Fic: Kick in the Head - Learning Curve
Title: Kick in the head - Learning Curve
Pairing/characters: Optimus Prime/Megatron, mentions of Optimus Prime/Ironhide
Rating: R
Warnings: Way-before-movie!everyone, possible characterization destruction.
Note: When I wrote 'Teach Me', a few mentioned wanting to see Megatron's reaction to finding out that Ironhide had blitzed Prime's circuits. This is my attempt at answering that question.
The second scene was so much easier to write than the first. I blame this on only being really familiar with movie!verse, and on there not being any official canon material of pre-insanity!movie!Megatron. Agh.
o o o
The metal shutters over Megatron's optics narrowed when Optimus Prime walked into their shared office. Few others may have picked up the differences in the Prime's behavior, but there were no secrets between them, there never could be, not with how well they knew each other. The casual observer would not notice the strange, languid looseness in the Prime's movements, even if they did catch the bittersweet scent of ozone, so different from the sharp-sour odor of plasma discharged through cannons. Unless one knew Optimus Prime very well, they wouldn't catch the fact that the mech had undergone some sort of revelation in the past few cycles that had left him suffused with quiet amazement.
"What did you do?"
Optimus went still, looking at him obliquely, then moved to type a code into the lock panel beside the door. "I interfaced with Ironhide," the Prime said quietly.
"You WHAT?!" Optimus actually winced slightly at the volume, but otherwise didn't react, gazing calmly at the now-enraged High Protector. "You let that misclocked scrap heap touch you?"
"I did," Optimus replied, far too calm for Megatron's peace of mind.
"How?" Megatron demanded, then held up his hand. "Never mind, I don't want to know, I can already guess that it was his idea." Optimus looked ready to object, but Megatron overrode him, not wanting to know if his guess was wrong. "What I want to know is why. You know the Council's position." The Councilors had been quite implicit on the matter. "Only for the masses," they had been told. "You are above such... base behavior."
Optimus nodded. "I know," he said. "And that struck me as strange. Why deny us an action that is not obviously wrong, without an explanation?" He moved away from the door, deeper into the office. "I researched it," he continued, stopping just within arms reach of his brother. "And I came to the conclusion that one must decide for themselves what they feel is right. I decided that it is not a matter in which one can force their opinion on another. And I decided that allowing someone else to touch me is not a 'base behavior, unfitting of our status'."
"Fascinating," Megatron hissed, "That you feel that you can go against the Council's wishes just because you 'did some research'."
Optimus looked briefly angry, smoothing the emotion from his features with an effort. "The Council can only dictate my personal life when it interferes with my duties as Prime," he said, anger like cold metal under his voice. "How I chose to spend my time is my concern."
They glared at each other for a long moment, before Optimus let out a sigh like escaping steam. "Interfacing with another is not a bad thing," he said quietly. "It is not base, it is not beneath us. It is enjoying another's company, sharing pleasure and strengthening a connection." He spread his hands, expression begging Megatron for understanding. "The medics told us that pain was our body's way of alerting us that something was wrong. Should not pleasure then mean that we are doing something right?"
Megatron looked away, had to look away, as he could feel his resolve weakening in the face of his brother's determination. He started slightly against the not-unexpected touch, a broad hand splayed against the center of his chest. "Let me show you," Optimus said, barely audible. "Let me teach you as he taught me, then you can judge. And if you find it beneath us still, I will not indulge in it again."
The thumb tracing the edge of armored plates felt good, trickles of current raised by friction sinking into the components beneath. Megatron risked a sideways look at his brother. "How did he teach you?" he asked.
Optimus was far too tactful to allow his victory to show on his face. Instead, he stepped closer, his other hand joining its twin on Megatron's chest. "He started," the Prime said nonchalantly. "With the knowledge that one could use such contact in battle, to gain the upper hand."
Megatron snorted, even as he filed away the information for later use. "So he related it to your spar," he said, an unexpected, barely audible hitch in his voice as his brother's hands moved to his shoulders, fingertips curious under the edge of his armor. "Doesn't mean I like him anymore for this."
Optimus shrugged. "Like him or hate him," he said, directing the larger mech back into his seat. "Just don't kill him or sic the Council on him. It was more my idea than his."
Megatron nodded his acquiescence grudgingly, but before he could say anything, Optimus angled his touch in, beneath his armor, wiggling between energon lines and sensor wiring, and the sheer, unfamiliar ecstasy of it stole his voice away.
o o o
"Ooooh, someone's late."
Ironhide rolled his optics, shaking his head in mild disgust at his coworker's obnoxiously cheerful greeting. The big room where the Academy's combat instructors mustered was near-full, datapads of student information passing back and forth. Ironhide moved towards his desk, only to stop short when an upside-down face appeared in front of him.
"Why, Ironhide," Incon said gleefully, clawed feet digging into the ceiling. "Is that ozone I'm sniffing?"
Ironhide growled, even as the other instructors hooted in delight. Trust these idiots to be annoying. He ducked beneath the giggling Incon and continued towards his desk, which was already surrounded.
"Soooo," Steamstress drawled, leaning against the heavy piece of furniture. "Who'd you 'face?" Ironhide ignored him, shoving past to reach his seat. "Ooh, he's grumpy." the blue mech grinned, giving the others a knowing look. "Whoever he got, they were good.
"Primus," Ironhide groaned. He looked over at Kup, who hadn't looked up from his 'pad once. "Please restrain your employees, before I start cracking helms."
Kup gave him a bland look. "You walk into my office smelling like 'zone, you're takin' what you get." The announcement was met with short cheers, and Ironhide found himself surrounded again.
"Don't you maniacs have your own lives to be concerned with?" The black mech bellowed, exasperated. He should have known better, to walk in here with half his components still thrumming with the memory of Optimus Prime's touch.
"Aw, Ironhide, don't be like that," someone cajoled.
Ironhide twisted to tell the mech to shove it up his tailpipe, but before he could get the words out, the door to the room slammed open. A tiny, flustered mech ran in, optics bright with excitement and fear. "The Lord High Protector's coming!" he gasped.
There was a flurry of movement as every mech in the room stood, ramrod straight, just in time for the door to open again, this time far more calmly, to allow Megatron to stroll in.
Ironhide knew, knew, that Megatron was here for him. He held still as the big silver-black form stalked through the room, red optics marking and dismissing the face of each mech he passed, heading inexorably for Ironhide's corner desk.
The mechs around him slowly backed away as Megatron approached. The High Protector's face was unreadable, cold and still, but his optics blazed as if someone had lit a fire inside his helm. Ironhide had seen Megatron angry before, and it was usually his fault, but he'd never seen such a fury in the large mech.
Then he caught it, a whiff of ozone, and it wasn't from him.
All of a sudden, Ironhide knew what Optimus had done, and he wondered if Megatron was angry because he hadn't taught the Prime well enough or if he had taught him too well. Instinctively, the components in his arms shifted slightly, silently, preparing to swing out his cannons if Megatron attacked, because he knew that if they truly got into it, he'd have less than a breem to disable the Lord High protector before he found himself lacking a head.
Megatron stopped with less than a tick between their chassis'. Ironhide didn't flinch, meeting the larger mech's gaze squarely. Unexpectedly, Megatron's face shifted, something between a smile and a grimace settling on his expressive features. "I still don't like you," he said softly. "And I still very much want to reduce you to scrap. But I cannot say that you did not teach him well." Ironhide hesitated before inclining his head slightly, accepting his words. "I'm assigning you as the head of the Prime's guard," Megatron continued. "So, if he is hurt, I know who to kill." His face twisted into a smug smile at Ironhide's dumbfounded look, before he turned on his heel and strode out.
There was a moment of complete and utter silence before Steamstress looked at Ironhide, grinning audial to audial. "You interfaced with the Prime?" He demanded.
At once, the room exploded into questions, whistles, laughter and applause. With a frustrated roar, Ironhide grabbed a handful of datapads off his desk and stormed out to find some place more peaceful to work.
o o o
Kick in the Head
Kick in the Head - Teach Me
Pairing/characters: Optimus Prime/Megatron, mentions of Optimus Prime/Ironhide
Rating: R
Warnings: Way-before-movie!everyone, possible characterization destruction.
Note: When I wrote 'Teach Me', a few mentioned wanting to see Megatron's reaction to finding out that Ironhide had blitzed Prime's circuits. This is my attempt at answering that question.
The second scene was so much easier to write than the first. I blame this on only being really familiar with movie!verse, and on there not being any official canon material of pre-insanity!movie!Megatron. Agh.
o o o
The metal shutters over Megatron's optics narrowed when Optimus Prime walked into their shared office. Few others may have picked up the differences in the Prime's behavior, but there were no secrets between them, there never could be, not with how well they knew each other. The casual observer would not notice the strange, languid looseness in the Prime's movements, even if they did catch the bittersweet scent of ozone, so different from the sharp-sour odor of plasma discharged through cannons. Unless one knew Optimus Prime very well, they wouldn't catch the fact that the mech had undergone some sort of revelation in the past few cycles that had left him suffused with quiet amazement.
"What did you do?"
Optimus went still, looking at him obliquely, then moved to type a code into the lock panel beside the door. "I interfaced with Ironhide," the Prime said quietly.
"You WHAT?!" Optimus actually winced slightly at the volume, but otherwise didn't react, gazing calmly at the now-enraged High Protector. "You let that misclocked scrap heap touch you?"
"I did," Optimus replied, far too calm for Megatron's peace of mind.
"How?" Megatron demanded, then held up his hand. "Never mind, I don't want to know, I can already guess that it was his idea." Optimus looked ready to object, but Megatron overrode him, not wanting to know if his guess was wrong. "What I want to know is why. You know the Council's position." The Councilors had been quite implicit on the matter. "Only for the masses," they had been told. "You are above such... base behavior."
Optimus nodded. "I know," he said. "And that struck me as strange. Why deny us an action that is not obviously wrong, without an explanation?" He moved away from the door, deeper into the office. "I researched it," he continued, stopping just within arms reach of his brother. "And I came to the conclusion that one must decide for themselves what they feel is right. I decided that it is not a matter in which one can force their opinion on another. And I decided that allowing someone else to touch me is not a 'base behavior, unfitting of our status'."
"Fascinating," Megatron hissed, "That you feel that you can go against the Council's wishes just because you 'did some research'."
Optimus looked briefly angry, smoothing the emotion from his features with an effort. "The Council can only dictate my personal life when it interferes with my duties as Prime," he said, anger like cold metal under his voice. "How I chose to spend my time is my concern."
They glared at each other for a long moment, before Optimus let out a sigh like escaping steam. "Interfacing with another is not a bad thing," he said quietly. "It is not base, it is not beneath us. It is enjoying another's company, sharing pleasure and strengthening a connection." He spread his hands, expression begging Megatron for understanding. "The medics told us that pain was our body's way of alerting us that something was wrong. Should not pleasure then mean that we are doing something right?"
Megatron looked away, had to look away, as he could feel his resolve weakening in the face of his brother's determination. He started slightly against the not-unexpected touch, a broad hand splayed against the center of his chest. "Let me show you," Optimus said, barely audible. "Let me teach you as he taught me, then you can judge. And if you find it beneath us still, I will not indulge in it again."
The thumb tracing the edge of armored plates felt good, trickles of current raised by friction sinking into the components beneath. Megatron risked a sideways look at his brother. "How did he teach you?" he asked.
Optimus was far too tactful to allow his victory to show on his face. Instead, he stepped closer, his other hand joining its twin on Megatron's chest. "He started," the Prime said nonchalantly. "With the knowledge that one could use such contact in battle, to gain the upper hand."
Megatron snorted, even as he filed away the information for later use. "So he related it to your spar," he said, an unexpected, barely audible hitch in his voice as his brother's hands moved to his shoulders, fingertips curious under the edge of his armor. "Doesn't mean I like him anymore for this."
Optimus shrugged. "Like him or hate him," he said, directing the larger mech back into his seat. "Just don't kill him or sic the Council on him. It was more my idea than his."
Megatron nodded his acquiescence grudgingly, but before he could say anything, Optimus angled his touch in, beneath his armor, wiggling between energon lines and sensor wiring, and the sheer, unfamiliar ecstasy of it stole his voice away.
o o o
"Ooooh, someone's late."
Ironhide rolled his optics, shaking his head in mild disgust at his coworker's obnoxiously cheerful greeting. The big room where the Academy's combat instructors mustered was near-full, datapads of student information passing back and forth. Ironhide moved towards his desk, only to stop short when an upside-down face appeared in front of him.
"Why, Ironhide," Incon said gleefully, clawed feet digging into the ceiling. "Is that ozone I'm sniffing?"
Ironhide growled, even as the other instructors hooted in delight. Trust these idiots to be annoying. He ducked beneath the giggling Incon and continued towards his desk, which was already surrounded.
"Soooo," Steamstress drawled, leaning against the heavy piece of furniture. "Who'd you 'face?" Ironhide ignored him, shoving past to reach his seat. "Ooh, he's grumpy." the blue mech grinned, giving the others a knowing look. "Whoever he got, they were good.
"Primus," Ironhide groaned. He looked over at Kup, who hadn't looked up from his 'pad once. "Please restrain your employees, before I start cracking helms."
Kup gave him a bland look. "You walk into my office smelling like 'zone, you're takin' what you get." The announcement was met with short cheers, and Ironhide found himself surrounded again.
"Don't you maniacs have your own lives to be concerned with?" The black mech bellowed, exasperated. He should have known better, to walk in here with half his components still thrumming with the memory of Optimus Prime's touch.
"Aw, Ironhide, don't be like that," someone cajoled.
Ironhide twisted to tell the mech to shove it up his tailpipe, but before he could get the words out, the door to the room slammed open. A tiny, flustered mech ran in, optics bright with excitement and fear. "The Lord High Protector's coming!" he gasped.
There was a flurry of movement as every mech in the room stood, ramrod straight, just in time for the door to open again, this time far more calmly, to allow Megatron to stroll in.
Ironhide knew, knew, that Megatron was here for him. He held still as the big silver-black form stalked through the room, red optics marking and dismissing the face of each mech he passed, heading inexorably for Ironhide's corner desk.
The mechs around him slowly backed away as Megatron approached. The High Protector's face was unreadable, cold and still, but his optics blazed as if someone had lit a fire inside his helm. Ironhide had seen Megatron angry before, and it was usually his fault, but he'd never seen such a fury in the large mech.
Then he caught it, a whiff of ozone, and it wasn't from him.
All of a sudden, Ironhide knew what Optimus had done, and he wondered if Megatron was angry because he hadn't taught the Prime well enough or if he had taught him too well. Instinctively, the components in his arms shifted slightly, silently, preparing to swing out his cannons if Megatron attacked, because he knew that if they truly got into it, he'd have less than a breem to disable the Lord High protector before he found himself lacking a head.
Megatron stopped with less than a tick between their chassis'. Ironhide didn't flinch, meeting the larger mech's gaze squarely. Unexpectedly, Megatron's face shifted, something between a smile and a grimace settling on his expressive features. "I still don't like you," he said softly. "And I still very much want to reduce you to scrap. But I cannot say that you did not teach him well." Ironhide hesitated before inclining his head slightly, accepting his words. "I'm assigning you as the head of the Prime's guard," Megatron continued. "So, if he is hurt, I know who to kill." His face twisted into a smug smile at Ironhide's dumbfounded look, before he turned on his heel and strode out.
There was a moment of complete and utter silence before Steamstress looked at Ironhide, grinning audial to audial. "You interfaced with the Prime?" He demanded.
At once, the room exploded into questions, whistles, laughter and applause. With a frustrated roar, Ironhide grabbed a handful of datapads off his desk and stormed out to find some place more peaceful to work.
o o o
Kick in the Head
Kick in the Head - Teach Me