A/N: I admit I'm not the most creative when it comes to coming up with food for Cybertronians. So let's just pretend that sticking the word 'energon' before any food item shall constitute it as such.

Megatron huffed, slamming the door shut and smashing the lock codes into the keypad.

"Orion?" The silver mech shoved the various sparkling toys and datapads scattered on the floor with the feet.

The meeting with the City-Lords had been long and tedious, as was expected. But what Megatronus did not expect was just how incredibly taxing it was not to hit those lords across their smug faces. He was a mech of patience, as unbelievable as it was. He had to be, patience was what got him to constantly win in the gladiator pits. Patience was what got him his followers. Patience was what lead him to Orion. But at the moment his patience was thin, a sliver really, having been chipped away by the idiotic ramblings of lords and generals.

And the smoke coming from the kitchen, the toys littered beneath his pedals, and the icing smeared on the walls was quickly making his temper boil over.

"Orion?" Megatronus wasn't even yelling at this point, his voice low and pressured, irritated with each passing klik that his mate did not reply. He grumbled, the sound rumbling painfully down his throat. Energon. He needed energon. Primus knows those City Lords didn't know when to take a break for refueling.

The mech walked into the refueling room, ready to take whatever open container there was laying around and chug all the energon from it.

His optics narrowed when he felt something squish beneath his pedal. He lifted his foot up awkwardly. A scowl crossed his face. Batter. Squishy, gooey, energon cake batter.

"Metatron!"

The silver mech pried the door to the kitchen open. A puff of flour and rolling sprinkles greeted him.

From beneath a cloud of flour little Meta squeaked.

"Sire!" The sparkling's silver face lit up at the sight of his father, his bright smile spreading. He wiped his forehelm, grabbed a cloth and began to wipe off the excess batter that spilled all over the table. A poofy white cap was fastened over his blue helm. Pink and yellow crystal designs swirled all around it, glittering and sparkling in the light. It was pretty, feminine, and much too dainty for Megatron's comfort. The silver mech's right optic twitched.

"What did you do to the kitchen this time?" Megatron watched warily as his firstborn scurried about the kitchen, tidying up in a whirlwind of frosting, flour, and cleaning solution.

"Just a klik Sire. Just give me a little time!" Meta said, his voice so very fair and light. It worried Megatron to notice that Meta's voice was even lighter than that of his twin, as Cassiel was still a child herself. Orion would tell him not to mind it, that voices change, and that he would miss the sound once Meta got older. Megatron honestly couldn't wait.

The sparklings were growing fast, being able to verbally express themselves now, Cassiel more that Meta. To his credit the little mechling was walking and running all on his own now, although Megatron did often find him clingy and attention seeking. Cassiel was more direct, precise, and although she could be rather affectionate she could tolerate being away from her creators fairly well. Metatron however, seemed to thrive under constant attention and praise. He was a sweet sparkling, attached like a magnet to his creators. Orion absolutely loved it. Megatron however, was worried than amused.

"Almost done Sire! Almost!" Meta grinned widely as he scrubbed the table clean. Or at least, as clean as a little sparkling could make it. There were bottles of sprinkles and sparkles tossed all around, piles of sweeteners, stacks of rust sticks and vials of coloring agents as much as the optics could detect. Pots, cans, and molding wares were crammed into the wash basin, some were dotted on the floor, while others were stacked so Meta could use them as stepping stools.

That was yet another thing that bothered Megatron. Meta was very small, tinier than his sister, not just in height but also in his overall frame shape. The mechling was a "petite, pretty little thing, with the brightest blue optics this side of Iacon" the medical assistant said, much to Megatron's annoyance and Orion's delight. They checked with three medics already concerning Meta's stature but they came up with the same conclusion: Metatron was developing normally. Nothing was stunted, there was no essential component lacking, no system wired differently. Megatron wanted to seek a fourth opinion but Orion promptly put an end to that request.

Despite all the reassurance Megatron still worried. He constantly compared his son to when he himself was at that age and found their similarities next to none.

"Sire! Sire! Just one last thing."

Meta chirped excitedly. He scrambled up a stool to reach the countertop again. With dainty, dark servos he took one of the containers and opened the cover.

"Tada!" The mechling's eyes shimmered with pride as he revealed his latest culinary creation, "All that's missing is the little topper thing, but I have it right here."

The mechling carefully placed a miniature crown made of rusts sticks and various shapes of eatable sweet gems right on top of the bright purple cake. He slid the cake carefully into his servos and with calculated, cautious steps made his way to his father.

Megatron sighed, his temper fit to burst. Poor little Meta however, was far too happily to even notice the steam emanating from his father's helm.

"Do you like it Sire?" Meta asked timidly. He was always a nervous child, a terribly sensitive one to boot. The sparkling raised the cake up towards his father, his brilliant optics wide and waiting, "I think I got the colors right…"

Meta's smile began to wane as his father just stared at him in cold silence.

"Umm...I'm sorry if it's a bit messy. Cassiel and I made a first cake but it kinda burned...and then she kinda put too much sweetener on the second one so this third one is all I have. It's not as good as the others but...but I tried."

Meta waited hopefully for a reply. His arms began to wabble, and with his father's furious glare so did his lips.

"You and this kitchen are a mess." Megatron said slowly, trying to reign in his anger, "I've been meeting all day Metatron. All I wanted was to return home with some energon waiting for me. Not another mess for me to worry about."

The sparkling's lips quivered and he bit down to make them still.

"And now I have batter under my pedals," Megatron huffed as he swiped a smear of icing of his shoulder, "And icing all over my armor. And from the looks of it you've gone through all the sweeteners in our inventory."

Meta's blue shoulders slumped, and he pulled the tiny purple cake closer to him, as if he wanted to cover it up and hide it from ever being seen again.

"Sorry Sire," The mechling said, his optics turned down.

Megatron leaned down and took the cake from his son. Meta followed his motions, his face falling when his father simply tossed the cake on the table without another care.

"Go clean yourself up Metatron," The silver mech said, rubbing a bit of flour off the side of Meta's face. He couldn't resist it anymore and went ahead and yanked the silly, sparkly cap off as well, throwing it on top of the sweeteners.

"Y-yes Sire," Meta said, quickly heading to his chambers, "Sorry Sire."

Megatron finally vented, grumbling and cursing beneath his breath as soon as his son was out of sight. As he put the sticky, gooey dishes on the wash basin his resentment brewed. Where in Primus' name was Orion the entire day? Did he honestly just allow their kids free reign of the kitchens? Megatron's frustrations poured down on him, from his hatred for the City Lords to his mild annoyances with the dirty cooking ware.

His thoughts were still deeply contemplating the best way to bash the City Lord of Vos when his own helm was unexpectedly smacked from the back.

"What the frag is wrong with you?"

Megatron rubbed the back of his helm, turning around to see a very heated, very upset bondmate.

"Pardon me my dearest Orion," Megatron said, "But in case you haven't noticed our kitchen looks like a ransacked bakery. I haven't refueled since leaving home in the dead of night last night. I'm irritated because all that meeting did was convince me that if I don't do something Cybertron will be run to rust from those dull-processors in that fragging Council. And now I come home expecting you to greet me with some semblance of support and all I find is our son-"

"My son is crying his optics raw because of you!"

Megatron shut up immediately. Orion's anger was rare, but when it surfaced he swore even Unicorn himself would think twice before provoking him.

Orion strode over to where the cake sat, abandoned and glittery like someone blasted it with a sparkle canon.

"Do you have any idea how hard he worked on making a decent energon cake ready for when you return?" Orion said, "Yes Megatron, I understand how frustrating it is to attend those meetings. I've sat through countless ones myself as a scribe. But that is still now excuse to take your anger out on someone who has nothing to do with it. Especially Meta."

"Why is he crying this time?" Megatron said, "All I did was instruct him to clean up."

"You didn't even acknowledge the cake," Orion said, "He begged me to take him to the market this morning so he could get the right ingredients to make it. Two failed attempts and he still insisted to try again. This was his third time. He mixed the batter himself, put in the icing, designed the topper. Did you even recognize it?"

Megatron's optics fixed themselves on the cake topper. It was a strange, rather abstract interpretation of a crown. There were tiny colorful sparkles on it, glinting and catching the light. They resembled rubies, emeralds, sapphires and amethysts all scrunched atop rust sticks dipped in various shades of silver coloring. His spark sank like lead in water when he suddenly realized-

"Our anniversary," The silver gladiator said, smacking a servo over his face, "It was today, wasn't it?"

Orion's pedal was tapping on the floor, his arms crossed, faceplates turned down in a disappointed scowl. The clerk vented deeply, his optics closed in an attempt to calm himself.

"Yes. It is," Orion said, "I mentioned it to our sparklings last night as I was settling them for recharge. Meta wished to hear the tale of how we first met. He was so thrilled imaging you presenting the winning crown to me after you won the tournament. He wanted to surprise you when you got back from that meeting. He thought it would make you feel better."

"I've made a mess of things again then?" Megatron replied, "I failed to get anywhere with the Council. Now I return home and fail to remember our Anniversary. And Meta-"

The silver mech shrugged.

"It was not my intent to hurt him," Megatron said, "You must believe that."

Orion's scowl eased, his optics sad and worried. He extended a servo, gently touching his mate's massive arm.

"My love, you are a mech of many responsibilities. I understand that," Orion smiled softly, "And while I can forgive you for forgetting our anniversary I must ask you to be gentle when reprimanding Meta. He's a sensitive sparkling."

"I know that," Megatron replied, "I just-it's difficult at times. I guess I'm not used to this kind of behavior. When I was a youngling we didn't have all these sweeteners and energon laying around to make delicacies with. And my creators, for the short time I was with them, were not overly affectionate. Nor did they encourage me to do. Working in the miners and gladiator pits, they couldn't afford to show affection."

"Megatronus," Orion said, "I understand that. I accepted it when we bonded. But Meta can't even comprehend that kind of existence. I pray to Primus our sparklings never experience it. And I thank you, my love, for making sure that they never will."

The larger mech couldn't help but chuckle weakly as Orion leaned against him. He wrapped a strong, possessive arm around his smaller mate.

"You know, ever since Meta was born I imagined how he'd be like. I thought of how I'd react to him getting into trouble, breaking the rules, causing havoc, so much like myself. I was prepared to deal with all that. I never expected...this." Megatron said, waving at the messy kitchen, "It still catches me off guard."

"Meta is different from you in many ways," Orion said, "Making treats is just one way he shows affection. And we, my love, must meet him where he is. He doesn't know much else. This is how he expresses his love. We should return it likewise."

"He could simply tell me," Megatron said, with a huff of breath. Orion laughed, shaking his helm.

"Please Megatronus, you're not that vocal about saying you love someone either. That's at least one thing he got from you."

"What do you mean? I tell you I love you everyday!"

"Yes, but only when no one else is around. Usually when you're done fragging me through the floor," Orion's optic ridges raised playfully, "Either that or when you're about to ask a favor of me."

"Very well," Megatron said, quickly kissing the top of his mate's helm, "You are right, as usual."

"You should speak with him," Orion said, "Meta is far more sensitive than you realize. He carries emotions deeply though he denies it. Much like you, my love. He refuses to let others see him cry. He'll go off and lock himself in his chambers, in the washracks, in the library…"

Megatron nodded, embracing his mate tighter.

"You are far too forgiving,"

"You will find that Meta is as well," Orion said, "Go now, before his optics are completely ruined."

The silver mech kissed him full on the lips before taking the cake and walking towards the bedchambers. When Megatron finally saw Meta his spark ached at the sight.

The silver and blue mechling was in the washroom, standing on the tips of his pedals as he leaned over the wash basin. The sparkling was crying quietly, sobs shaking through his petite frame. Meta looked up for a brief moment, caught a glimpse of his wet, messy face and burst into fresh wave of tears. He grabbed a washcloth hanging on the side, slid down to the floor and curled into a ball, aggressively rubbing his face blue.

"Metatron,"

At the sound of his father's voice the sparkling's sobs became pressured. He quickly buried his face into the washcloth, as if trying to conceal himself from looking at the mech.

"S-sorry Sire," Meta mumbled, his voice muffled by the cloth, "It's Ca-Cassiel's fault. She got her silly, femmy perfumes all over my w-wa-washcloth again. Makes m-my optics burn."

Megatron tried not to sigh. He knew full well that Cassiel never used only time she ever touched the bottles was to open them for Meta after he begged her to let him try them.

"Well, we can't have that. I can imagine it would be very unpleasant to eat this energon cake while your optics hurt."

Meta peaked up from the washcloth, his tired optics widening when he noticed his father holding the cake.

"Y-you're not mad at me anymore?" Meta sniffled, pulling the cloth away from his face, "You w-wanna eat that?"

"Yes," Megatron awkwardly adjusted himself so he could sit in front of his son, "I do."

The sparkling's eyes were bright and glistening, watching his father partially in awe and mostly in disbelief.

"And I was not mad at you Metatron," The silver mech said gently, "I was upset, yes. And I apologize for extending that frustration towards you."

"Oh Sire!" Meta's lips quivered as he crawled towards his father. He nervously curled up by the giant mech's side, "Does that me you don't hate me?"

"Of course I don't hate you!" Megatron immediately toned down when Meta curled away from the sudden boom of his voice, "What I mean to say is, I did not mean to hurt your feelings and I was wrong for dismissing your gift for me and your carrier."

Megatron stuck a digit into the cake and tasted it. His optic ridges raised, surprised.

"How is it?" Meta said, anxious about the verdict.

"It's very sweet," Megatron said, scooping out a full bite of the energon cake this time, "But it's light and soft. Very impressive for a sparkling."

Meta smiled and leaned against the mech. Megatron wrapped his arm around Meta, drawing him closer. The sparkling chirped. He seemed to like that.

"Did you make a lot of cakes when you were younger Sire?" Meta asked, "I bet they were better than mine."

"Oh no," Megatron shook his helm, "The first time I ever saw an energon cake was when I became champion and received one as a gift from one of my admirers. Such delicacies were reserved for those how could afford it."

"Oh...so you never made a cake for your creators?" Meta said, "What did you make for them then?"

Megatron rubbed his son's face, wiping the tears away as gently as he could. Meta did not protest.

"I never had the chance. Their sparks extinguished when I was very young. Younger than you are right now."

The news of this distressed Meta. Megatron sighed and allowed him to crawl into his arms, cradling him close to his spark for comfort.

"That sounds really scary Sire." Meta whispered, audios pressed against his father's chassis as if he needed to hear the spark beating, feel the warmth radiating out.

"It was," Megatron said, "I have very few memories of them. But you know what, Metatron? In spite that I still loved them greatly."

The silver mech laughed, the rumble of it calming the sparkling.

"I recall one time, when I was a youngling, I fought with another miner. He was insulting the memory of my creators. I never cared to find out if his accusations were true or false. It didn't matter. I still planted his helm through the ground, left the rest of him sticking out like an old, rusty, nail."

Meta's helm lifted up, his optics staring at his father in wonderment.

"Don't ever tell your carrier I said that," Megatron said, "Or else he'll plant my helm in the ground."

"Oh, is it our secret then?" Meta grinned.

Megatron thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yes," The silver mech said, laughing as Meta clasped his tiny servos over his mouth, "I guess it is."

"Alright Sire," Meta giggled, his tears finally ceasing.

"Well...now where is your sister? It isn't like her to be far away when you're in distress-"

Before Meta could answer a loud crash resonated from out of the window.

"What is going on out there?" Megatron walked over to the window, looking around to find the source of the commotion. Meta gulped and waved his servos in the air.

"CASSIEL!" Megatron's voice boomed out.

The purple and blue femme turned around, distracted by her father's voice long enough for the terrified mechling beneath her to scurry out of her reach.

Cassiel's faceplates went from surprised and scared to a fury that rivaled that of her father's. She grabbed a rock and lifted it high as if to throw it. She changed her mind half way, dropped it and proceeded to pick up an even bigger rock with both her servos. She launched it at the poor mechling blazing away.

"I'll bury your stupid face in the ground if you ever call my brother those nasty names again! I'll shove all the cake batter straight up your-"

"Cassiel! Enough!" Megatron said. Meta was sniffling and shaking in his arms, "What are you doing?"

The femmling appeared torn, one leg facing the direction of the terrified mechling ready to sprint off after him. She grunted and finally decided to turn to her father instead.

"That dull headed brat was making fun of Meta!" Cassiel said, her blue optics fierce, "Was I supposed to let him do that?"

"That mechling was insulting your brother?"

Megatron scowled, scanning the premise for Orion's immediate presence.

"Next time my sweet femme," Megatron said, "Aim for the helm."

And like the compliant daughter she was, Cassiel nodded.

"Yes Sire."

A/N: Kudos to whoever can figure how where I got the title of this fic from ^_^