Prowl's meditative techniques have proven useless. There's nothing to entertain in the tiny room that's considered his. For the first time, Optimus actually misses the noise of Bumblebee's video games. He wants to hear Ratchet grumbling from the other side of the room. He wants to hear Bulkhead and Sari laughing. And he wants to not-hear Prowl until it's far too late.
Sneaky ninja.
The loneliness, Optimus thinks, is the worst. He's not blind to Megatron's obvious overtures. But it's a difficult game to play.
He wants to live. But whatever he must do in the name of survival might kill him by the end.
On the other side of the room, the door whooshes open, announcing the arrival of another Decepticon. Optimus braces himself for the glares, the snide commentary. Who will it be this time?
“Are you the best the Elite Guard has to offer?”
Optimus startles, nearly losing his place in his routine. He had not expected Megatron. After all, the Lord of the Decepticons does not seek out his pets. He sends others to track his minions down.
Optimus pointedly picks up his routine again and does not look at the warlord. “I was never in the Elite Guard,” he answers, a truth which stings but costs him nothing. “I washed out.”
“I should be so surprised.” Megatron circles the mat, coming into Optimus' peripheral vision. “Though if Sentinel is who they consider the best, then the Autobots have lowered their standards.”
Despite himself, Optimus chuckles, until he realizes that it is at Sentinel's expense and from the mouth of his mortal enemy. Pompous windbag Sentinel might be, but he is still an Autobot.
Optimus gives Megatron a sideways look. “Is there something you want?”
“You should know that by now, little Prime.” Megatron tips his helm, optics performing a leisurely scan of Optimus' frame as though taking stock of his strengths and weaknesses. “I've seen sparklings with greater skill.”
Optimus grinds his denta. “I've beaten you before.”
“With luck. And help from the Allspark.” Megatron makes a grand gesture, baring his chestplate as though in challenge. “On even ground, however, you might discover a different outcome. I have been fighting before you were even a glimmer in the Allspark's energy.”
“And a murderer, too.” The accusation slips out before Optimus can remind himself that it is a poor idea to insult his host.
Megatron, however, simply offers a grating laugh. “We are all of us killers, little Prime. We do what we must.”
Concentration shot, Optimus gives up on his routine and fully faces the warlord. “You like making me repeat myself. Can I help you?”
“It seems more that I can assist you.” Megatron moves closer to Optimus, but only to circle him slower, causing Optimus to turn to keep his optics on the warlord. “You have speed. You can think on your pedes. But your technical skills far short.”
Optimus' optics cycle down. “Are you offering to train me?”
“No. I'm choosing to fix you.” Megatron's lips curl in a smirk. “Unless you'd prefer to remain mediocre. It must not bother you that there is not a single Decepticon on this ship who you could best in combat.”
Optimus twitches. “Why?” Because there has to be motive for Megatron wanting to improve his battle skills.
Megatron clasps his hands behind his back, still moving endlessly. “Because I can.” His field creeps through the room, heavy and proud.
Arrogant.
Cooperate, Optimus reminds himself as he looks into Megatron's optics and fails to divine the mech's true intentions. Megatron is as inscrutable as ever. But that arrogance? It is all too familiar.
Cooperate and he might just find his escape.
“Fine.” Optimus says, and he lets his battlemask slide shut. “I'm willing to learn.”
“Excellent,” Megatron purrs. “I'll make a Decepticon out of you yet.”
Optimus grits his denta. We'll see about that.
a/n: More to come! I've answered all the prompts, save one which I'm halfway done with, wrote a sequel to another oneshot out of nowhere, and am working on those last little words. Now that I have a functional keyboard, it's much easier! :)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
