Elita One stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t like there was anything in that room more interesting to look at. The room had no decor or entertainment and was technically Wheeljack’s quarters. But the eccentric mechanic spent most of his days and nights in the shop. He even had all his living essentials set up there. Aside from occasionally using it for extra storage, he also generously offered it as a guest room for people temporarily transferring from the other ships. For the time being, the room belonged to Elita and her temporary roommate.

  Elita sighed and turned to her side when a dull sharp object poked her in the side. “Ow!” She grabbed the object and examined it, “Dammit, how many times do I have to tell her not to leave her scrap on my side?” Though she respected her roommate’s culture, she was a bit bothered by how big of a mess her Junkion roommate left all over the place. They had struck a deal to each have one side of the room to themselves, but now and then a piece of junk would end up on Elita’s much tidier side.

  Her roommate, Rum-Maj, was apparently there because she and Wreck-Gar needed some time apart. Elita didn’t pry. She was dealing with enough relationship issues already. Aside from the usual disagreement about leaving junk everywhere, the two high-rank fembots respectfully ignored each other.

  That night, Elita had the room to herself. Rum-Maj was out drinking. Knowing how junkions tended to be, She knew her roommate wouldn’t be back till morning. She tried to get some recharge but couldn’t. Only being recently discharged from psyche care that afternoon, she hadn’t yet gotten the chance to apologize to Optimus.

  She figured that if she wasn’t going to recharge, she might as well take advantage of having the room to herself for the night. She relaxed down on her back and holo-projected her own holo-recording of her and Optimus together.

  Her voice in the recording spoke, “Don’t be shy, my love. No one else will see this but me.”

  “Oh, Elita- I want to. I just haven’t done something like this before.”

  Elita smiled when she saw a bright pink blush appear on her sparkmate’s faceplate.

  “Oh, please, we’ve done far weirder in our youth.”

  A small smirk appeared on the Prime’s face.

  Elita spread her legs open. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Optimus’s optics fixated on his sparkmate’s exposed valve. He bent down and kissed it. He pulled her legs over his shoulders, causing Elita’s aft to slide down, making her giggle. Optimus couldn’t help but grin at her reaction while his mouth was full. He rubbed her hot spots as he devoured her. Elita moaned in pleasure as she stroked his antennae, “Aaah~ God! I love you so much, Oppie!” She sighed. Baby, I’m already so horny for you! P-Please, make love to me now!”

  “As you wish, my spark.” Optimus’s voice was low and sultry. He got to his knees and positioned her legs around his waist.

  The sight of her valve lubricant on his lower lip turned Elita on immensely.

  Optimus propped himself over her, trying to stay in the vicinity of the recording. He entered her, letting out a low moan.

  “AH! Yes! That’s it, Big Boy!” Elita’s engine purred. Her back arched at the motion of his spike inside her. “You’re so big! Yes! Yes!”

  “You drive me crazy, Elita! You’re so beautiful!” He panted and moaned for several minutes, Elita savoring the sweet sound.

  Optimus went from propping himself up to clasping Elita’s hands as he moved in and out of her. He began kissing one of her legs and muttering into it, “Yes, yes, yes, I love you, I love you. B-Baby- oh my God- Yes!”

  Elita absolutely relished in how she was making him act. He only ever showed this side of him to her and seeing it turned her on more than anything else. “You’re doing so good, Oppie! I wish I could have you every night!” She cried out.

  “I’m so in love with you!” He growled while kissing her leg. “You have my entire spark, my love!”

  Elita giggled at the redundancy. “I love you too, Oppie! God, I love you so much!”

  The two were acting like they were newly merged again. That is to say; Excessively affectionate and incredibly horny.

  Optimus threw her legs over his shoulders and bent over her, increasing his speed. Elita squirmed and moaned, her face beaming—

  She turned off the holo-recording and stopped the vibration mod under her panel the moment she heard a knock on the door, “Damn, she’s back earlier than I thought.” She felt something wet on her face. Reaching up to feel, she realized they were tears. “Oh, now that’s just embarrassing.” She thought.

  The door knocked again.

  She wiped her face and got off the bed. “Come on in, hon!” She called out to the bot on the other side of the door.

  The door slid open, relieving none other than Optimus Prime.

  Elita felt a jump in her spark. “Oppie?!”

  Optimus was avoiding her optics. “Hello, Elita.”

  She gently approached him. “Oppie…. I’m so sorry for what I did, And how I’ve been behaving— I know I should be better than that!”

  Optimus widened his optics. “YOU’RE apologizing to ME?! Elita love, I cut off your ARM!”

  Elita couldn’t contain a small laugh. “I’m not going to accost you for doing your job, Oppie. I was in full crazy mode.”

  Optimus shook his head, looking downward, frame slumped and antennae loosely drooping to the back of his helm. “I… I-I’ve never harmed you like that before…”

  Elita’s gaze softened as she held his cheek in her hand, bringing up his gaze to hers. But he still moved his optics away from direct contact with her.

  “Oppie,” She sighed, “I apologize for how I’ve been treating you… I need to start being honest with you. “Oppie,” She said again, her voice softer now, “Even after everything, after all these cycles…. I still love you. And I never stopped.”

  Optimus flinched slightly, finally looking her in the face, but not in the optics. His antennae twitched.

  Elita took a shaky vent. Her hand slid down to grasp his. “I want to be by your side again, Optimus.”

  Optimus squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. He rested his other arm over her shoulder by habit. She didn’t seem to mind.

  “But, if we’re going to try again, you need to promise me something—“ Elita stroked his cheek with her thumb. “I need you to trust me! Stop hiding things from me! We’re a team, remember?”

  Optimus looked towards the ground again.

  “Optimus, PLEASE! Tell me the truth!

  Optimus let out a deep sigh, before finally looking his beloved in the optics. “Eilta, if I tell you… You’d never see me the same way again.”

  Elita brought his hand to her chassis. “You can trust me with anything, Oppie! Stop pushing me away!”

  “You wouldn’t understand!”

  “Then HELP ME understand!”

  “Elita-“ he sighed again, “The only way you’d be able to understand, and not hate me, is if we merged again.”

  Elita stood silent for a moment, rubbing her lover’s hand. “Then… let’s start over.”

  “Elita-“

  “We can at least try! We can start over again. And then maybe…” She rested her helm on his chassis. “Maybe we can stably merge again.”

  Optimus didn’t say anything for a while, making Elita nervous. But then she felt his lips press against her helm. She looked back up at him, smiling. He kissed her on the lips. It tasted like the sweetest thing in the cosmos to her.

  “Starting over…” Optimus repeated, pressing his forehead to hers, and gently rubbing her back. “Hmmm…” He let go of Elita’s hand and stepped back, eyeing her. The corners of his lips pulled into a smile.

  “Oh? What’s this now?” Elita recognized that playful glint in his optics.

  “Hello, come this ship often? I couldn’t help but notice how shiny your armor is.” Optimus jested, raising his eyebrows.

  “Oh, I see!” Elita laughed. “Can’t say we’ve met. I’m Elita One.” She batted her optics, “My, I must say, you’re quite easy on the optics yourself.” Elita fluttered her optics, playing along.

  “Elita-One…” He savored the name on his tongue “Beautiful name. Are you free tonight, by any chance?”

  Elita chuckled. “Why, yes I am.”

  “Mind if I grab us some drinks, my dear?”

  Elita softly smiled, taking Optimus’s hand again, and placing it over her spark. “That sounds lovely.”

  _____________________________________

  Back in the medbay, Ratchet was the last bot left in Ironhide’s room. Ironhide hadn’t woken up again yet, which was nothing to really worry about. But it still made Ratchet too nervous not to keep an optic on him for the rest of the night. It’s not like he could sleep even if he wanted to, anyway.

  Ironhide was stable for the time being, which put the old doctor somewhat at ease. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning as he arched his back. He pulled up a chair and sat down by Ironhide’s bedside. “Hang in there, old buddy.” He spoke softly to his patient.

  His com beeped. He heard First Aid’s voice when he answered.

  *“Hey, Ratch. A someone out here asking for you.”*

  *“What? Why can’t they go ask another medic? I’m busy.”

  *“I’ll just tell Drift to come back later.”*

  “Wait! Drift? ….Go ahead and send 'em’ in.”

  *“You sure?”*

  “I can’t leave Hide alone. Besides, Drift wouldn’t cause any trouble.”

  *” Alrighty, then.”*

  After Ratchet closed the comm, he let out a vent. “Just keep focused!” He mentally told himself.

  Not before long, Drift knocked on the door.

  “Come on in!” Ratchet called out before standing from his seat.

  Drift opened the door and stepped in, giving the doctor a weak smile. The pointy, almost feline-looking horns on Drift’s helm were slightly drooped down. It was subtle, but Ratchet noticed.

  “You feeling okay, kid?” Ratchet asked.

  Drift rubbed the back of his helm, pausing for a moment. He looked into Ratchet’s optics with sincerity and said, “I think Roddy has a problem…”

  Ratchet offered his seat to him, “Come on, buddy, have a seat.” He went to get himself another chair and positioned it across from Drift before taking a seat. He reached over to rub the side of Drift’s arm reassuringly for a moment before speaking, “You’re worried about Hot Rod, yeah?”

  “He got sick and passed out at the lounge again…”

  “Aw, Jeez! Not again! Why didn’t anyone call for a medic?

  “He’s okay now. Woke up only a few minutes later.”

  “Someone still should have called!”

  Drift sighed, “You know how he is, Doc.”

  Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose. “That boy is too reckless for his own good.” He lightly shook his head, “This is about him overindulging in his vices, isn’t it?”

  Drift let out a vent from his nose, “I didn’t think it was a big deal at first. I mean, we all have our vices. Even I drink and get high with him pretty often. But lately it’s like….” Drift’s optics flickered as he searched for the right words. Ratchet gave him a moment, leaning back slightly in his chair but keeping his gaze fixated on his friend. “It’s like it’s all he wants to do now.” Drift looked down at his hands. “And whenever he is sober, he just seems… not there? Just sort of zoned out. Doesn’t talk much, doesn’t respond to affection much, and doesn’t even seem that interested in interfacing. But whenever I bring it up, he just brushes me off!”

  Ratchet sighed deeply, his optics dimming for a moment. “I’ll be honest, kid. I’ve been suspecting for a while that he may have substance abuse issues.”

  Drift down looked at the floor, optics dimming, saying nothing.

  “Dammit…” Ratchet muttered, “I should have brought it up with Optimus earlier! I’ve been noticing the early signs, but nearly everyone on this Primus-forsaken fleet is addicted to SOMETHING! And he’s not a sparkling anymore. I can’t just make him stop.”

  “Please don’t tell Optimus! The whole reason I came to you instead was so that Optimus wouldn’t confront Roddy. He gets very defensive about his habits and the last thing I want is to cause an argument between them.

  Ratchet ex-vented sharply, “Drift, buddy-“

  “I’ve already caused enough tension between him and Elita One. I don’t wish to do any more damage.”

  “Drift…” Ratchet sighed, but his optics held a sincere gaze, “You shouldn’t blame yourself for things like that. Roddy’s family drama is not your fault, or responsibility to fix”

  Drift’s “cat ears” lowered more, his gaze drifting away from Ratchet’s. “They’re my family now, too, Ratch.” his voice was quiet yet clear.

  Ratchet ignored the pit that had formed within his spark. He spoke to his friend with an uncharacteristic tenderness, “You’re a good person, Drift.” He leaned in, gently grasping Drift’s shoulders, “But you can’t blame yourself for things you have no control over. I had to learn that myself the hard way.” Drift’s optics met his again. Ratchet let go of his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I won’t tell Optimus.”

  Drift let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ratchet.”

  Ratchet grumbled, “Hot Rod is a grown mech, he should make his own decisions.” he frowned. “I just hope he’ll start making the right decisions.”

  Drift rubbed the side of his arm, “Thank you, Ratchet. I’m really glad I can trust you.”

  Ratchet smiled softly, unable to suppress the soft fluttering of his spark, “You always can. No matter what.” Ratchet straightened his back to stretch his aching spinal cable. “I’ll talk to Roddy. But knowing him, whatever I say might just go through one audio processor and out the other.”

  “I think he knows he has a problem but won’t admit it to himself. He’s a lot smarter than he lets on.” Drift said, furrowing his brow, “But maybe realizing that others aside from me are starting to notice might be a wake-up call for him.”

  “I know…” Ratchet said, looking down. “I’ve struggled in the past with my vices as well.” He reached out to place a hand on Drift’s shoulder again, “I’ll make sure to keep an optic on him.”

  Drift placed a hand over Ratchet’s, “I…. I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me.” He smiled.

  Ratchet could feel his faceplate start to warm up and pretended to cough to the side, fearing that he may be blushing. “Like I said, you can always trust me, Drift.” Ratchet got up, wincing as his ancient joints ground against each other. “Primus, I think I might need knee and hip replacements.”

  Drift looked over to Ironhide, who was still peacefully in recharge mode. “How’s Ironhide doing?” he asked.

  Ratchet answered as he checked his friend’s vitals. “He’s stable, for now. But he keeps waking up at random. Often crying or screaming bloody murder.” He glanced over at Ironhide, the grief and exhaustion being obvious on his face, “He can’t be left alone.”

  Drift sat for a moment, thinking. Then he asked, “How long have you been working?”

  “Haven’t been keeping track. Few days maybe?”

  “A few days?! No wonder you look exhausted!”

  “Part of the job, kid. Part of the job.”

  “I can practically hear your joints grinding from here, Doc. You need to rest.”

  “Hmph.”

  “I’m serious! You can’t perform at your best when you’re this tired. It can lower your spark’s vibrational energy frequency.”

  Ratchet rolled his optics and groaned, “I’m a doctor, Drift, you think I don’t know that not resting is bad?”

  “Then why can’t you have the other medics take turns watching him?”

  Ratchet let out a sharp, exasperated huff, “They can’t. I’m the only medic that Ironhide remembers. And I’m the only medic who’s able to calm him down.”

  Drift’s gaze softened as he looked at Ratchet. “You can’t pour from an empty cube, Ratchet.”

  Ratchet stubbornly crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath, “I hate when your obnoxious flowery words have a point.”

  Drift smiled faintly, a spark of amusement in his optics. “When was the last time you refueled, Doc?”

  Ratchet grunted. He had to think for a second before answering, “First Aid gave me a bag of rust sticks this morning.”

  “Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

  Ratchet’s spark jolted, rejuvenating a small amount of energy. “Y-Y-You’re asking me out to dinner?”

  “I actually wanted to ask you a few days ago but… you were always working. I never get the chance.” Drift paused to scratch an itch on the back of his horn. “Sorry, this is all so sudden.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say! I…. What about Hot Rod?!”

  “He said he’ll try to be there, but he’s still not feeling very well.”

  “Wait… what?”

  “The whole gang is going to be there.” Drift raised a brow. “……You forgot it was my birthday, didn’t you?”

  Ratchet felt a strange mixture of relief disappointment, and shame. “I… I’m sorry Drift. I really didn’t know!”

  Drift smiled softly. “It’s alright, Doc. You’ve been very overworked lately.”

  Ratchet sadly turned his gaze to Ironhide. He thought for a while in silence before sighing deeply and saying, “I’ll… I’ll see if one of the other medics can cover me for tonight.”

  “Great!” Drift stood from his chair, giving the doctor two thumbs up, “I’ll meet you at The Chrimson Cube in two groons!”

  Ratchet watched Drift leave the medbay before he could change his mind, the door sliding shut with a soft hiss. He stood there for a moment, staring at the space Drift had occupied. His spark felt oddly light, in contrast to his exhaustion. Despite how much the former-con annoyed Ratchet with his infuriatingly soft, flowery words of wisdom always had a way of pulling him out of his routine. But the thought of leaving Ironhide alone made his fuel processor churn uneasily. “Just for one night.” The old mech muttered to himself. He checked Ironhide’s vitals one last time- still stable. He went to lightly touch the top of the injured mech’s helm. “You’re in good hands, friend.”

  With one final look, Ratchet turned and left the medbay.

  __________________________________

  The bar lounge and various vending machines scattered about the ship were not the only places to refuel on something more interesting than plain energon. Each ship had at least one fully functioning restaurant. The Crimson Cube was The Ark’s. Ironically, it was owned by a former Decepticon. He had joined the Autobots near the end of the war with his merged conjunx, who was his inspiration for the restaurant’s name. Running the restaurant allowed him to channel his intense energy into something more productive than smashing things and getting into fistfights with Bulkhead.

  Optimus Prime and Elita One sat together in The Crimson Cube’s waiting area. “They added new drinks since I was last here,” Optimus commented, scrolling down the menu tablet in his hand. Elita visually took in the feel of the place. It was much more classy than she expected. Not a perfect 10, but a nice enough place to have a date. There was even live music. Rewind was playing a piano-like instrument on a small stage as a guest musician.

  “I refuse to believe Breakdown was in charge of the atmosphere here.”

  “It’s most likely Knockout’s work,” Optimus responded, still looking at the menu.

  “Well, that certainly explains the shiny red walls.”

  A purple fembot, who looked like she had just been dug out of a scrap heap, walked up to the couple with a forced smile and a slight limp. She had a green badge on her upper left arm to indicate that she was in intensive psychiatric care, but was currently low risk. Optimus noticed her sneak a glance at something on her forearm.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Welcome. Esteemed guests…. To The Crimson Cube. I will be Your server-“ She shot another glance at her forearm, “for the evening.” She grimaced.

  The Crimson Cube only hired former cons turned Autobots to help ease their integration into the faction through positive interactions and fulfilling work. They made for surprisingly good chefs, but often iffy customer service.

  Elita thought she recognized the femme ex-con. “Hold on, aren’t you…. You punched my kid in the face once!”

  The waitress sighed, “First of all, I have a name. It’s Shadowstriker. Second of all- BumbleBRAT tripped me and ruined my aim first!”

  Elita revved her engine, making the much younger fembot back away.

  Optimus quickly spoke up, “AND, this all happened vorns ago. Let’s not get too heated here, ladies. Please.”

  Shadowstriker let out a loud exhausted sigh. “Just follow me.” She said, quite coldly.

  She lead the couple to a cozy booth near the stage, her damaged leg clinking against the polished floor.

  Elita sat down first, followed by Optimus cozying up next to her. He could hear her engine gently purring against his. Optimus smiled softly as he leaned in a little closer.

  “Are you ready to order yet?” Shadowstriker asked impatiently.

  Optimus looked at the datapad again. “Hmmm, I think I need a little more time. How about you, darling?” Elita responded with a nod, distracted by a sticker she was trying to peel off the edge of the table.

  Shadowstriker rolled all five of her optics. “You’ve been looking at that menu for like 20 minutes, dude….” The waitress muttered under her breath before saying, “Just try to pick something.” Before leaving to wait at another table.

  “Glad to know she’s still just as peachy as ever.”

  “It may not seem like it, but she’s trying. She hasn’t had an easy life.”

  Elita lightly shook her head and smiled. “Same ol’ Oppie. Trying to see the good in everyone.”

  Optimus gave his conjunx a gentle rub on the back, near one of her hot spots. She silently returned the gesture. “What do you feel like having, babe?” she asked, leaning over to look at the menu.

  “Shall we start with an appetizer? The Chisel-Cut Crystal Chunks look good.”

  “Hmmmm….” Elita studied the photo of the dish on the datapad for a while. “I think I’d like the Shanix Platters. You think you’d like that?”

  “Certainly!”

  “Alright. How about drinks?”

  “I’ve been meaning to try the restaurant signature; The Crimson Cube. Although I doubt it’s as good with a low grade instead of a high grade.”

  “Maybe I’ll try that t-

  Elita was interrupted by a loud, pitiful wail from the booth next to them, “wuuuuUUUUAAAAAHUHUHUUUUUUGH……”

  Elita closed her optics and muttered, “Oh GOD.”

  Optimus placed his face in his palm. Both bot’s antennae had immediately flattened back the moment they heard the cry, “Out of all the places we could have been seated…“ he muttered.

  “UUUUHUHUHUUUUUUUU….. wWAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAWAAAA!!!”

  Elita and Optimus could both recognize the gentle voice of a second mech in the booth beside them, “Starscream, please! Try to get ahold of yourself!”

  “WHY DID I DO IT, SKY?! WHY!?”

  “Hey, buddy, we all have done and said things we regret while drunk.”

  “aaaaaaaAAAARRGH!”

  “Maybe we should just try to ground ourselves, sort out some feelings, and then maybe we can go have an honest, adult conversation with Windblade about it.”

  “WAAAAAAAHAAAAAAA!!!”

  Skyfire’s optics darted around, trying to see if anyone was watching. “Starscream! Please, try to get ahold of yourself!” He whispered. He grabbed a napkin and started wiping the tears of the seeker’s cheeks. Miraculously, Starscream accepted the gesture of kindness without complaint. He sat there sniffling for a bit, absently poking at his solarium-glazed crystal dessert with his utensil.

  “I can’t tell if I regret saying it or taking it back- UGH!” He dug his talons into the sides of his helmet. “I don’t know how to feel!” He pounded his fists on the table, “It makes me so angry! ARGH!”

  Skyfire held his face in his hands. He slunk down his seat a little as if his massive frame wasn’t extremely recognizable to every bot on the fleet. He watched silently as Starscream aggressively shoved his donut into his mouth all at once, then began to sob again. “Look at me! I’m DISGUSTING!” His voice muffled through the chunks of donut now falling apart all over his chassis.

  Elita waved down a waiter passing by. Seeing the Autobot leader and his second-in-command, the waiter straightened his back and forced a wide grimace. He was a tall, lanky, purple, grey, and black mech with his almost comically oversized trailer wings flattened against his back, presumably to not knock anything over as he traveled the short distance to the couple’s table.

  “hh-hHI! YES HELLO-“ The waiter’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and did a corny bow towards Elita. “M’lady.” He awkwardly turned to Optimus and did the same, “M….. M’Prime?”

  Elita pressed her forehead into her palm as she leaned against the table, while Optimus let out a soft vent, “Hello Octane.” He greeted, still rubbing his temples from the headache-inducing volume coming from the booth next to him.

  Octane seemed more focused on Elita. “And how shall I assist you tonight, m’lady?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Elita had to keep every mechanical structure in her face from cringing so hard she imploded. Meanwhile, Optimus was too socially oblivious to see what Octane was doing. “If you don’t mind, could we please be seated somewhere else?” She said, trying to sound cordial.

  “Ah about that, M’lady-“ He bowed again. One of Elita’s optic lids twitched. “Unfortunately, we are fully booked tonight. Some assholes over there are having a birthday party I think.”

  The assholes over there were indeed, having a birthday party. Drift sat slightly away from the others, having two seats saved on each side of him. He watched the ice in his energon cocktail swirl around as he poked at it with his straw. A small white and blue mech at his table broke away from the jovial conversation he was having with the other guests. He gently poked Drift in the arm. “You okay, Drift? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

  “I’m okay Tailgate, thanks. It’s just…. I was hoping everyone could make it before we started ordering.”

  Tailgate looked at the space left for Hot Rod. “Ah, I see.” He patted the cushiony seat of the space next to him. Drift scooted over closer with the rest of his friends. “Try not to worry about it too much, okay? I’m sure Roddy will show up soon!”

  “Thanks, Tailgate.” Drift smiled softly.

  “What in the world is going on over there?” Arcee commented on the audial disturbance coming from around the stage area.

  “Oh god. It’s not Starscream, is it?” Cyclonus grunted.

  Tailgate stood up, trying to get a better look. Cyclonus placed a taloned hand atop his merged conjunx’s head and gently pushed him back down in his seat. Then Whirl, who was sitting on the other side of Cyclonus, stood up to get his own look. “Would you sit DOWN?!” Cyclonus gritted his fangs as he tugged one of his other conjunx’s pincers.

  Whirl brushed him off, “Relax, Cy-guy, it’s not like he’s gonna notice me!”

  Cyclonus rubbed his temples, “You are the ONLY person here who has the ARMS of a CRAB!”

  Whirl ignored him, looking almost spaced out.

  “What are you doing?” Drift asked Whirl, “What are you doing?! Are you staring at them?!”

  “Yea dude, Skyfire’s lookin’ right at me.”

  Everyone lowered themselves in their seats slightly, save for Tailgate, who was now UNDER the table. “Stop it! Dude, stop it!” Drift whisper-yelled at Whirl.”

  Whirl’s gaze remained silent as Skyfire was making direct-optic contact with the other Autobot, whose expression somehow looked identical despite Whirl literally not having a face.

  Arcee hid her face behind the menu. “Stop looking at them!”

  Cyclonus finally grabbed Whirl by the hips and made him sit down. Which seemed to excite Whirl a little too much, but at least the agonizing moment was now over.

  Skyfire awkwardly turned his attention back to Starscream, shaking off the brief incident. He knew that Whirl kid was an odd one, anyway. He carefully took his much smaller hands into his, gently rubbing his palms with his thumbs. He had quieted back down again and was now doing that soft sniffling thing that always managed to butter Skyfire up. “Oh, Star…” He signed deeply, lightly shaking his head. “I think you need to ween off the substances, at least just for a little while.”

  Starscream looked up at the massive mech, whatever makeup he had on was now smeared all over his face. “What are you, crazy?! How else am I supposed to keep sane on this trip!?”

  “I understand how hard it is. But clearly, it’s been getting you in trouble again.”

  Starscream rolled his optics “Oh as if we both haven’t seen Optimus Prime in the lounge, pounding several pints of low-grade at the time.”

  Elita’s voice could be heard scolding from the other booth, “He does NOT do that!”

  Optimus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Um… Actually, Elita-“ she put a hand up to him, “Don’t encourage the bird.”

  “SILENCE, AUTOBOT SCUM!” Starscream snapped.

  “DON’T you make me come over there!” Elita said through gritted denta.

  Rewind, still playing away on stage, jumped at the noise and accidentally messed up a note. He looked down at Starscream, annoyed, but still playing. Starscream stuck his tongue out at him. Rewind tapped the camera on the side of his helm, reminding the seeker that he filmed everything he saw. Starscream was just about to stick out a middle talon before Skyfire pushed his hands down. “Starscream! You aren’t a Sparkling!”

  Octane cleared his throat and turned his attention to Starscream, “Hey, Screamer, can you maybe keep it down JUST a l-“

  “NOT NOW, OCTANE!”

  “Okie Dokie, then!” Octane turned to leave, smacking Skyfire on the back of his helm with one of his comically large trailer wings without noticing.

  “Ugh, forget it.”Elita huffed, trying to refocus on the menu options.

  Optimu’s antennae suddenly perked up when he saw an old friend walk by his table. “Ratchet!” He momentarily got up from his seat to greet the medic. He gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “Optimus?” Ratchet looked at Elita, who waved at him. “Well, what do ya’ know? Knew you two couldn’t pry each other off of one another if your lives depended on it!” He chortled.

  Elita smiled and looked back at the menu. “I’m happy to see you taking a break, Ratch’”

  Optimus took a step back, eyeing his friend up and down.

  “……..Why are you looking at me like that?” Ratchet blushed a little. His secretive feelings for Optimus may have been long in the past, but the Autobot Leader still sometimes could fluster him. Luckily the old mech had never been great at reading subtle facial expressions.

  “You’re shiny!”

  Ratchet looked down at himself. “Oh…. yea. I just polished.”

  “You look great!”

  “Th-Thanks…. I figured it was time I freshen up. Want to look professional for my patients.”

  One of Elita’s antennae flopped to the side. “You feeling alright, doc?”

  “I’m fine. Why would I be nervous? Just going to Drift’s birthday dinner. I’m not nervous.”

  “………….I didn’t say you looked nervous.”

  The medic cleared his throat and stood up straight. “Must have misheard you then.”

  Optimus raised an eyebrow. “Um, sure.”

  “I er, should get going now. I’m running a bit late.”

  “Yea… Well, have fun buddy. And try to let yourself relax.” Optimus patted him on the back, “And that’s an order, soldier.” He jested, garnering a light smirk from his friend.

  “Sir, yes, sir.” Ratchet gave the Prime’s shoulder a friendly rub before saying goodbye to Elita and heading to his table. Vented in deeply and told himself, “It’s just a birthday party. You’ve been to plenty of those. This one is no different.”

  “Ratchet!” Drift Optics brightened as he greeted the old doctor.

  Ratchet smiled and waved awkwardly.

  “uuuuUUUUGH, you invited the party pooper?” Whirl complained.

  Cyclonus lightly bonked him on the helm, not taking his optics off the drink menu. “Don’t be so rude.”

  Ratchet rolled his optics. “Be thankful I’m not Magnus.”

  “Fair point.” Said Whirl.

  Drift got out of his seat and let Ratchet slide in next to Tailgate.

  When Drift slid back in, his aft lightly bumped into Ratchet’s. “Oh! Sorry, Doc!” the younger mech said.

  “W-Wow, we really are crammed into this booth, aren’t we?” Ratchet said, feeling his faceplate heat up.

  “Yeah, sorry about the space. We’re still expecting Roddy. Swerve had to cancel for some reason he didn’t mention.” Said Drift

  “I-It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Responded Ratchet.

  “CRASH!”

  The restaurant rabble quieted for a brief moment. Several heads turned to see Octane drop to the floor, quickly trying to gather the shards of glass cube that had been knocked over.

  Breakdown’s voice boomed out from the kitchen’s window station, “Octane! How many times do I have to tell you?! Wings folded DOWN when you’re on the floor!”

  Skyfire gave Starscream a sad look, “Better go clean that up before Breakdown realizes I still haven’t returned from break.”

  “Yea…. I don’t want to get you in trouble again”

  Skyfire felt slightly taken back by Starscream’s consideration. He took a napkin and gently wiped the tears and smudged makeup off the seeker’s face. He knew Starscream likely wouldn’t remember the loving gesture in the morning, which is what Skyfire preferred, “I’ll see you later Star, okay? Please try to stay out of trouble.”

  Starscream didn’t respond, he just stared down at his plate, sniffling. Skyfire felt a lump in the back of his throat as he reluctantly left him alone in the both. He knew he shouldn’t be so soft on Starscream. The mech was a complete maniac, but now and then his old self would leak through his cracks and cause Skyfire to cave.

  Despite being bigger than Octane, Skyfire was much more aware of his own size and strength. Using a take-out box, his large fingers picked up the glass fragments with care and precision. Gathering the pieces in the box, he took it outside and dumped it in the recycling chute. When he returned, Starscream was gone.

  He heard his boss bark at him as soon as he walked back in, “Where the hell have you been?!”

  “I apologize, Breakdown. I was er, ‘Starscream wrangling’”

  “Oh.” Said Breakdown, suddenly changing his demeanor. “Ugh, we’ll talk about this later. It’s a full house tonight and I need everyone on the floor.” He reached up and shoved a datapad into the taller mech’s face. “Now, get your aft out there!”

  Skyfire hurried to his station and looked at the table number on the datapad. His face turned cold. “Out of ALL the tables I could have gotten…Why? Why me?” He reluctantly shuffled over to Drift’s party table. Their chattering went quiet. Except for Whirl, who stared at him for a moment, blinked, and said, “Yea, I’ll take the uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh Dark Matter Storm cocktail. That shit looks good. And uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh the Quantum Glitch Skewers. Oh, and no oil for the purple guy, he’s pregnant.

  Cyclonus slapped his hand to his face. “Must you announce that to EVERYONE?”

  “Just trying to get us that breeder’s discount.”

  “BREEDER’S discount?!” Arcee nearly spat out her coolant, “The fuck is a ‘breeder’s discount’?!”

  “That’s a thing they do here?” Tailgate asked with sincerity.

  “That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard! Of course, that isn’t a real discount!”

  Skyfire uncomfortably scratched the back of his helm. “Actually Ratchet, er-“

  Ratchet’s optics widened. “No. You’re lying.”

  “Well, we call it the ‘Parental discount’, but yeah…. It’s basically a discount for people who contribute to repopulating our species.”

  Ratchet began rubbing his eyebrows. “Oh, please don’t tell me it was Prime’s idea.”

  “It was Prime’s idea.”

  Ratchet only groaned.

  Drift was trying so hard not to burst into laughter at the current conversation. Arcee was already in hysterics while Whirl gave Ratchet a smug look (…..somehow).

  “Um, can we finish ordering now, please? I’m very hungry.” Tailgate asked shyly.

  “Oh! Of course!” Skyfire held a stylus to his datapad, ready to take the order.

  Not wanting to make the group wait any longer, Ratchet ordered something random and cheap off the menu. After the rest of the table had ordered, Ratchet was sipping at his complimentary glass of coolant when he felt Drift accidentally elbow him directly in a hot spot on the side of his upper torso. The doctor’s frame stiffened as he sucked in a gasp. His face felt red-hot as he felt the immediate pressure increasing under his panel.

  “Woah! Sorry there, Ratch!” Drift apologized.

  Arcee tilted her head, asking, “Hey, are you feeling alright, Ratchy? You don’t look so good.”

  Ratchet’s face felt even hotter. “I uh- I-I’m, I’m-“ Everyone at the table looked at him, confused, “I er, J-Just remembered I need to take my medication. I’ll be back.” Ratchet got up without saying anything else, leaving the others baffled.

  He passed by Skyfire, who Elita had gotten up to talk to, “I’m sorry to bother you Skyfire.” Elita said in earnest, “Do you know where our waitress is? We’ve been waiting for a long time.”

  “Was she cranky and unsettling to look at?”

  Elita smirked, antennae perking up slightly, “Well, I wouldn’t exactly phrase it like that, but yes.”

  “Shadowstriker must’ve forgotten to clock out for her break again. I’ll go get you another server.”

  “Thank you so much, Skyfire.” Elita smiled warmly at him.

  Skyfire smiled back and waved her goodbye when she left to return to Optimus. She wanted to tell him he was doing a great job but didn’t want to sound patronizing. She honestly didn’t know why he was even working there. He had been a fully-fledged Autobot for most of the duration of the war. He had long since proven himself to the others. Maybe he was just bored and needed something to do on this ship, aside from wrangling The Bird.

  Elita One returned to her seat, wrapping an arm around Optimus’s waist as she slid in next to him. He returned the affection by doing the same. “Skyfire is finding us a new server.” She said to him.

  “Ah, that’s good.” Was all Optimus responded with as he rubbed near the hot spot on her back. She leaned into him, closing her optics as her engine gently purred.

  His deep voice vibrated against her metal armor, “I never asked how much longer you were planning to stay.”

  “Well, since my ‘unplanned vacation extension’ messed with my plans to only stay for a few days, I should be getting back to Omega Supreme soon, but… I’m not sure how comfortable I am leaving Chromia when she’s still in such a fragile state.”

  “If… If you wish to stay longer-“

  “Of course, I’ll move in with you, Oppie.” She said without hesitation.

  Optimus smiled softly, kissing her on the helm.

  “But I can’t keep Firestar in charge of Omega Supreme indefinitely.” Elita frowned, “She’s been doing a great job and has been incredibly understanding of my situation, but I fear she may be hiding how overwhelmed she is.”

  Optimus gave her another peck on the helm. “Do what you feel is best. I will always wait for you. No matter how long we’re apart.”

  Elita would have responded with her own sweet nothings if it hadn’t been for their new server interrupting her.

  “Ah! What a wonderful coincidence, m’lady!” Octane bowed again.

  Utensils rattled as Elita’s forehead plopped against the table. “Goddammit.”

  Ratchet didn’t notice them as he walked by their table at a brisk pace, heading back to the party. He sat back down next to Drift, still feeling bashful.

  Drift had barely acknowledged Ratchet’s return, which was unusual.

  “You good, Ratchet?” Tailgate asked.

  “Yes… I had just forgotten my joint pain medication in my quarters, that’s all.”

  Noticing Drift’s silence, Ratchet gently shook Drift’s arm. “Hey, you’re being pretty quiet kid, is everything alright?

  Arcee asked him as well, “Yeah, Drift. You’ve been silent since Ratchet left. Something wrong?”

  Drift shook his head. “I just….. I have this really bad feeling all of a sudden. I don’t know what it is.”

  This unsettled Ratchet. As skeptical as the old mech was, he knew not to be too quick to brush off Drift’s intuition.

  “You’re not feeling ill, are you?” Ratchet asked with genuine concern.

  “No, it’s not that…. It’s hard to explain….” Drift shook his head, “Whatever. It’s probably just some PTSD thing.” He picked one of the energized plasma roll appetizers they ordered with a pair of chopsticks. Whirl, seeing an opportunity to be a menace, took one chopstick and skewered three rolls before his long pincers accidentally dropped his utensil into his drink.

  Whirl blinked. “Fuck.”

  Cyclonus shook his head, but a quick smirk still flashed on his face while Arcee and Tailgate laughed. Drift managed to let out a forced giggle. Ratchet wanted to place a hand on his back as a reassuring gesture but was nervous about touching him again.

  *BANG*

  The entire restaurant went dead silent.

  Only thing in the room louder than a pin dropping was Breakdown. “Dammit, Octane! What did I JUST tell you?!”

  Octane looked at the floor around him, “Hey man, wasn’t me this time!”

  After a few moments of processing, Ratchet leaped from his seat and flew out the doors without saying a word. Optimus got up to follow him but felt himself pulled back as Elita grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.” She whispered.

  He looked back at her, eyebrows creasing. “Elita…. you know I have to.”

  “Don’t.” She pleaded, “You've already seen too much in this lifetime. Give your spark a rest.”

  Optimus glanced at the exit again, watching Drift run after Ratchet, followed by the rest of his party. The Prime felt his beloved squeeze his hand. Hesitantly, he sat back down.

  Several people were already getting up to leave, not saying a word. Breakdown, his tone monotone and volume uncharacteristically low, spoke out to his patrons, “Kitchens’ closed, everybody. Finish eating and go home.” He then disappeared into the back room.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Elita said to Optimus. They walked in silence back to each other’s quarters, only speaking to bid each other goodnight once they had to part ways.

  Once his merged had left, Optimus had planned to find out who the shot came from this time. He arrived outside the medbay. Just as he reached out his hand to push open the doors, a soft little voice spoke to him, “I wouldn’t go in there.” Optimus turned around to see Tailgate sitting all alone in the corner of the waiting area. “They even made Ratchet leave….” The minibot said, twiddling his thumbs.

  “Who was it?” Optimus asked.

  Tailgate shook his head lightly. “Don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I’m waiting for someone to come out and tell me. Ratchet chased us all away before we could see who it was.”

  “Why wasn’t Ratchet let in?”

  “The ol’ guy was hysterical. I’ve never seen him lose his cool that badly. Is that normal for him?”

  Optimus closed his optics and ex-vented, “No. No, it’s not. I’ll check on him when I can.”

  Tailgate gazed at the floor in front of him. “I think it was one of our friends…”

  Optimus wanted to bolt right then and there so he could check on his boys, but retained his composure.  “Thank you for sharing this information, Tailgate. It’s important that I know these things.” Before turning to leave he told the minibot one last thing, “Take care of yourself, friend.”

  Tailgate barely nodded, squeaking out a sad little “Yes sir, I’ll try to.” His optics widened beneath his visor, not expecting Optimus to give him a reassuring pat on top of his helm.

  After leaving Tailgate outside the medbay, he checked his mobile terminal to contact Roddy and Bee. But to his immense relief, Elita had already PMed him a message, stating that she had already checked on the two of them, and both were recharging in their respective quarters. He sent a text back to Elita, thanking her. Then he sent a new PM to Ratchet, asking if he was alright. He got no response, but the message was read. Ratchet hated being disturbed when he needed his space, so Optimus decided he’d see how he was doing in the morning.

  Upon arriving at his door, he noticed an unexpected yet familiar orange mech, pacing back and forth through the hallway. He mumbled to himself, with one hand fiddling with an antennae while the other nervously twisting his beard around his finger. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine! Just go talk to her. It’s fine!” the mech muttered, “It’s soooo easy! Just do it! I mean, I AM rather irresistible, aren’t I?” He stopped for a moment to look at his blurry reflection on the metal wall, winking at himself with a toothy grin. He stood still for a moment, facing the wall. Then his frame began to vibrate, increasing in intensity. Optimus took a step back.

  The orange mech leaped in the air, “AAAAAAAAAH IT’S NOT OKAY! SHE HATES ME!!!!!”

  He fell to his knees and began sobbing. Optimus inched closer, about to place a reassuring hand on the somewhat younger mech’s shoulder. But then the Prime had to step back again while the crying mech flipped onto his stomach, pounding his fists on the ground and kicking his legs like a sparkling.

  Stopping his tantrum as suddenly as he started it, he sprang back up to his feet and gave himself a hard slap in the face. “GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

  “Wreck-Gar?”

  “AGH!” the frantic bot spun around to face Optimus, striking an (incorrect) fighting pose. “Oh. It’s just you.” His frame relaxed as he sighed and placed a rusty beige servo on the Prime’s shoulder. “Gave me quite the spook there, ol’ buddy!” he chortled.

  Optimus raised a brow. “Is… everything alright, Wreck-Gar?”

  Wreck-Gar begab wheeze-laughing and gave the Prime a soft punch in the arm, which was silently unappreciated.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Wreck-Gar dropped to his knees once again, his arms wrapped around a navy blue leg. “I MISS HER So MUCH!!!! WAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!”

  Optimus tried to carefully shake his friend off. “Do you erm…. want to talk about it?”

  Wreck-Gar sprung back up again, hugging Optimus tight enough for some rest to scrape onto his chassis. “I LOVE HEEEEEER AAAAAUGHUHHUHHHHH!!!!”

  If Optimus had been witnessing anyone else displaying this sort of behavior, he’d be concerned they were on something dangerous, like synth en. But this was just Wreck-Gar. The bot had a few screws loose, no doubt about that. But he had far more intelligence than he let on and was a good family friend of the Prime’s. As overwhelmed as he already felt, he still couldn’t stand idly while his fellow Autobots paced the halls of The Ark, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Optimus guided him inside his quarters, patting the junkion on the back as he blubbered something else about his conjunx. “There, there,” Optimus said to him, “Let’s just have a seat, relax with a glass of heated energon, and you can tell me all about it.”

  Truth be told, Optimus was a little glad that another issue had popped up just in time to temporarily take his mind off the recent tragedy.

  He sat Wreck-Gar down on the bed and went to get him some energon from the ship’s tap. The liquid struggled out of the faucet in a thin, choppy stream.

  Wreck-Gar let out a pathetic little sigh as he took the energeon from Optimus’s hand. “Thanks, Prime...” he said. He tapped his fingers against the glass. “Rum-Maj and I are taking a break…”

  Optimus scratched the back of his helm. “Yeah, I figured it was something like that.”

  “I came to the Ark, hoping to win her spark back with my incredible talent.”

  “Wreck-Gar, don’t think that’ll-“

  Wreck-Gar pulled out a big, strange-looking instrument. It was this flexible tube…. thing? It had two segments on each end, one with a keyboard and the other with various buttons. The thing looked like it was made out of pieces of scrap glued together by a sparkling, yet the Junkion leader brandished it with pride nonetheless. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” He gave the instrument a kiss and a big hug. “I’ve been practicing!”

  “………………Where did you pull that out from?”

  Wreck-Gar put a finger to his lips with a mischievous grin, “Oh Optimus, my dear. A great magician never reveals his secrets!”

  “…..Since when did you become a-“ Optimus shook his head, “Nevermind! Wreck-Gar, I it would be better if you two just had a-“

  Optimus was cut off by a shrill squeal as Wreck-Gar began to play, “~Ooohhh YEAAAA!~”

  Optimus muttered to himself, “Primus have mercy…”

  “~Oh

  I'm your shelter from the storm

  You'll know I'll always have your back

  I'll even let you warm your freezing hands inside my butt crack~”

  Optimus stopped the assault on his auduals, placing his hands over Wreck-Gar’s. “Buddy…” he sighed, “I don’t think this is the way to win her back.”

  The Junkion’s ruby-red optics dimmed as his antennae drooped. “I know…” his instrument played a sad note, “But I don’t know what else to do!” he wailed, “I don’t want to become a depressed, overly serious old mech with a broken spark! Erm…. no offense.”

  Optimus furrowed his brow. “Actually, as a matter of fact, Elita and I are currently in the process of reconciling.”

  Wreck-Gar’s optics beamed as he gasped excitedly, “WHAT?! OH THAT’S GREAT!”

  Optimus covered his audials as Wreck-Gar played a few notes on his strange instrument.

  “OPILTA FOREVER, HELL YEA!”

  The sudden increase in volume caused the Autobot leader to flinch back.

  “Tell me! How’d you do it?”

  “Well, I er… I suppose I just had a serious talk with her? I don’t feel like getting into specifics if you don’t mind.”

  “So you two are back together for good now, right?”

  “Well… We’re trying to start over. Tonight was suposed to be our first date in a very long time but…”

  “That gunshot ruined the mood for ya?”

  “You heard it too?”

  “Yea. Thought a fuse blew at first, actually. I wanted to go see if I could fix it for ya’, but as soon as I saw the medics, I knew what happened.”

  The two shared a moment of uncomfortable silence before Wreck-Gar took a small sip of energeon and asked, “Soooo….. Any tips for winning my girlfriend back?”

  Optimus said, “Just be honest with her. And…. Maybe try not to start sobbing the moment you see her.”

  Wreck-Gar slouched, tapping on his glass and looking at the floor. “I…. I can’t lose another conjunx, Optimus…”

  Optimus felt a pang of guilt. He had forgotten that Wreck-Gar was a merge break survivor. That kind of trauma explained why Wreck-Gar was in such a state of panic over this breakup.

  “I swear I can still feel Nancy sometimes, ya’ know… Deep inside.” Wreck-Gar said, still staring at the ground and fiddling with his now-empty cube. He placed a hand over his spark, his red optics softly glowing. “There’s a part of her still alive in me, I think…” His antennae perked up a bit as he looked up at Optimus. “But then again, I’m not exactly known for having all the screws in my head in place, heh.” He set his glass down on the nightstand. “Well, if someone as humorless and super serious as you can get his gal back-“ he hopped off the bed. “Then maybe I can get mine back too!”

  “Yeah…. thanks.”

  Wreck-Gar took the Prime off guard again with a tight hug. Optimus smiled softly and patted him on the back. The Junkion let go of the Prime as suddenly as he clung to him. “There’s no time to waste!” He grabbed his instrument… thing gave Optimus an unexpected smooch on the cheek before running out the door. “I SHALL FIGHT FOR YOU, MY LOVE!”

  Optimus stood there for a moment, processing the encounter. As he usually did after interacting with Wreck-Gar. He vented out deeply and fell onto his bed. The eccentric Junkion leader was admittedly a welcome distraction. “I want one day that isn’t exhausting. Just one day…” He checked for any new PMs. Nothing. He messaged Elita, “Goodnight. I love you.”, before putting his mobile terminal down on the nightstand. He vented out again and closed his optics. Although knew he wasn’t going to get much rest that night, it still felt good to lay down.

  But even then, after what had just happened, he couldn’t keep his mind from racing. He opened his optics slightly, looking up at the cybercat poster on the ceiling above his bed. The cat in the image was depicted stuck in a tree, with a supernova explosion in the background, and words that read “could be worse!” in a big, cheerful font. Staring at the creature in the image, he said out loud to himself, “What……. What is a buttcrack?”