[ c. ] Blue optics dimmed, softening around the edges as Optimus Prime stepped away from his terminal. Megatron inclined his helm in silent thanks, moving closer in a few short steps. His arms, still crossed over his chassis, falling to rest at his sides instead. “I thought you’d appreciate the term more than me simply stating that I am concerned.”
He shook his helm, snorted in amusement and then attempted to meet Optimus’ gaze. Megatron had the ability to grow intensely fond of others in a short time. Meeting this kindly-inclined alternate, so wonderfully different from his nemesis, sparked a similar attachment. A desire to see Optimus thrive.
“There are two ways to warp your perception of someone. By demeaning them, considering them your lesser, or by placing them upon a pedestal and making them untouchable. I would rather not lose touch with the one Prime I actually like.” Megatron’s frame slotted into place beside the other’s, his wings unfurling to carefully wrap around them both. “Behold: a hug! And Primus didn’t even strike us down for it.”
{☀️} ;; There was humor to be found in this Megatron’s bluntness; it was familiar in a way that Optimus felt to be comforting, somehow, just as... no. “Concern is one thing, but when it’s misplaced, well... alright. You’re right. Perhaps I’ve been holding myself hostage in here, as more than one of my associates has called it, but... sure. I’ll take the thought of you actively considering my well-being over a vague thought any day.”
Mirth spread through the Prime’s field as he stepped forward, catching the flier’s gaze almost as soon as those piercing blue optics settled upon him. They held a depth that so few others could, with his soul pouring forth through every word and gleam. Never once had he felt negatively intimidated by this light-bound alternate of the mech he had sworn his life to destroying--as a matter of fact, there had only ever been comfort found in his presence, a delightful air that seemed to set his own mind and spark at ease. This Megatron was, in the simplest of terms, a beacon of happiness.
How did he ever get so attached to a dark and dismal fool like his tainted Optimus Prime?
As Megatron’s arms wrapped around him, nearly lifting him from the floor, the Prime’s optics dimmed in turn. Someone liked him--not just for his rank or status, but for who he truly was! Perhaps he was being a bit sentimental, but that felt good. “Well, don’t say that so soon,” he teased, reaching back to return the gesture, “Primus could just be awakening from a deep slumber to whip up something special, just for us. Think you can handle the Fatherly Questioning of Cybertron’s Creator, Professor?”