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In the darkness of the few places one could say to be a truly Predacon bar, Dinobot sat by the counter with his hand curled around his drink; the claws were moving back and forth across the sides of it, as their owner stared ahead furiously.
Around him, the screens were showing another speech from the Maximals - as it did for the entire day, with the entire network taken over for the ‘celebration’. The mechs and femmes behind him had either fallen into drunken stupor or were knocked out cold from one of the fights.
Just like it happened every time on that particular day of the year.
“You do not seem to be enjoying yourself on such a grand occasion, stranger,” came from his side, making him glance towards whoever decided to speak to him when he was in such a foul mood - he had quite successfully managed to get through the evening without having anyone piss him off with the idea of holding a conversation, so he wanted to take a look at the face of the fool who couldn't get the slaggin’ hint.
He got to see an unfamiliar mech walk closer, leaning himself on the stool two seats away and gesturing at his drink in clarification. “You barely took a sip from that swill of yours.”
Dinobot sneered at these words. “Drinking myself into stupor like these fools is hardly a worthy feat to aspire for,” he replied, turning a little to sweep the other unconscious patrons with a look of contempt, “leaves them weak,” he hissed out in clear displeasure, before his optics got up to the other's face.
Despite the pleasantness of his voice and relaxed posture, the mech was watching him in a manner that had his instincts scream in alarm.
Whoever it was, there was more to them than meets the eye.
“And, should you wish to know, I got nothing to celebrate today, stranger,” he explained with a shrug, projecting faux carelessness, but his processor was keeping him at full combat readiness.
He would not be caught unaware.
The other bot clicked his glossa unhappily, hoisting himself up on the stool and giving his own drink a swirl.
“My, but isn't today one of the most important anniversaries for the whole of Cybertron?” he mused, “The day of Maximals’ triumph-”
Dinobot put his drink down with a loud clang onto the bar, getting the bartender to scowl at him disapprovingly, and pointed at the other Predacon accusingly.
“You know it wasn't the Maximals that won - it was the Autobots!”
“And it was the Decepticons that lost, not the Predacons,” the other countered easily, leaning in closer - pressing in his advantage before Dinobot could shift himself back to the bar, blocking him with one of his legs from being able to turn.
The stranger was still looking at him with a familiar kind of intensity - the same one that burned inside him, threatening to spill out, needing an outlet.
The certainty that came with the clarity of vision.
“And yet, here we are, countless centuries later, second-grade to the soft imbeciles who live their cushy, comfortable lives off the ancient victory,” the other could have almost been seen as gloating, had the set of his face shown anything but revulsion, “as if they earned our never-ending humiliation under their yoke themselves, as if they were the mighty warriors-”
Dinobot clawed into the surface of the bar, anger bubbling up from within his core.
“None of them know the meaning of that word!” he snarled, “They know nothing of the sacrifice,” he listed, fists curling up, “of honor,” a swipe of his claws, “of the glory of conquest…”
“Indeed, they don't,” the stranger nodded in understanding, before he shrugged sadly, “but what is there to be done?” he asked bitterly, “the council is waiting for an opening to come to strike back…”
Raising the drink to his dermas, he muttered into it:
“Perhaps in a lifetime or ten, it might even come?”
Taking a long sip, he allowed the idea to brew between them, before he lowered his arm, leaning in it expectantly.
“Maybe you agree with their idea?” he queried sardonically, locking their optics, “To wait for the victory to conveniently fall into their lap in a neat package from fate?”
Dinobot snarled at these words, the displeasure clear on the set of his sharp dentae.
“I don't believe in fate,” he said through gritted teeth, “and I prefer to pave my own path.”
The stranger regarded him for a couple of ventilations as they stared at each other unflinchingly, before his face relaxed, stretching his dermas.
“Just what I wanted to hear.”
Finishing his drink finally, he laced his fingers together loosely.
“You see, I am looking to get together a crew,” he began, pointing with his thumbs towards himself, before his voice turned into almost a purr, so low that only Dinobot would be able to hear him, “one that would help get the Predacons to rise to their full glory,” he continued, digits briefly tightening, “one that would help us write the history anew.”
Reaching out to him, the mech asked:
“Would you join me on this quest?”
Dinobot kept his face set in a casual sneer. “You sing a pretty tune, stranger,” he admitted, tilting his helm amiably, yet when he leaned closer to the other mech, his optics were narrowed into thin slits.
“But I am not a fool.”
Letting as much power to charge up the weaponry in his optics as he could without needing to fire, he grabbed the stranger's arm and brought them inches from each other's faces.
“We are both Predacons,” he hissed, “I will need to know more before I agree to anything.”
The other mech laughed happily, not even trying to move his hand nor showing a slightest hint of unease at the proximity.
“Ah, pretty and smart, yesss, I knew I was right to approach you,” he complimented, making Dinobot snort at his words.
The stranger placed his empty drink down on the bar, getting up. “I'll be in here tomorrow,” he announced, winking, “maybe I'll succeed in getting you to join me then.”
When Dinobot rolled his optics at his words, he braced himself on the bar, towering over the sitting Predacon easily despite the high chairs; putting his hand faster than anticipated, the mech managed to get a finger below his chin, making him look up.
“With such a sharp processor, I would have made you my first officer,” the stranger cooed flirtatiously, swiping over his dermas, before he smirked, “unless someone better comes along, of course,” he explained nonchalantly, “you must understand my pragmatism, I'm sure.”
Dinobot took hold of the arm under his chin and wretched himself free. “You won't find anyone better,” he shot back, tightening his grip until he felt the metal give - only then he let the mech go.
The other Predacon didn't seem phased by his nearly crushed wrist. “Oh, I'll certainly try,” he taunted, letting his shoulders shrug, “and most likely fail.”
The stranger reached out again, the same hand, the one he dented. “See you around, then…?”
Ignoring it again, he waved at the bartender for another drink, ignoring the daggers sent at his helm as he decided to humor the odd bot a little. “Dinobot.”
“Megatron,” the other mech gave back with a dazzling smile, moving his hand smoothly from the rejected handshake to place it on his chassis, “it's been a pleasure.”
Dinobot clicked his glossa, amused. “Quite a name you got yourself there,” he noted, waiving again to get the bartender to get a move on that last drink - before he would go and leave this sorry excuse of an establishment to yet another day of existence empty of the opportunities for him to fulfill his purpose - and raised his optical ridge, “must be difficult to live up to the expectations.”
The mech snorted. “Hardly,” he grunted out, shoulders pushed back. “He lost,” he pointed out spitefully, smirk widening not a blink later, as he growled:
“I very much intend to win.”
Not precisely impressed with such empty platitudes - even if he had to admit there was something that scratched at the right places in his spark, the path opening up in his mind - Dinobot graced those statements with silence, letting it last long enough to be clear in its intent, before a question spilled from his vocalizer quicker than he could stop it.
“How many in your crew so far, anyways?”
Megatron placed his hands on his waist, his smile growing a tad forced. “You would have been the first.”
Dinobot chuckled, taking a sip of his drink while he ignored the rude gesture from the bartender. “Good luck getting any lunatic to listen to you then.”
“You listened to me, didn't you?” Megatron reminded gleefully before he swiped his servo over exposed arm plating, leaning in briefly to whisper into the other's audial:
“I will spare you the ‘I told you so’ when you change your mind.”
*****
To Megatron's credit, he really didn't say that when he finally caved in.
For some inexplicable reason, Dinobot found himself coming back to the seedy bar the next day, looking for a quiet spot in one of the booths with the best view towards the floor. While the day before he made do with the seat that was available, every place overcrowded due to the ‘celebrations’, keeping him on his toes until most of the patrons dropped to the floor, he preferred to not be surprised by a friendly knife in the back now that others were more lucid.
About an hour after he arrived, he noticed a familiar silhouette coming through the door; Megatron came inside without fanfare, but not without drawing everyone's optics to his confident grace.
Predacons were very adept at recognising danger.
If they weren't, they rarely stayed Predacons for much longer.
At least not as alive Predacons.
The mech strode to the bar, passing his order to the barkeeper; waiting, he swept the establishment briefly with his optics before they landed on Dinobot.
He smiled and nodded, but to the other's surprise, when he got his drink, he didn't actually go to the booth to join him; instead he moved towards a group of bots that grumbled and mumbled two tables down. Surprisingly easily he managed to get himself a seat between them - and began to listen.
Dinobot tried not to look like he cared much about any of that, but his audials adjusted themselves to start picking up the conversation out from the noises of the bar as he kept on pretending to find the poster on the wall - with a threat to those who did not pay off their tabs regularly, with pictures showing the punishment for failure in vividly graphic detail - was worth his entire focus.
The bunch of bots that surrounded Megatron was huffing about the current state of Predacons, the quality of life, and other matters that most of them could easily relate to.
Dinobot expected the mech to try to appeal to their rage like he did to him a day before, but instead his new acquaintance was relatively silent, humming as they poured their grievances out into the open, before he asked:
“Are you tired of being tired - or will you keep on finding excuses to justify giving up?”
They were, quite understandably, angry about those words; they started to rage against the accusations, one of them even going as far as to grab Megatron by the neck.
Dinobot didn't realize his hand landed on the hilt of his sword until he felt the familiar weight of it in his palm, but before he could leave the booth, the mech's optics made him stop.
Megatron was disgusted.
“I was hoping to see an inkling of true Predacon spirit among so many fellows,” he snarled, grabbing the assailant's hand and twisting the digits off, breaking them, before he stood up from his seat, looking down at them.
“But all I see here are shadows of mechs who only want to complain - while their sparks have already accepted defeat.”
He turned back on his heel, not sparing them another glance.
Dinobot watched as Megatron got closer, standing by the edge of his booth. The mech let his sight rest briefly on the hand still clutching the sword, and smiled faintly.
“Would you mind company, my friend?”
“We aren't friends,” Dinobot pointed out, but as he moved his digits away from the weapon, he already gestured with his helm for Megatron to join him; the other didn't wait long, sliding into the booth on the opposite side of the table.
The bots he left moments before were glaring and cursing after him, but it appeared that the toothy sneer from Dinobot was enough to convince them not to seek their revenge.
Weaklings.
“They already gave up, didn't they?”
Megatron's even voice pulled him out of the fury of witnessing such lack of… anything.
The other mech was looking at him with his dermas set in a tight line.
“I am not expecting everyone to have the same fire as you do, my dear Dinobot,” he admitted with a sigh after a moment, “I have accepted that there must be some sacrifices to be made for the plan to succeed,” he rubbed his temples, and gestured to the group vaguely.
“But this… this is not a one-off thing.”
He leaned forward, one hand stretched casually over the table.
“Speaking with you yesterday was refreshing,” he confessed, locking their sights, “it made me remember that there is hope for Predacons still out there, even if I fail,” he chuckled, before his face turned into a bitter grimace, “but it also made me much less patient with the ones like these…”
He shook his helm, resting his chin on his locked hands.
“You have spoiled me, and now my search is going to become even more difficult,” he complained, dimming his optics, “if I can have at least one with your kind of ferocity…” he mused, “I think that would be enough to make me accept working with a crowd of half-wits,” he winked with a sad smile on his face.
Dinobot sat quietly, looking away into the bar, dermas set in snarl.
The other Predacon said nothing, electing to also focus on something else in the distance.
They sat in silence like that for another hour, until the group of mechs began to leave their table.
“Do you have someone else on your radar already?”
Megatron looked back at him, tilting his head quizzically. “Why would you care?”
“You may be fine working with only half-wits,” Dinobot replied, pointing towards the other with a wry smile, and moved to place the digits back on the untouched drink he bought when he came in - to finally take a sip. “I require at least some level of capability,” he muttered, before he sighed and beaconed the mech close with his hand.
“Tell me about your plan,” he insisted firmly, optics stern as he challenged the other to try to refuse. “I need to know more to be able to screen those under my command.”
“Your command?” Megatron repeated, amused, but Dinobot could see the focus in his gaze; there was too much calculation for it to be simple entertainment.
Was he waiting for me to make the first move?
“As your first officer, I would obviously be in command of whoever you want to drag into this,” he said, extending his hand out for the other to grip this time- and, possibly sometime this century, the other would actually take it and let them move towards actual issues of getting whatever they wanted to do done.
Megatron held his gaze, before he nodded wordlessly, shaking the hand without any odd comments or not-so-well-hidden smirks.
Yet, to Dinobot himself, the other's face was still too damn smug.
*****
Working with Megatron to find the crew who would do the insane heist like the one the other mech was thinking about was much more complicated for a reason that Dinobot recognized after the fourth failed scouting attempt:
Majority of present day Predacons were idiots.
While there was a need to have some of the crew who were easier to manipulate - and, if necessary, sacrifice - there had to be a good reason for someone to want to even try to do something as crazy as to steal the Golden Disk from the Maximals, steal a ship, and make their way through the transwarp anomaly - the one the council was keeping under wraps for the time being.
That was why Megatron was not just offering this to anyone - by listening to the way he maneuvered the conversations with possible candidates, Dinobot could see how his new leader's processor picked apart the bots he had around him to see if they had potential. If he found it, he would pursue it relentlessly - pushing the buttons of the candidates until they thought they were the ones who chose to join him, not he that maneuvered their thinking towards doing what he wanted.
Dinobot wasn't stupid - he knew Megatron had attempted to do the same to him.
Perhaps, in his optics, he even succeeded.
It would have annoyed Dinobot more if he wasn't actually indifferent to it; his path required an opportunity, and Megatron was one who provided him that.
They were both using each other for their own gain - and, as such, the subterfuge he attempted on the other weak-willed, greedy idiots, didn't have the same effect on him.
No, joining that ambitious Predacon was his choice alone - even if it made him want to peel off the plating off his face right now, as he questioned if perhaps he overestimated the mech's character.
Megatron wasn't a fool - but by Vector Sigma, he was sometimes a particularly unwieldy weapon to handle.
Just like now, sitting in another bar, it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was going to run out of patience at each disrespectful gesture from the scientist they were trying to recruit.
Key word - trying.
At the rate it was going, it would have been more probable that the Golden Disk materialized into their hands in the middle of the day than to get at least one more competent Predacon to come onto their quest.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Dinobot sneered, pulling on the mech's arm, grip tight, until Megatron started to follow him; they were meant to show an united front before the new joiners, which was the only reason why his leader waited until the doors closed in the storage closet he pushed them into before he snarled, trying to shake the hold off his arm.
“Megatron, stop it!” Dinobot growled warningly, putting more strength into making sure the grip wouldn't break.
The other bot didn't stop his attempts, looking him in the optics, trembling with rage that had been bubbling underneath his plating the entire time, finally being given an opportunity to lash out. “Release me this instant, Dinobot!” he demanded, which only made his first officer push his chassis with his free hand.
“No!” the mech snapped irritably, “Not until I get you to snap out of this!”
He clawed at the plating below him, ignoring the way Megatron was trying to find enough leverage to reach for his neck.
“You are losing focus,” he chided, “you've let the mech get under your plating, you need to take back control!”
The mech ignored him again, beginning to instead dig into his elbow joint, which made him grab the other servo too.
“I saw you talk those last two down to eat out of your hand,” he reminded his commander about their recent success with manpower - both idiots, but easy to manipulate to their own goals; they need them only for basic tasks, and they fell hook, line, and slinker for picture Megatron painted for them. He felt his dermas stretch further, threatening to crack under the strain of his snarl, “this one is just a bit trickier, but we need him and you know it!”
“I can very well do without this buffoon of a scientist-!”
“No, you can't!” Dinobot interrupted the upcoming rant, tightening the hold on the wrists, “He is the best fit for our purposes!”
The other mech scoffed. “I will find someone else!”
“All the others were idiots!’ Dinobot countered, the memory of the failed meetings coming up unbidden.
Megatron sneered, getting closer to his face, noses touching. “Still better than this fool!”
“Agh!” Dinobot groaned, moving his helm back a bit before he could give into the urge and headbutt the bot, but not without letting his own grievances out.
“Your temper is driving me insane!” he complained, pushing the other more against the shelves, intending to physically limit the mech's movements until he would run out of this little tantrum - but the proximity made him realise that it was not going to be that easy.
He glared at his commander.
“You are all charged up,” he gritted out, feeling the heat coming up from Megatron's frame, “this is going to take ages to go away on its own - we don't have this kind of time!” he scolded, ignoring the offended words of denial.
Not even the real Megatron could talk himself out of a nearly scolding hot interface array.
Why did his leader have to cause the most inconvenient issues when they had things to do - Predacons to recruit!
He looked the mech over, considering the best approach.
Dinobot hadn't been blind to the way the other had been behaving so far with regards to him; he had taken note of every not-voiced-defense, the personal physical boundaries getting ignored by them both, or the words that kept on dropping from the mech's vocalizer from day one.
“Pretty and smart.”
With how close they worked together in these past few weeks, Dinobot knew that unless Megatron faked this attraction for a reason he couldn't fathom (he had obviously came into this scheme for a different goal, he knew his leader knew it), his commander was clearly not against the idea of getting some action.
Even now, as they stood there in this cramped storage closet, he saw the looks the other was giving to his frame, the way he had in no way tried to get away from his plating - on the contrary, they kept on pushing each other hard, metal against metal - and he knew that Megatron was clearly appreciative.
With the problem he was facing, he quickly ran a single query to his CPU about the validity of his latest idea against the amount of care he was giving to this project, and decided that at least he was lucky that he found the other handsome enough.
“You know what, I had enough,” he growled, pulling one arm down, pinning the other to the wall behind the other's hip.
Megatron scoffed, looking triumphant as the switch of the position allowed him to jab his finger into the mech's chassis. “What, will you run away now?” he jeered, which only made Dinobot flash his fangs as he curled his other hand over his leader's neck cables in a flash.
“I run away from nothing!” he snarled, squeezing Megatron's throat, before he ordered sharply;
“Get your spike out - I'll get you to overload to get some of that charge away from you so you could maybe think for a moment!”
His commander fell silent at the shock at this proposal, before his cheeks lit up in a blush, his face turning into an angry grimace. “What?!” he shrieked, shaking and pawing at the hand on his neck, “I will not be-!”
Dinobot only looked at him with a bored expression. “Not a spike mech? Surprising, but fine, have it your way,” he said with a shrug, using his anger to fuel his strength as he maneuvered Megatron around again, pressing him to the wall instead, the hold on his arm like a vice as he twisted the limb painfully. Pressing the other's helm to the surface, he watched as his leader's other hand tried to reach behind him.
“Let go, Dinobot!”
“No,” he replied easily, nudging his knee between the other's legs.
“Open up,” he ordered, “I'll spike that stubbornness back into the correct direction.”
Megatron pushed back, unwilling to give up. “You can't be serious!”
“I am always serious,” Dinobot assured gravely, before he applied more pressure onto the other's hand pressing closer against the mech's back.
“Open up or I will have you suck me off so I can get at least something out of this disaster of the evening,” he snarled impatiently, which made his commander growl back angrily.
“You are insane,” Megatron hissed out, but by then Dinobot started to notice the resistance was crumbling; his grip on the bot was receiving less strain, and some of the struggling had been reduced, even as the mech's optics glowed with fury.
“You are the one who drove me insane with your behaviour, then,” he chided, getting his panels open to let his spike pressurize, letting it grind against the other's still closed array.
The door to the storage compartment began to slide open, startling them both.
“It's taken - go find another storage closet!” Dinobot growled, slamming the close button from their end with his other free hand; he could see the surprise on the face on the other side of the entrance, but he was quite certain they wouldn't be bothered for a while by that individual.
He had been told he had a very expressive visage - especially when it came to irritation bordering on aggression.
Megatron began to move with renewed vigor. “Did you not even close the door?!” he asked, incredulity in his voice clear as a day.
“If anyone tries to attack me right now, that is their mistake,” Dinobot rebutted, confident at being able to deal with whatever fool tried to interrupt him, “just shut up and let me do my job.”
“And what is that job, huh?” the other bit out, which only made him snort, as he summarized dryly:
“Handling you so you can act like a proper leader, and not a sparkling that was denied its treat.”
“I am not-!” the mech began to yell out, when the door began to slide open again.
Dinobot could see it was a different bot this time. “Slag off!” he cursed, noticing that with his move he allowed Megatron to extend his hand and slam the closure button - and leave his digits on it, not allowing anyone else to try to open it from the other end.
“Let me go, before someone gets in!” his leader commanded, but he only shrugged, beginning to slide his spike against the other again; he noticed earlier the way Megatron was actually lowering his inhibitions, clearly on the way to give in, charged up as he was.
He would not let this stop now.
“Then you better keep on pressing on that “close” button so that they don't,” he suggested instead; the other mech's optics cycled wide, but the blush that tinted his faceplates was unmistakable even in such a crowded space.
The frame in front of him froze.
Dinobot huffed, leaning closer. “Unless you want someone to see?”
Oh yes, that was a shiver…
“I am not bashful about my performance, so if that helps you overload faster, then sure thing, you can continue argue with me with at least one arm free,” he continued, filing the new information down for future use, as he knew Megatron's pride would not allow him for this happen anyways, as he waited the bot out; there was no way he would allow himself to be seen by anyone else in such a position, even if he found it tempting.
“I am not letting go of that one, that I can promise you,” he vowed, watching as the mech's processor ran its analysis between those audials, trying to reach a decision between all the conflicting elements of this setup, before Dinobot lost the patience and decided to make it simpler.
“Maybe you will succeed to buck me off before the drag of my spike across your panels causes you to open up anyways,” he mused, moving his hips to illustrate his point better, “or better yet, to overload with them still closed - less work for me,” he shrugged his shoulders, “and maybe you will even manage to do that before someone else comes around and tries to get in.”
Megatron was glaring at him fiercely, but it didn't change the fact that he had not moved his servo.
Dinobot paused, looking at those digits on the closing button until he was satisfied his commander had noticed that.
“Or you can just keep on pressing that button, and accept my help,” he continued, as the other's blush became more apparent, “this way we can do it all quickly so we can get back to our mission!”
He traced his thumb over the mech's interface unit cover, not having to worry about restraining one hand anymore, knowing the answer before he grunted out the question impatiently:
“Choose wisely, Megatron.”
His leader buckled into his hand as his digits dipped in the seams, his frame replying clearly even as his optics narrowed in rage.
“I will not forget this,” Megatron hissed, but the protective plating unfolded anyways, which was at least a step in the right direction for getting this entire affair done and over with.
“Oh, there is no doubt about that,” Dinobot muttered, claw moving down to gently prod at the exposed valve, before he looked back at the other's faceplates, judgment clear as he lifted the servo, exposing the sticky lubricant coating his digits.
“All that arguing, all that talk, and yet you are so wet right now,” he pointed out critically, wiping the fluid on the other's abdominal plating, “you are enjoying this, you fragger.”
Megatron almost let go of the button at the sight of the mess spread on himself, catching himself at the last second, and showed the other a cocky grin, trying to regain some control.
“As if you weren't, Dinobot,” he said mockingly, grinding himself a little more against the mech's spike, “you were already pressurized before your panels finished opening,” he observed smugly, “you must have thought about this before.”
“No,” his first officer replied with zero hesitation, not bothering to mask his indifference, before he lined himself up with the opening, “but I am not below doing something unpleasant if it means progress can be made.”
He slammed himself in, getting the bot to ex-vent sharply at the sudden intrusion.
“You promised me my share of the glory, Megatron,” he growled into the other's audial, “I will make sure you will deliver.”
The valve walls spasmed around him at that, which was giving him some hopes that it would be a quick matter.
“Now you better focus on keeping quiet,” he warned, correcting his hold, glancing at the door, “I doubt these are that sound-proof, and if you intend to keep any decorum about this, we can't let the entire place know what are we doing,” he noted, locking his optics with those in the reflection, “or you don't, maybe you think you can use this as another tactic to get the glitch join us,” he proposed, giving the mech the final warning, “but I will start moving now.”
Right as he finished speaking, he withdrew only to begin slamming into the waiting valve, setting up a brutally efficient pace, targeting the internal node clusters.
It didn't take long to identify the correct angle and depth, with how much Megatron tried to actually keep himself from speaking - for once! - but it didn't matter when the pitch of his ventilations would shift as he bit into his lower derma, the only way to keep the sounds as muffled gasps and moans instead of full-blown concerto of satisfaction.
Dinobot monitored these sounds, as well as the signs of upcoming overload, the position of his commander's fingers on the button, and still keeping in mind his chronometer.
Come on, come on-
Finally, his single-minded approach, combined with additional stimulation to the other's anterior mode when he ran out of patience, made the bot beneath him seize up in a violent overload.
He watched as Megatron heaved loud in-vents to help his fans cope with the sudden activity, nodding to himself at the task completed successfully as the mech's temperature and EM field began to stabilize, giving up the control of the twisted arm now.
Mildly uncomfortable, he forced his spike back into his array after cleaning it up with the first clean rag he could find, and tossed one to his leader, letting him deal with his own mess.
Megatron glared at him, a bit less severely than normal given the lingering post-overload bliss, but he wiped himself down quickly enough, getting clean without a word, and letting go of the button at last.
Right before he could open the door instead, Dinobot stopped him with a hiss.
“Wait,” he said, curling his claws around his shoulder as he pointed at his face with the other one, “punch me, so-”
The fist that collided with his faceplates almost knocked one of his dentae loose.
He held up the edges of his jaw, checking the hinges and helping them go back into proper alignment, before scowling.
“You didn't even let me finish!”
“I'm sorry, weren't you the one asking to be punched so we have a good alibi?” Megatron countered, flexing his digits, before he looked at his first officer with disgust.
“I should have caved your face in for this stunt,” he sneered, the temper flaring up again - yet, to Dinobot's approval, it didn't appear as volatile as it was before.
“You don't have troops to spare,” he bit back, earning himself a frown; moments later he could see the mech take a long in-vent, the calm demeanor taking over.
“Let us work on that then,” Megatron suggested, moving his hand off the button - pulling himself up into working order at an impressive rate.
He stepped out, Dinobot in tow; the mark on his cheek was still visible, making others look at him with curiosity, before deciding not to bother.
“Apologies,” Megatron announced, coming back to the table; their prospective crew member was waiting for them, sipping on the free drink they offered with a look of boredom on his face. His multiple eyes tracked the handprint with mild curiosity, before he lost interest.
Megatron, thankfully, let this slide as he moved to offer an explanation. “My second in command had some… important insights to share,” he pointed towards Dinobot, his face turning into a scowl, “not important enough for such an abrupt departure, though,” he chastised, before be looked back at the mech they needed - the science officer - and smiled pleasantly.
“Please rest assured I had made my displeasure known, but you surely understand - emotions are flying high, with the window of opportunity beginning to close,” he confessed, the dramatical shake of the helm coupled with a heave of the chassis.
The bot he was speaking to just scoffed, but this time, Megatron's smile finally turned predatory instead of annoyed.
His hunt has resumed.
“As a scientist you certainly get to do a lot of important experiments,” he began, looking over the Predacon while gently tapping on the table, but before the other could show how unremarkable of an observation it was, he glanced up from below the helm edge, tilting his head, as he quickly added:
“as much as the council permits, of course.”
For the first time since the start, the multiple optics stopped moving to scan the establishment - focusing on Megatron instead.
The purple mech pretended to not notice that, beginning to draw circles lazily on the table.
“Your intelligence must be thoroughly stimulated even under such constraints,” he said, no longer looking at the prospect hire, sighing, “I'd love to outline in great detail just how much creative freedom you would be getting, with so much raw material that nobody had a chance to work on before, by joining this crew,” he listed, sounding mournful, “but the opportunity must not even be that interesting for you,” he said, before he finally linked his servos together, and smirking.
“Or is it?”
The scientist's build was giving him an advantage when it came to reading facial expressions, but Dinobot could see all the other signs of interest in his frame - and knew Megatron saw them too, given how he rested his chin on his intertwined hands, cocking his helm.
“Don't you hunger for something, my friend?” he asked suggestively, waiting for a moment before he backed up, sitting straighter, and gestured between them.
“Help me help you,” he urged, “join us and use that incredible processor to create designs that would make the galaxies tremble before the mere mention of Predacon Empire,” he tempted, laying it on a bit too thick from Dinobot's perspective, but it seemed to be precisely what the medic ordered - the scientist was drinking it right up, leaning forward as Megatron's servo reached our, beckoning him closer, the commander purring:
“Let us sate your hunger.”
While the mech didn't jump to take it, they both knew they got the other on board.
Finally, they could proceed with the next stage.
*****
Dinobot had just about enough of Megatron's snappiness in this meeting, the interruptions throwing off the entire flow of any discourse they might have wanted to complete before they reached any sort of a conclusion.
“I'm calling for a short break,” he interjected, cutting off the audio and video feed to the room, leaving him alone with the source of his irritation.
“Why did you cut me off?!” the other mech snarled, leaping away from the seat, ready to find a release to his own short temper through violence if necessary - but instead he was grabbed by his arms tightly.
“I swear, you're either more dense than I thought or you're doing this on purpose,” Dinobot muttered, keeping his grip hard as he assessed the bot in front of him critically.
After the incident in the storage room, they haven't talked about the implications revealed by it at all; they ignored it in equal measure, though he suspected that Megatron was doing it more out of his sense of pride, when he, in contrast, was just seeing what he had learned purely through pragmatic lense, and thus needed no actual conversation attached to what was just obvious results from his observation.
This pragmatism was what made him tug the mech closer.
“Come here,” he ordered with a hiss, using the other's momentum to turn him around, pulling his commander into his lap.
Predictably, his leader followed the motion with a grimace and a disgusted huff, but his panels slid back before Dinobot even touched them, making things that much easier.
His spike pressurized slowly, his interface array energised more by the opportunity to get some frustration out more than actual desire, but the other didn't need to know of the distinction.
“I need you to stop interrupting and start listening,” he muttered, guiding himself into the valve that rushed to meet him the moment the contact was made, before he sneaked an arm around the mech's middle, and put his digits onto Megatron's dermas, until they split to let his claws in.
“Until they finish speaking, you are going to sit here and suck on these,” he stated when he was spike deep into the bot, the servo around the purple midsection unwinding to start to hover above the muting button, “only then will I let you ask them your questions.”
The other Predacon began to twist a little at these words, but Dinobot only pushed himself closer to his back, speaking directly into the audial.
“If they will be about something they already said, I'm going to rub your node until you start begging me to move - while they all listen,” he promised darkly, sensing the hitch in the other's ventilations, the valve spasming around him, “so you better pay attention,” he warned before he put the audio up only, citing a technical glitch for the lack of video, and resumed the meeting.
His leader initially bit his digits, which earned him a bite in the neck and a hard thrust from both the other's spike and fingers; the motion made him cut off his own moan, the hips rocking in return.
They fell into a slightly too slow rhythm, the pace not enough for any of them, but adequately fast to keep their charge up. The glossa beneath Dinobot's fingers began to soon move, prompting him to begin to move them gently back and forth, rewarding the compliance, as he turned his attention back to the reports being given, now blessedly no longer disrupted by inane questions and lack of patience.
“What was that?” Terrorsaur asked on the other side of the call, pausing his update when a short whimper cut through the shared feed.
Dinobot only adjusted his hold so that he could cover Megatron's dermas instead, effectively muting him.
“It's nothing, carry on,” he assured evenly, continuing to move his hips without a slightest stutter in the rhythm.
It turned out to be the most efficient meeting they have had in a long, long while.
*****
The alarms blared.
Dinobot cursed, dodging behind the corner, running without bothering to keep quiet, as he snarled at the mech he just caught up with.
“Megatron!” he growled out, grabbing his leader by the shoulder to yank him back, “What are you doing?”
The purple bot only laughed over the shrill alarm, the flashing lights making the look in his eyes seem wider than usual.
“Following the plan!” he exclaimed, gesturing with the Golden Disk he had been holding.
The cheerfulness was oddly forced for such an achievement, and even more so with the fact that they were yet to leave the building, which made the other scoff.
“How is this a part of the plan?!”
“You would have known if you bothered to come to the last meeting,” Megatron replied, looking away as if he was scanning the path ahead, even though they all knew the layout of the facility and the guard changes to have a fairly reasonable amount of certainty that the cavalry would arrive late, especially at this pace, but Dinobot saw the pout on the mech's dermas and the rapid glances sent his way from the corner of an optic.
His servo rose to drag across his faceplates.
“Are you serious?” he asked, pushing the other into the wall, claws digging into the purple plating, “I was gone for three days to get our escape path ready,” he reminded angrily, “you told me to deal with it!”
Megatron was refusing to meet his optics, proud and stubborn, which made his first officer want to take the Golden Disk and hammer the mech to death with it.
Holding himself back from giving into the desire, he forced the other's face to look back at him.
“Was this why you called everyone early?” he sneered, “Because I wasn't there to make sure you were keeping your processor straight?”
“You overestimate your influence on this operation,” Megatron replied in a clipped tone, overly dismissive.
Dinobot only grit his dentae and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him in a specific direction.
“Dinobot, that's the wrong way-!” the other protested despite following along, the resistance too light to be genuine - which only became obvious when he didn't even brace against the frame of the door through which he was pushed through, landing on some empty conference table.
“We have a moment to spare, with your mad pace you pushed us at,” the mech replied dryly, the click of his interface panel opening audible in the room, away from the blasting alarms, “enough for me to get you to get the worst of this off, so maybe you don't make us get caught before we can make it to the ship!”
*****
With the entire Axalon being filled with Maximals too disturbed to properly function as warriors, Dinobot allowed himself to leave the main room and go to his quarters; with everyone's optics on him, he wanted to wait until their processors caught up fully to the reality - in the meantime he would take a moment to rest.
It was obvious Darksyde was in no way going to cause them any problems today, if his assessment was correct.
When it came to Predacons, his accuracy was absurdly high so far.
Laying down on the berth, he crossed his arms behind his back as he stared at the ceiling, frowning at the disbelief his ‘teammates’ showered him with over the last couple of months. Their reaction right now was grating on his patience; they knew his insight about his former comrades was greater than theirs, and yet they didn't trust him.
Annoyed, he snarled in the empty room; he would need to give them time to go through all the stages of grief, which meant they were wasting valuable time and opportunity to strike - if it was the opposite, and Megatron learned about this-
His thought process stopped.
Showing his fangs, he smiled.
His team might need time - he, however, did not.
Time to rattle the cage…
Picking open files he had buried in the older archival data, he pulled up the frequency he blocked immediately after the change of sides; removing the restriction in his end, he decided to see if maybe, perhaps, the other hadn't done the logical thing and put a block in his end as well-
The call connected.
“Dinobot?” came from the other end in a clearly confused, if a little hoarse, voice of none other than Megatron.
Dinobot wanted to laugh - this would be easier than he suspected!
“What are you doing, contacting me on this frequency?” Megatron asked suspiciously, before his ever-opportunistic nature started to take the reins. “Changed your mind about playing Maximal, perhaps?” he suggested, taking his silence so far as a sign of shame or hesitation, before his tone shifted to the familiar purr, “If you beg, I might take you back.”
At last, Dinobot snorted loudly. “We both know which one of us is most likely to beg, Megatron,” he pointed out, easily getting back into their past dynamic - as if he walked out of the crew only yesterday - and continued to tease, “I heard Inferno has taken upon himself to keep you straight.”
He heard a sputter, before Megatron sighed in frustration.
“Of course,” he snarled, “Blackarachnia was missing for the entire day, she must have blabbed to the mutt…”
Dinobot nodded to himself, humming noncommittally. “To be fair, I knew for a while know,” he clarified, “granted, I didn't know who took my spot, but I could see the results,” he admitted, crossing his legs on the berth one over the other, “nobody believed me, but well, now they know,” he added with a shrug to nobody but himself.
Megatron went quiet at that, coming back with an unintelligible murmur, turning into a clearing of the vocalizer. “Then why did you call?”
“That depends,” Dinobot replied cryptically, enjoying leading the other along; the mech was wary of him, but even the fact that he hadn't blocked his personal comm frequency was a testimony to his level of attachment.
With how much he tried to get him back - either as a soldier or by creating his clone - the purple bastard still had a soft spot for him.
Neither of them would find the exploitation of such weaknesses deplorable.
They were both Predacons - no matter which crew they were on.
His former leader let out a tsk. “On what?”
“If you will put this conversation on speaker so I can congratulate the ant for its success,” Dinobot replied, lowering his voice; when he detected a small hitch in the ventilations he could hear on the line, he chuckled. “He's spike deep in you right now, isn't he?”
Megatron cursed him out loudly. “How dare you insinuate such a thing!” he cried out, the well-known temper showing itself after a long public disappearance.
Dinobot snickered - the bait was taken.
Now it was a matter of time.
Megatron continued his litany of outrage, “...that I would pick up a call from a traitor while interfacing?!”
Something interrupted him, the words dying down as the mech's voice turned to one of a warning.
“No, Inferno, don't even think about - ahhhh!” he managed to get out before the unmistakable sound of a moan carried itself over the comm.
For a couple of seconds, they went silent.
Dinobot looked his claws over. “Anything else you want to say before you put me on?”
“I hate you,” came a reply filled with vitriol so foul, he suspected anyone else would have taken it to their sparks.
For him, it was the clearest sign of his victory, which tasted as sweet as he remembered.
“What a wonderful coincidence that is, we share the same sentiment!” he let out a rough laugh, before a new voice piped in:
“Watch your words, deserter.”
Recognising Inferno's aggressive tone, Dinobot leaned forward, putting one knee higher, sitting up now.
“Ah, so he did put me on after all!” he noted with mock surprise, making sure to keep the obviousness of just how predictable this was to him at the level that even the ant would get it, grinning to himself at the curses he got from the mech on the other end.
Message received.
“I extend my formal congratulations then, Inferno,” he said, interrupting another string of swearing, more professional this time, “your management of him is certainly bearing fruit,” he complimented, as if they were discussing some soldier's performance in the field, “though… is he still as responsive as he's stubborn?”
The question made Inferno snarl. “My Queen is no longer any concern of yours,” he answered, his possessiveness shining through that made Dinobot's dermas curl up, showing his dentae to the empty room.
“I take that as a ‘yes’,” he shot back, satisfied with this outcome already. “You must have noticed by know how much he improves with regular upkeep,” he mused, enjoying the growls coming from the other end of the call immensely, before ex-venting deeply, loud and clear.
“Looking at the results, I am finding myself… regretful, in a way,” he declared, the admission not entirely true; he hadn't spent that much processing power on the actual impact before speaking with the Maximals to truly form these kinds of feelings about this situation, but the other's didn't need to know that, did they?
“If I had remained and kept on handling him,” he asked, dropping into a teasing, confident raspy purr, “would the Beast Wars be already over?”
This statement received instant scoffs, as he would have expected, but he knew it wasn't without any merit; if Optimus Primal could see it, Megatron probably could too - and the purple mech had the advantage of intimately knowing the data backing up his words.
He continued to press on. “We cannot turn back time, of course, and the matters have progressed quite so,” he noted, rubbing his claws together, “but I do wonder if what you have with him right now is the limit,” he provoked, “or if he could still become better?”
Inferno grunted, rightfully doubtful. “Why would you be interested in increasing the efficiency of your enemies?”
“You forget that there is an equal chance that it would put both him and you out of commission, giving us an advantage,” Dinobot countered challengingly, which the ant picked up like it was waiting for it.
“Royalty can withstand more than you can imagine.”
He rolled his optics, but his laugh was adequately gloating. “Oh, I know he is not one to break easily,” he said, intentionally playing up the implied level of satisfaction he received in that arrangement, “but are you willing to bet on it?”
“I am here, you fools!” Megatron cut in, rage filling each decibel of his vocalizer, “How dare you discuss such a thing-”
His voice suddenly changed in pitch, and the sound of movement became much more prominent.
“My Queen,” Inferno soothed, quite impressively keeping his own words to come out evenly, despite the force he had to exert to cause this kind of volume to carry this cleanly through the audio data, “you had been shaking your head ‘no’ for the entirety of this conversation, but I could feel precisely how interested your frame is at this prospect the entire time.”
The last part made Megatron try to speak up despite the gaps coming between the sounds, the vocalizer shorting out, but the other mech wasn't deterred.
Being a simple-minded individual seemed to provide one with an enviable level of focus.
“This is something I cannot ignore,” Inferno carried on, grumbling louder, “you are still reacting to this traitor, and I can't allow this to continue,” he hissed, and the clangs on the Darksyde end got louder.
Dinobot briefly was tempted to find the nearest way on top of the ship, to see if he could hear it from the distance already, but he stayed put as the resounding moans slipped out more and more.
“I need to prove to you that I am able to fulfill your needs best,” the ant continued, before sneering, “even if it means having to let this sorry excuse of a Predacon touch you again.”
The disgust these words came out coated with was thicker than Cheetor's processor.
“I will make you forget him,” Inferno promised sweetly, speaking over a choked down keens, “and he will get a reminder as to what he is missing.”
After a particularly loud whine, the mech finally moved his attention back to the ‘traitor’.
“Get to Darksyde tonight,” he invited sinisterly, “we will be waiting to test your theory out.”
Dinobot heard a hushed “shh, Royalty, don't worry about this” being muttered, before he chimed in:
“How can I be sure this is not a trap?”
“You can't,” the ant replied directly, without any hint of finding this unfair, which made him scratch deeply into the berth, violently appreciating the bluntness.
“Ha, of course,” he acknowledged, “would you lower the defenses to let me in, at least?”
Inferno laughed amusedly on the other end of the call, moving enough to get Megatron to groan loudly.
“Would that be necessary for you?”
The challenge in his voice caused Dinobot to smile wide.
“No,” he drawled out slowly, gleefully, “it won't.”
Shutting the connection, he got up, sitting on the berth and sparing a moment to think about the situation critically.
He had just agreed to potentially help or break the Predacons, infiltrate their base - while needing to avoid Rattrap's camera view, which meant he would need to get from the other side of the ship - while Maximals would be both unable to rescue him easily nor would they wish to offer their assistance if they heard as to why he went to Darksyde in the first place.
He couldn't stop flashing his dentae.
The plan was coming along swimmingly.
With a sense of purpose, he began to make his way to the bridge, hoping it would be already fairly deserted; he wasn't surprised to only see Silverbolt had remained behind, the security duty cycle still in force.
The fusor turned to look at him when he came in, tilting his head when Dinobot initiated the opening sequence. “Where are you going?”
Dinobot hummed thoughtfully, before his dermas stretched into a self-satisfied grin.
“I believe the term is ‘scout patrol’,” he said, watching as the flier's jaw dropped while he got on the platform, raising his hand in farewell and making his exit.
Silverbolt stared after the other mech for a while, before wisely deciding to, for once in his life, just mind his own business.