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Megatron could only raise an optical metal brow at the strange stuffed creature set on the shelf before him. The shape of it resembled an Earth Octopus with too many tentacles and an extra beady eye, seemingly staring down the ex-warlord with hidden malicious intent. It was over-priced, bursting with fluff, and obscenely colorful. Fiery reds and oranges blended into greens and blues and clashed with purples and pinks that all meshed together into one giant muddle of confusing art. Perhaps it wouldn’t have bothered him so much, if the Primus forsaken toy hadn’t been surrounded by another fifty replicas.
His lip plate curled up at it in a sneer. There was a reason he kept his distance from these stores on a regular basis. Their toy products genuinely disturbed him, and most of the time they were swamped by little sparks that he could easily step on, or trip over.
“Megatron?”
Well, he’d have to put his grievances to the wayside sooner rather later.
“Megatron? Where are you?”
The resounding croon of his bond mate’s smooth, baritone voice pulled him away from the stuffed toy. He straightened, his servos falling to his sides from where they’d been positioned behind his back as his crimson optics searched the isle for the owner to the voice that sounded much farther away then he’d originally seen him. Failing to find the certain red and blue mech he’d accompanied here, his lip plates thinned into a straight line as he swiftly walked to the break in the isle. He pivoted a sharp right into the middle, his ever-scrutinizing optics scanning each aisle until he nearly walked right past his destination. The ex-warlord’s spark was released of its sudden tension when he found his bond mate among shelves of mismatched folded fabrics.
“I’m right here, beloved.”
He spoke evenly. Optimus looked up from the small, light blue blanket he’d been examining as the ex-warlord marched towards him, taking his place at the Prime’s side. Apologetic kisses were placed against the side of his blue helm, and Optimus smiled shyly as he leaned into the affectionate touches.
“Was it the stuffed Octopi again?”
The Prime asked with a humored grin. His bonded replied with a short huff.
“Whomever had the idea to create such a hideous little object was either overcharged out of their wits or more evil than I. It’s like staring into the optic of the unmaker.”
Optimus chuckled, his bright blue optics drifting back down to the little blanket in his servos as he felt along the delicately sown edges.
“Though I agree that it’s not the most aesthetically-pleasing product here, I don’t think a toymaker would make merchandise for the purpose of scaring potential customers, love.”
It was easy for Optimus to say when he didn’t have to look at it through the optics of his bond mate. Megatron smartly chose not to reply, for if he did it would’ve been a scathing retort that would end with him sleeping on the couch for the next week. Instead he chose to circle behind and lean his chin over his partner’s right shoulder, clawed servos finding their place on blue hips.
“What about you, beloved? What did you find?”
He inquired lowly. Bright blue optics glanced up at him for a moment, knowing full well that he was avoiding a potential argument and rather proud of that fact. Optimus brushed his digits over the edge of the infant blanket one more time before holding it up a bit higher, gesturing to it with a nod of his helm.
“I’d like for this to be our new-spark’s first blanket.”
Once again, Megatron raised an optical brow at the object. It looked rather simplistic, from his point of view. There were no decorative images or either of their old insignias on it, just a plain blue square-shaped fabric. The ex-warlord had been hoping his conjunx endura might find something a bit more ornate to celebrate the oncoming arrival of their first born. This would be, after all, the progeny of Lord Megatron and Optimus Prime.
He threw a skeptical glance at the Prime, met in reply by another hopeful gesture towards it. Fending off a sigh, he lifted one clawed servo to grasp at the blanket and paused. As his sensors registered the texture of the fabric, his optics widened a bit. Optimus’s smile grew as he grasped it and ran his digits along the edges, taking care not to tear the fabric with his claws.
“This is incredibly malleable.”
Megatron muttered, resolving that he would not call something soft if he could help it. Nevertheless, it was definitely one of the softest objects he’d ever felt. Now he could see why the Prime was considering it. Optimus hummed with him, running a servo over the fold creases delicately.
“The tag states it is made of Shilucheng fleece, a material from Earth known for its warmth.”
Of course it’s from Earth. The silver mech fought not to roll his optics but did smile in humor.
“While I highly approve of its texture, I question the durability of a human-made fabric if our little nova has claws.”
As he spoke, his other servo slid over from the hip joint to the decently-sized curve in his conjunx endura’s abdominal plating. If someone had asked him about it later, he would’ve said it was to emphasize his point. But really it was a distraction from the fact that he had undermined the humans in front of his partner. Optimus decided to ignore it for the moment, his spark pulsing at the fond nickname Megatron had found for their sparkling not too long into his gestation.
“The fabric is interwoven into multiple layers. See? It’s been specially put together by Cybertronian crafters to assure durability among all frame types.”
Optimus pointed to the edges, emphasizing his statement. Megatron puffed a vent at the decently-made point.
“And what about when they decide to regurgitate their energon all over it?”
This time, the Prime pointed to the tag.
“Fleece is stain-resistant, and according to its makers, simple to wash. Granted, energon is a stronger liquid than anything a human infant would produce, but it wouldn’t be on the market here if it were able to be destroyed by our fuel, would it?”
No, his conjunx endura was right. And incredibly good at arguing logic, much to the ex-warlord’s disdain. He looked back at the shelves standing next to them and their wide selection of single or multi-colored blankets. Some were even designed with bright spots over a dark background, appearing to represent the night sky. In comparison to that one, he almost whined at the one they held.
“Are you sure you desire a covering as bare as this? There are others here with imprinted artistic designs for the same price.”
The Prime idly shook his helm, not paying much attention to the items on the shelves more than what he had in his servos.
“Literature on the subject expresses that a new-spark’s optics will be highly sensitive to striking colors and patterns. It recommends acquiring softer toned fabrics until their vision fully develops.”
The ex-warlord blinked, not having known this was a fact. He then kept his silence to avoid admitting he hadn’t already known this. They’d both done their research, of course, as was recommended by a certain rusty old medic. But Optimus put a lot more time and effort into the endeavor and had most likely read at least two thirds of all the sparkling and gestation text available on Cybertron by now.
If Optimus dared to say that he didn’t know what to do when their progeny entered this world, the silver mech would actually hit him over the helm.
Megatron glanced back to stare indecisively at the blanket for another long moment before flicking his gaze back to his partner. He tensed when he saw cerulean optics boring into him. Oh no. No, don’t you give me that look. Optimus leaned back against him, gazing up at him with a familiar expression that bordered sadness so closely it leaned over the line.
“Please, Mega? I know our sparklet will enjoy it.”
Over the bond, the tendrils of the red and blue mech’s spark pawed at him, reflecting woe. Prime no don’t you dare—
“Please?”
And he was done for.
Fighting back the childish pout that threatened to make him look extremely undignified, Megatron huffed.
“Alright. If you truly want it, Optimus, then we’ll purchase it.”
If his expression had been dejected before, now it was absolutely radiant. Megatron only had a moment to watch a bright smile light up his conjunx endura’s faceplate before a kiss was pressed to his derma.
“Thank you.”
It was gone too quickly for his taste, and left the ex-warlord smiling absently at the Prime, who now folded the blanket to put in his shopping basket. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss against the other’s audial fin, grateful that this corner of the store was currently unoccupied by other consumers.
“Of course, beloved. Anything for our little nova.”
He did not elaborate that this statement would include coming back to get that night-sky-pattered blanket as a present for the bitlet’s first emergence day. Their vision should definitely be developed by then.
The Prime’s field flared jubilantly. In response to it, a weaker magnetic field pulsed under Megatron’s clawed digits, followed by a small kick. Both of them halted, sharing a charmed smile as their sparks brightened in their casings. Optimus lifted his own servo to rest over the silver mech’s clawed digits, squeezing them affectionately.
“Your sparkling thanks you as well.”
Megatron immediately forgot that he just lost another argument against his partner, purring as he gently rubbed over the spot where his progeny had reached out to him. He then pulled Optimus’s servo into his grasp, twining them at his side as they leisurely meandered down to the end of the aisle.
“For our sake, I hope they decide to be just as endearing and gracious as they are now when they want their first toy.”
He spoke distractedly, picturing with amusement what their new-spark’s first trip to the store might be like. Optimus chuckled and pressed into his side.
“Yes, I—”
“But carrier!”
Both of them stopped in their tracks at the end of the aisle when a whimper caught their audials. They turned to see a small green sparkling holding a mechanical six-legged insecticon in his servos. Above him, his similarly-green-shaded carrier stood with his fists on his hips, staring down at him disapprovingly.
“No, I said we are not getting that. Now give it to me so I can put it back on the shelf.”
He held out a waiting servo, but the bitlet clutched the insect to his chest, stomping his peds.
“BUT CARRIER!!”
The bitlet wailed, coolant tears washing over his faceplates. His carrier raised an optical brow at him, expression growing darker.
“Axis. If you don’t give that to me right now, we are going home and you’re not coming back to this store ever again.”
This time the bitlet shrieked in protest.
“NO CARRIER!! NO!!”
Throwing the toy to the ground with a cringeworthy crash, the bitlet flung himself on his stomach plates in front of his creator and pounded the floor with his tiny servos, screaming and crying for all it was worth. The carrier’s shoulders sunk, and he slapped his digits over his faceplates, sighing as if this was the hundredth time he’d had to deal with his sparkling’s temper tantrums.
Suddenly, as if sensing the optics on them, he looked up at the pair observing him silently from a few aisles away. His optics flitted over the Prime’s frame before he tiredly rubbed his faceplates.
“Nobody ever tells you how hard parenting is.”
The carrier grumbled, reaching down to pick up the toy his son had flung beside him.
Optimus and Megatron shared uneasy expressions, and the Prime nervously put a servo over his unborn sparkling.
“Yes, Mega, I truly hope they decide to be as gracious as they are now.”