Title Eye Openers
Characters/Pairings Spike, Trailbreaker, Optimus Prime, Megatron, various pairings
Warnings Slash
Summary Things sure have changed around the Autobot base. Spike can haz a headdesk?
Author's Note Poor Spike. Poor Poooooor Spike. XD Thanks to tiamat1972 for looking this over for me. This has been sitting around since 2012 and I keep forgetting to upload it. I'm debating about the next bit to upload. Should I or shouldn't I? There's two possibilities. Or three... Hmmmm, decisions decisions.

"Hey there, Spike."

Spike's mouth opened to return the greeting, but no words would come out. He wasn't trying to be rude to the big bot, but really. He just hadn't been expecting to enter Prowl's office and find Trailbreaker chained to the visitor's chair. The smell of hot metal filled the man's nose and mouth.

"I was," his voice broke in surprise,"looking for Prowl?"

Trailbreaker shifted in his seat, chains rattling. "Well, he's stepped out, I'm afraid."

"Ah, yeah. Okay. Well, I'll come… uh, go back, then. Out. Into the hallway. Bye, 'Breaker."

"Later, Spike."

Spike turned and convinced himself that he was not running away from the situation in that room.

Spike was still in the process of getting accustomed to the idea that his alien, robot friends did the horizontal mambo with each other on what seemed to be a fairly regular basis. It always gave him pause to walk into, oh say, Prowl's office and find someone (Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, flipping Bluestreak, and now, apparently, Trailbreaker) chained in the chair… or that time Ratchet had been 'consulting' with Prowl… while Prowl was chained to his own chair. Spike didn't think he could appreciate handcuffs anymore, either.

He wasn't entirely sure what to think about his friends' leisurely activities, and most of the times he simply didn't think about it. It seemed simpler than trying to wrap around the why or the how, and kept his brain from feeling like it was going to implode.

He wasn't supposed to find out, Bumblebee had told him a few months ago. The Autobots knew how humans viewed intimate relationships, and they anticipated a negative response to what humans would consider unorthodox liaisons.

Unfortunately, the Autobots had a policy of not locking their doors, unless there were dangerous or restricted items behind them. So, he supposed it was inevitable to have walked in on a pair of them, and catch them tangled up together; cables legs and arms, all a jumble of shining metal. Sideswipe's absolute shamelessness did not surprise Spike. Hound's exhibitionism did.

Then the secret was out. Chip refused to talk about it. Carly would only giggle behind her hand (she ran the official Autobot fan page that Spike had only ever glanced over on occasion; this made him unaccountably nervous).

Spike's father wasn't handling it half so well; he would turn tail and run anytime Wheeljack brought out the blowtorch from his workshop. Particularly when he flared it at Jazz.

Spike walked down the hallway, grimacing, and running his fingers through his hair in an attempt rub out the image of the mech in chains and the memory of the smell of overheated metal. The Officer's Hall was quiet this time of day. It would only start bustling during shift change, or when they were planning for battle.

Optimus' door whooshed open, suddenly and Spike stared at the grey pair of legs that walked out. Burning red eyes glared down at the little human and cruel lips turned up in a sneer.

Spike was brave, not stupid. He backed away from the big Decepticon, taking deep, steadying and swallowing down the small 'eep' in his throat. How did Megatron get in here? Why was he coming out of Optimus's office? Oh god. Optimus. What did Megadolt do to him? Spike's chest compressed with fear as he couldn't tear his eyes away from the Decepticon, all thoughts of previous concerns erased from his mind.

"I will be very displeased if you lay a finger on him, Megatron."

Spike heaved a sigh of relief when Optimus' voice rolled over him. Oh thank god, Optimus was okay.

Megatron only grunted, rather than answer, and stepped over Spike's head. His departure vibrated the floor beneath the man's feet.

Optimus came over to watch the Decepticon meet Red Alert down the hall.

So overwhelmed by Megatron's presence on the Autobot base, Spike took a few moments to register the distinct scent of overheated metal and burnt oil the Autobot leader brought with him. He was mistaken, clearly. He had to be. Because why? No. Don't think about it. "What the hell was that about, Optimus?"

Glowing eyes turned down to look at Spike, narrowing in what Spike recognized as a concerned scan; making sure the Decepticon hadn't done anything to the 'fragile human'. "Hostage negotiations."

"Hostage…?" Wait… wasn't Starscream in the brig? "You're going to give him Starscream back? But-"

Optimus' optics widened, and he looked askance down at Spike. "You didn't think we'd actually hold him indefinitely, did you? Megatron has agreed to a ceasefire for the next six months for the return of his Lieutenant."

Spike laughed, even though it really wasn't very funny. "Six months? That's it? Geeze, guess they really do hate each other."

Optimus tilted his head. "It is indeed possible, seeing as Megatron has allowed Prowl and Jazz to continue their interrogations. Though perhaps that is not as bad as it sounds."

Spike looked up at Optimus, wondering what the big mech meant.

Optimus seemed to understand the man's befuddlement, and a lightness in his tone hinted at his amusement. "You have seen how Prowl handles discipline."

Spike's hand jerked up of its own accord. "Okay! You don't have to say anymore. I get the picture." Even though he really, really didn't want to. He looked up at Optimus, grimace on his face. "You don't seriously mean...?"

Optimus didn't say a word. After all, Spike had asked him not to elaborate. But that didn't stop the amusement that lit his eyes.

-Fin-