#here's the best boy himself~

[wombywoo]

just a cowboy and his thoughts 🌾

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[purgatory-jar]

Who's excited for tonight's episode???? I am!!!

A lil bit of buck/tommy as a good luck charm for tonight!

*

Want something like this? Commission me here: x

[turtleblogatlast]

The fact that Leo can go literally anywhere on earth to be alone with his thoughts at a single moment’s notice is something that shakes around in my head all the time. Like, portals and teleportation are amazing and convenient abilities both in and out of battle, but they could also so easily be used to run away as well.

I don’t think Leo ever would, at least not most of the time. He loves his family too much, and is too dependent on their love and attention to cut himself off so suddenly like that, but it’s a very real possibility nonetheless.

It’s a good thing Leo’s overall temper is more on the mild side and he prefers going to his room or something to complete solitude, because it really is dangerous for a kid to have the ability to isolate themselves like that at their fingertips.

[revenantghost]

A wee bit fucked up that both of the twins would rather die for their ideals than give any ground, no?

[grandcovenant]

carlo's inherent tragedy as a character means that if he hadn't died young he would've gone through something worse. the horrifying realization that he inherited his father's personality <3

[httpiastri]

he was definitely oscar “big balls” piastri today !!!!!!

[guideaus]

i think this scene is funny, too, bc hikaru says this like they're at a place they can split up. together they went two hours from home to have fun, hikaru almost right away doesnt have fun, and then tries to break off from yoshiki. like what would have happened here if tanaka didnt show up, would hikaru have just left yoshiki at the beach? would they have gone back sad together lol?? he really did just spur of the moment do that.

its interesting to contrast to yoshiki trying to end things with hikaru earlier

Yoshiki originally did his best to ignore the potential problem and is stunned when something bad does happen, while hikaru repeatedly wants to talk about problems (even to multiple people) and thinks about things for a while. Hikaru suddenly announces he wants to go to the beach, while yoshiki planned to spend all day letting hikaru enjoy himself. hikaru is unable to let himself have fun at the beach, while yoshiki has hikaru do multiple of his favorite activities. hikaru expresses himself a lot about what he's thinking and feeling, while yoshiki wordlessly cut to the chase. yoshiki gives up after things dont go as planned, and hikaru is insistent upon self-sacrificing despite yoshiki's disapproval.

the boys are not in sync atm, but they'll eventually get there. probably

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"You'll never drown if you keep swimming.." very nice words to hear after the stressful ordeal of making a deal with the devil! I REALLY LOVE JAY FERIN. when shes not carrying the team in battle shes very much carrying more emotional luggage than others seem to give her credit for. im cheering for her! go girl, go get the team together!

[taldigi]

were there any pre canon concepts for adrien's/felix's room? i hate the canon one so much the layout confuses me

Afraid not. I think the closest we have is the information that Felix/ Adrian's family owned a hotel (this is before he was made into the villain's son.) A lot of early and even current ladybug is pretty focused around Marinette. Nathan-Felix-Adrien as a character is shockingly inconsequential to the narrative as a whole. (Which is probably why he was so easily edited throughout development whereas Marinette stayed pretty consistent.... And is also apparently still the case from what I've heard of the recent season.)

You can actually really see a lot of the inspiration that it transferred to the agreste mansion... But it also lost a lot of style and flair. Richard had a lot of art deco inspiration in the buildings associated with his character. And you can kind of see that in the hotel piece here. It's all connected, at least I believe it is.

It makes sense that the current one is frustrating. It's a mix between " oh this is what a fabulously wealthy teen boy would like" being full of video games and literal arcade machines, but still having like no personality? Like it's big. Because Adrian is rich. And it's like... Largely undecorated because Gabriel is like a minimalist or whatever... Except for all of the stuff that Adrian has because he's rich. And that's literally the end of it.

Edit: If I were to fathom a... A room that does line up with that hotel era then I would do something like this, except with more whites and golds rather than blue... Or just tailor it to however the cat's relationship to his father is.

[theotherrichardpapen]

letter to his father - franz kafka // origin story, sink - desiree dallagiacomo // the autobiography of my mother - jamaica kincaid // caged: memoirs of a cage-fighting poet - cameron conaway

[sim-songs]

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

[hauntingwriteblr]

me: *pulling for kafka*

himeko: hello there

me: ...lil mad you're not kafka, but you're cool so I'll take it

*~20 pulls later*

kafka: *busts down express doors* so, where's my wife?

me: were you just waiting?

kafka: :)

[birthdaycakeplate]

✨Part 2✨ Warnings in the tags, though most apply to Part 1✨ Kissing✨ Blushing✨Im awful babes✨

💕Basically the heavier fluff this has been leading up to below💕

Blitzbee/Megop with the ‘Cons being accidentally very soft and making the ‘Bot boys emotional for it. I would sum this up as, ‘crack treated seriously’.

———————————-

“We’re cool again.” Bumblebee told Blitzwing over an extremely unauthorized comm link.

“I figured as much. Jou little Autobots are too soft to stay mad at each other.”

He could practically hear Bee lift a brow ridge at him, eager to remind him that Ratchet existed as proof otherwise.

“Let me guess,” Bee snorted.

“You big brutes think that’s a weakness of ours?”

No. Blitzwing could admit he was starting to see the appeal in keeping such close bonds with one another. It may come with some stronger emotions than he was comfortable with expressing to another bot when things became strained -as he’d seen- but having someone who cared so deeply for you sounded liberating in a way. Someone you could rest assured would be waiting for you with open servos at the end of an explosive argument, rather than another punch or violent rejection.

If things were different, he wouldn’t mind being bonded in such a way with Lugnut. Thank frag rambling about yellow minibots at 3 am didn’t count.

Blitzwing chose not to comment.

“Ve vill meet zoon for zose negotiations, I believe.” He said instead.

And he’d need some serious convincing that those negotiations would ever be as devoid of the sense of attachment that’d brought them so uncomfortably close as they’d once been. This new truce was born, from the compassion of a former gladiator who’d once worn the blood of Autobots as war paint in the darker days of their campaign. Nothing about his agreeing to forge a relationship between their peoples would leave this feeling ‘business-like’ or casual ever again.

“Vill jou be bringing ze Game Box?”

“Frag yeah!” Bee instantly perked up.

“I wouldn’t spend my time giving my polish hours of sun damage any other way! We’ll play first thing, I, oh- uh, actually....” Bumblebee stopped abruptly and trailed off, and Blitzwing could make out the slightest quiver in his vocalizer. Like he was embarrassed about something.

Blitzwing sat upright, immediately invested.

“So, um... A-About that...”

“Vut iz it, Bee?”

That was definitely the sound of Bumblebee swallowing on the other end. Blitzwing subconsciously leaned forward, straining to hear.

“Yeah, I uh... I was just wondering if you’d like to play something... uh, different next time?”

Blitzwing damned his flickering wings at the softness his tone had taken.

“Because I vas getting too good at ze other one?”

Bee gave a nervous laugh, clearly trying to keep his cool.

Blitzwing pushed him a bit.

“But I am certain I vill excel at zis one, too. Vut iz it?”

Bumblebee went eerily quiet for so long, Blitzwing worried he’d just severed the connection. But then a little sigh filled the tense silence. Definitely nervous.

“Well, it’s not actually *cool*. I mean, you can’t like... ‘be good’ at it.”

Blitzwing cocked his helm, tapping a finger to his cheek in thought. Waiting patiently for Bee to explain his interest in anything he couldn’t earn bragging rights to.

“You just, like, um... You water plants- and, um... and take care of animals.... and, and stuff...”

A game about domestic bliss? What Blitzwing had gathered in his short studies of organic Earth life, it certainly sounded like it.

Bumblebee held his breath. He knew it sounded stupid, even while he was saying it, but... he kind of just hoped Blitzwing wouldn’t care about that...

It was his *favorite* game -his guilty pleasure. One he’d deny vehemently if anyone ever found it.

But.... it’d be ok if Blitzwing knew...

“Oh?” The triple changer hummed. Either placating him, which was uncharacteristically sweet of him, or somehow intrigued at the thought of playing a slice of life game that didn’t involve all the ‘cool stuff’ a ‘Con would be interested in. No guns or violence or defacing park fountains-

“I like animals.” Blitzwing said at last.

Which, really?

Wow.

Did he like killing them, or...?

Bee didn’t get a chance to ask before Blitzwing said the single most baffling thing he’d heard in ages -Excluding Megatron of Tarn’s agreement to a *truce*.

“Zere is a field of cows not far from here. Zey moo sometimes vhen I’m trying to recharge.” Then it was his turn to be awkward and quiet, and it had Bee slack jawed and dialing the volume in his audial.

“I... I like to listen to zhem... I guess....”

Bee very pointedly -having learnt from experience- did not rave like a lunatic over this information. ‘Cons had proven themselves sensitive -shy, if you asked him- about things of a softer nature. Being lulled by squishy earth creatures into recharge included.

Instead, Bumblebee redirected, though barely able to contain the ecstatic laughter threatening to bubble out of him.

“Dude, heh- t-this game has cows in it!”

“Riveting.” Blitzwing agreed noncommittally. Probably deadly aware he’d given himself away just now, but agreeaing to ignore it.

“I’ll definitely make you your own account this time!” Bumblebee chirped, and Blitzwing could imagine him bouncing around his room. Knocking over the mountains of game cartridges he liked to imagine Bee hoarded.

“You’ll want to name your own character for this game -it’s special that way, trust me!”

“Sure.” The other huffed. Bee seemed to be getting to know him better as a bot, so if he said so, it must be true.

Which is how Blitzwing found himself under the shade of a line of trees and Bumblebee leaning into him, fiddling with the Game Box in his larger hands and guiding him through the set up. Helping him make himself a digital tent and thrusting his servos in his face excitedly when Blitzwing managed to attract a new animal to it. And no one even cared that they were too far away from the negotiations to help if things ‘went awry’.

‘As if’, Blitzwing snorted. Though his opinion about any potential cross faction violence was definitely made less credible by his obvious approval of the little mech hanging off his arm.

—————————-

Optimus knew these talks wouldn’t suddenly become easier, just because Megatron had shown him some compassion. Well, an abundance of compassion, considering the source of it.

Still, they were discussing the future of their people -discussing it with an often times iron-brained, macho aft, who didn’t see why they’d likely be pinned with tariffs for off planet goods from Decepticon populated cities, and wouldn’t accept an explanation for it.

“If our factions are at peace in this hypothetical scenario, why would we be taxed for that?!”

“The authorities on the council will want our merging to operate in uniform.” Optimus was guessing, of course, but he couldn’t imagine a Cybertron in his life cycle that would settle for anything less than what explicitly made *them* -the civilians and council- feel comfortable. Xenophobia was as extended towards other species as it was their own brethren.

“But our needs are different to your own.” Megatron reminded him.

“Luxury goods maybe. Essentials aren’t.”

And ‘how accommodating would the council be for war frame luxuries’ was the implication there. Megatron, of course, expected resistance, including such ludicrous rules as those from the ancient, winded bots in power. *But* that didn’t mean he would *accept* them...

“I think it’s stupid, too.” Optimus added, knowing his honest distaste was still a useless sentiment in this case.

“But I know what the Magnus will probably push for.”

They both did, because they both knew deep down what kind of mech their less reasonable, less trusting Ultra Magnus could be. That didn’t mean Megatron would pass up an opportunity to poke at the other.

“Where are you getting this information?” He hummed, looking the little Prime over.

Optimus looked worried then. Knowing it was entirely likely Megatron had seen right through him before he’d bothered to make that jab.

“Well, *actually*....” He took a moment to clear his vocalizer and push away the affect Megatron’s smirk seemed to be having on his courage.

“I stayed up all cycle sort of... falling down a rabbit hole of-“

“A what?” The other blinked.

“It’s an expression. Anyway, I just got lost in all these, ah, ‘what if’s. A-And I thought about the laws that’d come to pass under Ultra Magnus’ rule. I mean, there are plenty of... of...” Well Optimus wasn’t ready to damn his commander *entirely* yet, but recalling the clear prejudice against flight capable frames and the treatment of bots falsely labeled ‘non sentient’ in their history under his leadership didn’t do much of anything to renew his withering faith in the mech. Not now that he’d been shown how reasonable they could be.

Megatron hummed, a expression neutral. He wasn’t desperate to hear an already shaken, confused mech do more to ruin his neglected faith in a cause he so earnestly believed in. Optimus was doing all of this, because he believed his system would be convinced to make a change. That they would do it, because they would want to do the right thing- like he did.

Megatron felt that familiar burden he’d come to associate with feeling responsible for this mech’s better sense tinge his spark.

Optimus pursued the Autobot cause, because he believed it existed for the right, honest reasons, and he wanted to see it bettered. Quite a thing for Megatron to tackle, or try to cast in a more honest light.

So, he moved on.

“What sensible reason could Ultra Magnus actually give for me to accept the terms of such a tax?”

Optimus’ finials dipped, and Megatron was drawn to them.

“I was worried he’d base it on something like... well, the fact that we don’t have access to those cities.”

“You would be welcomed to, in an era of peace.” Megatron stated the obvious, which Optimus knew sounded logical, but-

“They aren’t as accessible to civil frames- with few, if any, exceptions, we can’t fly. And don’t tell me cities like New Kaon are going to have livable conditions for civil types, even just for visiting.” Optimus arched a brow ridge.

Megatron mirrored it.

“So you are telling me, we are not allowed to have a space which caters specifically to our needs without penance? Do you see how discriminatory that is and *why* I’d rather eat my own glossa?”

“I’m *saying* the *Magnus* will definitely push for that,” As he’d want total control of Megatron’s people, as much as his own.

“And we’ll need to build up trust and respect for your kin before we can make a solid point to protest it. We need bots on your side first, if we’re ever going to fix the millennias of fear and insecurity the war has instilled in Cybertronians.”

Megatron agreed with his logic. He didn’t agree to the hypothetical events that may await him, though.

“Unacceptable. I don’t *settle* for *anything*.”

“Sometimes you have to make compromises-“

“Why else would I *only* agree to speak with you about these pertinent matters?” Megatron continued, and crossed his arms and jut his chin out for good measure. Looking thoroughly insulted. Noticing Prowl’s anxious side glance from the short distance away.

Optimus blushed, but refused to let the strange flutter in his tanks push him off track.

“Because Ultra Magnus i-isn’t here?”

“And if he were, I’d only spare him a glance whenever I needed him to write something into law.” Megatron huffed indignantly. How dare Optimus even presume...

Obviously Magnus wasn’t good for much else than his title. Optimus was the only mech Megatron would be doing any spark searching with. Ever.

*Ever*.

Little idiot.

Optimus was too out of sorts to argue. It *really* seemed like Megatron was complimenting him this time, and he didn’t know what to do about that.

Should he... do it back? To encourage camaraderie?

*Would it* encourage camaraderie? Or would his kindness bruise Megatron’s ego?

“You, well, ah. You... You are brilliant, Megatron -there’s no denying that. Ultra Magnus should be far more amendable to your visions for our future, once he sees how far you’ve come as a leader.” Optimus winced at how weak that was for a compliment.

But he couldn’t help his own bias in that Megatron choosing to make a change did make him look a more competent, commendable leader. And there were few things that lit him up like a respectable authority figure.

Not that Optimus was...was... ‘lit up’....

Megatron was stood there, helplessly locking optics across the way with Blitzwing and Lugnut -who were oblivious that this may very well be the first ever signal that they were overstepping some serious boundaries in these negotiations and remained unbothered, turning back to the little Autobots demanding their attention instead.

Megatron only needed a moment more of buffering, though, to connect the little Prime’s words to the intent there.

A compliment. Flattery even?

He set his jaw and turned dangerously slow to level with the smaller mech. A smirk pulling the corners of his lips turned absolutely predatory and sullied whatever faith Optimus might have that this mech had an ounce of integrity in him.

That strong intuition of his had Optimus looking wobbly on his pedes then.

“You think me a fine leader, Prime?” Megatron purred salaciously. He cocked his hip to one side and settled a large, scarred hand over it. Looking audacious as ever.

Optimus was definitely going to be eating his words -and his pride- for this, but...

“I do.” He swallowed.

“You’ve shown that you’re willing to talk things through without violence. I-I think that’s... I think.. that you...”

When had Megatron gotten so close? Optimus looked up at him with wide optics, struggling to keep optic contact.

“Am I so grand a leader that I might have *you* then?”

“I- What- I- !?”

“As my soldier, of course.” Megatron expanded, smiling happily in the face of the shuddering Prime. Prideful at having been the one to affect him so. Who could ever ask him to give up delighting in a treat like this, no matter what good things the future might hold? He was a deplorable scoundrel at his core, and that’s all he ever would be, if you went digging.

Optimus could feel heat radiating off his cheekplates, and all the way to the tips of his audial fins. That was about all he could take, it seemed.

“That’s enough for today, I think!” He squeaked, entirely unmechlike.

The smile slipped right off of Megatron’s faceplate.

“Ah, is it? We’ve only just started-“

“Two hours ago!” Optimus reminded him, and hurried past the towering brute to collect his team. Being careful not to let Ratchet see how suspiciously bothered he was after he’d endured such an unholy amount of his pestering about Megatron using him and this fake truce to get under his plates for the last week or so.

He -poorly- disguised his flustered state from the lot of them with a quick snap of the fingers in the opposite direction, vocalizer completely blown, indicating that they were leaving. Nobody looked convinced his issue was anger at the incorrigible mech behind him grinning wolfishly.

——————-

—————-

Bumblebee was two steps sneaking into Optimus’ room later -as if Prowl wasn’t decently aware at this point about their nightly rendezvous- and taking a seat right onto Optimus’ recharge slab, when he spun around and started thrusting ‘delightful’ accusations at him.

“You two looked preeeetty friendly today~” He said with a *wink*, reminding the bigger bot far too much of a certain warlord then.

Optimus physically recoiled where he’d been polishing his axe, allowing it to clatter to the floor in favor of grasping uselessly at thin air.

“Bumblebee!” He hissed, attempting to stop himself from screaming down the base.

“It’s *one thing* to talk about the things that we do! It’s *another* to make such blatant insinuations!”

“Because they’re true?” Bumblebee kicked back and lounged with his arms folded under his helm. Unbothered.

Optimus’ face darkened.

“Even joking about that can get you brigged for life, Bumblebee. That means no more video games, no more Sari-“

“No more dashing warlords to flutter your optics at.”

Optimus’ face went up in a blaze. Standing on shaking pedes.

“I DID NOT- I WOULD NEVER- I DIDN’T DO *THAT*!”

Bumblebee’s attempt at flustering his leader had worked spectacularly -as he’d imagined. Though it did serve a purpose in the long run, which he’d be getting to. First, he needed to push the envelope a bit.

“Right... You were just resetting your optics over and over, while tall, dark, and handsome was hitting on you, I suppose.”

Optimus stared at him with his jaw practically unhinged. What had been possessing this devious little fiend as of late!?

And also—

“Wha... What do you mean ‘hitting on me’?”

Bumblebee peeped an optic open at his thoroughly ruffled leader, and, seeing his chance having been presented rather easily, took it.

“Don’t tell me you missed the way he was smirking at you, all full of himself and confident- I mean you were just feeding into it, so I can’t blame him for looking so smug. You didn’t even *try* to look uninterested.”

In fact, in Bee’s opinion, Optimus flushing vibrant colors and shrinking in on himself when certain warlords went sashaying their hips at him was about the most open display of swooning he’d ever seen outside of a romcom. Sari’d been right about how weird things had been between Megatron and him. It was *worse* than Bee originally thought. All the jokes he’d made at Optimus’ expense possessed far more truth than he’d imagined.

“There’s nothing - I, I don’t- It isn’t like that! There’s *nothing* happening between us!” Optimus’ half-sparked denial and effort to fight the flames from reaching his finials was frankly inspirational.

Bee had a point to make, though, and knew he’d have to bully the bashful mech to make it.

“But what if there was? If something was, y’know, *there*... would you do something about it?”

Optimus flinched back.

“Would I what?!”

Bumblebee kept his expression measured. Encouraging Optimus to consider things without judging so quickly, so harshly in his mortified state.

Bee thought back to his conversation with Blitzwing when he’d been telling him about his favorite game- how he’d been scared of his potential new friend’s rejection, only to be met with encouraging words. Kind words.

Bumblebee had finally gotten what he’d wanted from all this -A bond. A simple one and very stunted in its early development, but it was clear they were on their way to a sort of friendship -whether the truce went haywire or not. They’d already broken through the barrier a bit during their first attempt. Their future ‘friendship’ already had the groundwork, and now Blitzwing was bothering to make the other feel comfortable in his presence.

Then Bee recalled how nervous he’d been today actually introducing him to the game. How he’d apologized stupidly for no reason about how ‘boring’ it probably was and turned an interesting color when Blitzwing brazenly admitted to finding his taste as profound and exciting as ever -‘boring’ game of watering plants and buying cute clothes, and all.

So, most likely a lie, and one born of either infatuation of some degree, or Blitzwing’s genuine compassion for the little mech. For *Bumblebee* no less.

And then Bee thought of how the triple changer’s engines *purred* when he had to turn his helm to hide his flushing cheeks. Feeling shy for some reason whenever Blitzwing said how much he liked Bumblebee’s favorite game, despite their servos constantly clashing together over the Game Box. How...not... ‘friend-like’ that was.

That was.... it was... actually kind of-

“Bumblebee?”

The minibot came back to himself, swallowing what felt like his spark in his throat at the memory of crimson optics and a matching crimson smile peering down at him. Charging up his engines in a far too smug display for someone who was too sensitive to handle being called nice every once and a while without bristling. Bumblebee had forgotten to look and see what the others had thought of the display at the time, assuming they’d finished pestering Lugnut for more surprising information about his conjunx to even take notice of the pair getting too cozy. Prowl how undoubtedly seen.

But Bee hadn’t even cared about them in that moment, too focused on Blitzwing nudging against him playfully, until he could be coaxed to turn his scarlet faceplate back towards the Game Box to watch. Both pretending they weren’t entirely affected by his blushing face, though for very different reasons.

Bumblebee blinked back to the present, and shivered. He locked optics with the mech at present, as Optimus strolled over, slapping his stabilizers off his berth for tracking mud from his off-road detour over it. They held each other’s gaze for one terrible moment, and sensing a hideous conversation on the rise, Bee steeled himself for some uncomfortable confessions.

“Bumblebee... Ignoring how serious these... colorful ideas are...” Optimus began, nipping his lip, clearly distressed by the very urgent topic at hand he was forced to be having as Bee’s concerned supervisor. If only he had Ratchet’s shamelessness.

“Is there, ah.... something I should know about? Something you want to tell me?”

Bumblebee attempted to snort in disgust, because, yes, they certainly were ‘ignoring’ their current conversation about Optimus having goo-goo eyes for warlords, weren’t they? But he wouldn’t be doing himself any favors by pretending to be indifferent and changing the subject back.

So, he just shrugged.

“Well... *duh*...” He whispered and shrugged again. And again.

They’d been sneaking into this room, saying unsavory -illegal really- un-Autobotly things for some time now, and *obviously* what Prime was referring to went far beyond insinuation, as he’d called it, and at this point was very much just truth.

Optimus looked quite pale then and had to sit down. Likely the first time he’d ever allowed himself to accept the gravity of the situation -of *their* situation- now with Bee’s little confirmation. His admittance to a truth they’d both been avoiding. And they were quite damned, he realized.

“I mean, yeah.” The minibot pressed on, kicking his legs over the berth and staring distantly at anything else but the other mech.

“I like... I mean... Blitz is pretty cool. So. Do with that what you will...”

And that was as much as he could say on the matter. Not that Optimus needed anything more.

A moment passed where they listened quietly to the other’s processor practically shorting out, though for various different reasons- and many of the same reasons.

Optimus was under no illusion that he was immune to the very problem Bee was having.

Which was... it was too much to swallow.

Thoughts about Megatron- ones he hadn’t allowed before. Ones that weren’t plausible before the great mech had decided to make such a stunning change.

And now that he had, Optimus could hardly recognize his subconscious response to it- thoughts that felt like they couldn’t possibly be his own. Absolutely lacking every bit of logic in structure and ranging to the outright whimsical. Optimus Prime had never allowed himself to entertain thoughts of a cunning warlord, sacrificing an entire cause for his benefit before, and wouldn’t under any other circumstance. Honest, he wouldn’t.

So... having.... *feelings* for him.... as obvious as it’d been the few fleeting times he’d suspected but never addressed it, Optimus couldn’t believe how jarring the reality was -that he was having such favorable thoughts. How deep down, he was wishing that magnificent, influential mech was feeling similarly for him. Even in a disjointed, disbelieving of his own feelings as Optimus kind of way.

How far he’d fallen without even realizing it...

“Yeah.” Optimus said vaguely, and it wasn’t anything as reassuring as a promise that he would somehow manage to keep Bumblebee safe from punishment in the future -as any good leader should be able to do in a time like this. But the minibot was just fine with being the defensive one over his dumb friend’s decisions for once.

Optimus could use a little protecting from other bot’s judgements -especially his own.

“You know how stupid it was we fought about this a week ago?” Bee murmured then, the invisible weight on his chest considerably lighter now.

“Well, we both said some terrible things, but it was the stress talking.” Optimus said distantly. Obviously lost in some new crisis he’d conjured for himself.

Bumblebee slipped an ankle between his leader’s pedes and kicked at him playfully.

“Ya-duh.” Bee snorted.

“We’re allowed to have feeling you know? That means you, too.”

Optimus cringed at the memory of his remark on Sumdac.

“I channeled them poorly...”

“So did I, remember? You just need an outlet.”

Optimus cocked his helm, snapping out of his trance.

“An outlet?”

“Yeah.” Bee purposely slicking some mud from his tracks over Optimus’ stabilizer, indulging his inner pissant since Blitzwing wasn’t here.

“You seriously need one, Bossbot. I have the perfect solution, too.”

Optimus was immediately wary. Side eying the other with pulse growing rapid. Upon his ‘adorable’ little quip of an explanation, Optimus knew he’d been right to worry.

—————- ——————

Negotiations took an unwelcome turn when Optimus -with his knew knowledge of his impractical crush- cracked down on informal interactions between their factions. Suggesting in a not so suggesting way that they continue things with an ounce more of professionalism and less doddering about at odd hours without a strict script to their meetings.

Presumably punishing himself more than Bumblebee for having allowed for such an oversight as *feelings* to come into play.

But Bee was obviously catching some secondhand wrath for this. No more whittling away on the Game Box with a giant wanted war criminal, and, of course, no more embarrassing, painfully disguised flirting.

So, how was Bee supposed to feel excluded from said punishment? He was prepared to riot the next time they jabbered later in his quarters for the injustice.

But then things picked right up in Bee’s favor again, when they were essentially *invited* to take ‘negotiations’ to the *Decepticon’s*. *Base*.

Which meant one of a few things could be happening for this major error in judgement to take place:

-Megatron had decided to commit wholly and fully to a peacfeful cause- which, maybe. He’d agreed to attempt the truce all on his own and with barely a motivation  to do it with.

-Megatron no longer viewed them as a threat of any sort -not very flattering, but they could use that to their advantage, when it was time to kick aft.

-Megatron was too confident he could squash them as a threat -fair, but pigheaded as ever, considering they’d bested their brutal brethren plenty, when the going got tough.

-Megatron was tired of Ratchet complaining loudly of engine-stroke and suffering from the lack of comfortable furnishings to rest on -They’d been going at this for so long now, it seemed plausible enough that he’d consider they move this someplace more accommodating, as they showed no signs of stopping their peace talks anytime soon.

-All of that combined -the most likely case.

-Or... Megatron was growing a soft spot of his own for a certain little Prime, and the mixture of all of the above, as well as Optimus’ predisposition to pout like an offended sparkling when Megatron bruised his ego, or ‘forgot’ his name, was a potent mixture.

Bumblebee was sure he’d be banned from his leader’s room later that night, when not a full minute into cautiously stepping through the main cavern of the Decepticon’s lair, Megtaron was taking quick strides over to Optimus’ side to walk him through. Their shoulder plating bumping together as they walked. Megatron leering down at him and saying how surprise he was Optimus had been brave enough to come. Just to see him riled.

If that wasn’t flirting, what was?

“You’ve set up in an abandoned mine?” Optimus asked, refusing to be intimidated and trying to focus himself past the utter shock of Megatron trusting him enough to send him these coordinates.

“Belonging to Sumdac Systems?” Bulkhead added.

Megatron shrugged, not seeing a problem. Far too invested at the moment in cajoling Optimus to take a goblet of oil extended from his servo and see him drink it. The gesture the pure embodiment of everything Optimus had complained about with things lacking a certain professionalism around here.

He could hardly stress that again, though, in fear he may bring to attention how easily things had proceeded in a professional manner at the start of all this. It wouldn’t do to acknowledge to some degree that Bee had been right about Megatron starting to take a liking to him.

“I don’t drink that stuff.” Optimus said simply, servo raised.

Megatron looked unfazed, and that was as much as Bumblebee could gather of that conversation, as Megatron lead the Prime away from the other Autobot’s highly concerned stares and towards the room he’d mentioned over comms that he -apparently- ‘took council in’.

Out of sight, out of mind, Bumblebee turned towards a somewhat awkward Blitzwing at having guests for the first time ever in a living space he currently occupied. Shuffling away from Lugnut and a setup of monitors in a characteristically dark corner. Luckily, Bee was no stranger to making himself comfortable in places it was questionable to do so.

“So, do I get a tour?” Bumblebee asked when the triple changer approached, grinning wide and doing that infuriating winking thing that’d sent Optimus in a tizzy the other night.

The others were quick to voice their opinions on that before Blitzwing could even attempt to pick his confidence up off the floor.

“Don’t you go running off, too!” Ratchet snapped. Prowl at his side angled his visor into his most offensive, judging glare and sent it Bee’s way.

Prudes.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Bumblebee flushed, stomping a pede.

And he wasn’t, as desperate as he was to see Blitzwing’s living quarters, and get a look at what sort of things the triple changer would take interest in.

And Primus, was he desperate.

He pouted for all of ten kliks before Bulkhead broke the silence to ask the two remaining ‘Cons about the curious means by which they’d acquired so much oil. A resource none of them seemed to particularly overindulge in, despite what propaganda would make of Decepticons being overcharged idiots at any given opportunity.

“These are coal mines-“ Lugnut began.

Which managed to immediately throw Prowl into a spiral.

“Coal mining emits more methane by the ton into Earth’s atmosphere-“

“Oh, my spark...” Bumblebee groaned, and was even quicker to excuse himself from a completely unwarranted tirade about Earth’s approaching death, thanks to hazardous oil companies and carbon dioxide choking up the place. Also thanks to transportation sources. Never mind that they were transportation.

Never mind, too, that Bumblebee could no longer argue with him about the seriousness of the subject. Prowl was right about the whole of horrendous torture they were dragging the planet and it’s natural resources through, and Bee should probably definently feel bad about his own carbon foot print.

Right now, though, there was a cute triple changer not a foot away, nodding along with whatever Prowl was saying, while Bee zoned out, staring at the curve of those now familiar wingstruts. This was a far more worthy investment of his time than worrying about his egregious use of electronics and destroying the earth.

Sensing him, Blitzwing unconsciously flicked his wings a few times, trying to ignore the building tension between them. 

And folded embarrassingly quickly...

“Bumblebee,” He cleared his vocalizer.

“I had a thought.” This drew more pairs of optics than one. But his calm demeanor seemed innocent enough to relieve whatever worry the others had about what he said next.

“Zhere is a spot outside a little ways up vhere jou can see zose cows.”

His wings fluttered without his notice, as he tried to remain indifferent to the questioning looks he received for that. And the *annoying*, utterly *rude* way Lugnut seemed to roll his optic and *sigh* at him.

He didn’t have to be so obvious about his thoughts on Blitzwing’s infatuation -not infatuation, ‘interest’. He found Bumblebee interesting.

He glared at the bomber plane, smart enough to let it slide, until after the ‘Bots had left, and *not* punch him in the face for it.

Beside him, Bumblebee bounced around the spot like a wound up little spring. His optics glowing in the dim lighting.

“Dude, yes! Show me the cows!”

An animal he’d seen plenty enough of to be as equally uninterested in as the first 20 times he’d come across one.

Why ever this was different would be an excellent question to look into, in Prowl’s opinion, who was carefully watching. Or it would be, if he didn’t explicitly *know* better.

Prowl had always did preferred to have the facts first, though.

Bee cast accusing looks at the other bots, who’d stopped their conversing amongst themselves long enough to glare back at him with begrudging nods of approval. Bulkhead looking totally resigned, and the lot of them trusting the pair as far as they could throw them.

Reluctant or not, they’d agreed. And that was all Bee needed.

If outside, unsupervised, was somehow better than being trapped down a mine shaft with the same gruesome death machine, then so be it. He could care less -mostly- about the unrestrained judgement oozing from every one or their pointed looks.

“C’mon let’s go! I want to see some cows!” Bee exclaimed and turned to push Blitzwing towards the wrong exit, who then corrected him. A noticeable bounce in his step as he led the little mech onward.

~WHIRR~

“Zhese ones have spots!” Blitzwing chirped. He couldn’t help but feel caught up in his favorite little companion’s excitement.

“I try to count zhem from a distance zometimes, but I lose track zo quickly!”

Bumblebee was practically having to run to keep up with him when his steps became wider.

“Oh, cool! Those are called dairy cows, I think!”

Which Blitzwing probably knew.

Prowl scowled at the pair as they vanished down a tunnel leading to the outside world. Not willing in the slightest to keep his nasal ridge out of places it somewhat didn’t belong.

The others didn’t protest when he made to slip away -Lugnut well aware what his priorities were and silently thankful a sensible mech would be keeping watch.

—————————-

“The Allspark is by far the most pressing matter at hand.” Megatron scowled, no longer feeling playful. This topic that’d been driving a wedge through him and his little Prime would sour anyone’s doting mood.

“No matter what may come of our alliance, I simply cannot surrender the spark of our people to Ultra Magnus.”

Obviously not while the prospect of peace would be a controversial, likely rejected notion on the Magnus’ part.

Optimus readily agreed that his commander would be in possession of far too much power over the war builds if it was -the first time he’d ever accepted such a notion after a lifecycle of finely tuned brainwashing. Ultra Magnus was *supposed* to have ultimate power -his people, especially his Primes, were *supposed* to trust his judgement.

Optimus... was struggling to. Readily admitting Megatron’s infamous seductions had probably played a gratuitous hand in that.

But he couldn’t very well agree that Megatron should have it either. Not with the current climate of Decepticon-Autobot relations.

Optimus startled at the thought that he may ever be amendable to such a thing in the future -to a world where he might trust *Megatron* as the Allspark’s keeper... The thought alone was treason.

Megatron cocked a brow ridge, eager to change the subject from something so abysmally beyond compromise, when he’d found himself so willing to be such these recent cycles.

“You look so pent up.” He stated flatly. It earned him a pout he’d like very much to kis-

To poke fun at.

“The paragon of dread, you are. Are you always so tightly wound?” He grinned impishly. Which Megatron already knew from experience the answer was a resounding ‘yes’. He had only seen Optimus looking his best and brightest when he’d reinstated their attempt at a truce.

Optimus looked off across the impossibly vast cavern he’d been pulled down. Megatron did require a lot of space for his frame to move freely, and with the makeshift bench to sit on and a desk to store secrets, Optimus could see why he’d come here as often as he’d confessed to to hide from Lugnut’s pontificating.

Optimus was forced to admit the obvious, for the sake of appearing fair.

“Well, that’s what Bumblebee says. He says it all the time, in fact...”

“He’s right.” Megatron smirked, delighting in the knowledge that someone on the Prime’s team was keen to remind him to lighten up. He needed it terribly. Whether or not he listened, though...

“And how do you alleviate that stress? Do you read much?”

Optimus was about to answer when he remembered what Bumblebee had said to him about finding an ‘outlet’ for his stress, and then that that ‘outlet’ should be *Megatron’*. And then how glad Optimus was that he refused to let Bee elaborate any further.

He must have given something away, though, because Megatron was staring intently at his finials. Fidgeting things probably betraying him by turning all shades of some humiliating color. He covered them out of instinct, then cursed himself and pulled his servos away for being so obvious.

Well, that did it.

“What’s the matter, Prime?” Megatron hummed.

“Are your means of relaxing not fit for polite conversation?”

Optimus’ optics went wide and pale.

And honestly, ‘yes’. Megatron as a whole was anything but fit for polite conversation -despite his dazzling smile, his charming intonations, and his particularly refined intellect. All those millennia of educating himself, expanding his processor, becoming a master in thousands of skills, only a self defined mech of the ages could, still weren’t enough to overlook the at times massively inappropriate nature of his spark. Like being rude and abrasive ran thick through his Energon.

If Optimus wasn’t burning before, he was now.

Bumblebee had been so, *so* right about him -about there being *something* going on between them. And they were all so screwed for it.

Megatron was elated to find he’d effortlessly stirred another blush up on those pretty blue cheeks.

“Oh, little Autobot~ I meant no harm.”

“Yes, you did!” Optimus argued cheaply. Feeling like a sparkling for it.

“No, certainly not.” Megatron cooed, sending heat rushing through Optimus’ frame and making him debate himself into a stupor over how Bumblebee could ever think that *this* wasn’t stressful. This was the opposite of relaxing. This was making him-

Making him really struggle to think of a reason why he shouldn’t let it continue. Spark pounding rapidly, making his better judgement take a back seat.

“Do you enjoy literature, Optimus?” Megatron asked then, moving away to carefully hand select something out of a drawer from his desk. He returned and extended the data file in hand.

Optimus eyed it curiously. In disbelief that Megatron would willingly change the subject from anything to embarrass him.

“I confiscated this off the techno-organic.”

Optimus stopped mid reach. His spark banged his chest painfully and squeezed, but he recovered quickly enough to avoid Megatron’s questioning gaze.

He took it and studied the text, surprised to find himself looking at a jumble of data entries from mecha of all walks of life with only their alt modes seemingly in common.

Blackarachnia must have been studying it for clues about her condition...

Optimus flicked through and skimmed passages. Picking out that the basic premise of this collection was a recount of mechs with experience having a beast mode.

Optimus hadn’t imagined Megatron would spend his time reading about something as mundane as this -mundane in that Megatron surely thought himself unaffected by it, which left the information useless in even his most basic of pursuits.

But then again, Optimus had noted that he was particularly well read.

“I find it all very interesting how many of the mechs in these transformations feel compelled to give in to some baser instincts that hardly feel their own.” Megatron rumbled -Optimus completely taken off guard by how close he’d managed to get without his noticing.

“Grooming habits and dietary changes alike. I’ve had many reformations in my time, but never a beast form.” Megatron continued, his chest now brushing Optimus’ shoulder as he leaned over and *in*.

Optimus felt warm for an entirely different reason now.

He swallowed as a large grey arm came around his back strut, caging him despite the space his enormous servo left between them. Sliding through his favorite passages on the datapad and pointing out ones of casual interest.

Optimus tried counting downward from 10.

This had escalated entirely too quickly.

“Sure you won’t have a drink with me?” Megatron offered once more in an attempt to calm the other’s nerves. His little spark thumping so hard through his shuddering chassis, Megatron could hear it. The control the civil mech had over his field was legendary.

Optimus would rather be closer to blowing his spark out than to have a foggy processor at a time like this, though. He needed whatever ounce of control of himself he could manage.

He shook his head mutely, not daring to speak. Megatron was happy to pretend they weren’t crossing every conceivable line of what was appropriate or *professional* that existed. Or more true to character, was simply delighting in the fact that they were doing just that and was totally unbothered by it.

His soldiers would surely be much less amused by this, if they were to see them like this.

“About those changes,” Optimus began and was mortified by the fact that that was *his* voice speaking in that tone.

He reset his vocalizer, glaring at Megatron’s widening smirk.

“*About those changes* you mentioned -involving your command....”

Those changes that would define their futures together. Whether they would cooperate long enough to get something worthwhile accomplished. The ones that this truce depended on, frankly.

“Yes...” Megatron frowned. Finally.

He’d told Optimus about Strika -though she remained nameless- setting a guide of... ‘ethics’ -to use it loosely- for their troops. Ignoring that it had been temporary and formed solely to spite him. For the handling of Autobots and Autobot sympathizers. The rather neutral, passive by most accounts, nonviolent guide that Optimus had truly struggled to believe had taken place for a time -hopelessly fantasizing that Autobot high command magically taking notice somehow, even though Decepticons operated in the shadow these days and rarely posed much threat in large enough quantities to draw attention to their dwindling faction.

What Optimus had always thought was ‘dwindling’, before Megatron came along that fateful day.

Megatron let his servo drop away from Optimus’ side, and the smaller mech had to force the disappointment from his spark. Reminding himself tersely that they were here to discuss the fate of their species.

Megatron huffed, then looked solemnly at the stalactites spiking the cavern ceiling. Thinking, for once, with the thoroughness this issue actually demanded about their formerly pretend truce. Optimus appreciated how seriously he was being taken -even having to remind himself the wonderful feeling of a competent, powerful mech recognizing him in some grand was exclusive to this moment, and he shouldn’t hope to elicit more of this attention from the busy lord in the future. Savor what he could get, when it was given.

But then-

“I do think it would be best if we incorporated those changes once more.” Megatron said in as toneless and exhausted a delivery as Optimus had ever heard from him.

Megatron had much to regret in that statement alone... Knowing Strika was either going to die on the spot when given the news, or cause an uproar whenever he got ahold of a means of communication long enough to tell her this had become serious.

He hated to think Starscream was finally right about her assessment of him.

...But she’d been right...

Megatron was an unfit leader of the Decepticons.

He chanced a look down at the hopeful, peering optics below him and stilled.

Megatron’s ability to adapt quite effortlessly did give him pause to reconsider the notion then.

Megatron may, in fact, be turning into the the greatest leader they’d had in their very short list of them with his possible reawakening as the mech who might finally lead his people home to Cybertron. And even more marvelous and historic, with the promise of peace. A promise greater than domination.

They were war frames, not blood lusting machines, despite what their civil types had been fed. Peace was improbable, but it was absolutely preferred. And Megatron might soon be the first to give his loyal followers that...

But he was getting both ahead of himself and sticking largely to those fantastic, romantic ideas of his again. They had a long way to go yet.

He looked down to study why the little Prime at his side had suddenly gone so stiff.

Optimus’ face was unreadable, completely blank and devoid of the barest hint of joy at the news. Which Megatron had been sure after his enthusiastic display upon his agreement to give peace another try that he’d be jumping around like a hungry scraplet.

Megatron rather liked him like that. The memory file was still fresh in his core -a smiling, excitable, stammering Prime looking too happy to contain himself to the shell of his chassis. Close to bursting. Close to embracing his nearest crew mate and squeezing, had he the courage to express himself so earnestly.

Megatron hadn’t realized a smile of his own pulled delicately at the corner of his mouth for a moment, but it was quickly wiped away by the sobering sight of a serious looking Optimus leaning into him then. Reaching.

He had the good sense for a single nano-klik to reer back and question the little mech’s intentions when a palm clasping itself to the side of his faceplate easily lured him back down. Gentle fingers caressing the thick derma-mesh. Pulling him to his level. Keeping him there.

A soft, lingering kiss was then placed much too close to the corner of his mouth for Megatron’s liking, when his lips were right there and perfectly unoccupied. But any protest he might have that Optimus had missed the mark was drowned out entirely by the rush of Energon through his lines, roaring in his audials. Leaving him dizzy and dumbfounded, and staring blankly ahead.

Optimus had struggled with how to properly say ‘thank you’- either unwilling to praise the basic standard of decency the mech should possess when he was using it to better their species, or worried that his simple thanks was largely underwhelming in conjunction to the magnificent feats Megatron was committing to.

But his gratitude was overdo, nonetheless.

So he allowed his excitement and hopefulness and mental exhaustion to help it take form in the only way it simply felt right to in that moment.

Seeing as how Megatron stood there accepting his bizarre attentions, not looking the least bit scandalized, Optimus decided he’d save his internal reprimanding and self depreciation for when he wasn’t busy planting kisses over such a strong jawline. Focusing on the feel of heated metal against his lips.

———— ———————

“Zhat one I’ve named Obsidian, because her tail is totally black~”

Bumblebee struggled to make out anything more than a bunch of black and white rectangles drifting across the field. Of course, he didn’t have a working monocular like some eccentric bots he knew.

The cows were surprisingly loud, even from this distance. Bee couldn’t imagine how this much noise could possibly lull the other into recharge. Maybe it became more a thing of magic when the experience was shrouded with night- like how horror movies became that much more terrifying.

Did Blitzwing have quirks like that, too? Getting excited for his nighttime cow heralds in the way Bumblebee got excited to sneak about the town after dark?

The mischief they could make...

Bumblebee looked up and watched the triple changer standing there in a state he’d never witnessed him in before. A sort of contentment visible in the other, yet enraptured with the dozing, lazy bovine stomping about the grassy plains.

It was truly surreal. When had he seen Blitzwing in any state beyond panic inducing violence or total aloofness? Charming quips while playing video games together not withstanding -it was easy to disjoint himself from those moments when it was already hard enough to look at the other when he was sitting so close. Bee hadn’t had a real life crush before, let alone one who felt similarly, so the majority of their interactions felt like something he’d conjured in a fever dream.

Bumblebee squirmed when he felt butterflies flutter through his tanks.

Seeing the giant menace so peaceful now peeled away a new layer of his appeal. Bee found himself enamored with the sight of that crimson jack-o-lantern grin standing in stark contrast with the pale blue sky. Soft white swirls floating far above, adding to the nightmarish vision. But here Bumblebee was thinking it only accentuated his unique charm, where it’d once sparked terror.

It shouldn’t have been as entertaining as it was, watching cows chew thoughtlessly and stalk about, but Bumblebee was helpless to agree. This was nice, this was good.

That didn’t mean he’d pass up an opportunity to poke fun at Blitzwing, since it was his new favorite pastime.

“Yeah, I can’t see squat... But I think you’re makin’ up that tail thing.” He teased. The playfulness in his smirk easily overlooked in Blitzwing’s enormous offense at that -which made the minibot snicker.

Blitzwing didn’t think it was funny.

~WHIRR~

“Jou can’t even open a barrel of oil vithout my help! Vhy should I be surprised jour pitiful, maladapted optics can’t see a few acres away!?”

He shouldn’t be surprised. Civil frames weren’t designed with sniper precision oculars. But seeing as they were still struggling to make sense of a cross class relationship that regularly spent their time together -willingly- it was easy to forget they were conversing with the opposite frame type. This had never been a possibility before.

Bumblebee failed to suppress a snort, lips pulling into a grin. Irritating an already volatile tanker.

Blitzwing was definitely rolling his optics behind his visor. He bent down onto one knee, crouching over and nearly having to crumple in on himself to be at the little bots level. He pulled a giggling Bee in and angled his helm with one encompassing hand, tugging the top of his helm towards this supposed beloved cow of his.

“Look! Look zhere -see ze black tail? Ze only one vith a black line behind it?”

Bumblebee considered agreeing with him, so he might cool his jets and switch back to that goofy smile Bee was thinking looked more and more becoming on him. That’d be easier than trying to keep the laughter in.

He pretended to squint and focus into the distance.

“Ehh... Hard to tell.”

“Use jour processor for once!”

Bee leaned in some more when Blitzwing did -unfortunately very enchanted by how protective a famous war criminal had become over some squishy, mooing cows. How was he *not* supposed to fall any harder for this mech? This sporadic, daring, resilient mech.

Perhaps Blitzwing had a greater inclination for smaller things than he thought? Bee really hoped he wasn’t just projecting that, because he’d really need it to be true for what he was about to do next.

“Oh, wait! I think I see it!” Bumblebee stood on his toe pedes and pointed out to where Blitzwing had been adamantly thrusting a knifehand.

“Ja! Jou see! Finally- I told jou-“ he turned his helm right towards Bumblebee’s audial, ready to shout straight in it about how badly Bee needed an optical upgrade installed. But the words and the root of his conviction both died somewhere in his chest.

Bumblebee turned into him -fastest thing on four wheels- and caught Blitzwing completely by surprise. Frozen there and utterly defenseless against the minibot pushing into him with a chaste little kiss to his cheek guard.

Blitzwing jerked back and cycled through faces, emotions he rarely allowed scraping him raw, before finally settling back on a rather poleaxed looking Random.

Bumblebee felt more than a little proud of himself for having been the one to put that look on Blitzwing’s less shakable personality. He felt proud he’d found the courage within him once again to even go through with that colossal act.

It’d either been thanks to his abhorrent impulse control, or the near limitless confidence in himself that religiously inspired him to take such monstrous risks.

But either way, he’d gotten the job done-

~WHIRR~

Surprisingly soft blue lips drew into a thin line. Glaring red optics bore down into Bumblebee’s soul, and the little minibot had one harrowing moment to think about what he’d actually just done.

In hindsight, Bee realized that he probably should have asked for permission to do something like that first...

He should have asked what kind of touch was welcomed. He should have calculated the likelihood that a cold, reserved ‘Con would be insulted by that kind of gesture.

He should have respected Blitzwing’s limits, if not his own.

“Oh, shoot -Blitz, I- I’m sorry...” Like, really, *really* sorry.

Like, if this was the thing that ruined their blossoming friendship, Bumblebee would never forgive himself. He’d never forget what he’d just lost, because of one nano-klik spent thinking with his engine instead of his processor.

Bumblebee clutched a hand over his spark where it rattled painfully in his chest.

“I should of asked you, if you’d be ok with that. I should have asked if you’re ok with-with being touched. I should of waited until I knew for *sure* ifMMPH-“

One large, black servo wrapped around the entirety of Bee’s jaws and throat, puffing his cheeks and lips up when fingers *squeezed* and pulling him forward into a warm, accommodating mouth. Very accommodating and very interested. Blitzwing made room between his substantially heavier frame and his thinner one -managing to fasten the little speedster to the spot with a single servo and a tentative kiss.

Bumblebee felt his spark thump joyously against his chassis and scrambled on instinct to grab onto something, as he began to feel lightheaded, as Blitzwing stole all the air from his vents. What he got was a servo full of Blitzwing’s chest and collar seam -which he held onto for dear, wonderful life.

Blitzwing kissed him like it was his job to -steady and focused. Drawing the little bot near with his other hand circling loosely around his middle. Ensuring escape was impossible, making Bee’s engines rumble at the sheer possessiveness of it all.

It lasted longer than the other ‘Bots would have comfortably allowed -as if they’d allow any of it- but thankfully, they weren’t here, and nothing was getting in the way of sharing his first kiss with his totally-just-a-friend in this glorious, consuming moment. Grabbing pathetically against whatever he could get a hold of, though there was far too much of the other bot to keep a solid grip.

Blitzwing pulled away looking pale and flushed and angry about what he’d just done -and more angry than anything that’d he’d just had to *stop* what he was doing. Optics sweeping over the lithe frame before him, drinking in the disheveled sight, and tending with the pinch and pull of their unchecked fields against one another.

The absolute scandal.

He cycled through faces for a moment before settling back to blue.

“You’re kind of, *huff*, you’re kind of erratic today.” Bumblebee warbled out, sucking air down his intake and opening his overworked vents even wider.

Blitzwing looked thoroughly abashed, likely coming to terms with what he’d just done, and how worryingly committed he already was to doing it all again.

“I am.... working through a lot of... zings at ze moment....”

Fair enough- Bumblebee was working out how willing he was exactly to die like that, if the triple changer ever tried it that enthusiastically again.

Cheeks burning with Energon, the bug was just audacious enough -big surprise- to smile like *he’d* been the one to kiss Blitzwing off his pedes.

“Was I, like, any good?” Bumblebee breathed out, eager for some undeserved praise. It was his first, *first* kiss after all, and he’d like some feedback that it was as powerful and dizzying for Blitzwing as it’d absolutely been for him.

If his tanks were still flipping from it, engine charged.

Blitzwing was really good at pretending to be unbothered, though, and simply shrugged, nonplussed. The pinnacle of indifference and a bigger killjoy than Optimus.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me you weren’t swooning in my arms just then!” Bumblebee flapped uselessly. He could feel his faceplate heat for a more infuriating reason now.

Blitzwing did smile then.

“On ze contrary, Bug. Jou were swooning into *me*.”

There was an undeniable victory in making even a substantially weaker frame as Bumblebee’s giddy and desperate for his attentions. His sway over the little minibot so great, his skill so unmatched.

Blitzwing felt heady and far too full of himself then -considering he’d surely have Megatron to answer to later, when he inevitably smelled the little Autobot’s scent on his frame. But Blitzwing felt too blissed out in that moment to worry about anything else than drawing his favorite little hellion back into another mesmerizing kiss.

Bumblebee was still pouting at him when he swooped down, face clicking into place as Random, and stealing another kiss off the bot.

Bumblebee tensed, but melted quickly. Already growing accustomed to the feel of the larger mech against him. Blitzwing felt pride swell in his chassis.

Bumblebee made an utterly adorable noise when the tingle of fangs slipped over his lip and startled him -the giant coaxing him back to relax with little effort. Blitzwing could do this for fragging ever, and he *would* have, if their audience hadn’t chosen that moment to make themselves known.

“Ahem.”

Bumblebee’s optics flew open, and a scowl pulled his little lip plates right off of Blitzwing’s, causing the other’s mood to dampen considerably. He rather liked having the minibot glued to him.

“Uggghhh...” Bee moaned turning towards Prowl of all the nosy, self righteous bots to act as his chaperone.

“You just *had* to rain on my parade, didn’t you?”

Prowl looked as if *he* was the one who was in the wrong for sneaking kisses with his new totally-just-a-friend the moment they got some long awaited privacy. When, really, who hadn’t seen this coming? Optimus had swiftly given up on correcting him the moment he’d made his obscure confession.

“Jealous?!” Bumblebee quipped, knowing full well what the real issue was.

Prowl didn’t rise to the bait -and he didn’t look particularly devious then, either. His expression softening after a moment inflicting that woefully condemning stare he’d long mastered on the little mech.

Bee softened, too.

“You’re not gonna tell on us... Are you?” He asked, looking defeated for a mech that’d felt like he’d been on top of the world just moments ago.

But before Prowl could answer, Blitzwing was standing back at his full height, placing a single pede down in front of Bumblebee and blocking him from view.

“Zis vas my doing,” He explained, calmly placing a servo to his chest. Doing actually pretty decently at being a lying ‘Con, considering how this looked. How it’d look to bigoted, out of touch council bots, anyway.

“Bumblebee vasn’t given a choice. I took ze initiative to-“

“No, the frag he didn’t!” Bee squealed from behind his pede, ducking out from under it and leveling his teammate with a challenging glare.

“*I* made the first move, because *I’m* the braver one!”

“Bug-“

“So what, anyway?!” Bee shrieked.

“I kissed him, *and I liked it*! You gonna tell on us or not, Prowl!? Huh!? Huh!?”

Blitzwing was physically having to restrain himself from shaking sense into the naggy little ant. It was *his* job to do the protecting. The flare of Energon in his cheeks made that defense difficult, though.

But Prowl simply shook his helm ‘no’, the first blessed mercy he’d *ever* spared for Bumblebee.

What had gotten into everybody, as of late?

Bumblebee’s little shoulders slumped, servos uncrossing. Prowl didn’t look like he was joking, though -not that the ninja bot knew how to.

“You’ve done nothing explicitly wrong.” Prowl said then to calm him. Which was a lie.

“We are at peace.” Which they officially weren’t.

“Our factions are making an effort to.... come together.” Was that an innuendo?

Bee should come over and roundhouse kick him back to his senses -or make his sturdy new boyfriend do it.

This was some kind of trap, obviously.

*Obviously*.

“So, you’re fine with *this*, as long as we’re all ‘friends’?” Bumblebee used finger quotes, realizing a little too late the notion held a double meaning he wasn’t sure the other party would find agreeable. Blitzwing didn’t comment, though.

“You’re oversimplifying things.” Prowl said with half a shrug. Too cool to commit.

“I see no problem, so long as we’re all on neutral terms with one another.”

He waited just long enough for the words to sink in, and keep Bumblebee from making another fuss. Hopefully satisfied with his cryptic answer that he wouldn’t rat on him.

He turned away from the pair, having done and said whatever he needed to -which apparently had just been wanting to embarrass Bumblebee and remind him of their circumstance.

Which, newsflash, none of them needed reminding. Snooty, fragging spoilsport.

There was, of course, the chance he’d come to make himself known so as to blackmail Bee into doing something *responsible* later. That was equally as plausible.

Oh, how Prowl loved to bend the truth, when it best suited him.

Bumblebee didn’t get another moment to cast blazing hot optics his way before his partner in crime was encasing him with a servo again and bringing him back into a solid chest. All thoughts of how terribly this would blow up in his face later swallowed up by the unbearable heat of the other’s engines beginning to stir.

To pit with the repercussions, Bee was so totally telling Optimus *all* about this later. Who could resist gossiping about making out with a threat level: obscene war machine? One that was so good at kissing, too.

His leader might like to know that, for once, whatever their futures held, it’d be something worth that delicate hope he clung so carefully to. That he’d no longer need to be afraid to let it grow.

And it’d come with a lot more dashing Decepticons to talk about at odd hours of the night.

—————————

———————————

—————————————

Well, it only took me two months to post this thing. There’s been so much chaos in my life right now, time keeps slipping away from me. But this fandom is everything I love with people in it I love hearing from!

I’m so glad I accidentally fell into transformers hell of all things.

I hope this was a fun read, and you delighted in me embarrassing myself. I can’t stop, it seems. Garbagezombie thank you for the message, I hope you liked this💕 you made me feel super good at doing my transformers things, and that means a lot 🥺💖

[ran-orimoto]

You're an only on many who talks about J.P on this site. I can ask you what you think on Junpei becoming a singer for Izumi? Doesn't it make you angry?

Hi, Anon. Thank you for the ask. You kinda… Touched a delicate topic here, because I have got mixed feelings about this Serena from Pokemon situation, but, surprisingly, I’m not totally condemning this choice from the writers like some have. I…Can look at it more brightly than people expect me to and I can also say I don’t think the opera singer thing came out of blue.

For starters, there’s a part of me who wants to believe he was embarassed about Izumi teasing him. It’s an audio drama and we have no idea about his expression there. If you ask me, Izumi mentioning the ice skater and Tourin Olympics is way too specific to be a random anecdote that hasn’t had an impact on Junpei’s past self. I think that “Junpei, you’re really a fanboy” kinda made him awkward on the spot. On another hand, it’s obvious his crush is still there and his “I’m studying opera to be closer to you” hasn’t been thrown there for a nonsense reason, either, which means there might be a pinch of truth in what he says.

It…Sucks? It…Disgusts you because it shows Junpei is stuck at the same point, which is also something he was aware about in the original series? Remember the library scene with Tomoki, where he admits he hasn’t changed at all? It makes you wince because Junpei was supposed to be an engineer or a magician? I understand these feelings very well, but I also want to see, indeed, try seeing a sense in whatever they have done in that drama (which is my favourite one from Frontier, mind you).

Taking in consideration the job choice, I believe there have been two reasons behind it:

• Junpei’s skill at entertaining people that has been shown in the whole anime.

• The necessity of connecting characters with Italy.

Listen, as an opera fan, I want to underline sometimes I find myself wishing he had taken on some other kind of career as well. Junpei is a very colourful character, showing to be good at the most disparate activities: he is good with kids and you think he would be a great teacher like Juri and Hikari (Digimon, we need a man teacher among your characters, just saying); he likes drawing on freaking blue prints and you think he could give engineering or architecture a chance; there are some scenes in which he seems to interact with Trailmon so often and you think he could turn driving trains in a future job; he’s interested in magical tricks and, like many would have liked, you can imagine him going professional in the field.

All of these observations are valid and true but the point in his character is that Junpei is just interested in so much different stuff. Profiles describe him as a “kid who is bad at school but has got an academic knowledge thanks to his interest in miscellaneous stuff”. And you can notice this trait of his scattered in the show in the smallest and silliest frames too, like, for example, when he mentions elephants’ graves, or when he raises his hands up to the Sun and mentions UV rays, or when he quotes horror tropes. In the most recent drama he also reveals himself to be a fan of detective stories??🤣 He has got a lot of interests and I can kinda see this as something he does to deal with loneliness. Always staying alone, maybe he reads a lot or watches ton of documentaries.

Headcanons aside, Junpei could have been all these things but their attention ended up falling on his most entertaining side, pushing them to pick the opera singing career.

Now. Unlike Takuya, Junpei has always had an interest in Italy thanks to Izumi. In the anime it’s never shown except when he joins her while she’s yelling “Buono! Buono!” before eating at the island restaurant. Yet, it’s a characteristic of his that surfaces in “Izumi’s Love letters”, or whatever it is called. It’s basically the part of the 2002 drama where she sends imaginary letters to the boys, Junpei included. In the one she addresses him, she talks about the fact Junpei makes her happy when he seems interested in her tales about Italy, especially when it comes to food, and she proposes him (+ the others, she specifies at the end XD) to visit Italy together.

It has always been there and even if that curiosity was born in him thanks to Izumi, I’m so sure he is cultivating his interest on his own as well. You…Can’t absolutely take on opera if you don’t feel it in your heart🤣. It’s a suicide, okay, and ,most of all, you have to own that gift to pursue that dream. It’s not like you will start studying opera and you just need to study to go forward. It’s not enough at all. Thus, Izumi saying Junpei has entered an honour university after some opera exam makes you understand he’s seriously giving his best in what he’s doing and is also rather great at it.

“But he’s doing it to get closer to Izumi whwhwhwhwhhwhwhwwwwwweewe”

Not only ,in my opinion. He’s also taken that path thanks to Izumi, because that’s how their relationship has always worked, -excluding times in which the writing was trash-.

It’s not like I want to say the others have got no role in Junpei’s and Izumi’s growth, but looking back at Frontier for a nth time with a dear friend is making me realize how their friendship was based on improving thanks to the other’s presence. Izumi faced her issues for the first time in a serious way thanks to Junpei in the Tsunomon episode. Her collaboration with him and her opening herself to him without prejudices helped her move forward and take a first step towards her improvement. Junpei learnt how to be more genuine around her, starting from being such a spoiled a$$ to understanding he could build a good relationship with her if he was himself. Compare the Floramon ep with the Tsunomon ep to notice how he became a totally different person in her regards after having got the spirit, whereas he keeps on being tough to Takuya and Co. If we exclude the sexist philosophy behind the Bolgmon episode, we can take in consideration that the affection he had towards Izumi also pushed him to go over his limits even when he felt so unsure about doing it. He wanted to get her spirit back and it was enough for him to give a glance at her sadness to get courage, get his beast spirit and maintain a partial control on it: actually, Bolgmon managed to hit Grottemon only when he remembered he was attacking him for Izumi’s sake.

There’s…Nothing wrong in getting inspired from a person and letting that person shape us; in seeing them as a sort Muse of light in a world that’s probably too dark to allow us to see where we should put our feet. What matters, though, is to go over that phase eventually and build our person on the precious lessons our Muse has given us. “Train of Hope”introduces us to a still immature Junpei who has got a lot to learn, a very flawed Junpei who can both be himself around his crush but can also make the mistakes he used to make as a kid, and, again, guys, it’s fine??? Digiworld doesn’t mark the end of these kids’ development. Every kid seems to still be flawed at its worst in that drama, not only Junpei.

Still, we are talking about him now, and what I can tell you is that the infamous tenor role they have given him has got a lot of potential behind its frivolous appearance. It could give Junpei the opportunity to live new experiences outside Japan, grow further, plunge in a world of entertainment aiming at making people both laugh and cry, and that’s also perfect for a character like him. A grey one who could hold both comedy and tragedy in himself; a lightning that can both bring but also rob the world of light. In a nutshell, he wouldn’t only be a perfect tenor because of his knight fantasies and his unrequited crush XD.

And if these experiences will help him grow out of his crush on Izumi, may it happen. Somehow, even if I could spend ages talking about Junzumi and spreading love for them, I would find it a very good ending for him: him eventually finding happiness first of all in himself and, possibly, in another person as well. By then, he will have become a much better person and ,you never know, sometimes he might remember how everything started and might thank Digiworld and Izumi for everything.

PSA Just a question: do you use J.P as a nickname for him?🤣💕

[sysig]

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