Archive of Our Own

“Uhhh… Ratchet?” 

Ratchet’s optics automatically jerked away from the spiraling chemical equations he was trying to untangle, and towards the comm line that had just opened on the other monitor. Bulkhead’s profile picture (his optics were slightly off-center, like he was glancing at something right when it was taken) stared back at him. 

“What is it, Bulkhead?” He replied with a slight frown. “I thought you all would be another hour at least.” 

“Um, well… we’re all fine.” 

Ratchet’s digits stiffened over the keyboard. His optics narrowed at the screen. 

“...And why wouldn’t you be?” The medic slowly asked. 

“Uh.” A faint, metallic rustling kept coming over the comm, as if Bulkhead was repeatedly turning his helm back and forth. “We… um…” 

“Bulkhead.” Ratchet’s voice was as firm as steel, hiding the cold spike of fear in his spark. He glared at the former Wrecker’s image for lack of his actual face. “What. Happened?” 

“Okay, okay,” Bulkhead stuttered out. Ratchet could practically picture him holding his servos up in placation. “So, good news, we found that energon deposit. It has the thickest veins we’ve seen in months! We won’t have to worry about fuel for a while after this.” 

“Good,” Ratchet huffed. “And the bad news?” 

“The bad news… uh… turns out the Decepticons found it too.” 

“Fragging… is anyone hurt?” 

“No, don’t think so-”

“What do you mean you ‘don’t think so’? How can you not tell?!” 

“Well, we ran into the patrol just outside the cave - we surprised them as much as they surprised us, heh. We got into a firefight and it was going alright, but then a group of them jumped Bumblebee. Then Optimus…” 

The following beat of silence stretched into what felt like hours. Ratchet’s spark crawled up his throat pipe, a heavy lump of burning coal. His shaking digits coiled together like a nest of worms. 

“What?” Ratchet barely kept himself from barking the word. “What happened to Optimus, Bulkhead?!” 

Bulkhead then - of all things - sighed. 

“Honestly, Ratchet, it might be easier if you just Bridge here and see. I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” 

Ratchet blinked at the green mech’s image, surprise breaking through his furious worry. His jaw silently worked up and down like a broken hinge. He let his servos slowly drop to his sides. 

“...Fine. Hold your position, I’m on my way.” 

He closed the comm line before Bulkhead could reply. Taking a step back, he rested his servos on his hips and gingerly stretched his back, spinal strut faintly clicking. He blew out a slow vent. 

“They’re fine,” he muttered to himself. “They said they’re fine, they’re fine. …He’s fine.” 

He stepped over to the GroundBridge controls, his joints creaking with dull groans. His processor throbbed in his helm, black stars bursting across his vision. His tank thrashed in his workings from dizziness. Stumbling, he pressed his digits against his temples hard enough for the metal to squeak. 

“Fragging Pits…” He muttered as his vision slowly cleared. “Come on, you old rust-bucket, just hold it together for a little longer.” 

His optics eventually got themselves together, and he activated the GroundBridge. Taking one last deep vent, he strode through. 

Sand crunched under Ratchet’s pedes as he stepped out of the portal. The dusty-orange canyon walls stretched above him, blocking most of the desert sun. The rise in temperature was still noticeable; something Ratchet’s cooler-than-usual plating could appreciate. 

He quickly spotted his teammates. Bulkhead hovered in the center of the canyon, optics lighting up in relief when they landed on the medic. Arcee stood a few yards behind him, arms crossed and faceplate pulled tight. Bumblebee was crouched in front of a darkened cleft in the canyon wall, peering into the shadows. They were surrounded by the fallen bodies of several Vehicons. 

Optimus was nowhere to be seen. 

“Alright, I’m here,” Ratchet said, walking up to Bulkhead. He flexed his digits to keep them from shaking. “What happened, where is he?” 

The former Wrecker promptly jabbed his thumb digit towards the shadowy crevasse. 

“In there,” he said with a frown. “He ran in there as soon as the Cons… uh…” 

“Ran off?” Ratchet guessed. 

His pede clunked against something. Looking down, his optics immediately caught onto the lurid blue splotches in the dirt. Energon dripped out of a severed arm, sand sprayed over the purple armor. It had not been a clean break - the metal was bent and torn at jagged angles. 

Ratchet stepped back instinctively, his spark in his intake. 

“Not exactly,” Arcee said. 

Ignoring the churning in his tank, Ratchet forced his optics back up. 

“This… this is too ragged for your blades, Arcee,” he said. “No burn marks from a blaster shot. What did this?” 

The femme’s frown tightened further, her gaze cutting towards the cleft. 

Stepping around the limb, Ratchet walked towards the shadows. His pedesteps came light and quiet on instinct. A faint breeze cut through the gaps in his armor panels, and he shivered despite himself. 

Bumblebee looked up as Ratchet reached him, door-wings twitching. His optics were wide and more than a little worried. 

“I think he’s okay,” he beeped. “I’ve been trying to get him to come out, but…” 

Ratchet nodded, patting the scout’s shoulder. He stepped closer, the tips of his pedes brushing the darker shadows. 

“Careful, doc,” Bulkhead called. 

“Oh please, Bulkhead.” Ratchet couldn’t help but snap over his shoulder. “I’m not in any danger.” 

Turning back to the darkness, he narrowed his optics. He took another step, dust billowing up from the floor. 

“Optimus?” He said into the shadows. 

For a long moment, everything was silent and still. 

Then came the sound; something that might have been a vent, but it was so low and rough that Ratchet almost didn’t recognize it. Slowly, two pale blue lights emerged from the darkness as a pair of optics opened. The glow was just bright enough to paint a faint outline of sharp, unfamiliar points. 

Angular optical ridges. 

Exhaust pipes poking up like horns. 

Fangs. An entire snout full of them. 

Ratchet stared, his vents caught in his throat pipe. His spark flipped in its casing like an anxious kremzeek. Carefully, he reached a servo out, making sure his digits didn’t shake. 

“Optimus?” He whispered. “Can you hear me?” 

The Dinobot blinked. A secondary optical lid flicked over both orbs, briefly tinting them yellow. Air rushed out of his olfactory vents with a faint huff. His long chin dipped down in an almost cautious nod. 

“Okay, good,” Ratchet said, keeping his voice soft. He didn’t know how sensitive Optimus’ audio receptors were right now. “Can you come a little closer?” 

Optimus’ jaw twitched. Metal rustled as he shifted his weight from side to side, clearly hesitant. 

“It’s okay,” Ratchet said. “The Decepticons are… gone. No one’s in danger. From anyone.” 

There was another pause. Finally, Optimus let out a rumbling sigh. Step by heavy step, he began to move forward. Light fell on a broad, red-plated muzzle, silver dentra peeking out of his closed intake. 

Some bots probably would have found it a little terrifying, admittedly. 

But Ratchet was focused on the optics. The light blue hue, the gentle glow, the core of inquisitiveness and kindness that never left no matter how bad things got. 

He knew those optics as well as his own, and they hadn’t changed at all. 

“There you are,” Ratchet said with a small smile. His digits gently brushed against the Dinobot’s snout. “See? Perfectly fine.” 

Optimus stiffened at the touch, optics widening a fraction. But after a moment, he relaxed, leaning into Ratchet’s palm and letting his optics slip closed. A faint purr rumbled from deep in his core. 

Primus frag it if it didn’t make Ratchet’s spark go warm in his chest.

“Okay.” Bulkhead’s voice burst out from behind them. “What is happening right now?” 

“I would also like to know what is happening right now,” Arcee flatly added. 

Optimus flinched, his anxious optics flickering towards Ratchet. 

The medic sighed, gave him an apologetic look, and turned to face the rest of the team. 

“Let’s get back to base. I need to give Optimus a proper full-frame scan. I’ll explain when we’re there. It’s… a long story.”

Despite multiple attempts on his part, Ratchet hadn’t actually seen Optimus’ new alternate mode before now. 

Optimus had given him a thorough description of its design, a rundown of the entire situation leading up to his scanning it, and even permission to examine the schematics stored in his t-cog. But no matter how many times Ratchet asked, Optimus had refused to transform and let him see it for himself. He’d actually made it clear that he had no intention of using it again unless absolutely necessary. 

So, admittedly, Ratchet might have been taking his time with this check-up. 

Like in his bot mode, most of Optimus’ armor was bright red, with his legs being a deep blue. His optics were a light blue that resembled - at least in Ratchet’s opinion - the beautiful hue of crystalline flowers. 

That’s where most of the similarities ended. Where he normally towered over the rest of the team, now he was only a foot taller than Bulkhead at most. His gray, stoic faceplate had been replaced by a broad, red muzzle; his narrow audials by thicker exhaust pipe-horns. 

His legs were stocky and his pedes downright huge (likely to support his altered weight distribution). Six sharpened toe struts scraped against the cement with every move he made. His tail ended with a cone-shaped protrusion that looked almost like a dull drillbit. 

The arms were probably the most dramatic change. Long, limber arms with gentle servos and precise digits had changed into two limbs barely the length of Ratchet’s forearm, ending in a pair of stubby claws. 

(And no, Ratchet wasn’t upset by this at all). 

“Well, everything looks stable,” he finally said. He stopped his methodical circling and met Optimus’ gaze. “Still no pain?” 

Optimus nodded, the thick plating around his neck clunking in an unfamiliar way. The Dinobot-ified Prime looked even more uncomfortable in the confines of the base, keeping his back hunched and his tail tucked close to his pedes. His optics flickered around constantly to keep track of everything close to him. Ratchet wasn’t even sure if he was venting too deeply. 

“Well, now that that’s settled…” Arcee said. The femme stood a few yards away, arms tightly crossed. Bumblebee and Bulkhead flanked her on either side with curious and anxious optics, respectfully. “Can you two tell us what is going on here?” 

Optimus glanced over at her, his tail coiling almost around his ankles. 

“Right,” Ratchet sighed. He walked over to his workbench and set his scanner down. He took the opportunity to lean against the platform, taking some pressure off his creaking joints. Picking up his polish rag for the sake of giving his servos something to do, he turned to face the team. 

“I’m assuming you all remember the other bots on this planet,” he began. “The team we stationed on that island in Maine?” 

“The civilian rescue personnel?” Arcee said, raising her optical ridge. “Yeah, what about them?” 

“Well, on that island is a town that serves as the testing ground for the latest Earth technology.” Ratchet idly smacked his rag against his servo. “It’s the big reason we placed the Rescuebots there in the first place.” 

“What better place to hide a bunch of giant transforming robots than in plain sight?” Bumblebee noted with a small smirk. 

“Exactly,” Ratchet said. “Anyways, one of those pieces of experimental technology was an animatronic of an Earth dinosaur meant for use in museums. To be exact, a… I don’t know, a Dominate-Trex?” 

Optimus cocked his helm and raised his optical ridge, frowning faintly. 

“I’m not an expert in extinct alien animals, Optimus.” Ratchet couldn’t help but huff at him. “Well, whatever it’s called, it got stuck under a rock slide and the Rescuebot team got in trouble trying to free it.” 

The medic couldn’t help but narrow his optics at his partner as the next words left his intake. His digits tightened until his grip on the rag was a stranglehold.

“And Optimus decided the best way to assist was to scan the animatronic as an alternate mode. Even though he had no idea how it was constructed and no prior experience with beast modes.” 

Optimus’ helm snapped up a bit. He grumbled like a disagreeable shuttle engine, twitching his jaw open and shut. His tail flicked lightly against the floor. Tiny claws tapped against his chestplate.

“The Matrix’s all-holy wisdom from Onyx Prime doesn’t count, Optimus!” Ratchet groaned, pinching his olfactory ridge. His processor ached with old arguments and ignored pop-ups.  

“Okay, okay,” Arcee cut in. “That’s all good, Ratchet, but it doesn’t explain why we haven’t heard about this before now.” 

“Yeah!” Bulkhead said, optics widening. “Are you telling me we could have had Dino-level back-up this whole time?” 

“And why isn’t Optimus talking?” Bumblebee added. The scout had been fairly relaxed up until this point, but now he anxiously peered at the Prime, digits rubbing at his neck cables. 

Ratchet sighed. Optimus ducked his helm once more, optics flickering uneasily. 

“In the simplest terms, Optimus’ frame didn’t react very well.” Ratchet twisted the rag, absently curling the fabric around his thumb digit. “Partly because he didn’t have time to prepare for it, partly because he isn’t a forged beastformer, but mostly because the animatronic used the incomplete CNA-” 

Optimus grunted. 

“...Incomplete DNA of the dinosaur it was based off of. The running theory is that the instability of those genes can influence Optimus’ behavior when in this alt mode. Essentially, he can start acting…” 

“More like a dinosaur,” Bumblebee finished. He grasped his elbow, shifting his weight from pede to pede. “Blades told me a bit about what happened. It sounded… not fun.” 

Optimus flinched. His gaze became fixed on the floor. His armor trembled faintly against his chassis, like half-dried leaves in the breeze. 

Ratchet’s tank sank. He stepped closer, reaching up to touch Optimus’ shoulder. His digits gently stroked the tense metal. 

Optimus looked up at him with dim optics. His tail brushed against Ratchet’s calf. 

“But I don’t get why it’s happening now,” Bumblebee continued. “Blades also said it had something to do with low energy levels. Like, Optimus burned a lot of energon to scan Trex, so he didn’t have the energy to process the new programming correctly. So why is he having problems with it again now?” 

Ratchet and Optimus twitched at the same time, their armor snapping close to their chassis. Optimus’ optics went wide, the yellow secondary lids flicking wildly. Ratchet’s jaw clenched, sending spikes of pain through his already-throbbing helm.

“...What?” Arcee said. She was staring at them both, servos settling on her hips and optics narrowing into thin blue slits. 

Bumblebee snapped to attention, then stared at them as his door-wings slowly drooped. Bulkhead looked between them all with increasing confusion. 

Biting back a groan, Ratchet turned to face them again. Optimus shifted slightly to stand alongside him, optics downcast. 

Yeah, I don’t think we’re getting out of this one, light… 

“Well…” Ratchet said. “You all know our energon stores have been getting very low lately. But… we haven’t exactly told you all just how low our stores were. We were already cutting our rations tight, and we weren’t sure how long it would be until we found a new deposit, so…” 

It took them a second to get it. But when they did…

“You’re not fueling?!” Bulkhead shouted, his alarm as loud and explosive as a gunshot. 

Ratchet winced. The sudden sound wasn’t as painful as the utter sorrow swelling in Bumblebee’s optics. 

“We still were!” He felt compelled to say. “Just… not as much. Nothing dangerous, just enough to stretch our stores a bit longer.” 

It would have only been him, if it were up to Ratchet. Only him who would have had to deal with the helmaches, the joint stiffness, the exhaustion that lingered no matter how much you rested. But Optimus had insisted on fasting alongside him, if only to make sure that the medic would still consume fuel somewhat regularly. Their conversation from last night echoed in his processor.

“Optimus, please, take the fragging cube. I can last another day, you still have to patrol-”

“No. You are in pain, old friend. Even if it is necessary, I still intend to take as much of it away from you as possible. …Please do not look at me like that, Ratchet. I will be okay, I promise.”

Looking at his partner now, shying away from their team’s prying gazes and so clearly uncomfortable in his new form, Ratchet felt his empty tank crumple in his inner workings. 

“Primus within…” Arcee groaned, pressing her digits against her temples. “So Optimus lost control of this faulty programming and transformed into a Dinobot because he was starving himself? And neither of you thought it would be a problem?! No, forget the Dinobot thing, this would be a problem either way! I swear to the AllSpark-” 

Ratchet grimaced as the femme slung her words at them like thrown stones. He kept his panels pulled tight and his intake shut. Arcee losing her temper resembled a volcanic eruption - thankfully rare, but utterly explosive and near-impossible to stop once it started. 

Even Optimus, normally the picture of stoicism, was slowly shuffling behind Ratchet, tail-first. His helm slumped lower and lower, until it was nearly below the medic’s elbow. 

“-and you go on and on about making sure we ‘take care of ourselves properly,’ then you go and-” 

“Arcee!” Bumblebee beeped. He stepped closer, gingerly resting a servo on her shoulder. “We’re all upset, but can you please focus? We still need to figure out how to help Optimus.” 

Arcee stiffened, standing straight-backed and fists clenched at her side. She took a very deep, very loud vent. 

“Fine,” she huffed. “Fine. Okay. Focus. Optimus, I’m guessing you can’t transform back, since you haven’t done it yet?” 

Optimus nodded, optics dim and chin dipped low. 

Spark shrinking at the sight, Ratchet reached over and grasped one of the Prime’s clawed servos. It was tiny and cold compared to the large, warm palm he was used to holding. But he still squeezed it gently, just as he always did. 

Small digits clutched at his in response. Optimus’ gaze shifted upwards, affection sparking in his crystal-blue optics. 

“It’s likely because of the low energon levels,” Ratchet said. “Less energon and the stress of the fight triggered his transformation and his… wilder fighting style in the canyon. Optimus’ processor has had more time to adapt to the animatronic programming, so he was able to regain control of himself quickly. But he doesn’t have the energy to force it to allow him to transform back. I would also guess it’s preventing his voice box from activating.” 

Optimus nodded. He opened his intake, sharp dentra gleaming in the base’s overhead lights. A low-pitched rasp echoed out from his throat pipe, only to be cut off by a sharp click. Grunting, he shut his intake again and huffed.

“So… all he needs is more energon?” Bulkhead asked with a frown. 

“Yes, presumably.” Ratchet sighed. “But I imagine it would take a lot. And given our current situation…” 

“Well, we just found a ton of energon in that deposit!” Bulkhead exclaimed, throwing his servos in the air. “So get the boss hooked up to an IV or whatever until he’s ready to roll again!” 

Optimus grumbled again, louder this time. Shaking his helm, he straightened and pointed his claws at the inactive GroundBridge, then down at the floor before them. He repeated the motion a few times for emphasis. 

“You… want us to go get the energon first?” Bumblebee guessed.

Optimus nodded. 

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to gather it as quickly as possible,” Ratchet noted. “Who knows if or when the Decepticons will come looking for their scouts.” 

Optimus flinched yet again. Ratchet gave his servo a squeeze in response. 

“If you say so,” Bulkhead said. He sighed and scratched the side of his helm in thought. “Most of the veins are pretty close to the surface, so it wouldn’t take too long. We could probably get a good chunk of it into our stores by tonight if we start now.”

He gave Optimus a sheepish look. 

“Sorry, boss, but you might want to sit this one out. I don’t know how well you’d be able to move around and work mining equipment like… this.” 

Optimus sighed through his olfactory sensors, but he nodded in agreement. 

“We better start burning rubber!” Bumblebee said with a smile. “Let’s go, Arcee- Arcee?” 

Bumblebee blinked at the empty space beside him. Ratchet’s servo tightened around his rag. Optimus cocked his helm. 

“Uh…” Bulkhead said. “Where…?” 

They all heard the warrior making her way back to them. Her frustrated grumbles and harsh pedesteps echoed from down the hall like an oncoming thunderstorm. She soon appeared, optics narrowed and an energon cube tucked under each arm. Bumblebee and Bulkhead practically leapt out of her way as she strode past them and up to the two older mechs. 

“Arcee.” Ratchet held a servo up. “We can-” 

“No.” 

Arcee shoved one of the cubes into Ratchet’s servos, its edges scraping against the medic’s palms as he scrambled to grasp it. 

“We’ll let you two wait until we’re back to refuel Optimus, but you are going to consume something.” 

She nearly slammed the other cube onto the crate behind them, then turned to glare at Optimus. The Prime nearly jumped away from her like a startled electro-hare. 

“Those had both better be empty by the time we get back,” she announced as she stomped away. 

Ratchet opened and shut his intake, any words he could have used to respond with refusing to leave his voice box. Optimus stood beside him, still and silent in shock. 

“I’ll… go help her get our equipment together,” Bulkhead said, slowly walking backwards out of the room. 

Bumblebee watched his teammates go, then walked over. Ratchet’s spark dimmed like a dying firefly as their scout’s door-wings drooped until they were flat against his back. His guilt surged when the young mech hugged him tight around his middle. 

“I thought you stopped doing this after Luna 2,” Bumblebee mumbled into Ratchet’s chestplate. “You know, when you passed out in the middle of the medbay and almost stabbed your optic out on someone’s knee plate?” 

“I… I know.” Ratchet sighed, wrapping his arms around the scout. “I just… I try to help you all in any way I can, and the idea of you all going hungry and still being out in the field… I hate it. I don’t want you to risk yourself like that.” 

“And I don’t want you to risk yourself like this!” Bumblebee tightened his grip until their metal squeaked. “Look, we can talk about this later, but just… promise me that you’ll at least tell us if you cut your rations again, okay?” 

“I will,” Ratchet said, patting the younger mech’s back. “After this, believe me, I will.” 

“Good,” Bumblebee said. 

Releasing the medic, he moved over to Optimus. He only looked at his mentor’s sharpened dentra and horns for a second before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around his neck. The Prime stiffened, then slowly dipped his chin until it rested on the scout’s shoulder. 

“That goes for you too,” Bumblebee said. “No more starving yourself. Especially if it turns you into a Dinobot against your will.” 

Optimus hummed in agreement. Behind him, his tail began gently swishing from side to side. 

Despite everything, Ratchet found himself smiling at the sight.

The rest of the team left shortly afterwards, Bumblebee slightly cheered up and Arcee still silently fuming. As the GroundBridge closed with a smooth hiss, Ratchet stared down at the cube resting in his servo. 

“So.” He glanced up at Optimus as he spoke. “Do you think she was serious when she said…?” 

Optimus quickly nodded, optical ridges drawn up high. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ratchet sighed, flipping the cube’s lid open with his thumb digit. Grimacing, he took a sip of his energon. The fuel ran cold down his throat pipe and settled heavily in his empty tank. 

“First drink’s always the hardest…” He muttered to himself as he turned back to the monitor. 

A low, resounding growl came from behind him. 

“I’m going to ignore that,” Ratchet said. He glared halfheartedly at the computer, rubbing his thumb digit along his cube’s edge. “...It’s not like I ever enjoyed doing it.” 

In the screen’s reflection, he watched Optimus looking back at him, optics flickering in tiny increments. His jaw was set, his snout tipped down. His tail settled on the floor with a gentle thunk. 

I never enjoyed finding out when you were doing it, he said without saying. 

Sighing, Ratchet made a show of taking a swig of his energon. The liquid didn’t feel as heavy in his tank this time. 

His response was a pleased huff. Ratchet’s lip components quirked upwards. 

Returning his focus to the monitor, Ratchet pulled his work on synthetic energon back up. The complex equations still refused to pull themselves together properly, but the numbers seemed less jumbled and the lines less likely to crisscross. Even typing with only one servo, everything was going much more smoothly. 

He frowned down at the softly glowing energon. He could have sworn it rippled teasingly at him. 

“Damn Arcee…” He grumbled, drinking once more. “Being right as slagging usual…” 

Optimus chuckled; or at least, he grunted in an amused-sounding way. 

The Prime then fell quiet, apart from a faint tapping. Ratchet tried to ignore it for a few minutes with little luck. Twisting his helm, he saw that it was Optimus’ tail, steadily drumming against the concrete. It reminded him of how Orion had tapped his digits against his desk whenever he was waiting for files to load on his terminal. 

Shifting his gaze, Ratchet quickly discovered the cause of his partner’s contemplation. Optimus stood in front of the crate, peering down at his own energon cube. His optics were narrowed, his small claws clenching and unclenching in thought. 

“Do…” Ratchet pursed his lip components. “Do you need help?” 

Optimus shook his helm. 

“You sure?” 

Optimus grunted irritatedly, shaking his helm more firmly. 

“Alright, if you say so,” Ratchet said, turning back to the monitor. 

He tried to focus on his work, building equations and running tests on them. But his optics kept drifting over to his partner, his gaze lingering longer and longer each time. 

First, Optimus tried to pick up the cube with his servos. The four tiny claws proved to be poor at grasping objects, scraping against the container’s clear sides and snagging unevenly on its corners. When he finally managed to pin the cube between his servos, he quickly realized that lifting it to his intake was impossible. 

Next, he tried to use his tail, coiling it around the cube to lift the container off the crate. It wasn’t a bad idea, but it was also clearly a cumbersome one. The thick limb couldn’t quite grip the cube’s smooth sides. At one point, he nearly spilled the cube onto the floor, catapulting Ratchet’s spark into his throat pipe. 

Giving up that attempt, Optimus glared down at the cube for a long moment. With a low, long-suffering sigh, he leaned down and opened his intake. He gingerly clamped his jaws onto the container, pointed dentra scratching its sides. Slowly, he lifted the cube up and tilted his helm back. His optics squinted shut as he braced for the fuel to pour straight down his throat pipe. 

Nothing happened. Optimus’ optics slid back open, confused. 

“You didn’t take the lid off, did you?” Ratchet asked. 

Optimus stiffened, then his entire frame drooped like a melting candle. His arms dangled strutlessly and his tail slumped to the floor. His cube rested in his jaws, still completely full. 

“Okay…” Ratchet sat his cube down and turned to his partner. “Seriously, Optimus, please let me help you. This is painful to watch.” 

Optics still closed, Optimus silently pivoted towards him, dropping the cube into Ratchet’s waiting servos. 

“Thank you,” Ratchet said. He popped the container open with a small smirk. “And bots say I’m the stubborn one.” 

Optimus grumbled, his optics sliding back open to scowl at the medic. 

“Yeah, yeah, the forge is calling the welding torch hot.” Ratchet shook his helm amusedly. “Open your intake.” 

After a moment, Optimus’ jaw slowly winched open, displaying twin rows of sharpened dentra. His vents came in hot puffs against Ratchet’s faceplate. His faceplate was pulled tight, optics flickering nervously. 

“If you’re worried about scaring me, quit it.” Ratchet sighed. He reached up, brushing his digits along his partner’s upper jaw. The plating was warmer than it normally was, but he recognized the unique texture; a satisfying blend of roughness from age and battle with the smoothness that came from careful maintenance. 

“This is still you,” he said, stroking the armor. “I know you don’t like this alternate mode, and we’ll get you out of it as soon as we can. But it’s still you. And I'm not afraid of you. Never have been, never will be. Got it?” 

Optimus’ optics glowed like gleaming crystals. Closing his intake, he shifted his helm until it was pressed against Ratchet’s chest. Soft purrs emanated from his great frame, vibrating pleasantly into the medic’s chassis. 

“Yes, I love you too.” Ratchet didn’t fight the smile spreading over his lip components. He rested his cheekplate against Optimus’ forehelm, caressing the underside of his elongated chin. “You make it really hard not to.” 

Optimus chuckled. His tail gently wagged back and forth. 

I should probably tell him his tail keeps doing that… in a little bit. 

“Okay, okay,” Ratchet said, taking a step back. “Seriously, open up. Unless you want to face Arcee’s wrath.” 

Optimus opened his intake again, this time with far less hesitation. Ratchet lifted the cube and carefully poured its contents into the Prime’s intake, stopping whenever Optimus needed to swallow. In only a few minutes, the cube was empty. 

“There,” Ratchet said with a nod. He set the container back down on the crate. “Feel any better?”

Optimus nodded, his optics a few shades brighter. 

“Good,” Ratchet said, moving back to the monitor. “I just need to finish mine then.” 

Picking his cube back up, Ratchet returned to his chemical equations. He was building a particularly gnarled structure. Narrowing his optics at the screen, he coaxed the digital atoms into position, hoping against hope this would get him somewhere. 

As such, he wasn’t fully paying attention when Optimus walked up behind him, pedesteps heavy as boulders. He only looked up when he felt two small weights settle on his shoulders. 

“...Optimus, what are you doing?” He asked, blinking blankly at their reflections on the screen. 

His partner stood right behind the medic, his frame stretched up until he was almost vertical. His chin tipped back until he was staring up at the ceiling, and his tail rested on the concrete. It didn’t look very comfortable, but it did allow him to reach out and rest his servos on Ratchet’s shoulders. 

Optimus rumbled, muzzle twitching with soft grunts. His small digits carefully pressed into Ratchet’s mesh, shifting pressure from the heel of his servo to the base of his claws and back again. 

It took Ratchet a second to recognize what was happening. Once he did, he felt a grin fight its way onto his faceplate. 

While the pair didn’t hide their relationship from the rest of the team, they did tend to be reserved with it when the others were around. Propriety, protocol, and the vision of Prowl blowing a circuit if he ever found out about them being “inappropriate” on duty kept them fairly distant with each other. 

That would change whenever they were alone. They would banter, compliment, and tease each other freely. Lingering touches and quiet kisses would pass between them as easily as words. Smiles went unhidden and laughter unmuffled. 

And if Ratchet happened to be working at the monitor at the time, Optimus would approach him from behind, wrapping his strong arms around the medic and holding him close. He’d whisper into Ratchet’s audio receptor, weaving helpful comments on his work with honey-sweet praises. If not that, he would offer to massage the medic’s shoulders, gently soothing the tension from his worn cables and mesh. 

Optimus was now trying to continue this tradition of theirs… if with limited success. 

“Optimus…” Ratchet swallowed a chuckle. “I’m grateful, but you don’t have to do this. That looks really uncomfortable…” 

The Prime grumbled, shaking his helm. His servos kept kneading at Ratchet’s shoulders in careful movements. The pressure wasn’t nearly enough to reach Ratchet’s inner mesh, however. He tried to shift his efforts further along the medic’s shoulders, only to quickly reach the limit of his new armlength. Even as his attempts grew increasingly frustrated, his claws never so much as scratched Ratchet’s paint. 

“Optimus,” Ratchet said, a little more firmly. He reached up and rested a servo on Optimus’. “Seriously, you’re going to strain your spinal strut. Please, we can do this later.” 

With a quiet but drawn-out groan, Optimus stepped back and let his frame drop back to its original position. He pressed his forehelm against Ratchet’s back with a frustrated huff. 

“Thank you,” Ratchet said, addressing the exhaust horns poking up from behind him on the monitor. He smiled slightly. “I do appreciate the thought, though.” 

Beep beep beep! 

Both of their helms snapped up at the proximity alarm. Optimus let out a sound that vaguely resembled a sick cyberhawk’s cry. 

“What the…?” Ratchet muttered, pulling up the outer camera feeds onto the monitor. 

He quickly spotted a plume of dust drifting up from the road to their base. Zooming in, the feed clarified to reveal an old but well-kept white car rolling towards them. A car they both immediately recognized. 

“...Aw slag,” Ratchet groaned. “We forgot June was bringing the children over, didn’t we?” 

Optimus stared blankly at the screen, optics wide. 

“Great,” Ratchet said with a sigh, pinching his olfactory sensors. “Hopefully they won’t freak out. Human children like dinosaurs, don’t they?” 

Optimus didn’t reply, but Ratchet heard his thundering pedesteps rapidly moving away. Turning his helm, he was startled to see the Prime racing towards the hallway as fast as his new legs could carry him. 

“Where are you going?!” Ratchet called. 

Optimus froze just by the hall’s entryway and looked back at him. His gaze darted back and forth between Ratchet and the entrance to the base, optics wide and yellow secondary optical lids flickering wildly. Ratchet didn’t think he was imagining the fear dancing across his face. 

“Optimus, it’s just the children,” he said, confused. “What are you so worried about?” 

His partner stared back at him, his frame shaking with tension. His intake opened, but nothing left it but more indecipherable rasping. 

Before Ratchet could say anything more, he heard the base’s outer doors slide open, automatically recognizing June’s vehicle. Said car shortly rolled inside, coming to a stop near Ratchet’s pedes. All four doors popped open like a visco bottle lid, and their human companions spilled out onto the concrete. 

“Hi Ratch’!” Miko exclaimed, waving her arm wildly up at him. “How’s it hanging?” 

“...Are any of your Earth greetings not some level of weird?” Ratchet couldn’t help but ask, raising his optical ridges. 

“Nice to see you too, Ratchet,” Jack said, heaving his backpack onto his shoulders. 

“I hope we weren’t interrupting anything?” June said. The woman rested her elbows on the roof of her car and smiled politely at him. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead; I had a long shift and I guess it slipped my mind.” 

“It’s alright, June,” Ratchet said. He sighed and rubbed his brows. “To be honest, we might have forgotten you were coming over.” 

“What?” Miko glared up at him with her bottom lip sticking out, hands on both hips. “How can you have forgotten about us, doc bot? We’re the definition of memorable!” 

“A lot happened today, Miko,” Ratchet said. “And before you ask, your guardians are all busy today. They are mining a new energon deposit.” 

“You guys found one?” Jack said. A smile appeared on his face. “That’s great! Arcee said you guys were getting low.” 

“Yes…” Ratchet’s optics darted over to his half-empty cube for a second. His spark shivered in its casing. 

They tried not to discuss issues with their limited energon resources in front of the children. Nobody, not even Ratchet, wanted to worry them needlessly. 

And knowing Miko, they’d probably wander into the wilderness and get lost trying to find energon deposits themselves… 

“Is boss-bot with them?” Miko asked, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I wanted to show him and Bulk’ my art project!” 

Ratchet bit his lip components, trying very hard not to glance towards the hallway. “Well…” 

“Uh, guys?” 

Ratchet blinked. Rafael had been so quiet that he nearly forgot the boy was there. But now he saw that their youngest human was still standing by the car, eyes wide and pointing across the base. 

As the other three humans followed his gaze, Ratchet threw his helm back with a preemptive groan. 

“WOAH!” Miko shouted at a volume that should have been impossible for a being as small as she was. “Is that a dinosaur? A robot dinosaur? A Robosaurus?!” 

“Uh, yep,” Jack answered her while rapidly blinking. “Looks like it.” 

“...Was that here this whole time?” June confusedly asked, rubbing the back of her head. 

“Is it a statue?” Raf added. He adjusted his glasses and peered across the room. “And why does it look kind of like Optimus?” 

Optimus stood in front of the hallway, pedes frozen to the floor and frame completely stiff. After a long moment, his optics flicked towards Ratchet, desperation flaring in the crystal blue orbs. 

“NOPE, IT MOVED, NOT A STATUE!” Miko shrieked, grabbing and shaking Jack by the shoulders, nearly throwing herself onto his back in the process. 

“Uh huh,” Jack squeaked out. The teen’s eyes were as wide as craters. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Ratchet said, raising his voice just loud enough to get their attention. He walked over to Optimus, who was wincing and reaching his arms up towards his audio receptors, not quite able to reach. The medic rested his servo on his partner’s shoulder. 

“To answer your questions,” he said, “yes, he’s real; yes, he’s Optimus; and yes, he’s a Dinobot.” 

(He emphasized that last word while staring down Miko.) 

“Optimus…?” June said, staring at the Prime disbelievingly. 

Optimus looked at her for a long moment, then gave her a tiny nod. 

“Oh. My. Gosh!” Miko squealed. The girl ran over, skidding to a halt right before their pedes. She stared up at Optimus with sparkling eyes and a huge grin. “You look so cool, Optimus! You’re like something right out of Creature Double Feature! I bet you can take out a whole army of Cons like this!” 

Optimus flinched, his cables going tense under Ratchet’s palm. 

“Have you been able to transform into a dinosaur this whole time?” Jack asked, strolling up at a slightly more leisurely pace. His eyes were also wide with wonder. “How come you haven’t told us before now?” 

Optimus opened his intake before quickly shutting it, twitching at the harsh snap the movement caused. He glanced towards Ratchet. 

“It’s a recent development, Jack,” Ratchet said. He stepped forward, placing himself between the children and his partner. “And Optimus tries not to utilize it unless he has to, given how… destructive it can be.” 

“Well, yeah, he’s a T-rex!” Miko said, punching both of her fists out with a grin. “I bet he could wreck more Cons than Bulkhead! Give them the old Jurassic Park treatment!” 

“It is really cool!” Raf said, finally catching up with his fellow children. He nearly bounced in place, curious eyes scanning Optimus’ frame. “Why did you decide to transform into a T-rex, Optimus?” 

“Cause it’s the king of all dinosaurs, dude!” Miko said, lightly punching the boy’s arm. “The biggest, baddest predator that ever walked the earth!” 

Ratchet heard Optimus quietly gulp, then shuffle back a few steps. 

“Alright, Miko, that’s enough.” He said, jabbing a digit at her. “Like I said, Optimus tries not to use this mode unless he has to. The only reason he hasn’t transformed back yet is because it takes a lot of energon to do so. So we would appreciate it if you would all calm down.” 

“Awww, c’mon doc-bot!” Miko said, thankfully far more quietly than before. “Dinosaurs are, like, the closest thing real life has to dragons. They are awesome, and need to be appreciated!” 

“She’s right, they do,” Raf said with a serious nod.

Ratchet sighed, rubbing his brows. “Can you at least appreciate them a little less… enthusiastically?” 

“But-” Miko began. 

“Of course we can, doctor,” June called from the other side of the room. “Isn’t that right, Miko?” 

“Fiiiiiine…” The girl deflated with an audible sigh. “But alien dinosaur robots are still awesome, Opti- Optimus?” 

The girl frowned, tilting her head in confusion. Ratchet followed her gaze just in time to see Optimus’ tail disappearing down the hallway, his pedesteps ringing out like rocks spilling down a cliff. Silence fell over the base with the weight of a wet blanket. 

“...Okay, that was weird,” Miko said, looking around. “That was weird, right?” 

“We were kinda freaking out,” Jack pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, a lot.” 

“Yeah…” Raf said. He glanced up at Ratchet with a guilty expression. “Sorry, Ratchet.” 

“It’s… fine,” Ratchet distractedly replied, his optics drifting back down the hall. 

Uncomfortable or not, he wouldn’t just run away from the children. Not without even signaling that he was leaving. 

Something’s wrong. 

“Is he okay?” June asked as she walked over. “He seemed tense. At least, I think he did…” 

“I’m going to go find out,” Ratchet replied. He looked down. “Rafael, can you keep an optic on the console in case the others comm in?” 

Raf nodded and gave him a thumbs up. “On it.” 

“Good, thank you.” Ratchet didn’t waste any more time turning and following his partner down the hall.

The door to Optimus’ quarters was wide open. Ratchet frowned at the sight, noting the door’s control panel, scratches running along its sides and a dent on the main button. Pausing in the doorway, he peered into the room. The space was completely dark apart from the rectangle of light from the hallway, now partially obscured by Ratchet’s shadow. 

“Optimus?” He called, keeping his voice soft. “Are you in here?” 

For a minute, there was silence. Finally, a low rumble rippled out from behind the berth, so quiet that Ratchet almost mistook it for the base’s barely-functioning air conditioning. 

“Is it alright if I come in?” Ratchet asked. “One grunt for yes, two for no.” 

Another pause, then a single huff of air. 

“Thank you,” Ratchet said. He walked in, leaving the door open behind him for the sake of having light. Slowly rounding the berth, he spotted his partner easily. 

Optimus was lying abdominal plating-down on the floor, tucked against the side of the berth. His legs were folded at his sides, his tail curled close to his left leg. His optics were dull in the dim light, barely brighter than wet embers. 

“Hey,” Ratchet murmured. “Is it okay if I sit down?” 

Optimus nodded, a little hesitantly. He closely watched Ratchet as the medic settled onto the ground a few feet in front of Optimus’ muzzle. Crossing his legs, Ratchet gave his partner a weak smile. 

“Sorry about the children,” he said. “I know they mean well, but you have to admit they can be… a lot.” 

Optimus sighed, loud and deep enough to shake his frame against the concrete. His optical lids drooped low until they were almost shut. 

“It’s alright if you just needed a moment alone,” Ratchet continued. He folded his digits together in anxious thought. “But, is something else wrong? I haven’t seen you this… uneasy in a long while.” 

Optimus didn’t quite meet his gaze, his optics flicking from side to side. His secondary lids flashed repeatedly, until the crystal blue orbs seemed to turn cloudy yellow. Finally, he nodded, chin clunking against the floor. 

“Okay,” Ratchet said, nodding along. “Does it have something to do with the children?” 

Optimus’ tail pressed closer to his side. Heat rippled the air above his exhaust pipe-horns; not the full-blown sparks of anger, just the low simmering of stress. He nodded again. 

“Alright,” Ratchet said. He resisted the urge to reach out and brush his digits atop Optimus’ muzzle in comfort; Primus knew if the Prime wanted to be touched right now. “If you’re worried about hurting them… look, we can take precautions, just like when they first got here. I’ll tell them not to get underpede, set aside spaces where they shouldn’t go-” 

Optimus grunted sharply, his helm snapping up. He rolled his optics up towards the ceiling, gestured at all four corners of his room with his snout, and smacked his tail against the floor. He stared at Ratchet with stubborn optics. 

“You… just want to stay here?” Ratchet said, blinking. “Well, you can if that’s what you want, but…” 

He sighed, rubbing his brows. 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to, light,” he said. “You’d never hurt any of us, least of all the kids-” 

Optimus growled; the loudest one Ratchet had heard all day. His dentra violently clinked together with the force of his shaking helm. His clawed servos slapped once against the concrete like hammers against an anvil. 

“What- what’s that supposed to mean?!” Ratchet tossed his servos in the air. “Optimus, you’re one of the gentlest bots I’ve ever met. Why in the Pits do you think you’ll hurt the children?” 

Huffing, Optimus looked to the side, helm dropping back to the floor. 

Ratchet sighed and dragged a servo down his faceplate. He shifted his weight back and rolled his shoulders out, trying to think. 

He was doing fine before the kids got here. I get that they’re fragile, but they’re not stupid; they would know better than to get too close to him without warning. The chances of an accident at this point are minimal - even less because I’m here to supervise. What about this is bothering him so much? 

Optimus seemed to be thinking too, the tip of his tail absently smacking against the floor. He was quiet though, whatever concerns he had locked behind his frozen voice box. 

Damn it all, I wish he could still talk to me, or at least sign. It would make this a lot easier… 

Optimus kept hitting the ground with his tail, the strikes growing louder and louder. It wasn’t long before the sharp clanks were drowning out Ratchet’s very thoughts. 

“Optimus,” Ratchet groaned, “I know you have a lot on your processor right now, but can you please stop doing that-” 

Ratchet’s words ground to a halt. Optimus had lifted his helm and was now staring him straight in the optics, jaw tightly clenched. He maintained optical contact as his tail struck the floor again. 

Thunk tink thunk tink. Thunk thunk thunk. Thunk tink tink. Thunk tink thunk thunk. 

Ratchet blinked. The strikes formed a pattern; a rhythm of light and hard knocks against the concrete, delivered deliberately by Optimus’ new limb. He was trying to say something, clearly, but how… 

“Wait.” Ratchet straightened, snapping his digits in thought. “Isn’t this that… Mars Code the humans came up with?” 

Optimus opened his intake, then huffed and nodded, closing it again. 

“Okay,” Ratchet said as he accessed his memory files. “Good thinking. I know I downloaded it at one point… okay, can you repeat that?”

Thunk tink thunk tink. Thunk thunk thunk. Thunk tink tink. Thunk tink thunk thunk. 

Ratchet’s processor whirred as it translated the sounds into letters. 

C - O - D - Y. 

“...Cody?” Ratchet said aloud. 

Optimus nodded, optics dimming. 

“Isn’t that the youngest Burns child?” Ratchet asked, cocking his helm. “The one who has the Rescuebots wrapped around his little digit?” 

Optimus nodded again. His optics brightened for a moment before fading once more. 

“Okay, what about him?” Ratchet asked, frowning in confusion. 

Optimus’ tail began whacking the ground once more.

Tink thunk thunk. Tink tink. Thunk. Tink tink tink tink. Thunk Thunk. Tink. 

W - I - T - H - M - E. 

“With… you?” Ratchet said. His frown grew. “What do you mean, Cody was with you?” 

Optimus’ tail moved up and down. With every movement, his frame was wracked with more and stronger trembles. 

Tink thunk thunk. Tink tink tink tink. Tink. Thunk tink. Tink tink. Tink thunk tink tink. Thunk thunk thunk. Tink tink tink. Thunk. Think tink thunk tink. Thunk thunk thunk. Thunk tink. Thunk. Tink thunk tink. Thunk thunk thunk. Tink thunk tink tink. 

It was the longest phrase yet. When Ratchet finally finished his translation, his spark went cold.

W - H - E - N - I - L - O - S T - C - O - N - T - R - O - L. 

Ice spread across Ratchet’s gears, freezing him in place. His vents were shallow in his chest, horror coiling around his inner components like a pythonicon. His digits curled in shaking fists atop his thighs. 

“He… was with you when the animatronic programming took over?” He quietly asked. 

Optimus, helm nearly touching the floor, nodded. His tail came up and down again and again. 

T - H - E - Y - H - A - D - A - P - E - D - E - R - A - C - E. 

B - O - T - A - N - D - H - U - M - A - N - T - E - A - M - S. 

I - J - O - I - N - E - D - S - O - C - O - D - Y - C - O - U - L - D. 

I - T - R - A - N - S - F - O - R - M - E - D. 

I - W - A - N - T - E - D - T - O - W - I - N - F - O - R - H - I - M. 

B - U - T - E - V - E - R - Y - T - H - I - N - G - W - E - N - T - W - R - O - N - G.

C - O - U - L - D - N - O - T - T - H - I - N - K. 

B - A - R - E - L - Y - K - N - E - W - W - H - A - T - W - A - S - H - A - P - P - E - N - I - N - G. 

B - U - T - I - K - N - E - W - I - W - A - S - R - U - N - N - I - N - G.

A - N - D - H - U - N - T - I - N - G.

I - C - O - U - L - D - N - T - S - T - O - P. 

C - O - D - Y - W - A - S - T - H - E - R - E. 

I - C - O - U - L - D - H - A - V - E - H - U - R - T - H - I - M.

C - O - U - L - D - H - A - V - E - K - I - L - L - E - D- 

Optimus’ tail froze in the air, unable to finish the sentence. He was venting rapidly, his frame heaving with gasps of too-hot air. Steam curled up from his exhaust pipes. His optics were shut tighter than a clam shell. 

Ratchet shook. He reached a tentative servo out. 

“Optimus-” 

Optics snapping open, Optimus snarled at the approaching digits. He snapped his jaws with the force of a hammer’s blow, fangs flashing in the faint light. His helm whipped to the side, and he pulled his tail in front of it to block Ratchet’s view. Smoke exploded from his exhaust pipes in a thick, acrid-smelling stream. 

Ratchet stared at him, his systems reeling in shock. His spark pounded in his chest. His tank clenched, its shallow contents swirling like a whirlpool. His servo, pulled close to his chassis, shook. An instinct to run, to retreat from the room and the Dinobot curled in its corner, nearly overwrote his processor. 

But then he closed his optics, took a deep vent, and looked again. He took in the mech before him; his leader, his old friend, his partner. His frame shuddered against the concrete, his form curled into a tight ball. He could barely get air in through his rapid vents, heat rippling from the cracks in his armor. His processor seemed nearly consumed by stress and pain. 

Ratchet’s spark settled into quiet determination. He scooted closer to Optimus, his armor faintly scraping against the floor. 

“Optimus,” he whispered, his voice as gentle as mist. “Can you look at me?” 

The other mech growled again. This time, Ratchet caught the wavering tremble in the supposedly fierce sound. 

“Hey, none of that.” Ratchet leaned forward and reached out, his servo settling atop the Prime’s tail. “Look at me.” 

Optimus flinched at the touch, shaking even harder. His growls barely left his intake before collapsing into near-whimpers. 

“I told you, you’re not scaring me away,” Ratchet said. He gently nudged the Prime’s tail aside and slid his servos under his muzzle. “Please, light, look at me.” 

Optimus didn’t resist as Ratchet lifted his snout off the ground, but he kept his optics tightly shut. Ratchet didn’t say anything; he simply began stroking circles into his partner’s jawline, slow and steady. 

I’m here, he said without words. I’m here, and I’m not leaving you. 

Optimus’ optics finally slid open. The soft blue orbs wetly shone. 

“I know you’re scared,” Ratchet said. “And I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine what that felt like. And if you really don’t feel comfortable being around the children until you can transform back, then I understand.” 

He leaned down until his faceplate was only an inch from Optimus’ muzzle. He didn’t even glance at the sharp dentra. 

“But you don’t get to blame yourself for something you did under the influence of faulty programming,” he said, his words gentle but firm. “You don’t get to call yourself a monster for actions outside of your control. You don’t get to lock yourself in a cage like you’re some animal that’ll snap at any servo that gets too close. Do you understand?” 

Optimus faintly whined. His helm trembled in the medic’s palms as he gingerly shook it. 

“No,” Ratchet said. “You heard me, you are not going to tear yourself apart over this. You and I both know you would never hurt any of those kids if you had a choice in the matter.” 

“Frag, I’d bet anything that you had plenty of opportunities to hurt Cody. But you didn’t, because the part of that story that I know you left out is that you fought. You fought to hold yourself back, you fought to keep him safe. And when it came down to it, you won. He might have been in danger because of this alt mode, but he stayed safe because of you.” 

Optimus stared up at him with wide optics. His tail barely tapped the floor, but Ratchet could still translate the words. 

H - O - W - D - O - Y - O - U - K - N - O - W - T - H - A - T. 

“Because I know you,” Ratchet said. “I know you do everything you can to protect innocents. I know that you never give up. And I know that you care for us all so much that the mere idea of you hurting us is enough to shake you to your core.” 

Shuffling closer, he leaned down and rested his forehelm against Optimus’, his optics drifting closed. He heard his partner’s vents catch in his throat pipe. 

“I’m not saying your fear is completely unfounded,” he continued. “This mode can be dangerous, and if you want me to help you purge it from your t-cog, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t overwrite who you are. It doesn’t take away our Prime, the kids’ guardian, or my partner. And I am not letting you forget that.” 

He pulled back, just far enough to kiss Optimus’ helm, almost directly between those beautiful optics. 

“And no matter what, I’ll still love you. And you can bet I’m not letting you forget that either.” 

Optimus shuddered, optical lubricant finally spilling from his optics and dripping down his muzzle. Crawling forward, he pressed his helm into Ratchet’s chestplate. The rest of his frame wriggled around until it curled around Ratchet, his armor warm against the medic’s mesh. 

Optimus rarely let his emotions show. Even during moments suffused with pain and sorrow, the Prime kept himself under control. Even when only Ratchet was present to witness it, the most he would allow himself was silent misery and an occasional shaky vent. 

Ratchet didn’t know if this new openness was the result of built-up stress or the alt-mode’s corrupted programming. It tore his spark to shreds either way. 

“It’s okay…” Ratchet murmured. He wrapped his arms around Optimus’ helm, keeping their forehelms pressed close even as his partner’s helm slumped down to his lap. “It’s okay. I’m here, I got you. I’ve got you…” 

Optimus choked out near-silent cries, his jaws twitching against Ratchet’s plating. His tail folded around the medic’s hip and his servos grasped at his digits. His vents finally slowed to sluggish pants, the excess heat dissipating from his armor. 

Ratchet wasn’t sure how much time passed. His legs were going numb and his spinal strut ached from its awkward position. But he didn’t move, apart from gently wiping away his partner’s tears. 

Eventually, Optimus’ cries petered out. He lifted his helm slowly, nudging Ratchet’s chin with his snout. His tail gently knocked against the medic’s hip. 

I - A - M - S - O - R - R - Y. 

“I forgive you. You were upset.”

I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U. 

“I love you too.” Ratchet smiled, caressing Optimus’ jawline. He winced as he sat up straight, his struts popping back into place. “Ow…”

Optimus frowned. His frame shifted back slightly, and his snout pushed against Ratchet’s chest. 

“Wha-” Ratchet tipped back, his frame falling into Optimus’ side. “Optimus, what are you-” 

He fell quiet when Optimus began to purr. His great frame vibrated, the gentle tremors travelling into Ratchet’s chassis. His struts and cables loosened. Soaking in the reverberations and warmth, he felt the tension and dull pain dissipate from his struts like smoke from a doused campfire. 

“Primus…” Ratchet whispered, slumping against Optimus’ side. He let his helm tip back, his arm resting on Optimus’ folded knee. “This feels amazing. Have you been able to do this this whole time?” 

Optimus, resting his chin on Ratchet’s leg, opened his intake into a careful grin. His optics gleamed like polished blue pearls. 

Ratchet smiled back. He absently brushed his digits along his partner’s side, his own engine purring alongside Optimus’. 

“Do you just want to stay here until the others get back?” He asked after a few minutes. “I wouldn’t mind remaining like this, honestly.” 

Optimus chuckled, his frame gently rippling. He quieted after though, his expression growing pensive. Ratchet watched him closely, patiently patting his armor. His tail began tapping the floor again.

T - H - E - Y - S - E - E - M - E - D - C - U - R - I - O - U - S. 

“The kids?” Ratchet said. “Yeah, they were. I was worried Miko would start shrieking like a Patraxian parrot with how excited she was. That doesn’t mean you have to be around them if it’ll make you uncomfortable.” 

Optimus hummed, optics flickering in thought. 

G - O - O - D - M - E - M - O - R - I - E - S - C - O - U - L - D - R - E - P - L - A - C - E - B - A - D. 

“They could.” Ratchet slowly nodded. “Do you want to test that theory?” 

Optimus lifted his helm, his optics slowly brightening as he nodded.

“Ratchet, you copy?” 

Ratchet looked away from his work on the synth-en formula. Setting down his nearly empty cube, he activated the computer’s comm line. 

“I’m here, Bulkhead. Are you ready for the Bridge?” 

“Yep!” The younger mech’s voice was noticeably cheerful. “We’ve got a good haul ready to go.” 

“Good. Opening GroundBridge now.” 

Ratchet’s digits flew across the controls, far more nimbly than this morning. 

The GroundBridge burst open with a flash of blue and green. Photons spiraled across the vortex for only a few moments before Bulkhead and Bumblebee appeared, pushing carts filled with thick crystals of energon. Ratchet breathed out a faint sigh of relief as they entered the base’s interior. 

“Hey there, doc!” Bulkhead called. “How’s it… going…?” 

The former Wrecker halted midstep. Bumblebee’s cart nearly crashed into his backside before the scout managed to stop it. 

Ratchet followed their startled gazes and smirked. 

“Hey Bulk’!” Miko grinned and waved from her perch. “Isn’t this cool?!” 

The girl stood on the highest point of Optimus’ back. The Prime lay on the floor a few yards behind Ratchet, abdominal plating down and tail loosely curled by his side. Jack and Raf were there as well; the teen slowly paced up Optimus’ spinal strut, holding his arms out for balance, while the younger boy sat cross-legged on the mech’s helm. June was on stand-by in case something went wrong, but she seemed relaxed from her seat on a crate. 

Optimus held himself carefully, venting slowly and not daring to even twitch his panels. But his optics glowed with warm azure light, and Ratchet could hear his engine softly purring. 

“The boss-bot’s a dinosaur!” Miko continued. “I am standing on a robot warrior dinosaur! This is one of the best days of my life!” 

Optimus’ jaw tightened with a slight wince. 

“Volume, Miko,” Ratchet said warningly. 

“Oh, whoops!” Miko said, much more quietly, She crouched down and patted the armor she stood on. “Sorry, Optimus.” 

Optimus hummed softly, relaxing against the concrete. 

“Yeah, Miko, we know it’s cool,” Bulkhead said with a chuckle. He looked over at Ratchet, smile softening a bit. “You two doing alright?” 

Maybe it was the fuel sitting pleasantly in his tank or the responding burst of energy streaming through his systems, but Ratchet felt himself smiling back. 

“Yes, Bulkhead, we’re doing better now.” His optics drifted back to the floor. “A lot better.” 

“I am so jealous of you guys right now,” Bumblebee said. He’d rolled his cart off to the side and was now plopped on the floor besides Optimus, door-wings perked up. 

“Hi Bee!” Raf wiggled around to face his friend, grinning wide. “Doesn’t this remind you of Dino Ranger 2?” 

“Yeah, all you need is a Pteranodon to fly you to different parts of the map,” Bumblebee said with a snicker. He reached over and patted Optimus’ side. “How are you feeling, Optimus?” 

The Prime’s gaze shifted to the scout, optics flickering gently. Slowly, he curled his tail around Bumblebee, pulling the younger mech close to his side. He reached back and tapped his tiny claws reassuringly against Bumblebee’s servo. 

“Good,” Bumblebee replied, smiling at his mentor. “I call dibs on getting the next day off, okay?” 

Optimus blew out a short vent of amusement. Ratchet fondly rolled his optics. 

“I still don’t get the horns,” Jack said, addressing no one in particular. The teen stood at the base of Optimus’ neck, peering suspiciously at the Prime’s exhaust pipes. “Why do you think they didn’t just end up on Optimus’ back like his bot mode?” 

“Uh, because horns are awesome?” Miko called, hands on her hips. “Duh?” 

“Yeah, but T-rexes didn’t have horns!” Jack exclaimed. He frowned, rubbing the back of his head in thought. “I mean, if he was a Carnotaurus, that would make sense. …Except it wouldn’t, ’cause their horns stuck out of their eyebrows. Heck, these look more like a Styracosaurus' horns than anything, but that’s not even a carnivore.”

Ratchet felt his optical ridge slowly rise up his faceplate. Bumblebee and Raf cocked their helms. Optimus blinked, letting out a gentle, curious rumble. 

“Since when are you a dinosaur expert, Jack-rabbit?” Miko asked with an amused glint in her eyes. 

“Oh, he’s loved dinosaurs since he was little,” June said. The woman smiled fondly, folding her hands over her knee. “He was always borrowing any dinosaur book he could find at the library, or asking me to stay up late so he could watch those documentaries with the CGI dinosaur segments. He even asked his kindergarten teacher for more dinosaur lessons so he could ‘become a paleontologist sooner.’” 

“Mom!” Jack squeaked, his face nearly as red as Optimus’ armor. 

“What? It was adorable!” June grinned.

Ratchet pressed his lip components tightly together to keep any snickers inside his intake. Optimus, ever the better mech, hummed reassuringly and stretched an arm up towards the teen. He couldn’t quite reach, but the sentiment was clear. 

“Thanks, Optimus,” Jack mumbled through the hands he’d pressed to his blushing face.

At that point the GroundBridge pulsed again, and Arcee walked through, pushing her own cart. The femme’s sharp optics darted to the two energon cubes she’d left them. Her shoulders loosened slightly when she saw they were empty. 

“Satisfied?” Ratchet asked her. He meant for it to be a sarcastic quip, but it came out a little too softly. 

“Yes,” Arcee said. She walked up to the medic and met his gaze, scanning him carefully. Her sternness melted into concern, optics flickering and lip components pulled tight. 

“Don’t do that again,” she muttered. The warrior leaned close enough to Ratchet to brush her shoulder against his arm. “Seriously. Starvation is never a good thing, no matter how you spin it. If you need to cut back your rations for our sake, at least tell us. Let us have a say in it.” 

Ratchet sighed a bit, plating loosening from his chassis. 

“I will,” he quietly said. “We never meant to worry you all. We’ll do better in the future, I promise.” 

“Good,” Arcee said. She offered him a small smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Ratchet replied with a smirk. 

His attention was drawn back to the rest of the group by Bulkhead clapping his servos together. 

“Okay guys, we’ve still got to get the rest of that energon inside.” The former looked down at Optimus with a grin. “I think you can help us with this part, Optimus, if you want.” 

Optimus’ optics lit up. He tapped his tail against the ground with a pleased grunt. 

“Alright, you three, you heard him.” Ratchet walked over and kneeled down. “Time to get off.” 

The children thankfully kept their grumbling playful and at a bare minimum. Jack and Miko clambered onto Bumblebee’s offered servos, while Raf settled onto Ratchet’s own palm. 

“Come on, Dr. Grant!” Miko declared as soon as they were all on the floor and heading towards their favorite couch. “We have stupid homework to do!” 

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Jack groaned. 

“Nope!” 

“Thanks again, Optimus!” Raf added, grinning up at the Prime. 

Optimus rumbled softly, optics crinkling with his own smile. He slowly stood up, taking a moment to stretch out his spinal strut. He was still careful of his surroundings, his tail skirting to the side to avoid smacking into the concrete platform, but the tension that had nearly frozen his frame earlier was nowhere to be seen. 

Ratchet’s spark did a happy flip in its casing. 

“We’ll see you guys later!” Bumblebee waved at the children and June. “Come on guys, we got energon to pick up!” 

Their scout practically bounced into the GroundBridge. Bulkhead laughed and Arcee rolled her optics as they followed him into the portal. 

Shaking his helm, Ratchet turned back to the monitor, ready to dive back into his chemical calculations. 

A red-plated muzzle settled on his shoulder, the weight warm against his mesh. Servos, clawed but gentle, rested on his back. Purrs quivered through his frame and filled his audio receptors like music. 

Fighting a smile, Ratchet turned his helm. 

“Optimus,” he addressed the snout a few inches from his faceplate, “you should get going.” 

His partner rumbled teasingly. He curled closer to Ratchet’s frame. His optic glowed like a warm hearth of azure light. 

“Seriously…” Ratchet whispered. He leaned his helm over until the bridge of his olfactory sensors rested against the red metal. “They’re going to wonder where you are.” 

Optimus hummed. Pressing his muzzle closer, he twitched it up and down. 

Is he… nuzzling me? 

It was so unexpected, so ridiculous, and so sweet that Ratchet couldn’t help but laugh. He reached up to stroke the bottom of his partner’s jaw. His own engine purred in his chest. 

Optimus sighed happily. His tail curled up to gently tap against Ratchet’s calf. 

T - H - A - N - K - Y - O - U - L - O - V - E. 

“Anytime, light,” Ratchet replied. “Anytime.”

Smiling, he pressed a kiss against his partner’s faceplate. Joy surged in his spark when he felt Optimus’ plating relax under his touch. The purrs grew until they could have been mistaken for a pack of titanium tigers. He let them stay like that for a long moment; longer than they probably should have. 

And he didn’t care in the slightest. 

“Okay,” Ratchet finally said, pulling back. “I mean it, get moving. Before Bumblebee comms me asking where you went.” 

Huffing soft laughter, Optimus moved away, his tail lingering against Ratchet’s leg. He walked towards the Bridge, his heavy steps far lighter than they’d been before. Pausing before the portal’s edge, he looked back at Ratchet with those dazzling optics. It was a wonder a smile with so many sharp fangs could be so soft. 

Knees suddenly wobbly, Ratchet smiled back, spark nearly overflowing with affection. 

“Come back soon,” he murmured. As the words left his intake, his digits carefully signed along, his digits gently curling and flicking. “I want to kiss you properly.” 

Optics flashing in delight, Optimus grinned, his tail waving back and forth. The movement caught his gaze, and he froze, staring at the errant appendage. He looked back at Ratchet and cocked his helm. 

“...I was going to tell you about that,” Ratchet said, sheepish. “It’s just… very endearing.” 

Huffing, Optimus rolled his optics, though Ratchet caught the amusement sparkling in the azure orbs. He turned back and walked into the Bridge, his great form disappearing with a flash. 

Ratchet stared at the space for a moment, then deactivated the GroundBridge. He returned his focus to the monitor, digits dancing along the controls as he built yet more equations to test. 

All in all, this was far from the worst day they’d had on this planet.