Work Text:
Title: Until Morning Comes
The utopian city of Iacon slept beneath the quiet starlight, its towers glowing faintly with streams of energon and the hush of slumber. Inside their home, the Prime and the Fallen lay together in their shared berth, motionless in the stillness of recharge.
The peace inside was as deep as the silent city, but it did not last.
Megatron stirred first. His silver plating shifted uneasily against the berth. A twitch of his servo turned into a tight clench of his fist. A low growl slipped from his vocalizer, dragged out against his will. Then his frame jerked sharply, growl rising, nearly knocking Optimus from his place beside him.
Optimus groaned softly when he felt the blow of an elbow press hard against his side, forcing the air from his vents. His optics dimmed, a faint blue glow glimmering as he rubbed at the spot on his back. Then he heard it — the sound. Low at first, muffled in the quiet room, then building louder and sharper, threatening to break into screams.
He turned at once. His spark jolted as he saw him.
“Megatron...Megatron...darling...”
Megatron grimaced, optics screwed shut as he cried out. “No...no...stop—Stop...please...no! No!”
Optimus moved fast, the pain in his back and the rude awakening forgotten. “Megatron, what is it? What is it?” He pulled him closer, keeping him from falling off the berth as Megatron thrashed blindly in terror.
“No...no...stop...Let...let…don’t...please...! No! No!”
“Megatron, what’s wrong? What is it? What’s wrong? Darling, what’s wrong?” Optimus’ voice remained calm, though his field pulsed with concern as he gathered him in his arms, rocking him gently as if to shake him free from the vision.
“They won’t stop! They won’t stop hurting me!” Megatron whimpered.
“Who, my love?” Optimus asked, his tone stoic but his hold firm, one hand stroking down the curve of his back. “Who is hurting you? Who is hurting you, Megatron?”
“No, don’t stop! Stop, please! Let me go! Don’t put me in there! Please, get off of me! Let me go! Let me go! Don’t put me there! Stop please!”
“Who? Put you in what, darling?” Optimus pressed, his voice nearly breaking. He stroked his back, drew him closer. “Who and what are you dreaming about, Megatron?” He worriedly asked.
“No, please!” Megatron cried out, and Optimus’ optics dimmed to a softer glow, unable to imagine what his former enemy was seeing—visions he could not reach.
“They won’t stop hurting me...They’re trying to throw me in the dark,” Megatron sobbed.
“Shh...” Optimus soothed, rocking him slowly side to side, servo stroking along his helm. “Everything is alright, darling. You are safe. You are not there anymore. I’m here for you, Megatron. It is all a dream. Everything is alright, my love,” he whispered coldly but with warmth, his optics fixed on the trembling mech in his arms, shielding him from the nightmare.
Megatron jolted awake with a sharp intake, vents burning hot against his frame as they heaved in frantic rhythm. His claws dug into the arm holding him, gripping tight.
Optimus only held him tighter, unshaken by the sharp pinch of claws. “Shh...you’re safe, Megatron. You are safe. You are not there. You are home. With me, my love. You are here with me”
Megatron’s vents labored, optics wide and glowing with a frantic light. In his mind, he still heard the guards jeering, still felt the brutality of being dragged into the mine, forced into the dark with the others who suffered beside him. He could almost hear their laughter as they locked him in, ignoring his pleas.
But when his optics focused, he saw no cave. No digging. No guards. No chains. Only the darkened chamber he called home and arms tight around him, not in cruelty, not in mockery, but in protection.
He panted heavily, his spark racing. Yet the steady hold of his mate—his former enemy—soothed him, pulling him back. A deep, ragged sigh left him.
“Shh,” Optimus whispered, stroking his helm again, “I’m here...and no one is here to hurt you again”
Megatron gasped, his optics darting frantically about the room. No enemies. No shadows. No threat. Only them. Relief broke in his frame, and a weak, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped him.
“You are right, Prime...no one is ever going to hurt me again.”
He slumped against Optimus, vents slowing, his massive frame trembling as the last of the nightmare left him. Optimus only held him closer, unwavering, his optics never leaving him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Megatron again—unyielding as a shield, tender as a vow.
“Never...again” he panted, his frame drained yet content as he felt the Prime holding him firm, refusing to loosen.
Optimus dimmed his optics, their glow burning fiercer, and pressed his face against Megatron’s helm. The former warlord chuckled wearily through uneven vents, but the faint grin vanished in seconds. He stroked Optimus’ arms slowly. “Sorry...I woke you up” he whispered.
Optimus only hushed him. “Shh, my love. I am here. No one is going to hurt you again”
“Never...again?” He asked with hope.
“Never again” He answered with a promising vow.
What followed after that tender vow between two mechs—once brothers, then enemies, now lovers—was silence. In time, their frames stilled, and they slipped back into recharge together. Peace returned, holding them both until morning came.