I'm really not sure where this little thing came from. Well, I guess I do, so maybe I should explain. Sometimes my sleep schedule gets out of whack, and I have to stay awake from 9pm one day to 7pm the next to try and get it back on track. Yesterday, while I was in the worst part of the needing sleep stage, I had a little daydream about Optimus and Megatron sharing a berth after getting drunk and Megatron wondering what the hell happened last night. I never did figure out what led the two to that action, but that's why I'm putting this up with a challenge. I'll explain that below.

Enjoy your pointless fluff!

Note: Initially written in a daze of insomnia. Don't expect anything but fluff.

The berth was his, Megatron knew. So was the headboard above him, the nightstand beside him, the desk against the wall, and the room itself. The sheets smelled muskier, like exhaustion, the room wasn't the typical pitch black he used to sleep in.

The masculine form lying next to him was new as well.

Staring at the ceiling, not yet daring to look over at the mech nearly lying on top of him in post-coital slumber, Megatron searched his processor for an explanation for this abnormality. His body felt as if he'd refueled with nothing but spoiled and gritty energon for his entire life, what parts of his body not pinned down by his bedmate were numb, as if the coolants running through them couldn't successfully power them. As for his processor, the closest thing Megatron had for a description of his headache was that someone had taken every jumper cable ever created and was playing them like a human stringed instrument inside his head.

He was hungover. No wonder he couldn't remember anything about last night.

With that little discovery out of the way, Megatron finally allowed himself to look down at the mech beside him. The darkness made him squint a little, and for the first time he was thankful the lights weren't completely down or else he wouldn't have known the mech was blue—

His spark stalled. Red optics turned once more to the ceiling, his body too weak for his automatic battle instincts to kick in successfully. Listening to his spark pulsing in his audios, Megatron kept his gaze carefully at the ceiling, one thought shining through the scrapyard of his processor:

How did I manage to get drunk with Optimus Prime?

It didn't make sense, even to his current mental state. There was simply no explanation for this situation. Neither him nor Optimus drank. With Optimus, it was the noble decision of a leader. With Megatron, he would have been very happy with a few drinks every now and then, however it was well known among his men that he couldn't hold his high grade or his temper. After tearing off the limbs of at least ten mechs in the same night, there was mysteriously no more high grade around. He'd been wondering where they were keeping it. Apparently he found it last night.

Something had to have happened the night before. Megatron had never seen Optimus drink before, before the war started or after. The Prime had always been the most composed of all his men, the one nearly impossible to break. And yet… Megatron could just barely remember the first few moments of the encounter that led them to sharing one berth: Optimus' face, mask down, optic lenses blurred from tears. The Prime had been drunk even before he showed up. What he'd told Megatron apparently gave him the same feeling.

And now, they were here, in one berth, Optimus in his arms like he'd dreamed since becoming his adversary. But this wasn't the result of a battle that forced Optimus into slavery, nor the morning after he'd been drugged and kidnapped. They'd shared his berth in identical feelings of desperation and horror. And he couldn't remember a slagging thing about it!

Megatron looked back at the Prime, safe in his arms, for now at least. Optimus would be as hungover as he was, probably more so due to his body's unfamiliarity with high grade. But when that hangover wore off… Actually, now that he thought about it, the Autobots would invade his base even before Optimus recovered. They were probably on their way not, all of them knowing he had their leader.

And yet… despite the fact that he should be hauling his beautiful adversary to the brig… Megatron couldn't bring himself to move. The Prime was warm, his body acting like a living heating blanket. His berth had always been cold, even after hours of sleep under the sheets. Not for the first time, Megatron thought of him sharing his berth every night, for the rest of their lives. Now… that dream was so close… All he had to do was keep the Autobots away, take his weapons from him, and Optimus would be his.

It was so simple… yet so wrong. Without Optimus, there was no war. There were no battles, no conflict, without him. For so long, Megatron had thrived in the heat of battle. It was where he felt online, more so than anywhere else he'd ever been.

Could he give all of that up, just for this mech?

The hand groping his chassis clenched. A soft groan trickled from unhidden lips. Megatron's optics refocused at the sound, watching as that beautiful face was lifted from his chassis. Blue optics met red, and Megatron braced himself for the hate and helplessness to appear in those cerulean optics.

The hate never appeared. Relief glinted through the tear-stained optics. Optimus' entire body sagged against him. With what looked and felt like great effort, Optimus dragged himself completely on top of Megatron, pinning him down against the berth. The Prime wrapped his arms around him and sighed like his last breath.

"Just… Five more minutes," Optimus whispered, his optics fading into sleep once more. "Just… five more minutes…"

No more needed to be said. No more would ever need to be said between them.

Megatron wrapped his arms around the Prime, and offlined his optics himself. It was alright to recharge now. Answers could wait. Five more minutes of peace and happiness before their worlds fell apart.

He could accept that.

They were still in those positions five hours later when the Autobots broke down the doors of the Decepticon base.

Gotta love MegaPrime fluff. I'm kinda surprised I wrote something not involving Sam at all. I thought I was hopeless for a while there.

Anyway, onto what some of you are dying to hear: The challenge.

This little one-shot, as you can see, has a lot of potential in it. What made Optimus get drunk? Why did he go for Megatron for comfort? What was so bad that it made Megatron too drink to forget? What happens now? And to tell you the truth, I've got nothing. I don't want to have anything, to be honest. I've got enough stories on hand to deal with.

So, that's where you guys come in. That's right. I want you, any of you or all of you, to put your spin on what happens, or has happened, now. The ambiguous nature of this one-shot will let you use any of the Transformers universes that involve Optimus and Megatron, and I expect you to write in your preferred universe. There are no limits, no restrictions. I just want you to do two things: Send me a review saying that you're taking the challenge, and link back to this one-shot when you post the fic. Not too hard, right?

And go.