Things Not Spoken


My thought process concerning this story…1. Megatron and Optimus probably ruled well together. 2. After all, Optimus had his Elita to keep him happy. 3. Wouldn't it be crazy if Megs had a femme? 4. Wouldn't it be crazier if Elita was his femme? 5. …Wouldn't it be totally slagged up if he walked in on Optimus and Elita kissing?

And thus, this story was born…I'm fairly sure it was inspired by something I read a long time ago. Another MegatronXElita that creeped me out just a little bit, but at the same time intrigued me…so now I'm pursuing the topic. Please enjoy, please review, in that order. More upon request.

NOTE: Skyfire is Jetfire's name in the G1 comics.

. B E G I N . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

Cybertron, pre war

Current leaders: Lord Megatron (government), Commander Optimus Prime (military)

It was strange. Strange how a planet so full of peace could plunge so suddenly into turmoil…into absolute war. It was hard to gaze upon the barren, battle torn landscapes of Cybertron's great steel surface and picture this desolate place as a once mighty metropolis, an oasis in black space. Greatness of any union comes through greatness of its leaders, and Cybertron was no exception. Its people lived well under the jurisdiction of Lord Megatron, namely, and his older brother, Commander Optimus Prime.

Megatron stood atop the government platform, every bit Cybertron's rightful ruler and heir. Though not altogether charismatic, he had a different way with words…one that made everyone want to listen. He was known to be cold, but not uncaring…indifferent, but not uninterested. He was contradictory in and of himself, but it was good in politics, right where being neutral could mean the difference between life and death…in some sense.

Optimus Prime knew a different definition for life and death. Though the elder of the two lords, he was perfectly content to lead his troops across the battlefield, across the stars. He was gone frequently, and when he was on his home planet it was often to recover from his injuries. He wasn't much of a public speaker…he had a quiet, sincere manner that made many wary of him. He was serious, a thinker, a logical mech in every way. He had few close friends and many acquaintances…life had made him somewhat cynical. He was fit to lead a planet…but more willing to lead an army.

Two lords, and one planet. Both special in their own ways…and close though they were, they couldn't have been more different. Megatron had a way of getting his point across, and the people of Cybertron listened to him. They knew little of the war-torn, tragic commander who stood in the shadows, his face hidden by his mask. So it came as no surprise when the femme who had become a prodigy chose Megatron.

Elita One. Beautiful, intelligent, clever, fearless, compassionate Elita One. She'd made a name for herself both on the battlefield and off, assisting Megatron in his campaigns against the High Council and Senate. He'd fallen in love with her nearly on first sight, though she had been somewhat reluctant to admit the fickle mech into her spark. Though they were not yet bonded, Cybertron's citizens fully expected it.

Lord Megatron. Commander Optimus Prime. The two great heroes, the only two who stood tall upon Cybertron's great mount. Both hid themselves behind layers of armor, their sparks shielded behind ice. Only Elita had melted through the barriers of both…and soon, her spark would be bonded with Megatron's. The Cybertronians anticipated it. They expected it…

What they did not expect was the fickle decisions of the spark.


Third passing of first satellite

Command HQ

"Wow. There's an incredibly handsome mech in here who looks just like my mate."

Megatron smiled as her gentle arms entwined around his waist. "You're late today. What happened to the punctual femme I've become so accustomed to seeing in my recharge bed?"

"You left her behind this morning," Elita growled, pressing her face into his back. "You should have woken me up, you little Pit-spawn."

"Well, if that's how you're going to talk to me today, shall I just assign you off to sentry at the Smelting Pools?"

"Okay, I lied. You're like the child of Primus or something. Seriously. It's like you just dropped out of the Well of All Sparks. Please don't station me at the Smelting Pools, please."


"That was fast," she snorted, releasing him and coming to his side. She pulled his arm down so she could read the document in his hand. "Oh, Prime's squad came back?"

"So it would seem. He'll be coming here shortly, he had business to attend to in Iacon first. I tried to convince him to come straight back; he was injured in a skirmish at Nebulon. But, stubborn mech that my brother is…yes, he'll be here within the joor."

"Good," Elita said, letting go of her mate and smiling slightly. "We'll have Ratchet take a look at him, right?"

"Ratchet and Ratchet alone."

She laughed. "When does your shift end?"

"A couple joors. Why? Did you have something in mind?"

"I was hoping to meet you in your office," she purred, lifting a sly optic to look up at him. A small grin twitched across his face; he was going to get lucky in a few joors and he knew it slagging well. "Just come get me when you're done, okay?"

"Will do."

She stood on her toes and planted a gentle kiss upon his lips before easing herself down and leaving the command center, sparing a moment to toss him a wave before closing the door behind her. Megatron sighed and looked out over the command center, surveying the activity below the captain's platform. Mechs swarmed back and forth, exchanging shouts across the wide room simply for the joy of shouting. Megatron frowned slightly; closed link communications were so much less grating on the circuits. He leaned forward over the balcony, his intensely acute audio receptors picking up on snatches of gossip and such.

"Hey, do you have that report on Sector 21153?"



"I can't hear you!"


Rolling his optics, Megatron switched conversations…

"Who's the sexy pink chicka?"

"That's Elita One, you aft shaft!"

"Huh? Oh, really? Like, the Boss's femme? Man, what I wouldn't give to have her in my recharge bed one of these nights…"

"You pervy little Pit-spawn, Megatron's in this room! If he catches you talking like that…"

Resisting the urge to pull out his fusion cannon from subspace and shoot the lecherous mech below, Megatron pushed off the balcony with a heavy sigh. He was lucky, and not once had hedoubted it. Elita was his. Indomitably, unchangeably, irreversibly his. The most beautiful femme he'd ever clapped optics on was always willingly at his side, always giving him her love…it was an irreplaceable gift. The thought of losing her…especially to another mech…made his spark ache with pain and rage. But Elita would never turn to someone else…not Elita…


Joors later...

Command Quarters Wing

The two moseyed up to his quarters, their quiet laughter ringing in the empty halls as they raced up the steps and through the long passages to the command corridor, where the lords' quarters were located. Elita led her mate along, pulling him by the hand. Occasionally he teased her, digging his heels in and causing her to jerk and fall back against him. After being subdued by this trick five times she let him take the lead. He reached behind him, palms up, and she slipped her hands into his, smiling.

They both jumped slightly as a low rumble echoed in the hallway, and Megatron came to an abrupt stop, almost making Elita run into him. He pointed wordlessly, and she saw that the door to Optimus's quarters was ajar slightly, as though whoever had entered hadn't bothered to close it properly. Both inched forward, and Megatron reached out and pushed the door open delicately.

Sprawled ungracefully upon the recharge bed, his deep snores humming in his chest, was Commander Optimus Prime. Random papers and a half-unpacked cargo case were strewn upon the floor, as though he'd fallen into recharge before he'd had the chance to get settled in fully. He seemed undoubtedly exhausted; his breath was labored slightly, and Elita winced at the fresh welding in his shoulder and down into his chest, a painful memento from an enemy's sword.

"Should we let him rest?" she asked quietly, tugging Megatron's hand, but her mate had already strode boldly into the room and, without hesitation, shoved his sleeping brother off of the recharge platform.

"Whoa!" a startled Optimus yelped, hitting the floor with an almighty crash. "Ow…Primus, what the Pit was that for?"

"When did you get back?" Megatron demanded, folding his arms over his chest as Prime climbed to his feet with a wince.

"About two joors ago…why does it matter?" the commander grumped, rotating his wounded shoulder to relieve the stiffness that had developed during his period of inactivity.

"Because I was worried, you slagging Pit-spawn! Must you be such an aft?"

"I don't see any reason why I should check in with my younger brother every time I come back from a mission. You certainly don't."

"I never leave Cybertron. You, on the other hand, will be all over the galaxy for orns at a time, it's really quite taxing."

"Taxing," Optimus scoffed, rolling his optics. "Listen to this little aft-shaft…agh, I need to go to Ratchet."

"…Will you be okay?" Megatron asked worriedly, watching his brother massage the left side of his chest.

"Of course I will," Optimus replied dryly, but a faint smile lit his optics. "But thank you for asking. It's quite considerate, considering I just called you an aft-shaft."

"Well, seeing as I called you an aft and a Pit-spawn, the insult was well deserved. So the mission was successful?"

"Yes, shockingly," Prime replied, sitting down upon his recharge bed and rubbing the bridge of his nasal plate. "Ironhide made a rather amusing blunder that wasn't so amusing at the time, but anyway I thought it would ruin us…I'll have to tell you about it later. Ah, Elita! How long have you been standing there?"

"Some time," she said, taking his acknowledgment as permission to enter the room. "Just how bad a blunder are we talking about?"

"It had Chromia in fits of laughter the entire way back," Optimus said warmly, surveying the femme fondly and…Megatron blinked. As Elita wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him close, he could've sworn he saw a flash of envy in his elder brother's optics, but…that was impossible. Optimus had never before had interest in any femme…why would he now, especially in his brother's mate?

The expression was gone as quickly as it had come, and Megatron was snapped back to reality by Elita's giggle. "And then what?"

"Ironhide picked her up, carried her off into his quarters, and they've been MIA ever since," Optimus said, lifting an optic ridge very slightly. "I'll probably have to barrel in there with Brawn and pry them apart, interface appliances and all."

"Hey! Easy on the content there, big guy," she said, smirking, but the blush in her faceplates was impossible to miss.

"I apologize," he chuckled. "I forget what fragile audio receptors you femmes have."

"I didn't say anything about femmes being fragile," she said somewhat heatedly, scowling at him.

"I caught implications of such," he said mildly, his optics bright and warm as he gazed upon her. She held him in her stern gaze for a moment longer before her expression, and she smiled.

"Rest up, big guy. You're on leave until that wound heals up, so don't be in any hurry."

"Oh, I won't be," he laughed, reclining back upon the recharge bed. "Now, since I was so rudely interrupted by my dear younger brother, I suppose I'll just be going back into recharge now. It's been a long few orns…" And he was out.

The lovers left quietly as his heavy snores resumed, Elita stifling a laugh and Megatron unable to resist a small smile. Optimus had a way of doing that to him. But only Elita could make his faceplates redden as they did when she leaned over to him and whispered, "I think you and I have unfinished business to attend to…"

Rec Room

The recreation room was always a lively place after the return of a deep-space crew. Ironhide and Jazz were reliving the details of their mission to the assembled group, complete with much shouting, mock-killing, and arm waving. Optimus lounged on the couch, excused from the active reenactment of his battle with the renegade commander due to his wound. Though his face was hidden as always, the amusement shone bright in his optics as Jazz badly attempted to imitate the commander's noble baritone. In the end, the Special Operations officer gave up and instead represented Prime with a ridiculously high falsetto.

"And then, Optimus is all like, 'We can still end this peacefully if you'll only see reason,' and then the bad dude's all—"

"Hey, wait, why does the Boss sound all funny?"

"He inhaled helium or something, okay? Just roll with it, you stupid aft. Anyway…"

"Hey," Elita murmured, and Optimus looked up. He felt his spark pulse quicken as the beautiful femme settled next to him…she was painfully close, he could feel his breath become more rapid…No, stop it… "I couldn't miss the reenactment."

"Always worth seeing," he said quietly, chuckling as Jazz threw himself dramatically to the ground in symbolism of a renegade he himself had supposedly killed. "The little liar…he only hit that mech across the head, the guy was stunned for less than ten klicks…"

"That's our Jazz," Elita murmured, her optics twinkling.

"Oh, wait, you're forgetting the best part," Skyfire said loudly, jumping to his feet. "There was that one shot I made! There was this guy with a jet mode, he was like fifteen hundred feet up in the air, and I totally just lifted my gun and made this blind shot and blew him out of the slagging sky!"

"What?" Starscream squawked, looking up in shock. "You liar! He hadn't even transformed!"

"Screamer, shut up, okay? They don't know that! Well, now they do, thanks to you. I thought you were my best friend, you stupid little traitor!"

"So now you're going to pout?"

"Don't talk to me! Shun! Shun the traitorous little aft!"

"How mature, Skyfire. I'm truly in awe of you."

"Shun, shuuuuuu-nuh!"

"Hey, you Pit-spawn are interrupting," Barricade said loudly, raising his voice above them. "Jazz, hurry up with the slagging story, will ya?"

"Thank you, Cade. Anyway, then Optimus did something totally awesome! The renegade captain, like, threw him, okay? Hard, man, that had to hurt. But as he's flying through the air—I mean, literally flying—"

"I tripped," Optimus muttered, but the words fell on Elita's audio receptors alone.

"—and the Boss just kinda maneuvers in mid-air and fires the most beautiful shot! Point blank, he takes this giant mech out, bam!, one shot clean through this dude's chest, and he collapses like a ton of bricks. So Optimus stands up and is all like 'Well, glad that's over,' and then—are you ready for this? This little sentry sneaks up behind him, and he lifts this slagging huge sword, right? He brings it down, and Optimus turns like 'Whoa!' and it goes through his shoulder and almost cuts him in half!"

Optimus rolled his optics with a snort; the whole battle was only slightly over exaggerated. As in it was slightly more believable than Grimlock's supposed results that indicated he had an IQ of over three million megabytes. However, the mechs in the room seemed to be completely convinced, and many turned to gaze at him with new admiration.

Prime shifted somewhat uncomfortably, feeling many pairs of optics upon him as though searching for confirmation. "That was just a little unrealistic," he said mildly, glancing at Jazz, who grinned.

"Yeah, but it made you look good, right?"

This earned a few appreciative chuckles from the audience, and Jazz took a moment to look extremely proud of himself. Optimus sighed as the attention was turned back to the rest of the reenactment. Elita seemed to notice the sudden change in his relatively peaceful demeanor, for she placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder and indicated towards the door. Puzzled, he got up and followed her. Upon entering the hallway, she suddenly grabbed his hand and broke into a full out sprint, dragging him along behind her.

"Don't tell Megatron, okay?" she said over her shoulder, pulling him into a side door. "I'm not supposed to use this without him…"

Optimus blinked; they'd stepped right into an elevator shaft. She motioned to him, and he stepped closer to her so she could shut the doors. She quickly slammed a destination code into the pad in the wall, and with a steady hum the lift began to rise, carrying rather silent cargo. Elita pressed a finger to her lips when Optimus began to speak, and he leaned bashfully against the wall. It was strange, really…they'd been alone plenty, but…not like this. Not in such a confined space, so close their chests nearly touched, so close he could've reached out and touched her stunning face.

After what seemed like only a few moments the lift creaked to a stop, and even before the doors were fully open Elita had him by the hand once more, dragging him out another, smaller door and into an empty room containing only a short staircase.

"Come with me," she urged, releasing his hand and hurrying up the stairs. He heard a door open, and, bewildered, he ascended the stairs to join her.

"The roof?" he asked, somewhat blankly. She nodded and took his hand, leading him towards a spot upon which the setting sun shone directly.

"It's simple, but it's a good place to go when you just need to get away from it all."

"And you brought me here because…?"

She turned to him, her blue optics meeting his calmly. He felt a shudder pass through him. "Because you're not nearly as transparent as you seem to think."

He blinked, bewildered. "Elita…what…?"

She took a tentative step forward and, after a moment's hesitation, placed a hand over his chest, parallel with his spark. He stiffened slightly, fully expecting her to pull away, but she made no such movement. Elita lifted her palm to run gentle fingers up his chest, over his neck plates, to rest upon his cheek. He was momentarily shocked by the touch; he and Elita had always been close, always been there for one to confide dark secrets to the other, always friends. They actually touched often: always playful, always teasing. But this…her caress was so tender, so…so…loving. He'd seen her stroke his younger brother's face before, but never like this. A touch so devoid of passion, so achingly gentle, so full of love.

With a single deft twist of her fingers, she removed his faceplate. The mask clattered to the roof's horizontal surface, and neither made any attempt to retrieve it. For at this point—for whatever reason they had seen fit—they were locked in a tender kiss.

For a moment, he almost lost himself to her. He almost relaxed into her warmth, almost allowed his spark to press impossibly close to hers…and then reality broke through. As if shocked by electricity, he jerked away, lifting one hand to cover his exposed face.

"Optimus…" Elita murmured, reaching out to him, but he backed away further, his optics wild with panic.

"What are you thinking?" he asked in a hiss, stooping quickly and picking up his faceplate. "What about Megatron? He's your mate, Elita, you can't just—"

"My mate," she repeated firmly, meeting his gaze coolly. "And I'm his. That's it, Optimus, that's all there is to it. I'm just…someone for him to recharge with. I don't know. It's so slagged up, Optimus…I hate it. More and more, each night with him…I hate it."

He blinked, slightly surprised, the hand that was clutching his mask immobile at his side. "Elita…why didn't you tell me?"

She released a laugh, and his spark ached; she'd never sounded so sad. "What would I have said? 'Oh, Optimus, I'm so miserable…I think your little brother thinks I'm just a pleasure bot...' Yeah, that would've gone over well."

"I would have listened," he said quietly, and she sighed.

"I know. I don't doubt it, Optimus." Elita looked out at the setting sun, and with a slight moan made for the door. "Look. I'm sorry. I don't know what that was. Sorry about…you know…kissing you like that. It was nice to kiss someone without expecting interface five seconds later…"

On impulse alone he threw out an arm and caught her around the waist. He didn't know what was going through his cerebral processor at that moment…but only one phrase made itself clear to him.

Don't let her walk away.

Elita blinked, shocked, as she was pulled into the warm embrace of Optimus Prime. As his lips descended upon hers, as his hand lifted to caress her face gently. She allowed her optics to flicker offline, feeling only darkness and the warmth of his kiss.

The mask dropped to the ground, and for the first time in its existence was forgotten.

. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

Like I said, more upon request. If requested, things to come…how will Megatron react when he finds out his mate is involved with his older brother? Please enjoy, please review, in that order.