The Lights of Iacon glowed in the night, crisp winter air brushing against Optimus’ plating.

 Tonight, was a sight he never thought he’d see again. Iacon, alive and thriving, preparing to celebrate Chosen One Cycle – a holiday based on the ‘Christmas’ from Earth, named after the prophesized Prime brought an end to their war just ten human years ago.

That said Prime was busy coming up to the holidays, working with Ultra Magnus and Soundwave to rebuild the society they all watched crumble into dust.

Snow came from above every hour, created by the new Weathermaker fliers until the climate controllers could be brought back online, blanketing everything in a small layer of frozen water.

Optimus’ smokestacks left trails in the cold air, and wisps of condensation came from other mech’s frames as they walked by on the streets.

Optimus found his way to his destination eventually, once he got through the combined pede and driving traffic, rolling up to the Iacon crystal gardens near the ocean’s edge.

Lights were strung up along the glowing crystals, and small glowing decorations of candy canes and snow flakes and reindeer were littered among the beds. The reflection in the ocean’s solvent and rust made the area truly beautiful, even if it was modest compared to New Praxus or Vos’ gardens that were being restored.

He wandered in the night, and soaked in the feelings of peace and happiness that this new holiday inspired.

But…

Optimus sighed, leaning up against a railing as he stared into the distant rust oceans which were peacefully still.

Adjusting to peace was not easy, and as much as Optimus loved what the new Holiday of Chosen One cycle represented, it also revealed just how maladjusted to peace he truly was.

Optimus, once Orion, was rebuilt for the purpose of war. He had harbored an intense rage and hatred for Megatron and every Decepticon who obliterated their home for a long time. Even as he came to see Decepticons as fellow mechs though, peace was a distant pipe dream he endlessly pursued.

He never expected it to happen.

And what made it sting most of all? It was after he lost command, severely wounded along with most of the Ark command during a routine skirmish soon after Autobot city had begun construction. Before he knew it, one of the youngest Autobots, Hot Rod, had become Rodimus and somehow had managed to find peace with Megatron.

It was a blow which Optimus had trouble describing, especially as his fellow officers seemed just as confused about the turn of events – though doubly as relieved. Ratchet had nearly bent down and praised Primus then and there when he found out after he found out.

Optimus… wasn’t as happy as he thought he’d be in peace though.

He missed the matrix which had always been such a burden, he missed the failed negotiations he had with Megatron which slowly allowed him to understand the other mech, he missed being able to bond so easily with his men while they recovered after a skirmish; no matter how irrational it all was.

Optimus clenched his servos, and looked to his side. He could still see the outline of his old docks in his mind, millions of years after they sunk into the oceans. He could taste the crude oil he would drink instead of engex to get a buzz, how Ariel would scold him for how it would ruin his tanks. How Dion always-

He shook his head, looking away. Now here he was, only useful for organizing the Cybertronian unions and unable to live up to all the expectations everyone had for him during his whole Primacy. He shuddered, thinking how disappointed they all must be in him.

He turned around, leaning his back on the railing as he gazed at the crystals. They were lit up in green and red tonight, sparkling in the chrome chrystals as the light reflected, and he didn’t notice the old railing collapsing under his weight until he suddenly felt weightless- He turned as he was going to fall into the ocean will anyone find him-

Someone grabbed his servo in a strong grip before he could fall into the ocean, heaving him up where his feet still touched the walkway. “You’ve gotten rusty in Peace, Prime.”

Optimus looked up, despite already knowing who it was and not sure how to react. Megatron just smiled condescendingly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Anything hurt? I’ve heard you are much more delicate now.” He said, causing Optimus to sputter.

“No- Megatron I may not be a battle frame but I’m far from helpless!” He said, offended and blushing in embarrassment. “I just- am not the same anymore.”

“I can see that; I wasn’t sure I believed Soundwave when he said you were so much smaller without that bauble.” Megatron said.

It was true, Optimus’ frame had to be reformatted back into a smaller frame without the Matrix boosting his spark – though it wasn’t quite as small as he used to have. He came up to Megatron’s chest now, his eyes level with where Megatron’s Decepticon badge used to be, instead of the equal height they used to be.

“I- yes, I can see that.” Optimus said, finally stepping to the side and away to put some distance between them. He glared at the railing like it was sentient and intentionally embarrassed him. “Most Autobots wouldn’t have recognized me without having my EM field come up.” He admitted, which made Megatron laugh.

“So, what are you doing out here Prime - aside from falling into oceans?” Megatron said, coming up beside them. Optimus began to walk along with him, “It’s Optimus now, Megatron, Rodimus-“

“Yeah yeah, that Newbuild is the new Prime, blah blah blah.” Megatron said, making a human gesture of a mouth flapping with his servo as he spoke. “It doesn’t really matter to me, you’ve always been ‘Prime’ so why should it change?”

“Because I want you to not call me Prime?” Optimus said in a huff, but Megatron actually looked at him quietly. “Why is that?” He asked.

“Hm?” Optimus said, hoping he heard wrong.

“Why don’t you want to use Prime still, even just as a nickname?” Megatron asked again.

Optimus sighed, thinking. He wasn’t quite sure why the nickname irked him so since he was reformatted back into a normal civilian frame. “It just… feels wrong. I’m not the prime anymore.” He offered, voicing his thoughts, but Megatron gave him a skeptical look.

“Aren’t you the same mech though? Your name, as far as I’ve known you, has always been Optimus Prime, I didn’t know it was a title until your anklebiter gained the ancient ornament.”

Optimus chuckled at the blasé description of the Matrix. “I didn’t know you still used human phrases.”

Megatron gave a small venting laugh, one where it came more through the noise rather than an actual laugh, “Shut up, we were in contact with the humans as well. The troops loved earth media, we couldn’t go on a mission once because our favourite soap opera was filming there. Anyways- don’t change the subject here.” He pointed an accusing digit at Optimus.

The lights above glowed in the darkness of the night, lamps giving their dark stroll definition and clearity. Optimus wishes he could answer Megatron nearly as well as he wanted to, but it felt like the state of their world right now – after he gave up his title – spoke for itself.

“I don’t know how to answer you Megatron.” Optimus shrugged. “I still use Optimus because I’ve been Optimus for longer than I wasn’t, but Prime feels indecent now.”

Megatron raised an eye ridge. “You weren’t always called Optimus?” He asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Mhm, like how Rodimus Prime was Hot Rod, or Sentinel Prime was once Sentryfire?” He offered, shuddering as he remembered the ancient prime who died long before Megatron was ever constructed. He could still remember the mech’s frightening thoughts in his helm during the war, and thanked Primus that he never reached any real political power.

“No, I did not know that. All of this feels so contrived.” Megatron said, pinching his nose bridge.

Optimus laughed, “Ironhide said the same for a long time.”

“So, what was your name before you were reformmated?” Megatron asked, ever insatiably curious as always.

“Remember Orion Pax?” Optimus joked.

“No, I do not.” Megatron said, tilting his head in confusion.

“You killed me, but I didn’t expect to stand out among the thousands.” Optimus admitted easily.

Megatron flinched slightly, but didn’t seem offended. “Right.”

The pair were now turning back into the garden’s, reaching the end of the path alongside the ocean. The two fell into silence, walking past the crystals lit up in bright colours.

“What do you think of Chosen One Cycle?” Optimus asked.

“It’s not very useful, and I don’t care much for it… But it seems to make others happy, to celebrate their close relationships with one another.” Megatron said. “I just find gift giving terribly annoying, I can never tell what a mech wants.”

Optimus chuckled. “Me as well. I’ve been defaulting to mesh coverings or credits so far.” He admitted. “Every mech needs socks or a scarf at least.”

“True.” Megatron chuckled along with Optimus. “I’ve only given a few gifts per season, work always seems to pile up too much. I’m not invited to many parties anyways.”

“I don’t like parties.” Optimus admitted.

“Too loud?”

“No, I’ve been on bar crawls worse before. It’s more that… no one really wants to talk to their former boss, you know?” Optimus said quietly.

“Ah yes, I know that all too well. Even after Soundwave took control of the Decepticons, he still refers to my judgement.” Megatron said, sighing in fond exasperation. “It’s like my mechs just don’t want to let me go.”

“It’s because they care, you lead them to peace eventually.” Optimus said, but Megatron snorted in response. “Sure I did,” he said sarcastically, “after millions of years of war; mostly because of Soundwave.” He sat ungracefully unto a bench nearby and staring through the many crystals surrounding the former enemies.

“I never got the full story from Decepticons, what happened to convince you and your command to agree to peace?” Optimus asked, sitting down with Megatron on the cold bench.

“Hm, I guess not.” Megatron said. He was quiet for awhile after that, to where Optimus wondered if Megatron would continue, before he spoke up again. “It was… a wake-up call when you were injured. I suppose after so long fighting, I never thought anything could change. Even though we were constantly trying to decommission each other, the rhythm got comfortable.”

“So when you almost died, I realized… I didn’t want you to die anymore. I didn’t want any of the Autobots to perish anymore.” Megatron sighed, his engine rumbling in his chassis. “I almost stepped down when I realized this, I feared I was getting soft in my old age.”

“But Soundwave… He mentally scanned everyone on the ship, and realized none of us wanted to really fight anymore.” Megatron laughed hollowly. “It was like we were neighbors, not enemies.”

“So, when Rodimus came along and offered one last chance for peace… we took it.”

Optimus thought over Megatron’s words, turning them over in his mind, trying to make sense of it. He understood what Megatron meant, he realized.

When they landed on earth, after the initial period of intense battles, it was like no one cared to keep going. He remembered the one time the Aerialbots were quietly talking about some Seekers showing them some flying techniques, or helping Motormaster when he saw he wasn’t using the right human fuels for his engine.

“I… honestly always assumed Rodimus was just better than me at negotiating.” Optimus admitted, and got a hearty laugh from Megatron. “Primus no, he was so hot headed he almost caused several incidents while drafting the initial cease fire. He once jumped on the desk and challenged me in front of everyone, it took Ultra Magnus to drag him down and apologize!”

“Really?”

“He mellowed out in the time you spent in your coma.” Megatron said, flicking his head lightly. “I remember you used to have quite the temper when we first started fighting, remember how we first met?”

Optimus laughed. “Ah yes, I rammed you with my cab.”

“I felt that for days.” Megatron laughed. “And it came out of nowhere! I didn’t know such a large truck could be so stealthy!”

“You didn’t exactly leave me unscathed; you dropped a building on my head!”

“And I’m still surprised you rose like the undead and grabbed me by my neck!”

The two laughed together, and Optimus was surprised at how sweet those memories of battle where now.

Megatron looked to the side, before suddenly getting a smirk. “Want to get out of here? I’m thinking Maccadam’s, I’ve heard the oil is just great tonight.” He said, leaning in like they were planning a conspiracy. Optimus chuckled at the thought, before nodding. “Sure, let’s party.”

Maccadam’s Old Oil House was one of Optimus’ favourite bars since the war started, once Jazz took him there after a battle one day with Prowl. It was somewhat hidden, wedged between two larger buildings, and ran by a kindly old mech until he disappeared while they were on Earth.

A little Minibot named Swerve had taken it for himself, and everyone – including Swerve - was surprised to see he was the named inheritor of the business. Just one more mystery of Old Maccadam.

Now it was dressed up in all the glim glam someone would find at Christmas on Earth, with lights of crystals lining the roof and a wreath hung on the door with a large red ribbon. There was even a holographic display in the window, saying “Welcome to Maccadams! Happy Holidays!” with cartoonish reindeer pulling a slay in the background.

When they entered, it was full with mechs laughing and bonding with one another. There was a giant metal cloaking device, triangular and green, covered in glowing lights to make it resemble a pine tree that was often seen and decorated for Christmas on earth, and lights and garlands strung up around the walls. It made Optimus feel warm inside, not just because of the heat blasted at them from the vents above.

No bot inside was caring much for faction labels, even though many still wore the paint decal or sticker on their chassis. Some had replaced their decals with snowflakes, or even hearts, which was just cute.

When the odd couple reached the front, Swerve seemed inundated with customers. He seemed to have five different drinks celebrating the season, and despite how busy he was the minibot was over to them in barely a klik.

“High-grade, hard, with nickel additive?” Optimus said, seeing the discount on the sweet peppermint additives. It wasn’t long until both of them had their own drinks, and Optimus wondered if the minibot got some sort of speed enhancement or if he really could speak an almost constant stream to two other customers while he made it.

“So what were you doing out and alone tonight anyways?” Megatron asked.

“I needed to think, and most of my friends are too busy to celebrate.” Optimus said, and deflated guiltily. “I just can’t bring myself to constantly work like some others can, but I envy them.”

Megatron scoffed. “Your worth isn’t measured by how productive you are, especially compared to Prowl.”

Optimus smiled. “Yeah, that’s fair. It’s just hard to shake that guilt sometimes you know?”

“What are you doing anyways? I haven’t seen you on the official treaty council in months.”

Optimus groaned. “Peace treaties… aren’t my strongsuit. I can get general policies outlines just fine, but Prowl and the more administrative Autobots always helped me fill out the details. I’m working on re-establishing the unions of Cybertron.”

They continued to talk, eventually going on to Poetry, Union Organization, and ranking the random members of the bar on how likely they would want to clang them. Optimus thought at the back of his helm that he never thought he’d talk to Megatron so casually, especially about frame preferences of all things.

He supposed this is what the Holiday around them was about, past the gifts and decorations – it was about reconciliation, about making Cybertron whole now that their ceaseless fighting was over.

And so the two laughed together, reminiscing, and the night felt just a little less cold to Optimus.