Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Perhaps, looking back, it hadn't been the wisest idea for the Autobots to engage in a round of truth or dare with the kids. Although you couldn't blame them, since it was Raf's idea to play the game and the boys had nothing but merciful tasks and questions. The problem lay more with the human equivalent of the word “YOLO”, also known as Miko Nakadai, who had clearly made it her new mission in life to coax every unpleasant secret out of Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead. And even if the bots made an effort to avoid the questions, they expected tasks that no person in control of their own mind really wanted to do.

So... here goes nothing! It wasn't long before the metaphorical milk was spilled and no amount of crying in the world was going to change that, as the humans used to say, and an ill-considered answer to a cleverly posed question provided information that could be compared to blackmail.

“What do you mean, you have holoforms?”

Miko clenched her fists and glared at one bot after another, then at the boys and finally at Ratchet, who was standing by the computer absorbed in whatever he was doing. Her exchange of glances, amusingly enough, made for an interesting pirouetting dance.

"You guys could have turned into humans all this time and you didn't tell us? Have you any idea what kind of betrayal of trust that is?" she ranted and stomped her foot on the ground, making her pigtails dance. Her eyes darted over to her guardian, who winced a little under the teenager's sharp gaze. It was almost funny when you thought about the fact that the green, beefy bot was a few tons heavier than the girl.

Calmly, he raised the servos in an attempt to de-escalate.

Unfortunately, de-escalation was the complete opposite of calming Miko Nakadai. A quick trip to a metal concert or a few laps in the rapids might have worked better.

With an accusing finger, the japanese girl glared at the big bot: "Bulkhead, I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this. You broke the Bro Code. You broke the Brode!"

"Could it be that you have just made that up? " Arcee chimed in, having watched the whole incident with an amused grin, but not lifting a finger to intervene. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted her weight from one leg to the other while placing bets with Bumblebee on a private channel about how long it would take Bulkhead to give in and grant the Japanese woman some insane wish to make up for his mistake.

“Doesn't sound like something that actually exists,” the blue femme finally added.

“Just like we didn't know holoforms existed?” Jack turned to the warrior with a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow and rested his arm on the back of the couch on which he was sitting with his legs bent. “Why are you dropping the bomb now?”

“What are you talking about?” Now it was Arcee's turn to raise a metallic brow. "You know my hologram. Or do you think Sadie is just pretty decoration?"

“But a hologram is different from a holoform,” the boy next to Jack remarked, adjusting his glasses, putting down the laptop on his lap and turning around. “At least you don't call it a hologram, but a holoform.”

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “What's the difference?”

Ratchet, who was standing at his console and had been listening to the conversation in silence, snorted, making a sound not unlike a horse.

“What's the difference?” the medic squawked like a parrot, more to himself than to the others in the room. Finally, he turned to the group and crossed his arms. "A holoform is something completely different from those ridiculous projections you humans are talking about. Because unlike that childish stuff, a holoform is a highly technical achievement that we Cybertronians have been born with since we first went online."

His chest puffed out with pride, he folded his arms and for a horrible, brief moment it looked as if the doctor was going to sink into another one of his hymns of praise for Cybertron. Something no one ever felt inclined to engage in and which soon ended in hasty apologies so that they could leave the room as quickly as possible. Amazingly, even Optimus Prime, the Doctor's oldest friend, sometimes took a tactical retreat when Ratchet sank into one of his exposés.

But that wasn't the case, as the bot soon opened the optics and looked at the humans one by one: “A highly complex part of our anatomy and certainly no attraction for organic beings.”

"Okay. Then show it." Miko shrugged her shoulders and looked at the medic with an almost challenging grin. It was a sight that briefly unsettled him.

"What? I... I'm certainly not going to be an entertainer for you. Besides, a holoform takes time. Something like that doesn't just happen overnight. You have to adjust their appearance..." the Medic began digressively in a bit of a singsong, which only caused both children and bots present to raise their eyebrows, or the Cybertronian equivalent, one by one as they looked at the Medic with tilted heads.

"... and find clothes that you humans appreciate so much. Also, we need to tell Agent Fowler about this and... and... you know what? I don't owe you any explanation!"

Visibly caught by surprise, the doctor made a face.

"Holoforms are not toys and you have no right to force us to use them. And that's it!"

"Oh come on. It can't be that bad to be human for once." Jack watched Ratchet patiently. “Besides, we could show you a few things from our world.”

“Oh yeah right.” Miko rolled her eyes. “Because Jasper Nevada is also a melting pot of cultural diversity.” - “You want to see the holoforms so badly, don't you?” - “And you think tempting them with probably the most boring place on Earth will work?” - “You're so determined to get them to do this holo thing!”

Visibly exasperated, young Darby threw his arms in the air as the pointless discussion went over his head.

"No, Jack. We want to see them and they want to use them." Miko sauntered over to the boy. “The feeling here is mutual,” she explained, leaning forward almost in a "I know it better than you, so listen" and having her eyes closed blissfully. "Besides, I was thinking more of places we can reach with a certain groundbridge. Wink wink!" With a jerky movement of her head, she pointed at the technology in question, which was standing behind Ratchet, difficult to miss.

“Socialism by Miko.” the teenager sighed, propping his head on his hand and glancing at Rafael, who silently returned the slight grin before turning to his own partner.

“We don't even have to travel the world,” Rafael explained, sparkling at Bumblebeee with enthusiastic eyes. "Bee, we could play some of my video games at my place. Your hands won't be so big then either."

The scout's optics lit up at the prospect and with an enthusiastic chirp, he agreed with the little tech geek, who immediately got into a wild discussion with the bot about which game would be the first to be played through in a one-night sleepover. Somewhere along the line, the phrases “building forts” and “watching action movies” were also mentioned.

"That's right. Bulkhead, think about it, we could do a wrestling match or jam on the guitar together!" Miko joined in the tone and you could already see the countless plans playing out in her mind's eye. "Oh! I can dig out my old skateboarding gear and I'll show you how to do a few lanes. It'll be awesome!"

“Arcee, I could show you how to ride a bike.” - “I have two healthy wheels, why would I want something like that?”

“Absolutely not!" the medic's voice rose above the kids' enthusiastic cheers. One by one, he scrutinized them with a sharp look. "Bumblebee will not play video games with you. How are you going to explain to your family where he's from?"

“Exchange student.”

Without responding to the shrugging answer, the orange white bot continued his tirade: "Bulkhead and you won't be doing wrestling matches. It's enough that I have to bulge that thick skull in bot form, I don't have to deal with holoforms or little girls because of it!"

“Dude, I'm fifteen!”

"And Arcee's not going to ride a bike! Whatever that is again. And why is that? Because she's not human, she's a Cybertronian warrior, is that clear?"

Ratchet took a deep breath and closed his eyes to mentally shut himself down before his processor crashed. “So let's stop this babbling about some plans we're not going to follow through with anyway, are we clear?”

“Is something wrong?” a warm baritone suddenly cut through the doctor's nagging and suddenly all optics and eyes turned to the large bot that had stepped out of the deep realms of the base into the main hall. As always, the blue and red truck carried his figure with a certain self-assurance that conveyed anew every time: Everything is fine. I'll look after you, and a sense of calm seemed to settle like a blanket over the group, which until a few seconds ago had almost been trembling with ecstasy. Whether the ecstasy was of good origin or not was debatable.

The bright blue optics of Optimus Prime briefly wandered over the children, then over their guardians, who were standing at the railing next to them, before stopping at Ratchet and observing the Medic almost curiously.

“Nothing important!” he waved it off. "Someone just had to bring the kids back down to earth. They're driving the whole base crazy with their nonsensical ideas."

“Nonsensical my ass!” Miko cursed loudly and crossed her arms, causing Bulkhead to say her name in warning, hoping to calm the cursing japanese girl down, but to no avail, because she continued to speak without point or comma, but this time directly to Optimus, who only raised a questioning metal eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Your doc's just a total bore who's never heard of fun.” She stomped over to the part of the railing closest to the Prime and leaned on it, so far that Optimus almost reached out on reflex to catch her if she fell.

“And just because he's got a jack across his ass...” - “Excuse me?!” - "...we're to blame again. And it was you guys that started the secrecy. So much for teamwork."

The Prime's brows moved higher with every word Miko said, drawing together in the middle, and the Autobot leader looked over at Jack with a help-seeking gaze, looking at the person he trusted the most besides Rafael, Agent Fowler and Mrs. Darby - wrong, she had asked the Prime to call her “June” a couple of times.

The teenager looked at the Prime over the back of the couch and then glanced at Rafael, who was still sitting next to him. The two boys had a silent exchange over their eyes for a couple seconds, then nodded and Jack started to explain everything for the poor leader of the autobots, who so far had only drawn confusion from the information he'd been given.

“We've only just learned that you have holoforms.”

So there lay the cyber-dog buried.

The Prime nodded affirmatively. “Yes.”

It wasn't a question he asked, yet it almost sounded like he had asked one. Probably because he last of the Primes still didn't understand how this fact related to his doctor's tense mood.

“Well.” Visibly uncomfortable, Jack rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at Optimus through his lashes. “We didn't know about this, and we're wondering why you never said anything.”

“Puh-lease” Ratchet snorted, again not unlike a horse and turned to Optimus.

"Don't listen to the kids. Someone just put a bug in their audials that makes them think they're entitled to use our holoforms for their private pleasure."

“We never said that.” Raf curled his lips and scowled at the Medic as well. “We were just thinking about all the things we could do with you if you were human.”

"My words exactly. Private pleasure. Something that has no place in a war!"

“And why shouldn't personal enjoyment be a part of being a soldier, old friend?”

If betrayal had a face, Ratchet would now be the Cybertronian embodiment of it. Jaw open and optics wide, the Medic slowly looked over at his friend, unable to find words for the fact that the latter had just stabbed him in the back like a ravenous wolf over a defenseless deer. At least that's how it seemed to Ratchet.

“I... you... Optimus... she... we can't... you can't be serious!”

The Prime, still calm and collected, shrugged his massive shoulders.

"I see no harm in the children wanting more interactions with their partners. I would even go so far as to say that some cultural appropriation would do us all some benefit. After all, we are guests here and it would be the minimum we could do to engage with our hosts," explained Optimus, without taking his gaze off Ratchet.

“I'm sure it would do some people good to get a change of scenery, as the humans say,” the Prime added.

No one said it, but everyone got the hint that Optimus was sending to Ratchet. It was hard to stifle a grin.

“Does that mean the boss is giving us permission?” Miko now dared to hope. “Really official?”

"I think we can certainly learn a few things about the humans and, given the absence of the Decepticons in recent weeks, I also think we have the space to realize these plans. However, within the appropriate limits and with the necessary respect. Of course, that's no excuse for being careless."

“Wohoo!!!” With a leap of joy, Miko now whirled over to Bulkhead and could hardly contain her excitement. "Come on, Bulkhead! Let's get started on your holoform right away! We really need to give you some scars! And huge muscles! Oh. And maybe a tattoo!"

While Miko was already lost in infinite worlds, little Rafael hopped off the couch, trotted calmly over to the yellow scout and the two friends looked for a quiet corner to discuss Bumblebee's holoform.

Arcee just gave Jack a long look, whereupon Jack raised his hands in surrender and the two of them also disappeared into the remote areas of the base, leaving only Optimus and Ratchet behind.

Still outraged by his leader's deceitful betrayal, the Medic snorted for the third time that day and crossed his arms.

“I hope you realize what you've done.”

Optimus smiled good-naturedly. “Quite so, old friend.”

"I hope you also realize that if anything goes wrong, I will desert you faster than you can think. Just to give you a rough idea of how your betrayal just felt," the smaller bot added, causing Optimus to look at him from calm optics.

“Do you put so little faith in our tea-” - “Yes.”

An amused smile reflected on the big 18-wheeler's metallic lips as he placed a warm servo on Ratchet's shoulder plates.

"Just try to think of it as a new form of cooperation. Maybe you can use it as a way to teach the kids about our culture as much as they teach us about theirs," he explained with an angelic patience that would have made any other Prime before him envious. Apparently wars were a good opportunity to build up his own patience, otherwise there was no other explanation for how Optimus was able to deal with his team the way he did.

Ratchet pondered the Prime's words for a moment before rolling his optics in a pitiful attempt to both agree with him and still defend his own verbally very clear point of view as best he could.

"Well. When you put it that way... Rafael has always been interested in our anatomy. Maybe I can teach the lad a few little things then."

Ratchet smiled at the thought of teaching the boy more about their race, and preferably even on Ratchet's own body, which the Medic probably knew best.

“And you can finally check out those weird animal parks you're so obsessed with,” he added, rolling his optics again as Optimus gave him a questioning look in a ridiculous attempt at sneakiness.

"Please, Optimus. Everyone here knows you regularly have Agent Fowler bring you documentaries and secretly watch them in your berth room. You may be able to fool the Decepticons, but you can't fool us."

Now visibly embarrassed, the Prime averted his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at the thought of being able to pursue his own interests more.

Only God, or in this case, Primus alone, knew what the future held for the Autobots.

Chapter Text

June wanted to be honest; when Jack had come home a few days ago, just before she had to leave for the night shift, she had expected a lot of stories; especially since she had been let in on the secret of the Autobots and had to swear an oath in front of Agent Fowler not to tell a soul a single word.

It was a fact that she still couldn't fully comprehend and that occasionally caused her to stare into space, lost in thought, while countless questions and scenarios played in her head like a broken record. But it wasn't about imagining horror scenarios where the children came home bleeding and with broken bones, no. June's thoughts and questions were much smaller and almost silly, if she was honest with herself.

Unlike the children, the nurse was less interested in the dangerous adventures of the bots and much more interested in their daily lives and anatomy. How did they eat? How did they sleep? How did they heal? Was there such a thing as a cybertronian cold? Did Transformers have to go to the toilet and wash like humans?

June smiled at the questions as she looked out of the small window in her kitchen, the knife in her hand and the vegetables on the chopping board. Yes, by now she was no longer surprised when she heard about fast-paced robot battles or alien technology far beyond her level of knowledge. Instead, she smiled at Jack's stories and nodded as she made mental notes of what she needed to point out to the bots on her next visit so that they could better look after the children in her absence.

Just imagine the mother's indignation when she found out how the children were allowed to eat at the alien base. Sweet stuff, junk food, potato chips and what not. Sometimes even food that Jack brought home from work. And why? Because the three teenagers had managed to convince the bots that this was what a balanced diet looked like!

It's incredible what the three of them could achieve when they pulled together. Unfortunately for all the wrong reasons. When she had confronted Optimus about it, the leader was visibly embarrassed and promised to do better and inform himself better about the human diet.

June suspected that it was this cohesion among the children that ensured that the bots could now become human too. She hadn't quite understood her son when he'd rambled on about the Cybertronian anatomy that made it possible for the Autobots to take on a human form through a hologram that had a solid form. She hadn't really had time to think about it in the end, either, when Jack had suggested with bright eyes that they should have a barbecue so that the bots could learn how to behave as humans before they went into the public places. A crash course in being human, so to speak.

And she shouldn't worry about the food either, as the avatars of the aliens could burn food but not process it. Which translated for June as: The bots could eat but their bodies, whether holoform or real, would have none of it. Jack had explained it like burning a piece of wood in a stove.

And so it was that June Darby, nurse by passion, mother by love, suddenly became a caterer for million-year-old Cybertronian warriors who soon arrived at her humble home and learned how to behave and what to look out for as a human.

June couldn't for the life of her imagine how this evening would go. Not only was the premise itself absurd enough and should have her tearing her hair out, but it had become as common to her as her daily coffee before work. She should furrow her brow and question it, but she didn't because she knew that something would happen in the coming week at the latest that would overshadow the current event.

Of course she had agreed to help the bots, there had been no other option for her, considering that the bots had been protecting Earth for decades now, and she was happy to show a small part of her gratitude, but that was not the only reason for her agreement. Secretly, she was also pleased that the children were able to get out of this dark base and into the sunlight where they belonged. In addition, the nurse hoped that this evening would allow her to get to know the bots a little better if she could finally talk to them on the same level.

Between fights, debriefings and planning for future operations, there was often never more than small talk; if she managed to get one of the bots to talk to her at all.

But now good advice was at a premium, because what exactly did millennia-old warriors who had never been human before in their lives eat? A barbecue had been an excellent idea to provide a large selection of small dishes, but that was harder than it seemed when you didn't know what to serve.

So the nurse followed her gut instinct and served up what everyone enjoyed at a barbecue. A few steaks, a few sausages and burgers were also included, a salad was prepared and a few small snacks were neatly arranged on a plate.

Even if the Autobots and children got tired of the meat, June was still preparing a few vegetable snacks to serve. She couldn't be that wrong with her choice of dishes, she thought with a hum and continued cutting the pieces of bell pepper.

On the radio in her small kitchen, the song Danza Kuduro was playing, for the umpteenth time today, but it didn't bother June in any way. Instead, she swayed her hips to the fast rhythm and hummed along quietly, deeply engrossed in her work at the chopping board.

At least until the doorbell startled her and she almost dropped the knife with a loud yip. Heart pounding, she turned the music down a little and looked out into the hallway before wiping her hands on the tea towel, putting it aside and heading for the front door.

She hastily pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed a few wrinkles out of her blouse, while at the same time she wondered who it could be. Jack was still at school and it couldn't be Rafael and Miko either. The three children all had classes until fifteen o'clock today. She knew Agent Fowler would be coming today too - officially to keep an eye on the bots, but everyone knew the agent's mouth always watered at the mention of meat on charcoal, so it was more of a chance for the man to fill his belly properly - but not until seventeen. Was Jack perhaps expecting another package? Was it the delivery man? The boy knew he should let her know about things like that.

But no. None of this was the case, because when she opened the door and it opened to her will, two men were standing on her porch, looking at her with friendly eyes.

June frowned as she looked at them, whom she estimated to be in their mid-thirties to early-forties, and she had to admit to herself that there was a certain familiarity in the men's eyes. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Instead, she looked at them with a puzzled expression and tilted her head.

The shorter of the two was also the one who looked older. Pale skin with blond, almost white hair. Green eyes and an angular face, but with a smile. The man's thin lips were pressed together, so the smile was very forced as he fiddled with his white and orange shirt, but June was sure he was happy to see her. For whatever reason.

The other of the two, who towered over her by a full head and stood broad-shouldered in front of her, gave her a warm smile instead. Blue, bright eyes and dark hair that seemed to shimmer blue in the light. Laugh lines were visible in the eyes of the athletic man, who was wearing a simple red button-down shirt with a black shirt underneath and dark jeans. A small anchor beard adorned his face and June blushed as she realized how much she was staring at him and almost had to admit that he was attractive.

“Can I help you?” she finally asked, rubbing her hands together. “Are you lost?”

She didn't know the men, had never seen them before. Perhaps they were travelers passing through. People often got lost when passing through Jasper and then didn't know where to go.

“Oh well.” The shorter man threw his hands up in the air with a click of his tongue and turned on his heel. "We've tried it. I guess it's not meant to be! Let's go back and do something useful with our time. We could tidy up the storage room or finally clean up. Primus knows that the base needs it..."

Just as he was about to walk back down the cobbled path to the street, continuing his list of options, the other held him by the collar of his shirt with a certain calmness.

“I beg of you, old friend,” he said in a voice that made June shudder. Not just because she found it pleasant, but also because she recognized it.

“Oh my goodness,” she breathed, cupping her hand over her mouth. "Optimus? Ratchet? Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I just didn't recognize you two and I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting any guests yet. Jack and the others are still at school and I assumed you were all coming together."

June glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Is it that late already? Have I got the time wrong? I haven't even finished dinner yet and I still have to get the coal out of the basement."

Optimus' patient smile quickly put her at ease when Ratchet turned to her. “Actually, we weren't planning on coming this early either.” , he explained, giving a glare to the Prime, who wisely ignored it; June smirked.

“You didn't make a mistake, Mrs. Darby, and I owe you an apology,” Optimus stated calmly, glancing at Ratchet and then back at her.

"Ratchet and I had time and thought we could help you until the children were finished with their schoolwork. As a sort of courtesy for your hospitality," the Autobot explained, but then furrowed his eyebrows. “But if it's not convenient, we can come back later.”

“No worries!” June snorted loudly and waved, visibly embarrassed. Another wild strand of hair was pushed behind her ear. "Its alright! You're no trouble at all."

“With all due respect, Mrs. Darby,” interjected Ratchet, who had freed himself from Optimus' grip and stepped back to the Prime's side, his hands clasped behind his back. "We don't want to impose ourselves. It's obvious we're inconvenienced, so we'll head back immediately."

June smirked again when she saw Ratchet's eyes glinting with anticipation and the forced smile on the doctor's lips; Jack had told her at length how unwilling he had been to do any of this. She was certain that Optimus more or less had to drag his personal physician here to get him out of the base at all.

A mental image that almost made her giggle as she thought of tow trucks taking away cars that were parked wrong.

That got her thinking. Where had they parked? As far as June had understood, the bots used a holoform, but it existed outside their bodies. So if Optimus and Ratchet were here, their vehicle forms had to be somewhere.

“Where did you park?” she asked, ignoring Ratchet's eager smile. Hopefully not in front of her neighbor's house. The old gruel who lived there would often react angrily when other people's cars were parked in front of his house. Regardless of whether the street belonged to the town or not. How many times had June had to deal with him about it, she thought with a mental sigh.

"In a public parking lot not far from here. Don't worry, we remembered to take a parking ticket," the Prime clarified, causing her to raise an eyebrow. A question danced on her tongue, but before she could ask it, the leader added, "Agent Fowler has agreed to demonstrate the principles of parking meters and parking violations. He has also provided us all with a small amount of money to cover the costs."

That explained a lot. She thanked the heavens and Agent Fowler for this foresight as she nodded and smiled at the two, unusual men.

"Well then. Why don't you come in after you're already here? You don't have to go back and twiddle your thumbs waiting to come in again, right?" With a welcoming gesture, she stepped aside and opened the entrance to her home for the two bots.

Ratchet glanced at Optimus, who nodded at him with a smile and then rolled his eyes before stepping past June and into the house, his shoulders slumped and a defeated expression on his face. He muttered numerous cybertronian curses to himself, which the nurse was only too happy to ignore.

“I'm glad to see you too, Doctor,” she said instead and closed the door after Optimus had entered.

The two of them followed the doctor with their eyes for a moment as he dashed off into the kitchen before they did the same. June couldn't help but observe the Prime, who was only a few steps ahead of her. Unlike his doctor, Optimus was completely entranced by the new perspective that presented itself to him and his curious eyes lingered on every little thing that came into his field of vision. Things that June no longer paid any attention to.

The clock that hung on the wall and was a few minutes ahead, the little owl figurines that June had placed on the sideboard, the potted plant whose leaves were starting to turn an annoying yellowish color around the edges. Family photos hanging on the wall, showing moments from the many years she had lived here.

Pictures where Jack was sometimes just a toddler, sometimes even a baby. His first day at school or beautiful moments she had spent with her son.

“If you want to look around, you're welcome to do so,” she finally encouraged the bot when he leaned down to look at a picture more closely.

She almost felt like she was watching a toddler exploring the world and if she was honest, that thought wasn't so far-fetched; after all, the Autobots were still learning about Earth. Despite the many years they had lived here.

“It would be rude to inspect your home like that, but I thank you for the offer, Mrs. Darby,” he simply replied, straightening to his full height.

"Optimus, how many times? I want you to call me June. Just June, yes?" - “Excuse me, Mrs. Darb-...” at the sharp look one only mastered when reaching the level of mother , the Prime instantly went silent during his apology and nodded.

“June.” he then corrected himself.

“Very nice.” June returned his nod and pushed past him in the narrow hallway into the kitchen, where Ratchet was already standing as if ordered and not picked up. And that already for a few hours, judging by the grim expression on the medic's face.

“I'm not quite finished with the food yet, so maybe you can help me with something,” she called out to them as she picked up the knife again and turned her attention back to the vegetables.

Judging by the noise, Optimus now entered the kitchen as well. “We'd be more than pleased.”

Murmurs from Ratchet, the sound of a side-swipe, Cybertronian curses and then a disgruntled “How exactly can we help?” from the doctor.

June smirked as she glanced over her shoulder and saw the doctor rubbing his arm while Optimus stood beside him with a smile. She wondered how many times the Prime had had to call the Medic to his senses today, but decided not to open that can of worms.

Better not to wake any sleeping dogs.

"The table in the garden still needs to be set. The plates are in the cupboards behind you and the cutlery is in the drawer underneath. You're welcome to do that, Ratchet," she explained, pointing to the two cupboards in question. The doctor looked at her, then at Optimus and then at the cupboards before mumbling into his invisible beard.

She only quietly heard things like “housebot” and “humiliating”, but in the end decided to leave the medic to his grumbling and turn to the person who was much more open-minded about the whole affair.

"You could fetch the coal from the basement if you like. That's the door right next to the front door. You can only turn the light on downstairs though, so be careful not to fall. I don't want any bruises on my day off." With a flourish of the knife in her hand, she pointed into the hallway as she addressed Optimus, who nodded at her suggestion and then went on his way.

June then turned her attention back to the vegetable appetizers, but decided to take one last look at Ratchet, who was tampering with the kitchen cupboards. But by the time her eyes realized what disaster was about to strike, it was already too late, as no one had explained to the poor doctor that plates could be both very heavy and very slippery.

June clapped her hands over her mouth as a whole pile of white crockery, which the doctor pulled from the top shelf, collapsed and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

***

Optimus, meanwhile, didn't notice much of that as he descended the narrow and steep staircase to the basement, from which a musty smell met the Prime. The darkness surrounding him made the Autobot leader feel uneasy as he left the last step behind him and stopped at the foot of the stairs.

He had no reason to feel that way. There could be no danger lurking here; perhaps he had simply seen too much of Miko's questionable spooky shows, even if he only watched them passingly.

From the hallway upstairs, only dim light shone into the dark room, but even with that, Optimus could see quite clearly that there were boxes piled upon boxes and it was time to clean up and clear out. He knew that Ratchet would have a fit if the storage room in the base looked like this. The Prime was even a little grateful that he lacked the enhanced night vision that came with his actual body.

Perhaps that would have saved him from what awaited him when he pulled the small cord on the lone light bulb hanging overhead and the room breathed in a milky light. For as the leader turned to his left to look for the charcoal he wanted, he leaped backwards, barely stifling a loud gasp, and had to calm his pounding Spark as a broadly grinning, colorful grimace stared back at him, just inches from his face.

While the hairs on the back of his neck seemed to be doing a protest, it took Optimus a few seconds to realize that the face in front of him was nothing more than a plastic figure protruding awkwardly from one of the boxes. And on closer inspection, he could confirm that it only looked so frightening because of the poor light, as a broad smile was displayed on the face, red cheeks and warm eyes. A thick white beard framed the lower part of the face and the plastic man wore a red hat on his head.

A quick search on the internet showed him that this person represented “Santa Claus”. A fictitious figure who was used to celebrate Christmas. Someone who had set himself the task of bringing presents to every child in one night. So not a figure to be afraid of. The Prime secretly decided not to tell anyone what had happened here, should it ever come up.

Instead, he turned away from the figure and scanned the room again for the charcoal while his Spark slowly calmed down.

The search should come to quick success as he found the large bag and quickly grabbed it. Annoyed for a moment that it was rather unhandy due to the lack of a handle, he decided it wasn't worth fretting over little things like that. Instead, he switched off the light and made his way back out of the basement, the charcoal clutched tightly in both arms.

Just as he was about to leave the basement, the door; which had the unfortunate design to open outwards, slammed unexpectedly in his face, plunging the Prime into darkness and causing him to perform a short balancing act on the edge of the stairs for about a second before tumbling them down with a loud crash.

Once on the cold floor, he rubbed his aching head in annoyance as the door at the top of the stairs squeaked again open and light flooded in.

There, at the top of the stairs and just peeking in cautiously, was the pale ashen face of Jack Darby and a young woman standing behind him, her eyes wide and the corner of her mouth twitching.

Optimus hoped that wasn't a bad omen for the rest of the evening.

Chapter Text

Jack had been sitting on pins and needles all day, staring at the clock in his classroom almost every minute, longing for the day to be over so he could leave.

Even though he would never admit it, he was looking forward to this afternoon, which would mark the debut of the Autobots. The day the Autobots would inaugurate their holoforms.

Well, not really.

Jack chewed on at the end of his pen as he thought back to last Wednesday, when, unofficially at least, it had been the first day with the holoforms and he, Raf and Miko, as well as Agent Fowler, had gotten to see the human avatars. Although Miko was disappointed as she had wanted to keep the bots' appearance a secret until today, Agent Fowler had to insist on seeing the Autobots in their human form on account of his superiors, in order to be able to clear up any incidents in public with no interference, which translated as: should the bots draw unwanted attention, they could be quickly identified and taken back to base as if they were a misbehaving child, probably to be given a lecture.

Jack grinned at the thought.

As the eraser on the end of his pencil slowly became distasteful to the teenager, he exhaled heavily and went back to staring at the sheet on his desk. He had long since finished the assignments and he could theoretically let Ms. Keen know, but that would only result in more work. At least that's what he had observed earlier in a sneaky glance when Lucas, the official class nerd, had handed in his sheet. Admittedly, it was also possible that the boy himself had asked for more assignments, as Jack had found it difficult to hear that from his seat at the back of the room, but it was better not to take any chances. Geography didn't interest the teenager that much anyway and he doubted that he would ever need the architectural plate shift for his future. So why make life unnecessarily harder?

Instead, he turned his mind to his plans after school.

His mother had asked him to stop at the supermarket to pick up some burger buns and a few sauces for the barbecue. It was only a quick stop in itself, but the teenager smirked meanly and toyed with the idea of taking Arcee with him to the store. After all, she could do it now. So why should Jack be the only one squeezing through the store aisles in the after-work rush, standing shoulder to shoulder with construction workers and possibly even fighting with grannies over the last jar of strawberry jam? No thanks, he could do without that and, as we all know, a problem shared is a problem halved, isn't it?

Luckily, he would be able to leave earlier today, as his algebra teacher was sick, so it wouldn't be quite so bad. At least he hoped so.

The school bell snapped him out of his thoughts and before it had even finished ringing, he had stuffed his things into his backpack and rushed head over heels out of the classroom and into freedom. A quick message on his phone from Arcee confirmed that his partner was already waiting for him as he stormed through the school corridors, hastily throwing his books into his locker and then running straight for the exit.

There, in the shade of a tall oak tree, she finally stood.

Arcee was waiting for him, arms folded across her chest, legs crossed and leaning against herself - a strange proposition, as Jack quickly realized. She was slightly taller than him and her bright, bored eyes darted around as she tapped her fingers impatiently on the sleeve of her blue jacket, under which she wore a simple black top. Her long legs were clad in a pair of tight, dark jeans that transitioned into sneakers, but the most striking thing about the alien warrior was her hair, which she had styled into a wild bob with tomboyish side details. The black shimmered slightly bluish in the sun and the sidetails were dyed pink, making her instantly recognizable in a crowd, but also disguised enough that she didn't draw too much attention to herself.

A robot in disguise, if you will.

Eventually her eyes fell on him and she raised a narrow eyebrow as she noticed him staring, somewhat tactlessly.

“Are you stuck there, or why aren't you coming?” she called out to him in a calm and clear voice. “I thought you were supposed to pick up some groceries for your mother?”

“We are,” Jack replied as he sauntered over to Arcee, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

The femme raised an eyebrow again.

“We?” she echoed.

"You're human now, after all. No one's stopping you from joining me in the store," he smirked as he reached her and swung his leg over the seat of the bike.

Arcee watched him for a moment, tilting her head and puffing her hair out of her eyes in annoyance.

"First of all, Jack, I am not human, I just look like one. And secondly..." she pushed herself away from her altmode and put one hand on her hip. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Driving?” - “You want to drive me while I'm standing next to you?” - “Technically, you're under me.” - "Bad choice of words, Jack. Scoot to the back." With a flick of her head, she shooed the student to the back of the seat, who only sighed in disappointment in response, but did as he was asked. Or commanded, he added with a bitter thought as he watched Arcee take the seat in front of him.

Nothing happened for a moment and the two remained in the parking space, both waiting for... well what?

"Uhm, Arcee? Don't you want to start driving? Or does your holoform have a glitch?" Jack joked as he looked over her shoulder, while she returned his gaze almost emotionlessly, if it weren't for the annoyed glint in her eyes.

"My holoform is doing just fine. The question is, why won't you hold on?" - “Where?”

Arcee looked at him, then her eyes slid to her hips, then back up to Jack, then back down again. It took a few moments for the teenager, his head bright red, to understand what his partner wanted from him.

"What, no Arcee. I can't just touch you! That's weird." He raised his hands and took a leap back on the bike as he looked around, hoping none of his classmates saw him like that.

“And sitting on an unknown motorcycle without being asked and whispering lovingly to it isn't weird?” - “How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't know you were a high-tech alien from another planet?”

"Hold on now or walk home, Jack. Your mother is probably already waiting for us!" At the femme's warning look, however, the teenager finally gave in and, hanging his head, reluctantly put his hands on her hips before she drove off with a jolt.

With all due respect, this really wasn't the way he had imagined the holoforms would play out, he thought angrily, glancing around again and again to make sure that no one in his class saw him in such a way. Just imagine if Sierra saw this. Jack would never be able to stand in front of her again without wanting to sink into the ground. A shiver ran through the boy just imagining it.

Thankfully, they soon reached the supermarket and Jack was able to jump off the motorcycle as if bitten by a tarantula before storming into the store without so much as another glance at Arcee. For all his love for the Cybertronian, he didn't want to explain to her why he had a bright red head. He could do without this biology lesson and hoped that it would never come up.

As expected, she didn't accompany him into the store, but decided to wait for him outside, which was more than all right for Jack after the drive. At least that way he could recover from the embarrassing experience that would haunt his dreams.

Quickly picking up the buns - some with sesame seeds and some without - and choosing a couple of barbecue sauces, including a nice hot chili sauce that he always enjoyed very much, he went to the checkout, paid for the goods and then returned to Arcee, who was waiting for him again, leaning against herself - he really had to find a different description for this.

The short drive to his home was just as awkward as the drive from school to the store, but thankfully, it was over quicker than the first trip. Arcee parked on the side of the road and the two of them made their way to the house. On the way to the front door, the femme sighed as she looked over her shoulder at her altmode. “Please explain to me again why I can't stand in the garage?”

"Mom's car has engine problems and the repairman won't be here until tomorrow. And since a few thieves have been breaking into cars lately, we don't want to take any chances," the teenager explained half-heartedly, causing the femme to raise an eyebrow. For several reasons.

“And me getting stolen is okay?” - "Unlike mom's car, we'll know if someone tries to steal you. After all, you can feel your body. Unfortunately, we don't have a telepathic connection with my mom's old Toyota."

“I can feel my body, that's true,” Arcee grimaced. “Just like I can feel the wind or the grit from the road that scratches my paintwork whenever someone drives past and whips it up.”

Jack rolled his eyes with a smile as he continued to listen to the warrior's rant, where she basically just listed all the things that bothered her about not being able to stand in the garage as usual, but having to stand on the side of the road. It boiled down to the fact that she didn't like having to stand outside. A complaint that he had been listening to since this morning.

Oh, I hope I don't get any scratches in the paintwork. That kind of thing looks unsightly on a motorcycle or Sorry, Jack. I need a few minutes to warm up properly. The night was so cold on this dark, lonely road.

Somehow, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that Arcee was a little spoiled when it came to the garage. Surprising for someone who was fighting a war at the same time and should be used to worse.

“I think you'll survive, you great Cybertronian warrior,” he replied, only to receive a scowl from her, which he couldn't see but could feel quite clearly in his back.

What the boy didn't know when he put the key into the lock of the front door, was that behind it the door to the basement was wide open and an Optimus Prime, loaded with coal, was coming up the stairs, about to leave the dark space.

So it couldn't be prevented that when Jack opened the front door to his home, he inadvertently slammed the basement door shut right in the Prime's face and all that could be heard from the basement was a heavy thud that froze both Jack and Arcee.

The two exchanged a brief look of panic, then rushed into the house and opened the basement door, already afraid that they had pushed Jack's mother down the stairs.

"Shit, mom! Is everything all right?" the boy shouted, throwing his backpack into Arcee's arms, who only caught it in surprise. Hopefully his mother hadn't hurt herself in the fall! Not today! Not at all, actually, when he thought about it. Horror scenarios were already forming in his mind that he didn't want to deal with while he had human Autobots on his neck.

So you could well imagine the relief on his face when he opened the basement door and found not June there but... Jack's face grew paler by the second as he realized who exactly he had pushed down the stairs instead of his mother and the teenager didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

At the foot of the stairs, in the dim light, was none other than Optimus Prime himself, rubbing his head with a sour expression and then staring up, the bag of charcoal resting on his lap. As Jack's eyelid began to twitch, he glanced helplessly at Arcee, who was just watching this scenario with the corners of her mouth twitching. She had leaned only slightly over the boy's shoulder, still holding the backpack in both hands, knowing full well that it contained food that Jack had bought earlier. Her eyes were wide and surprise was written all over her narrow, heart-shaped face, but there was something else...

Jack had trouble figuring out if the femme was losing her cool or stifling a laugh, because as he'd already noticed, the Autobot avatars couldn't take any real damage. But that didn't mean that they couldn't feel pain. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Jack knew for sure that Optimus hadn't broken anything in his unfortunate fall and wouldn't have a gash on his head, simply because he didn't have the human biology for that, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that the Prime was probably suffering from a thunderous headache, which was confirmed by the contorted face of the victim.

This scenario reminded him a little of old cartoons like Tom and Jerry or Bugs Bunny, where slapstick humor was the name of the game.

"Optimus? Are you all right?“ he finally called into the basement and hurried down the stairs to lend a hand to the Prime, who just smiled good-naturedly at Jack: ”I'm fine, Jack. You have nothing to worry about."

Arcee, who was standing upstairs to make sure that no one else accidentally slammed the basement door, tilted her head. "What are you doing here already? I thought you and Ratchet were still at the base."

A valid point. Why was Optimus already here? And if the Prime was here, then where was...

“What in the Allspark is going on here?”

Ah, there.

Jack looked up the stairs as he pulled the charcoal from Optimus' lap and recognized the holoform of the Medic standing in the doorway, eyes wide and ready to fight, staring down as if someone had just insulted his carrier in a very personal way. Behind him stood Jack's mother, one hand over her mouth and her eyes narrowed in concern.

“Can't you guys be out of sight for a minute without smashing your heads in somewhere?” the CMO hissed, which only caused Optimus to grin almost in amusement. Jack watched and wondered what exactly the Prime had been through today to react so emotionally. He was usually so reserved.

"Don't worry about it, Ratchet. I'm fine. It was an accident, nothing more." With a grunt, the Prime pushed himself up and placed a large hand on Jack's shoulder. "Jack didn't know I was in the basement and unintentionally closed the door when he got home. That's all."

“That's all?!” screeched the doctor. "You fell down a flight of stairs. We may not get injuries from our avatars, but you can't tell me you're not in pain. So move your aft up here and let me scan your form." Frustrated, the Medic threw his arms above his head. “I can't believe this is happening!”

Jack threw an apologetic grin at Optimus, knowing full well what awaited the Prime once he got into Ratchet's hands. There was no way he was going to have a moment's peace today without being constantly asked how he was doing. After all, as Ratchet had strongly explained when they first used the holoforms, there was no way of knowing the consequences of damage to the forms.

As mentioned before, they were avatars outside of the actual body but the mental construct of the Cybertronians was shifted during the time. While they could still sense damage to their actual bodies and make the avatar disappear and thus return to their true bodies, when they were in their human form, their minds were there too.

No wonder the Medic made such a fuss when Optimus left the basement with Jack and immediately began to examine his Prime extensively.

Jack sighed as Arcee leaned over to him with an amused twinkle in her eye. “He's not going to get any peace today.”

“Ratchet or Optimus?” - “Both.”

Beside them, his mother exhaled heavily and put a hand to her cheek as the two oldest bots disappeared into the kitchen. "Well, this really isn't how I imagined this afternoon would go. I hope this won't be a bad omen for the rest of the evening."

“We all knew it would be chaotic in some way, didn't we?” Jack tried to lighten the mood by shrugging his shoulders and grinning at the two women next to him. “By the way, I've brought the buns and the sauces.”

“Ah, thank you very much, honey.” June gave him a kiss on the cheek, which Jack reluctantly accepted - mainly because he was still carrying a heavy bag of charcoal in his arms - and she patted his shoulder. "Please be a sweetie and take the charcoal out into the garden. You can also light the grill if you want, but be careful." She then turned to Arcee. "Arcee, you can put the food in the fridge and put the buns on the kitchen counter, will you? In the meantime, I'll see if I can find a cold pack for Optimus somewhere."

Before she had finished speaking, June made her way to the basement, where the good old reliable freezer was located.

“Sure, mom.” - “Oh...” once again his mother paused at the top of the stairs and looked at him. "Please be careful when you go through the kitchen. Ratchet dropped a few plates earlier and I haven't been able to clean up the mess yet."

Jack wondered how this had happened but, for the sake of his own sanity, decided not to ask. The less he knew, the better. So he just looked at Arcee, shrugged his shoulders and set off with the femme to the back garden.

As expected, they found not just Ratchet and Optimus in the kitchen, engrossed in a quick examination of the Prime that basically just consisted of Ratchet asking the Prime how he was feeling like a mother hen and Optimus repeatedly assuring him that he was fine and only had a slight headache, but also some broken plates on the floor.

Jack took a generous step over the broken pieces and pushed his way out through the large glass door into the garden, while Arcee nimbly packed away the groceries. Amazingly efficient, considering she wasn't particularly familiar with human food, but Jack wouldn't question it further.

He would end up with a headache trying to understand all this.

He dropped the bag of charcoal onto the grass with a plop and stretched his back. No wonder Optimus flew back down the stairs with the thing. The sack weighed tons, at least that's how it seemed to Jack. On the other hand, he'd never been the most athletic guy and in sports he was the one you only picked for the team when there was no one else left.

Blinking briefly into the afternoon sun, he enjoyed the moment of peace and quiet, but then walked straight towards the small shed at the edge of the garden, where he briefly fought a battle with the rusty bolt that he had been meaning to replace for months and then finally opened the creaking door to the little house.

He was met by a heavy smell of old wood as his gaze flitted over the old lawnmower, a few buckets of old, probably dried paint and some gardening tools that they only had because his mother loved gardening and was almost devoted to the many plants and flowers that grew here in droves.

But that shouldn't worry him too much, because his only target in here was the old, ball-shaped grill that they had owned for as long as Jack could remember. At times, the teenager sometimes even believed that this grill, with its rust-red color that was already peeling in many places, was older than he was and therefore just as unwieldy.

Nevertheless, the grill did what it was supposed to do and would be needed today. No matter how annoyed the teenager was at the thought of dragging this thing, with its broken and squealing tires, to the grill area. So Jack rolled up his metaphorical sleeves, stepped into the depths of the shed and reached for the grill, unaware that a shadow was looming behind him.

Suddenly he felt hands grabbing his shoulders and heard an animalistic scream. Jack whirled around and returned the cry with an equal screech of his own as he looked his attacker in the face.

Chapter Text

Jack's heart raced, his eyes grew wide and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up. Lying back on the dusty shed floor, he raised his hands in a protective gesture as he looked up at the looming dark figure rising before him like a phoenix from the ashes. The light coming in from outside concealed the face of the sinister shadow, which looked down at him with its arms on its hips.

Then he heard a laugh.

It was at this moment that he realized who he had in front of him and his initial panic turned to outright indignation, anger and infinite shame as his face, for the umpteenth time today, took on a reddish hue.

“Miko!”

The japanese girl held her stomach as she leaned forward and squeezed her eyes shut. In between the short breaths she could barely take, she pointed her finger at the bewildered teenager.

“You should see your face!” she burst out as she nearly rolled on the floor in sheer amusement, like an inverted ladybug. "Too good. And then that screeching. I didn't know you could reach such tones. Ever thought about starting in the school choir, Jack-Man?"

“Not funny!” the victim grumbled and got up from the floor before brushing off his now soiled pants. Great, he had freshly peeled them out of the closet today and had planned to wear them again tomorrow. So much for the plan.

He glared at the girl in front of him and crossed his arms. She, however, took the older boy's murderous gaze almost nonchalantly, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. She rebuilt herself to her full height. Though she was still smaller than Jack as a result, that didn't stop her from teasing and picking at the teenager's metaphorical wound.

"Hah, I wish I had captured that. That would have been a great picture for the group chat." Teasingly, she poked him in the side with her elbow and gave him a mischievous glare. “Don't you think so, Jackster?”

"Are you done now? Have we had enough fun at other people's expense?" - “Ugh!” Miko rolled her eyes and threw her head back. "You're almost as much of a bore as Ratchet or Optimus. And here I thought you were cool."

With a whistling tone, the younger girl sauntered out of the shed, leaving only a, again very indignant, Jack behind. "I am cool! And older too, so you'd better show some respect."

In response, he only received a hand gesture to mimic him, otherwise Miko didn't give him a second glance. Jack huffed, briefly considering following her and standing his ground, which could prove difficult with Miko if you weren't careful, but decided against it in the end.

He was the wiser and the wiser gave in, right? No matter how unsatisfactory that might be.

So he grabbed the grill behind him again and dragged the heavy thing out of the shed and into the sun, where he quickly spotted the others who had joined them, spread out on the lawn like garden gnomes.

Miko had joined a broad, beefy man who was looking around the garden with his big green eyes and rubbing his short, brown mop of hair thoughtfully. Despite his muscular form, you could see that he was rather unsteady on his feet and didn't know what to do with himself. Countless bags hung from his cargo pants, and he wore a worn-out denim vest over his green shirt, on which numerous patches were sewn or glued. Band logos or other symbols were emblazoned on it, some of which Jack even recognized as wrestlers' trademarks. A black Autobot crest was tattooed on the massive upper arm of the warm-skinned giant, whom Jack immediately recognized as Bulkhead.

Raf and Bumblebee were standing not far from them, by the flower beds. Curious, the young scout had bent over the many different, colorful blossoms and had Rafael explain to him which ones they were, who googled it directly on his laptop, which he had in his lap while sitting cross-legged in the grass.

Jack couldn't help but realize how young Bumblebee actually was. Maybe just around twenty years old, barely older than Jack himself.

While the teenager was sure that the Autobots could adjust the age of their holoforms as they pleased, he firmly believed that they chose an age that was in proportion to their real age. Again, a strange sentence when you thought about the fact that these were millennial warriors, but Jack was sure he'd gotten the message across enough.

Bumblebee stood out the most of the bots.

With straw-blond, wild hair and an almost youthful, round face that always had a big grin on it, he seemed so much more childlike than the rest of the Cybertronians. The bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement whenever the scout discovered something new, and this was reflected in the fidgety and energetic way in which Bumblebee moved as a human. When it came to his clothing style, however, the youngest of the Autobots had taken a great example from Rafael, because just like the boy, Bumblebee was dressed in oversized clothes. A yellow and black hoodie with a long hood, loose black trousers and sneakers that weren't even tied properly. Jack wondered whether this was intentional or if the scout simply couldn't tie his shoelaces.

Unfortunately, as they had soon discovered, the holoforms did nothing to change the Scout's muteness and, on top of that, took away his ability to communicate via Morse code - at least that's how Ratchet had explained it to them once. Bumblebee's beeps and tones were not random, but reflected an ancient Cybertronian Morse code that only remotely resembled human Morse code. This, or something like it, could explain why Miko and he couldn't understand what Bee was saying and Rafael did.

Jack still hadn't fully understood that.

As the teenager dragged the grill further across the lawn, over to the spot where they always grilled, he inevitably attracted the attention of the others. Rafael raised a hand in greeting, shouldered his backpack and strolled over to Jack with Bee beside him.

“Sorry about Miko,” the red-haired boy began. “I tried to stop her.”

Jack just waved it off in response. " Nah, never mind. No big deal. We know Miko. What's up, Bee?" He smiled at the scout, who raised his hand brightly and then pointed a finger questioningly at the grill. Jack couldn't tell exactly what Bee wanted to know from him - and inwardly he wondered how Raf and he Scout communicated with each other at all in this form - but with the human facial expressions, at least the Scout's non-verbal messages were easier to understand.

Jack rubbed the sweaty back of his neck before answering, sending a prayer to the heavens that he had interpreted Bee's question correctly. "That's the grill. We'll make dinner on it later. You put some coal in it, light it and then the cooking can begin."

Bee blinked understandingly and took a closer look at the appliance before stroking a finger over the sooty grate, only to grimace in disgust when his finger turned black. Almost offended, the bot raised his hand and stared at his finger with wide eyes.

Raf chuckled, but then quickly gasped in disgust when his protector swiped his dirty finger across his face in response, leaving a black, unsightly stain.

"Bah! Stop that Bee." Raf pushed his attacker's pricking fingers away as he lapsed into giggles.

In response, the scout's eyes merely narrowed challengingly as he crossed his arms with a triumphant grin.

“If you want, Bee, you can bring me the coal,” Jack interrupted them, pointing to the sack a few meters away. Better stop any kind of challenge between Bee and Raf before the duo disappeared into the next corner with their consoles and became unapproachable for the rest of the day.

Man, Jack thought, almost annoyed. Ever since the bots had the holoforms, it was Bee who used his by far the most and yet he was seen less and less because he and Raf were lost in gaming for hours as a result. Ratchet had even started giving the scout time-outs and confiscating the bot's beloved game console for the night, which in turn had only left Bee in a bad mood. How many times had he been seen standing in a corner like a sulky child?

But now the scout blinked at Jack a few times, then looked at the bag before saluting, turning on the heel he'd knocked together earlier and marching over to the coal.

Jack, meanwhile, lifted the filthy grate from the grill and grabbed the brush hanging on the side before he began to scrub. Behind him, he heard the rustling of the coal bag as Bumblebee carried it to the grill, huffing and puffing.

“You can throw the coal into the basket,” Jack explained without lifting his eyes, once he was sure that Bee was within earshot.

The sounds that followed spoke enough for him to know what was going on in the teenager's back. He heard the rustling of the coal bag and Raf's advice as Bumblebee seemed to lose the fight against the bag.

Amazing, Jack thought for a moment as he hung the brush back up and looked proudly at his cleaning job. That Transformers had such problems with a simple bag of coal. It was almost hard to believe that these were the same warriors who had been locked in a bitter war for eons.

Jack turned and almost burst out laughing.

Bee, his head bright red, stood over the coal sack with his legs apart and tried with all his might to open it, so much so that the young man's knuckles were already sticking out white. Raf stood next to him, tilting his head, but also biting his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud as the scout's head turned the next shade of red.

Bulkhead and Miko joined them behind them.

The Japanese girl shifted her weight to one leg, sticking her hip out and looking with a raised eyebrow at the endeavor Bee was currently struggling with.

“What's that supposed to be, Bee?” Quickly, her confusion turned to energy as she clenched her fists. "Come on! You're a several-ton warrior from an alien planet. You're not going to let some ridiculous bag get you down, are you? Show me you've got some muscle!"

"Hold on, Bee. Gimme that. I'll do it."

Those were the famous last words of Bulkhead as he reached over Bumblebee's shoulder to take the bag from the scout's hand, against the latter's protests and wounded pride.

Bulkhead was undoubtedly much stronger than Bee, no question. But Jack wondered how long the bots would fight with the coal before they realized that the pouch was held together by a threaded string. Had they even realized that? The string, which was threaded into the thick paper at the top, was easy to see.

Well, Jack's considerations came too late and the disaster inevitably took its catastrophic course.

With a final, deep grunt, Bulkhead's holoform tugged at the very ends of the bag. The seam, which had bravely withstood every attack until now, surrendered to the sudden force with a hiss and from one second to the next, the top of the pouch opened without any protest.

Unfortunately, the Wrecker had seemingly forgotten all about centrifugal force, and the excess power he had used evaporated into thin air as his arms flew back aimlessly and his fist landed unfavorably in Bumblebee's face.

Jack's eyes widened, Miko cupped her hands over her mouth, Raf went pale, Bulkhead ducked his head in shame and Bee? Well, the scout danced around on one leg as if stung by a Cybertronian tarantula, pressed his hands to his nose and grimaced.

Funnily enough, Jack was quite grateful that the scout couldn't talk. He didn't want to imagine what would otherwise come out of his mouth.

"Bee? Are you okay?" Raf rushed over to his friend and put a hand on his arm, but it didn't do much good as the man turned on the spot, clenching his hands into fists at his sides and eyeing Bulkhead with a look that would make even Megatron take a cautious step back.

Bulkhead dropped the sack of coal and raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, his head retracting further and further as he kept apologizing to Bumblebee for the slip, but to little avail. Bee just stomped towards Bulkhead, standing on tiptoe as he stood directly in front of him, overcoming the remaining inches to Bulkhead's face.

For a moment everything was quiet, then Bee raised his fingers, pointed them at his eyes and then at Bulkhead's. An unmistakable message that said: Better sleep with your eyes open tonight, buddy.

The message would have been a lot scarier if the scout's nose hadn't turned a bright red, giving him a slight resemblance to Rudolph the Reindeer.

Nevertheless, the Wrecker just swallowed and refrained from any further apologies.

The three kids all gave each other thoughtful looks, but then it was Raf who came to Bee's side, took the scout by the hand and pulled him towards the house. "Come on, Bee. Let's ask Mrs. Darby for something to cool your nose, yeah?"

At last, at last, the scout took his eyes off Bulkhead and with a snivelling look, rubbed his aching nose, leaving only Jack, Miko and Bulkhead behind. The latter was still holding his head between his shoulders, looking after the scout.

Just as Bee had disappeared into the kitchen, Arcee peeled out, giving him a startled glance and then looking at the other three.

“What happened to Bee?”

“Bulkhead accidentally punched him in the nose.”

“Ah.”

***

As Bumblebee stepped into the kitchen with Rafael, where June was currently sweeping up the last shards of the plate incident, the Medibot himself was busy hopping around Optimus like a grasshopper, scrutinizing the last of the Primes down to the finest hair, hoping to either find no permanent damage or discover an excuse to leave this event without a second thought and put these holoforms to rest.

Unfortunately, the former was the case and Optimus was left with no permanent damage other than an unpleasant headache and a small bump on the back of his head. However, just as Ratchet was about to press the cold pack to the back of the Prime's head, the medic's gaze fell straight on Bumblebee, who stepped into the kitchen with a bright red nose and a disgruntled expression.

“Bumblebee!” gasped the oldest man in the room. “What, by the Spark of Solus Prime happened to you?”

Knowing that he wouldn't get an answer from the scout himself - they really had to find a solution to that at some point - Ratchet turned to Rafael, who just solicitously pulled Bee back a chair at the kitchen table where Optimus was also sitting.

“An accident,” Raf replied, his eyes fixed on Bumblebee.

Ratchet suppressed an eye roll as much as he suppressed the urge to throw wrenches at Bulkhead whenever he destroyed something that belonged to the Medic. So not at all. An accident, of course.

It almost seemed like the bots around him got more damage in one day as humans than they had in the past million years of war.

"And what is it this time? Did he run into a door or what? Were you two again engrossed in your Daddle thingies and not paying attention? I knew those video games are no good. We'd better put a time limit on this nonsense. Or even better! A complete ban."

While Bee was already pushing his lower lip forward at the thought of saying goodbye to the video games that he had become so fond of in his years on Earth and felt equally wronged because, on the one hand, he was not responsible for his condition and, on the other, Ratchet wanted to punish him for it, Optimus sighed in resignation next to the Medic while Raf was the only one gracious enough to clear up the whole situation.

“It wasn't Bee's fault, Ratchet.” - “Oh?” The Medic raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"It was Bulkhead. He accidentally punched him in the face when he..." Raf suddenly became very quiet as he looked up at the Autobot Medic again, realizing rather quickly that perhaps he should have found a different way to phrase the story, which should have started with the fact that it was all just an accident. Because the Medic almost seemed to shake in his place behind Optimus and there was that twitch on the mech's lower eyelid again.

“Five minutes,” he finally mumbled, after everyone in the kitchen had eyed him anxiously. Then the CMO raised his hand, pressed the cold pack harder than necessary against the back of the Prime's head, who only scrunched up his face in pain in response, and then stomped straight out into the garden, continuing to rant to himself.

"Five whole minutes, apparently that's all it takes for someone to get hurt again. Just wait, he's in for a big surprise if I get my hands on him. He'll clean up the whole base, I promise you that, that enormous, clumsy..." The rest of the rant was lost when Ratchet had left the kitchen so far behind that he could no longer be heard.

Only the four others remained, looking after him with their heads tilted.

While Raf was already ducking his head at the thought of what awaited Bulkhead, June wondered whether she should teach the Autobot doctor a few blood pressure-lowering exercises - apparently he needed it. Optimus, meanwhile, walked over to Bumblebee and pressed the cool pack he'd been using on the scout's nose, which only made Bumblebee flinch in shock before he realized how good the cooling was and dropped back into his chair without lifting another finger.

In the end, it was Raf who looked up at Optimus. “Shouldn't we stop him?”

“Sometimes, Rafael.” the leader began slowly, looking down at the boy. "It's better not to stand in the way of fate. Especially when fate is leading Ratchet. I'm sure our old friend will do Bulkhead no harm."

Optimus couldn't have been more wrong.

Chapter Text

With a hum on his lips, Special Agent William Fowler pulled his car to the side of the road and switched off the engine with a flick of his wrist. The sun was already approaching the horizon in the west when the special agent drummed on the steering wheel of his car to an old Queen hit that was playing on the radio. The dark-skinned man's humming turned into full-blown singing and he thanked Uncle Sam himself that Jasper was a place where you hardly ever met pedestrians at this time of day. The experience would have been too embarrassing if anyone would have been listening to him.

However, like all good things in life, this song ended quicker than he would have wished and the man eventually managed to turn off the radio too, but took it upon himself to look for a way to turn on some music at the little garden party they were having. It was time for the bots to learn what good music was, as they had only ever experienced it from Miko. And even if the agent had grown fond of the girl by now, her questionable taste in music had not.

Ah yes. The garden party that June had kindly invited him to - after William had spent a few days telling her how much he actually loved barbecues and that it would probably be chaotic if she invited the bots, who had no experience in being human. Until June decided to have Agent Fowler with her as a backup.

So the agent had basically invited himself, but it was for the greater good, he kept saying to himself.

After all, June had also agreed with him that it wasn't so wrong to have a second pair of responsible eyes when the kids and the Autobots had their first human experience outside the base.

And although Will had invited himself, he hadn't forgotten his manners. Well, basically his lovely wife Brenda, who, just before the agent had left for the evening out, handed him a Tupperware of chicken tenders and a one with punch, reminding him not to drink too much, not to soil his clothes and not to forget to get milk on the way home tomorrow. Fowler had only nodded silently in response, thanking God that this woman, who could become a weapon if she wanted to, loved him and therefore he didn't have to fear any harm from her.

After a quick kiss, he had set off and was now standing at the front door of the Darby house, both arms full, as if ordered and not picked up, almost impatiently tapping on the floor, when even after two minutes no one came to the door.

Had June not heard him? Was she possibly out shopping? Or was the answer perhaps much simpler and neither the nurse nor her son had heard him because everyone was already in the back yard? After all, it was already quite late and Will had been held up by the afternoon traffic.

Pushing his luck, the man shrugged his shoulders and decided to try one more attempt right by the garden. Perhaps a look over the fence would provide more information.

But when he got there and peered over the white-painted wooden fence, he couldn't say for certain what he made of the scene that presented itself to him. No matter what the special agent had expected, this definitely wasn't it.

There, in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a group of onlookers consisting of humans and bots in disguise, stood the holoform of Ratchet and had, so it appeared, grabbed Bulkhead by the ear and pulled it painfully downwards. And while the Wrecker whined out loud, Ratchet gave him a verbal run-in, some of which Will could hear all the way over to himself.

It was almost funny if it wasn't so extraordinarily confusing.

Letting himself in, Will pushed open the garden gate and joined the group of bystanders, who acknowledged his presence but then quickly turned their focus back to the duo in the middle of the group.

“What is going on here?” Fowler finally asked, leaning down to the young Darby, who shrugged his shoulders, almost bored. “Bulkhead smashed Bee's nose and Ratchet's pissed.”

Fowler nodded and decided not to ask further. As a middleman between Autobots and humans, he had quickly learned that fewer questions often resulted in quieter nights. Especially when it came to the mannerisms of the Cybertronians, which surprised the agent anew every day. Will remembered only too well when he came to the base one day and witnessed the bots consuming energon together, each in their own way. They had sat together in a circle and chatted, almost as if it had been a normal family dinner, talking about God and the world.

Back then, Bulkhead simply chugged his Energon under the motto "Over the teeth and over the gums. Look out, stomach, here it comes." , the scout had almost forgotten to eat his own due to all his chatter. Arcee was sipping hers slowly from one hand, the Prime had sat on a crate and slowly emptied his cube and the Medic had leaned against the main computer and was the only one of all the bots to eat his with an oversized spoonlike object. In the end, it had also been the medibot who had glared almost indignantly at the agent.

"Excuse you, Agent Fowler? We're trying to eat here.", was all the medic had said and William had turned around on the spot and apologized embarrassedly, explaining that he would come back later.

If someone had told Will that this event was almost normal for him today, he would have bet his star-studded shorts that it would never be.

And now? Now he watched almost unconcernedly as the Medic made a spectacle of the Wrecker in front of the assembled crew, and not even gently.

“Now you'd better listen closely, buddy.", Ratchet hissed as he bent down toward Bulkhead, his fingers mercilessly tugging at the warrios sensitive ears. "If you don't get it through that collosal thick skull of yours soon, that you need to pull yourself together and pay attention to the thinsg around you, before using your fists, I will personally see to it that you're loaded with enough tasks to make sure you learn it - until you learn it. If it takes until you're nothing but rust, so be it. Have I made myself clear?"

"Ow, ow! Yeah, Ratchet - Ow. Ow. Ow. I'm sorry, alright. What else do you want me to say? I didn't mean to hit Bee. Can you please let go?"

“Didn't mean, didn't mean, didn't mean...,” Ratchet mocked in a singsong tone "What you meant to do doesn't change what you did. Now move your aft somewhere you can't break anything before I shut off your basic motor functions."

"Okay, okay. Just... let go of my ear already!"

The medic did as he asked and Bulkhead quickly put a couple of meters between himself and the physician rubbing his ear with a painful expression. “It's not my fault that this stupid sack ripped.”

“I really don't want to throw you under the bus, big guy,” Jack chimed in. “But usually when you try to open a sack, you kinda expect it to... y'know, open.”

“Oh, don't listen to them,” Miko cut in, now taking the side of her guardian. "They're just jealous 'cause you're the strongest one around. C'mon, let's go to your altmode and grab some music for this retirement party."

Without waiting for a reply, the girl grabbed onto the giant's hand and dragged him straight towards the street, where the Wrecker's altmode was most likely parked.

“Oh, Will,” another voice pulled the agent out of his staring and he turned around. A smile crept onto his face as he saw June. “Hello, June.”

“I didn't even notice that you'd arrived.” she admitted, embarrassed. “I was down in the basement grabbing an ice pack for Optimus, and I didn't hear the doorbell.”

Fowler raised an eyebrow and gave June a puzzled look. Wasn't it Bumblebee who'd taken the hit? What did the Prime have to do with this?

"Prime? Why Prime?"

“Optimus well... kinda fell down the stairs while fetching the coal.” she answered, blushing visibly, given the red hue of her face. "Got himself a pretty interesting bump on the back of his head but don't worry - Ratchet said the damage was purely cosmetic. For immersion, you know, so nobody notices that the bots aren't real people."

“I ... see.” Fowler didn't see at all, but for the sake of his sanity, decided not to go further. Instead, he presented the Tupperware in his hands.

"A little something from my wife. Some chicken legs and fruit punch. Just to say thank you for letting me join you today." - “Oh, that really wasn't necessary.”

June quickly took the containers. She eyed the punch, where fruit pieces bobbed up and down. Her face twisted into a curious expression before she leaned closer to Will. “Uh... is this spiked?”

Will hadn't even asked that. Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. The two adults hurried to check before setting it on the table. Nobody wanted to end up serving alcohol to the kids. And their caution paid off, as June opened the lid and the unmistakable scent of booze immediately hit them right in the face.

"Afraid I forgot to mention to my dear Brenda that there'd be kids here. My bad."

“No worries,” June waved it off with a smile. More for us! And the bots are also old enough to test it. Which reminds me... have you asked Brenda for the meatloaf recipe?"

Again, Will wanted to smack himself across the head. He had forgotten to ask that too. He apologized to June once more, then helped her to carry out the food. Ever since June and Brenda had met, the two women had hit it off and exchanged numbers in no time. Unfortunately, Will was caught right in the middle and now, in addition to his regular job, had to act as liaison between the two human women. Oh happy life.

The two adults lapsed into a casual chat, blissfully unaware of what was unfolding outside in the garden.

***

Arcee raised an eyebrow, arms crossed as she watched Jack heft the heavy sack of coal and awkwardly dump the black chunks into the grill.

She gave a wave of her hand, nearly sickened, as dust kicked up and struggled to hold back a sneeze before focusing on her friend again.

“And now?”

“We light it.” Jack produced a lighter from the depths of his jeans and proudly showed it to the femme before igniting the flame and leaning over to the charcoal. The teenager gave a few irritated hisses as he scorched his fingertips. Arcees brow climbed higher.

“We could always ask Ratchet to bring out his torch.” - “No!” Jack spun around with his arms flailing and a look of pure panic on his face. Arcee chuckled , fully aware that Ratchet was in a great mood today - the kind you wanted to avoid if you wanted to continue to live damage free.

Her ear twitched at the memory of the CMO going publicy chewing out Bulkhead and Arcee could gladly do without that sort of experience. She hadn't yet managed to draw the doctor's wrath, and by Primus, she was going to keep it that way.

Once again, she watched Jack struggle with his lighter before rolling her eyes. Primus, there had to be a better way to solve this, she thought to herself and looked over to the shed.

Jack had fetched the grill from there and from what she had found out so far while staying with the Darbys, she knew that there were a lot of little gadgets that made everyday life easier. It was simply not possible that lighting a fire wasn't one of them.

"Don't you have something that makes it easier? Maybe in this little house?"

After the fifth failed attempt, Jack finally gave in and blew his hair out of his face. “You're probably right.” - “When am I not?”

Jack shot her a grin. “As long as you're human, I'm the Pro and you're my apprentice, young Padawan.”

“...What?” Arcee irritatedly turned her head and cocked it. Jack huffed again. “Just forget it.”

Before he could take off to disturb the garden shed again, June poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Jack, sweetie? Can you set the table, please?"

The teen rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Mom.” With that, he pressed the lighter into Arcee's hand. "Here, give it a try. There should be some methylated spirit in the shed. Be careful with it though, it's damn flammable so just use a little. Even if you can't burn yourselves, let's not tempt fate."

Arcee nodded stoically and headed for the shed herself shortly after Jack had disappeared back to the house. After a quick search online, she soon found out what spirit looked like and had little trouble finding the small plastic bottle on the old wooden shelf.

After the short walk back to the grill, she opened it and poured some of the clear liquid onto the coals. B

ut when the first attempt fizzled, she added a bit more. And then a little more. By the time the charcoal glittered in the afternoon sun, the femme had decided that there was enough of the spirit in the grill. Just as she was about to start the fire a voide interrupped her.

“Didn't know you were in charge of the fire?”

Agent Fowler approached, armed with the first load of meat on a cutting board that he'd brought from the kitchen. The man frowned suspiciously at the Cybertronian and the lighter in her hand before deciding that under no circumstances in this world would he allow aliens who had no experience with fire to play around with it.

"Gimme that. I'll take care of the fire," he said instead, holding out his hand. Arcee gave it to him without argument and took the tray with the food in exchange.

"Watch and learn, Arcee. Fire is a dangerous business and can go wrong fast if you're not careful." Will flicked the flame to life before bending down and bringing it to the coals. Arcee only raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment.

The next second, it went Poof! and the after that, all you could see was a frantic Special Agent William Fowler, as if chased by the devil himself, leaping across the lawn and trying to extinguish his flaming tie in a panic.

Arcee made a startled leap backwards, Miko, returning from Bulkhead's altmode carrying a massive speaker along with the Wrecker, was so startled that she dropped her corner of the device, unfortunately right on her partner's foot, who immediately screamed out and it was only thanks to Optimus who, in a quick-witted state, grabbed hold of Agent Fowler , hauled him over to the water barrel and pushed the agent in head first, snuffing out the flame.

Maybe, Arcee thought as she bit her lower lip, she had used too much spirit .

Chapter Text

Just as June was handing Jack the burgers, she barely managed to suppress a flinch when suddenly loud noises and shouting erupted outside. Her mind was already spinning a series of scenarios in which the clumsy Bots had once again gotten themselves into trouble.

But contrary to her expectations, the noise was not from the bots but from Agent Fowler. She turned in confusion to the garden, then to her son, who still had his arms raised to take the burger patties, then back to the garden. Then the Darby's both bolted almost at the same moment into the back garden.

On arrival, the mother immediately wanted to throw up her hands again.

Next to a huge speaker, Miko was leaning against it, clutching her stomach, which was aching from laughter, the hologram of Bulkhead was hopping up and down, his hand clutching his foot. A little further away, at the wooden garden table, sat Bumblebee and Raf, still with the ice pack pressed to the scout's nose. Arcee stood frozen by the smoking grill, with meat resting in her hands. Ratchet was leaning against the house, rubbing his temple in the hope of preventing an oncoming processor ache, and directly behind him, at the corner of the house, was the Autobot leader, standing next to a thoroughly drenched Agent Fowler. The agent had just hauled himself out of the water tank and was in the middle of assuring the Prime that he was fine.

Apparently, Optimus was responsible for the agent's desolate state, but June couldn't imagine how it had come about. Blind violence was the last thing the nurse expected from him.

She quickly crossed the few meters to the Prime and the agent and eyed the latter worriedly.

“What happened? Are you okay?"

Her gaze fell on Fowler's scorched tie, which he acknowledged with a sigh before offering her a tired smile. "Just a little accident with the grill and probably no small amount of fire starter."

The agent removed his tie and stuffed it into his pocket before beginning to peel himself out of his dripping wet jacket. His gaze found Jack, who was standing with large eyes behind his mother, looking like a fish out of water.

“You left Arcee alone with the fire?” - “I didn't know it could go so wrong,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Agent Fowler sighed again.

"New rule: nobody gives the bots anything that could potentially turn out to be dangerous. From now on, we'll even consider forks to become a safety hazard." Will said, almost amused.

“Did you hurt yourself?” asked June, who had recovered her cool after a few moments. She approached the agent, but he waved her off. "Nothing, but my pride, June. Don't worry about it."

"You're soaking wet, Will.“, she countered. ”Let me see if I've got a change of clothes. I still have some of my ex-husband's old things that I meant to donate but never had time to."

Now it was Will's turn to rub the back of his neck, embarrassed. “That's not necessary, June.” - “Do you want to catch a cold?” The agent had no answer to that and bowed his head in surrender as he followed June into the house.

That left a Jack, as the now oldest human in the garden, with a bunch of Cybertronians who have proven in the past few hours alone that everything seemingly has the potential to go wrong, if it's just approached in the right way. Or the wrong. Depending on how you looked at it.

Fantastic!

So Jack did the only thing he could in this case. He put on a happy face and shrugged his shoulders. “So, who wants some burgers?”

The good cheer he was aiming for didn't quite kick in, though, 'cause Ratchet was the only one who huffed, pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and made his way over to Bulkhead, who was rubbing his foot. Dropped down in the grass, the normally big bot tried to justiy his loud yelling to a merciless teasing Miko.

Bumblebee went back to cooling his sore nose, Arcee was still standing by the grill with hands full of food and Optimus...

Well, it seems the Prime was the only one who recognized Jack's attempt to lighten the mood and approached the teenager while rolling up his wet sleeves. Reaching Jack, he took the burger patties from him.

“I'm beginning to believe that this barbeque is a good introduction to our holoforms, considering how much has already gone wrong,” the last of the Primes explained with a gentle smile.

Jack chuckled and gently nudged Optimus over to the grill.

“That's one way to put it,” he agreed. “A crash course in being human.”

“Crash is the right word for it.” Arcee turned from the grill, which by now was softly sizzling away, to give the Darby a wide grin as he arrived with the Prime. “I swear, Ratchet hasn't been this busy all year.”

Her eyes wandered to the Medic, who by this time had shoved Bulkhead onto a bench at the table and was examining his foot. The wrecker was whining, which the doctor quickly stopped with sharp remarks. Part of Jack wished he had better ears to hear what they were saying.

Arcee tilted her head with a grin: "Might even do the old grouch some good. We don't want him to rust away at his computer." - “The grouch can hear you perfectly fine!”

Jack snorted and even Optimus had to suppress a chuckle. The teenager then reached for the grate leaning against the grill and placed it over the coals before reaching for the tongs he had brought from the kitchen.

“Alright,” he said ceremoniously, looking at the two people present. “Who's up for some meat?”

Optimus and Arcee didn't answer, but Raf, who joined the trio with Bumblebee.

By now, the scout's nose had also returned to a normal color, and he would no longer be mistaken for a circus clown should he step on the street.

“What's on the menu today?” the youngest member of the group asked, peering curiously at the grilled food that the Autobot leader and Arcee were still holding.

Jack scratched his ear.

"Burgers, hot dogs, some ribs, and Agent Fowler brought chicken legs. Mom also made a potato salad and some veggies," the black-haired boy listed before throwing the first ribs on the grill, which instantly gave off a mouth-watering aroma.

“Veggies?" another voice chimed in. "Since when do veggies belong on a barbecue? I want meat!" Miko stepped towards the small group, lured by the smell.

“A balanced diet requires vitamins and not just proteins, Miko,” Optimus informed her, earning a dramatic eye roll.

"Oh my god. Don't tell me Jack's mom infected you with that healthy gobbledygook, too. Trust me, OP, once you try a proper steak, you'll understand why vegetables are for the dumpster."

"I prefer to explore all aspects of human life. Still, I thank you for the advice," replied the Prime, to which Jack couldn't help but add a remark. Optimus sometimes provided really perfect templates.

“Like falling down the stairs, for example?” - “WHAT?!” Miko's exclamation and her plate-sized eyes nearly fell out of her head as her face screamed just one message: I want to know EVERYTHING!

Optimus rubbed the back of his head with embarrassment.

“An unpleasant experience, but an educational one nonetheless.” He looked over at Jack and tilted his head a little. “Though If my memory serves me well, it was only partially my fault.”

Arcee shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, how could we have known that you just came up the stairs? No one's to blame."

“Hooooold on!” Miko raised her hands and stepped between the group.

"What do you mean Optimus fell down the stairs? I want to know everything. Spill the tea, big guy!"

Optimus just looked at the japanese girl with resignation. There was no way he was getting out of this one.

***

Once June had pushed Agent Fowler into the bathroom and equipped him with a change of clothes, she made a detour to her bedroom. There,performing a balance act on a stool, she reached for a dusty glass bowl that sat in the far corner on top of her closet and only ever used on special occasions. Usually for family gatherings or special holidays, but the mother decided that today was special enough and she needed a vessel for the delicious punch that was still sitting in the kitchen. Even though she was sure no one would have a problem with June serving it in the container it came with, a part of her refused to do just that.

With a triumphant cheer, she got hold of the container, jumped off the stool and made her way back to the kitchen, where she immediately started transferring the delicious party drink.

Just as she popped a piece of tangerine into her mouth that had been stuck to the bottom of the container, her son entered the kitchen and reached silently for the tray with the hot dog sausages, but didn't miss the opportunity to give his mother a smile.

“Gift from Agent Fowler?” - "Just some punch. Oh, that reminds me." June turned to her son and raised her finger lecturingly. "It's with booze. So please tell Raf and Miko not to touch it."

"Sure, mom. I wanted to bring out the soda anyway. I totally forgot to put the drinks out in all the chaos. No wonder the bots are going nuts, they probably already have heatstroke," laughed the teenager.

“There's no alcohol for you either, young man,” added the mother. Jack threw her an innocent grin. “Not even a little?”

"Jackson Darby, if I catch you at that punch bowl, you'll be grounded 'til I'm dead. Plus three days to make sure I'm really dead." - "Geez, mom. Okay, okay. I was just kidding," he chuckled and slipped out of the kitchen again after giving his mother a cheeky wink.

June herself just shook her head before grabbing the glass bowl and carrying the cool drink outside to the table where they would set up the food. A simple old folding table that she had pushed against the wall of the house and where there was enough space to line up the food and drinks. Plates and glasses were already set out, as well as a few napkins that June had found in a kitchen drawer.

Like a thieving magpie, she reached for a piece of cucumber on the snack plate before arranging the glasses once more in an attempt to make everything look as presentable as possible.

She didn't notice Ratchet coming to her side.

Barely avoiding a flinch, she turned around and suddenly saw the Medic standing there.

"Good heavens, Ratchet. You startled me." She pressed a hand to her chest before exhaling in amusement at her own startlement. “You really need to stop sneaking up on women like that.”

"I'm sorry for that, June. I just came in for a refreshment." - “'Seems all that yelling is quite exhausting, huh?” the mother joked as she reached for a glass and pressed it into the Medic's hand.

He just gave a deep sigh and rubbed his nose, which made June smile again.

With Ratchet, as unbelievable as it seemed, June got along by far the best of the Autobots. Even if it never looked like it on the outside, the Medic was a real chatterbox if you caught him with the right topic. Something she managed to do quite easily as a nurse and therefore considered herself almost on a par with him.

How often had the two of them lost themselves in medical debates that had ended up with the other bots and humans looking at them as if they were from another planet? How often had June found someone in the medic to vent about her less pleasant colleagues? How often had Ratchet told her about new injuries and quirks of his patients that sometimes amazed June?

That the Medic didn't like working on Arcee because she was so much smaller than him?

That Optimus was one of the bots who was at his worst when it came to dental plate check-ups and that he often had to tackle Bulkhead to the ground to get him to stay still?

June could never get enough of hearing it.

But above all, the Medic spoke with passion and love for his profession. Something she shared with him.

That's why June knew that even though the Autobot shouted a lot, threw tools at his patients and was often snappy, he was a passionate doctor and only wanted the best for his loved ones. The way he treated them made it all the funnier.

She patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Don't get riled up, Ratchet. Remember this: each time you do it, it will become easier to be human."

“Or we just buy some leashes, they're quite cheap at pet stores." - “Old grouch.”

June gave the Medic a look of amusement before pushing past him and back into the kitchen.

All that remained was a Ratchet, who looked after her, almost amused, but then turned his attention to his actual objective. Something to drink. His analytical and critical gaze wandered over the selection of various over-sugared sodas, juices with too much sugar and a few bottles of beer. None of these were what the medic wanted as he ran the individual drinks through an internet search and quickly found out their nutritional values. There were also a few bottles of water on the table, but if he was forced to endure the holoform affair, he at least wanted to get some new experiences out of it.

And so his gaze finally landed on a glass bowl containing a yellowish liquid with fruits. Ratchet furrowed his eyebrows and approached the drink, which was the only one left out and which he didn't know what to look for on the internet to determine what it was.

But he recognized fruit and his internet search told him that fruit was considered healthy by most studies. From this he concluded that whatever this drink was, it couldn't be that bad.

With a few ladles, he filled his glass, grabbed a toothpick from the table and popped what he thought was a cherry into his mouth. He liked the taste surprisingly well and so the medic decided that this drink was enough for him.

Fortunately, there was plenty of it. That way, Ratchet would always have the chance to get a refill.

Chapter Text

Fortunately for everyone present, preparing the meal progressed smoothly, and apart from Miko's laughing fit after seeing the spare clothes that Agent Fowler had been given, nothing more happened.

The agent, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin, was standing there in a shirt with a glaring green line that read: “My liver was bad, it has to be punished.”

Something that completely passed the bots, while the humans present expressed every emotion. From amusement all the way to absolute cringe, waiting to sink into the ground just to not see it anymore.Of course,

Will could have asked for another shirt that wasn't covered in embarrassing slogans, but somehow he felt that Mr. Darby had left June with nothing but the clothes he no longer wanted to wear himself. So the agent figured that the other shirts wouldn't be any better.

Therefore, he surrendered to his not-so-friendly fate and sat down at the table with a heavy sigh and a cold beer.

It didn't take long for the food to land on the small buffet from the grill, and June ceremoniously and without much ado opened the dinner. Exactly what the agent needed right now. Meat and a beer after a long, very long, day.

So, without wasting any time, he grabbed a plate, piled a few chicken legs, ribs, and some salad onto it, and shortly afterwards sat down in front of his plate with hungry eyes, knife and fork firmly in his hands.

He could have almost started to enjoy his dinner if it weren't for the curious eyes of all the Autobots on him, who apparently had no plans to lift a single finger and get food for themselves.

For a moment, Fowler considered just eating and ignoring the stares, but after a few seconds, the fact that he was the only one at the table who had gotten himself food began to bother him.

“Aren't you guys going to get anything?” he asked, looking at each bot in turn.

It was Ratchet who shrugged and replied, “Why? We can't process it. It would be a waste of resources.” To underline his double standards, the doctor popped a piece of pineapple from his punch glass into his mouth. Will raised an eyebrow; so much for wastefulness.

“But punch is okay?” - “So that's what it's called.” Ratchet's face lit up briefly when he finally discovered the name for his delicious drink, then he eyed his half-empty glass. “Strange word, but fine. You humans call your planet Earth, so what do I expect?” The doctor popped another piece of fruit into his mouth and chewed on it.

Fowler wondered for a moment if he was aware that he was using double standards.

Shaking his head, he looked at the Prime sitting next to his friend, who was the only one who had not been staring at Fowler's plate. God bless this bot.

"Prime, tell your guys to grab some food. June has been in the kitchen all day, and it would be rude not to eat anything," the agent said absentmindedly, cutting his ribs before pushing a hearty portion of salad onto his fork and shoving the combination into his mouth.

However, he did not miss the leader's gaze as he calmly observed him.

“Even though I cannot speak for my Autobots, I promise that I will try something later.” - “And why not now?” Fowler asked between two bites.

Optimus looked at the man for a moment before choosing his words carefully. “I thought it would be impolite to be the first to rush to the buffet. Several sources on the internet have confirmed my assumption.”

Will almost choked on his food and began to cough. So much for his high opinion of the Prime. As we all know, you should never count your chickens before they hatch.

To force the piece of meat, which was slowly sliding down his throat, Will reached for his beer and took a big gulp. The hoped-for relief came immediately afterwards, though he then looked at the Prime with wide eyes. Outrage was written all over the middleman's face. Even if he would never accuse Optimus of having a rotten screw, the Prime sometimes had the tact of a jackhammer. Whether intentional or not, Will couldn't quite say. But he couldn't help noticing that the Prime had just implied that Will had forgotten his table manners by being the first to pounce on the buffet.

He considered saying something, but in the end settled for the beer. Hard liquor would probably be the only thing that would get him through this evening without losing his mind. Maybe he would switch to punch later, if the medic hadn't already drank it all by then. He didn't notice Optimus raising his eyebrow.

The agent's rescue finally came in the form of little Rafael, who waved Bee over. “C'mon, Bee,” the boy called to his guardian, who had sat silently next to him. “I'll show you how to make the best hot dog in the world!”

The scout, visibly excited at the thought of the “best hot dog in the world,” quickly followed him. Soon after, Miko and Bulkhead got up, followed by Jack and Arcee, who all helped themselves from the buffet. After a few minutes, June also took a seat next to Fowler, and in the end, even Optimus and Ratchet got up.

The bots' first experiences with eating were... interesting to watch. Will watched out of the corner of his eye as Bulkhead struggled to cut his steak before Miko pointed out that he was using the wrong side of the knife. Arcee had to listen to Jack's giggles when she loudly complained that her fingers were all greasy from her burger, and Bee managed in just one bite to spill all the sauce that was supposed to be on his hot dog onto his shirt.

Ratchet, who had focused on some vegetables and salad, had completely ditched the knife and was only using his fork, and Optimus was doing the best job of eating next to the medic.

Fowler was sure that the Prime had been busy all evening constantly searching the internet for human etiquette so that he wouldn't have another unpleasant incident like the one earlier today. Even though Will still didn't know the whole story about the stairs.

Sadly, fate, or in this case Primus, seemed to have other plans for Optimus' careful preparation, as it took just three bites of the chicken legs before the Prime realized that something was very very wrong.

All of a sudden, the leader's entire mouth began to feel hot and burning, so much so that heat shot to his cheeks and he felt an intense sensation in his throat. An uncomfortable burning pain spread throughout his entire holographic esophagus and down to his stomach, causing Optimus to press his fist to his mouth in an attempt to regain control of his body.

He put down the chicken and pressed his lips together while he let his eyes drift discreetly across the table.

So far, no one had noticed that something was wrong with him, and Optimus just needed to find an excuse to leave quietly. He didn't want to be the cause of another incident. There had already been enough accidents and incidents today, and even without them Ratchet was already in a bad mood.

But easier said then done, because the burning sensation in his mouth wasn't going away and he couldn't find a solution to his problem. A few quick searches on the internet didn't provide any answers either, except for a list of diseases that he couldn't possibly have. Maybe it was a glitch in his holoform? Did he just need to reset the system? Satisfied with this provisional idea, Optimus decided to slip away inconspicuously without letting anyone know about his condition.

Straightening up, he cleared his throat and took a breath to excuse himself from the table, but unfortunately his plan fell flat when the air he inhaled only made the burning in his mouth worse and produced nothing but a pathetic cough.

Immediately, all eyes turned to him as he stood in place and Optimus felt the warmth in his cheeks. He doubted that this was only due to his predicament, but also to embarrassment, as it was rare for the leader to be unable to get words out. His verbal skills were the thing Optimus was most proud of, so not being able to use them said a lot about him. And then there was still this unbearable fire in his mouth, which by now was causing tears to well up in his eyes. Primus, what was that?

“Is everything alright, Optimus?” Ratchet asked next to him and looked up at his friend, who couldn't get out more than a croak. The burning became worse again when the Prime took a breath and his pride was gone as he stormed to the buffet and grabbed the first thing that came between his fingers. Without giving it much thought, he opened the drink, put it to his lips and threw his head back before emptying it with a couple of strong gulps.

He didn't know what he was drinking, but that didn't matter to the Prime, because it served its purpose. The burning sensation in his mouth soon subsided and he was able to put the drink down. Breathing heavily and with a bright red face, he propped himself up on the buffet table while tears ran down his cheeks.

In the background, he could hear the loud laughing of Fowler, who had put his head back and his hand over his eyes. Struggling to regain his composure, the agent kept gasping for air, while the rest of those at the table stared at Optimus with a mixture of surprise and concern.

Primus, was the Prime embarrassed when he was able to think clearly again and realized what a faux pas he had just allowed himself to make. He was the leader and should serve as a role model.

“William, stop laughing!” June scolded the laughing agent and slapped him on the upper arm. This appeared to have an direct effect, as the man took a deep breath and rubbed his watery eyes before leaning over the back of his chair and looking at Optimus almost sympathetically.

"Sorry, Prime. My wife must have seasoned the chicken a little too spicy. She probably didn't even notice, as we always eat quite spicy food and are used to it." - “Thank you for the information, Agent Fowler,” Optimus replied nreathless, still standing at the buffet.

At least the Prime now knew that there was no error in his system. Even if it eluded him why people liked to subject themselves to such pain.

Dragging himself back to his chair, Optimus took a seat and tried to give an answer to the large gazes around him that explained both his lapse and the pride he had lost in the last few minutes.

But before he could say anything, Miko interrupted him with a loud whistle. With dancing eyebrows, she looked at Optimus with enthusiastic eyes, which the Prime had learned to respect by now. Even if he himself had been spared most of Miko's questionable ideas so far, he had still learned to watch out whenever she had that mischievous glint in her eye.

Optimus had a bad feeling.

“Respect, big guy,” she whistled, leaning back in her chair. "I didn't know you could hold your liquor like that. Any experience there?" She glanced at the now empty bottle in Optimu's hand, which the Prime quickly recognized as beer.

“I don't quite understand,” he replied with furrowed eyebrows, which Miko completely ignored. She gave him a sly wink and nodded. “Of course not, boss.”

Once again, Optimus was clueless, but remained so. Better not wake any sleeping cyberdogs, he thought and picked up his plate to look for an alternative meal. The chicken, he thought, was something that even Unicron himself couldn't force into him.

His choice fell on some salad and a steak. A good decision, as he took a bite and realized that the salad was deliciously cool in his sore mouth.

“So, uh...” Jack began after a few minutes, looking at the bots curiously. "Can you guys actually get drunk? Not that I'm implying anything..." he raised his hands. "Just would be good to know if we have to drag Optimus home today. You know. Don't drink and drive!"

While Ratchet was already huffing snidely, Miko burst out laughing."Oh, that would be amazing! Just imagine: We'd have to order a tow truck to tow a truck."

“I doubt that, Jack,” his mother replied. "I've never seen anyone get drunk off a beer. No matter how fast it went down."

“Depends a lot on what you put in the beer,” Agent Fowler chimed in again. "You should have seen the kind of cocktails my buddies and I put together back in my youth. Man, those were some times."

“So you really live up to the slogan on the shirt, it seems,” replied the mother in a calm voice, which made the agent blush.

Ratchet pushed his now empty plate away from him and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “None of this matters because we can't get drunk.” He glanced at Fowler beside him. “Besides, I find bragging about uncontrolled drug use in the company of minors questionable, Agent Fowler.”

Fowler raised an eyebrow as he watched the Medic swirl his nearly empty glass of punch in his hands and fished a piece of fruit out of it before popping it into his mouth.

"And this coming from the same person who's on his fifth punch. Sure you're the right person to give me a lecture, Doctor?" Will raised an eyebrow as he regarded the doctor, who returned his gaze, almost snootily.

"Unlike you, Agent Fowler, human alcohol has no effect on us, as we are not human and these bodies fulfill a purely visual function. Another fabulous example of how this whole dinner is basically a waste of time."

“So what about Bumblebee's red nose?”, Jack asked, resting his head on his fist. “Or Bulkhead's foot? Or Optimus' head?”

“Cosmetic in nature. Nothing to worry about.” The Medic's answer was immediately greeted by loud protests as the victims of today's incidents saw it quite differently.

"Get a few more glasses, Ratchet.", Fowler replied, dismissing the medic with a wave. "Maybe then you'll finally get the stick out of your ass." - “Why would I have a stick up my posterior?”

Fowler groaned as he pressed his face into his hands. Sometimes the bots were a walking headache factory.

Chapter Text

Optimus always found it remarkable how inventive and resourceful humans could be. It was a quality he cherished in this species, reminding him of home.

Perhaps that was why the Prime felt at ease in their company, among them as one of them. At least in appearance. Though he knew that battle strategies and resource planning would soon be back on the agenda, he was glad that his Autobots—and he himself—were enjoying a moment of peace and serenity today.

He rested his chin on his folded hands and watched with mild interest as the kids hung a dartboard on the tree in the garden and explained how the game worked to the bots. When Jack glanced his way with a questioning expression, he just gave a slow shake of his head. The boy turned away and immediately teamed up with Arcee.Optimus had already had enough adventures today that he could have done without, and even though the amusing incidents of the day had brought a smile to his lips... he was not willing to do any more of that.

And since Primus did not seem to be smiling on him today, he decided to take it easy for the rest of the evening and enjoy the peace and quiet.

Agent Fowler seemed to share this view, as he came over to the leader and sat down next to him with a weary sigh, already holding a new beer in his hand, which he popped open with a bottle opener.

He offered it to Optimus and nodded toward Prime's glass; Optimus shook his head.

“More for me,” the agent shrugged before putting the bottle to his lips. Optimus watched for a moment as the man's Adam's apple bobbed before turning his attention back to the dart party, which was now in the starting blocks.

Bumblebee was the first to step behind the improvised line on the lawn, leaning his body way forward as he aimed the dart with narrowed eyes. It was only thanks to June that no one was standing in front of the Scout when he threw the first dart, which disappeared into the bushes, never to be seen again.

Optimus made a mental note to thank her personally for that later.

Fowler raised his voice.

Almost absent-minded, without looking up from the game, he began. “By the way, I got an email from General Bryce earlier,” he told him. “The IDs for you and your team are ready.”

Almost absent-mindedly, without taking his eyes off the game, he began. “By the way, I received an email from General Bryce earlier,” he explained. “The IDs for you and your team are ready, along with the fake identities. Just in case you ever get pulled over and have to show some identification.”

“Thank you, Agent Fowler,” Optimus replied.

The agent shot him an amused sideways glance. A look that Optimus knew how to overlook.

“Do you want to know what your alias is?” - “I think I'll find out once you hand over the documents.”

“Orion.”

That caught the Prime's attention, who turned his head and looked at the agent questioningly.

He searched the man's face for signs of a jest, but found none.

“I'm not kidding you, Prime. I personally made sure that would be your alias.”

“Thank... you” Optimus genuinely didn't know if he should be thankful or not. Sometimes he found it difficult to read or understand the agent. Because of that, he often fell into a rhythm where he just nodded and accepted.

Soft music reached Optimus' ears as Miko started a playlist on her speaker, not the kind of music he would enjoy, but enough to fill the silence.

“Elvis,” Fowler whistled. “Look at that, the girl has taste in music after all.”

“If I'm not mistaken, Rafael and Jack helped her put together a... how do humans call it, a playlist for tonight. I saw them working on it at the base.” Optimus leaned back and reached for his glass of water. Fowler also noticed this.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Prime. But you really are the biggest bore I've ever met.”Once again, Optimus looked at the dark-skinned man with wide, confused eyes. “I don't quite understand.”

“Water?” - “It's healthy...,” Optimus slowly added to Will's statement, who then just rolled his eyes with a groan: “I give up! Where's Ratchet? At least he seems to know how to drink properly at a party!”

Without giving Optimus another word of explanation, the middleman leaned back and let his gaze wander through the garden, searching for the elusive CMO. He hadn't been seen for a while anyway.

And he found him. At the punch bowl. An uneasy feeling spread through the agent when he saw that Ratchet was already wobbling considerably and no longer seemed to be standing firmly on his feet. Will had already suspected during the course of the evening that there wasn't much truth to the medic's statement that alcohol had no effect on bots, but now it was impossible to ignore.

The doctor was clearly drunk!

He leaned toward Optimus and kept his eyes on the physician. “Prime, maybe you should talk to your medic. He doesn't look at his best.”

Optimus turned and peered over his shoulder at the CMO in question, who was in the middle of a fight to refill his glass. When the Prime's gaze fell on the bowl from which Ratchet had been repeatedly scooping out drinks throughout the evening, he noticed that it had already been emptied considerably.

Optimus watched the spectacle for only a few seconds before getting up and walking over to his friend. He felt Fowler's gaze on his back.

When he reached his medic, he carefully moved into his field of view. He had no experience with human drunkenness – if that was indeed what Ratchet was experiencing – so he didn't want to startle the medic. Who knew what might happen otherwise. In the quick internet searches he had done, he had found only meager information on how to behave around intoxicated individuals.

“Ratchet, are you alright?” he asked, quickly reclining when Ratchet grinned at him.

“Opti'uuuus!” he laughed, catching the Prime off guard. “I’m feelin’.. fan-taaaastiiiic...” Ratchet looked up at Optimus with a dopey smile. “How’re yooooouuuu doin’?”

Optimus furrowed his brow. “I'm fine, old friend. It's you I'm worried about.” - “Psssshhh!” Ratchet snorted loudly and staggered a little, but luckily didn't fall. “You don' have ‘o worry, Opt’mus. I'm ‘s fit ‘s a fidd’l! Bloooooming... bloooming life. Fit as a servo switch! Jus’ a lil thirsty.“

”I can well imagine. Nevertheless, I would like to see if you stopped having any more punch now. I think you've had enough.”

“’Nuff!?” echoed the medic. “Who d’you think you are... tellin’ me I've had ‘nuuuff, hmmm? Last time I checked, I was the medical officer an’ youuuu...” Ratchet narrowed his eyes at Optimus thoughtfully, looking at him as if he had to blink the Prime into existence.

“...you're… uh… a Prime. A pretty good one. I mean... look atcha. Still kicking.”- “Which is in part thanks to your skills, old friend. Although I fear you're currently not in full control of them. So how about you join Agent Fowler and me, and we'll chat over some lighter refreshments.”

Just as Optimus carefully tried to lead the medic away from the buffet table and thus far away from the punch bowl, the latter began to fidget and struggled, more badly than well, to free himself from his grip.

"Noooo! Noo fair. I said somethin’ nice to ya and now you're lettin’ me keep drinking this good stuff. That's how it works, y’know? One hand washes… uh… the foot… and so on,“ protested the blond man, looking at Optimus with what almost seemed like a pout.

”I think the saying went a little differently, but okay," Agent Fowler intervened, leaving his beer at the table and joining the commotion.

“You've been quite busy, Ratchet,” the agent remarked, glancing at the half-empty punch bowl. “Do you still think you're sober, Doc?”

“Pfff!” Ratchet waved him off and staggered backward, forcing Optimus to reach out his arms to catch the dazed CMO. His hand was knocked away. “’course I'm shober... never been more shober-er... practically invent’d sobriety! Gotta be... So I can...,” his finger wobbled toward Optimus. “Patch him back together. Af’er all, I'm the only… the only one who can do that.”

“And your skills are greatly valued, old friend. Nevertheless, I believe Agent Fowler is right and you are no longer sober.” Optimus smiled at Ratchet, who responded with a pout, making it difficult for the Prime to keep a straight face and maintain his seriousness. As exhausting as the conversation might be, it was also amusing in a way.

“'Valued’?! 'Vaaaaal-yoooed’?” the medic slurred, almost loud enough that Optimus feared he would attract the attention of the kids, who were still engrossed in their game of darts. “If I’m so valoooyed... where’s my parade, huh?!” The doctor’s blurry gaze shifted to Fowler.

“You know what this guy got when he became Prime... a parade. Big, shiny parade. And what do I get... A wrench! That’s it... This guy wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me. He has the survival instinct of a chrome mooooth!”

Optimus fought the strong urge to facepalm and instead looked at Agent Fowler, silently hoping that the agent knew what the best strategy would be. Fowler nodded to him.

“How about we go inside, Ratchet?” Will finally suggested, stepping up to Ratchet's side with open arms. “We can sit down and you can tell me how unfair everything is. Maybe we'll find a wrench you can throw at Prime.”

“See, Opt'mus... Fowler agrees with me... You're a bore.” – “I didn't say that.” – “Technically -...” – “Not helping, Prime!”

Carefully, on each side of the Medical Officer, Optimus and Fowler began to walk him into the house, with the unspoken goal of shielding him from the prying eyes of the others. Just imagine if, for example, a Miko found out what was up with Ratchet. No question, she would never let him forget it.

Unfortunately, Ratchet himself had not received this memo.

“House... Into the house? You wanna  lock me ‘way now? First ya complain that I don’ leave the base, and now ya want to lock me away ‘gain. Make up yer mind, Prime!” - “I assure you, old friend, we don't want to lock you away. But right now, you're simply not in control of your senses.”

“Am tooo!”

Fowler shook his head and chuckled as they pushed the doctor into the hallway and closed the door to the garden. “Really, Doc. You’re even more drunk than I was in my prime. And that’s saying something.”

“I'm a medic, I'm allowed to do that!” He looked at his two captors, almost sulkily. “Only one  allowed to diagnose anything.” He promptly freed his arm and jabbed Optimus' chest with a shaky finger. "Y’know how many times I've put you back together, Opt'mus Prime? Hmm? I know ev’ry part of ya, that's right! Ev’ry screw, ev’ry cable... I was practically inside you!"

While Will desperately tried to stifle his laughter and only coughed miserably as a result, Optimus's face remained impassive. Nevertheless, that twitch at the corners of the Prime's mouth was visible again.

“An unfortunate choice of words, old friend,” he said instead, once he was sure he wouldn't have to chuckle. “Even though you're not wrong.”

“Unforch’nate!? You an’ and yer fancy words! Ya know what's unforch’nate?!” Optimus didn't know, but he was sure he was about to find out.

“That I haven't gotten a thank you. Somethin’ like a gift basket or... cake! With a card that says... Thanks for saving my AFT, Ratchet! Without you, I'd be dead twenty times over because I'm a glitch who can't survive.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” replied Optimus.

“Let's go to the bathroom, Prime. A cold shower should help.” Optimus nodded, hoping that this treatment would bear fruit. The Prime wasn't sure, considering that these bodies weren't natural human bodies. He carefully began to maneuver Ratchet toward the bathroom, which Ratchet naturally didn't approve of at all.

“Shower? What do you mean, shower? I'm clean! Clean as a protoform!” The medic's protests were ignored as the men continued to push him forward. It was Fowler who groaned loudly when Ratchet, realizing that his complaining wasn't helping, simply let himself fall like a wet sack.

“George Washington's cherry tree!” he groaned. “I've never seen that grumpy old man so bad! I pray to all fifty stars that the shower helps.”

“He is indeed quite open-hearted,” remarked the last of the Primes as he pushed open the bathroom door.

“You could put it that way.”

“I’m always open-hearted!” grumbled the CMO, rolling his head back. “You just never ask! If you asked me, I’d tell you everything… I know millions of stories!”

“If that's all I have to do to get your sympathy, I'll remember it,” Will chuckled and, with Optimus's help, hoisted the doctor onto the toilet seat. Ratchet threatened to fall for a moment, but was quickly caught by his two helpers. But instead of getting back up, the doctor giggled.

“Heyyy… wanna hear the story of how Optimus made a glitch of himself in front of his crush.” - “Oh yes! I want to hear that!” - “No, he doesn't! Come on, old friend. Time for your shower!”

Averting another disaster, Optimus carefully closed the bathroom door before rolling up his sleeves.

However, his hope that they would quickly sober Ratchet up was gone the moment the Prime turned around and found only Agent Fowler staring wide-eyed at the spot where Ratchet had been sitting just a moment ago.

Had been – past tense.

Chapter Text

“I swear on Abraham Lincoln’s grave, I didn’t do anything!”

Fowler stared wide-eyed at Prime, who stood no less surprised in the bathroom doorway opposite of him, with his sleeves rolled up.

Putting one hand to his head and pointing with the other toward the toilet, the agent began to explain. Or at least he tried to.

“He was just sitting here and then... Poof! Gone!” Will realized how absurd what he was saying sounded, but he had no better way to explain it. Maybe nonverbal communication would help.

"He just started whirling around weirdly and then... gone. Like a ghost... You ever seen Ghostbusters?”

He looked questioningly at Prime, who tilted his head and was most likely doing an internet search before shaking his head.

“No. And I'm not quite sure what a movie has to do with our problem,” replied his counterpart in his usual monotone, deep voice.

“I'm trying to explain to you that your doctor...” The agent's hands gestured toward the toilet. “...has just disappeared!” The hands now gestured toward the room.

“And?” – “What do you mean, ‘and’?”

Optimus tilted his head again, and Will fought the urge to grab the Prime by the shoulders and shake him vigorously until it sank into that iron skull. For a moment, he wondered if the beer Optimus had downed earlier was now having an effect, since alcohol apparently does have an influence on Transformers. Just what the agent needed. Two drunk aliens.

“Your medic just vanished into thin air.” – “I don't understand why you're so surprised.” – “Why aren't you surprised?!”

Optimus tilted his head again. “You seem to be forgetting that our human avatars are merely holoforms that we can activate and deactivate at will.”

Oh... right.

He scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed. Funny how he had almost forgotten that the man standing in front of him wasn't a real human being, but only a solid projection. He should have listened more carefully when the Prime had explained the technology to him while Will was preparing his report for Bryce.

“And where is he now?” he asked, trying to hide his own discomfort, glancing almost sheepishly up at the Prime, who was starting to scratch his chin beard.

“Most likely with his real body.” For a moment, Optimus looked like he was concentrating, narrowing his eyes and looking briefly to the side, but then he sighed. “However, I am unable to open a comlink to him. Either he is blocking me, or the alcohol is affecting his neural connections.”

Will didn't really care about all the mumbo jumbo, as he pushed past the Prime with big moves and yanked open the bathroom door.

“So what are we waiting for? We can't just let a drunk-ass Transformer drive around town! What if he transforms? Do you have any idea how fast the police – or even better – the National Guard will be right up our asses? Not to mention the paperwork I have to deal with to sweep this shit under the rug? Bryce will have my ass and hang it over his fireplace in his hunting lodge.”

“I highly doubt your superior will resort to such measures, given your shared history.”

Will rubbed his eyes; sometimes this guy was really slow on the uptake. But then again, he had often noticed that Prime struggled with sayings.

“Forget it. Do you have any idea how we can catch this doctor before he plays baseball with some city monument?” Visibly exhausted, Fowler looked at Prime almost beggingly, who gave a slow nod.

“I think the best plan right now is for me to dissolve my holoform as well. That way I can be directly with Ratchet and prevent further damage,” he began to explain calmly. “We parked not far from here in a remote parking lot. Come there. I’ll need your help, as I lack the necessary basic knowledge to deal with intoxication properly.”

Before Will could protest or say anything about the plan, the Prime's form blurred and disappeared shortly thereafter. What remained was one William Fowler, on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

***

Raf rocked his legs as he sat on the bench and noted down the scores of their current darts game in his notebook. Next to him sat his faithful companion Bumblebee, who, almost like a little schoolboy, watched the bubbles rise in his glass of cola.

Rafael glanced over at his blond, easily excitable friend and furrowed his brow.

“You know...” he eventually said, tilting his head and getting his friend’s undivided attention. “I find it really unfair that you’re allowed to drink cola even though it’s your first day as a human, and I’m not.”

The scout tilted his head, glanced briefly at his glass, then at Raf, then at his glass again, before holding it out to the boy. Raf raised his hand.

“No, Bee. If my mom finds out I had cola today, I’ll be in big trouble. And don’t even ask me how she’ll find out.”

Bee tilted his head again and narrowed his eyes. It was a clear, silent signal that Raf understood. He sighed deeply.

“Whenever I drink cola, I have to go to the bathroom all night long. And since my room is right next to the living room, my mom finds out when I’ve had some. You have no idea how long it took me to convince her to let me stay out this long at all", the boy grinned broadly and pushed his glasses back up his nose, where they had slipped slightly.

Bee responded to Raf's short story with a crooked grin that could mean almost anything, but then focused back on his Coke.

“Try it. I think it's really tasty,” he encouraged the Scout, who glanced at him again before taking a cautious sip of the drink. Raf couldn't say for sure, but he was beginning to think that Optimus' incident with the spicy chicken had made his yellow friend overly cautious when it came to human food.

A pity. Raf really wanted to trick Bee with some sour candy.

As soon as the scout took a sip, he shook and scrunched up his eyes. The power of carbonation, Raf suspected.

The boy's grin only widened when Bee finally burped loudly.

“I should have warned you about the carbonation.” - Damn right you should have!, said his friend's mockingly annoyed look as he returned his gaze.

“But it was good, right?” An eager nod followed before Bee took another big sip.

“Hey, Raf! Help me out here!” Miko suddenly interrupted the boy’s conversation with his friend. She pointed towards the dartboard, where a few darts were stuck deep, one hand on her hip.

“You saw that I hit the ninety, right? ” she pointed to Jack. “'Cause our Mr. Professor here thinks I cheated.”

“You haven't hit anything close to a high score all evening, and now you suddenly want to have thrown high scores three times in a row?” Jack replied, arms crossed.

“Ehh... duh! Ever heard of practice? That you get better with time, Einstein?” - “But not in half an hour, Miko! Raf, you also saw that she cheated.” Now Jack looked over at him and Raf adjusted his glasses.

“Um... Sorry, I wasn't looking.”

Miko groaned and threw her head back. “You already have four eyes and you still don't see it.”

“Why don't you just repeat it?” Arcee, who had been watching silently next to Bulkhead, now chimed in. “If you say you've gotten better, you'll surely be able to repeat it.”

“Oh, that would suit you, wouldn't it? That I throw again and you throw me off my game so that Bulk and I aren't better than you,” the girl grumbled, glaring up at Arcee, who just raised an eyebrow.

“For that, you'd first have to get a score that even comes close to ours,” replied the femme. “But I also think it's strange that most of your darts were flying in all directions tonight and now suddenly they're all hitting the target.”

“Hey! Nobody's cheating here! And certainly not Miko. She's the most hone- ... She would never-... She's not cheat-... You guys talk scrap!“ Bulkhead now joined in, placing himself next to the Japanese girl with his chest puffed out and his arms crossed. After the “defense” her guardian had given her, she just gave him a flabbergasted look. “Dude!”

“What? I don’t want to lie” – “From now on, you leave the talking to me and just look menacing.”

Raf shook his head and turned his gaze to Bee, who was watching the scene unfold over the rim of his glass, sipping quietly. “Do you think she cheated?”

Bee raised his hand and made a hesitant gesture. So he wasn’t sure either.

“Yes, I don't know either,” replied Raf, putting his laptop aside before looking around. “Maybe Optimus or Agent Fowler saw what happened. Where are they anyway?”

At the question, Bumblebee also raised his head and looked around for his leader, but there was no sign of him. The same went for Agent Fowler and Ratchet. They knew Mrs. Darby wanted to do some dishes so there wouldn't be so much to do tomorrow. But what about the other adults?

There was no time to think about it, though, because suddenly the Scout sat up straight and clutched his cola glass with both hands, his eyes wide open.

Raf furrowed his brow. “What's wrong, Bee? Did you choke?”

The Scout did the same, before jumping up as if struck by lightning and beginning to wave his arms wildly. All the mixed messages he sent Raf boiled down to one core message.

Something is wrong with my Alt-Mode and I don't know what it is!

Raf couldn't possibly react quickly enough to his friend's wild gestures, because before he knew it, the scout had already bolted, legs flying, leaping over the fence and disappearing toward the street.

“What's wrong with him?”

By the time they noticed Bee's escape, the others had obviously settled their dispute, and Bulkhead tilted his head.

Raf, without looking away from the spot where Bee had just disappeared, shrugged and adjusted his glasses. “I'm not sure. It was hard to understand him, but I think something's wrong with his Alt-Mode.”

The bots exchanged a glance before following the scout, closely followed by the kids, now also curious to see what was wrong with Bee.

Raf was the first to circle the house and look at the spot where Bee had parked when they arrived, and the boy had to pull himself together to keep from laughing.

There on the sidewalk, hands in his hair, stood a wide-legged Bumblebee, watching with a horrified expression as his beloved body was hoisted onto a tow truck.

While the trucker moved the lever that pulled the car onto the loading area with an almost bored expression, another man stood next to him, arms crossed, a grim look on his face.It was Jack who finally put his hand to his forehead. “Oh, not that guy.”

“Who is that?” Raf looked up at the taller boy, hoping to get an answer soon.

“Our neighbor. That guy is a real pain. He constantly has everything towed that's parked in front of his house for even two minutes.”- “Can he do that?” Miko put her hands on her hips and glared at the old, wrinkled man.

“Allowed is a big word, given that he used to own the towing company and now his son runs it.”

“Then let’s talk to him and explain the situation,” said Arcee, stepping forward. “Where is Agent Fowler? He’ll surely be able to find a solution.” The woman looked around searchingly, but received only perplexed looks and shrugging shoulders.

With a sigh, she put a hand to her ear, only to realize that in her current form, her communication didn't work that way. Something she would have to get used to. She searched for her leader's frequency, because as far as she could tell, Optimus and Fowler had disappeared at almost the same time. Even a Sparkling could see the connection here.

The Prime responded immediately after two pings, but sounded as if his ventilation was just starting up. Arcee frowned, but decided not to ask.

“Arcee?”, the Prime asked.

“Optimus, do you know where Agent Fowler is? There’s been an incident and we need his assistance,” she explained simply.

“An incident? Is one of the children hurt?” – “No, but Bee is being towed away.”

For a moment, there was silence on the line as the Prime apparently struggled to process what he had just been told.

“Agent Fowler...” he finally replied in a slow voice. “...is otherwise occupied at the moment, and I can't say how long it will take.”

“With what?”

Silence again. Then a surprisingly curt reply from the Prime, who almost forced the words out, as if he didn’t want to say too much.

“Classified.”

Once again, the femme raised her eyebrow as she caught a snippet of something she most likely shouldn’t have heard.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, Agent Fowler. Keep him busy for a moment.“ – ”And how am I supposed to do that!? In case it got over that giant iron skull of yours: that's a bloody ambulance! So stop phoning all around the world and get your freaking, metal ass over here or so help me god, I will never get any documentaries for you ever again!”

Before Arcee could ask what was actually happening there, Optimus beat her to it.

”I'm sorry, Arcee. Agent Fowler and I can't help you at the moment. Try to find a solution yourselves or contact June.“

With that, the connection ended and Arcee was left behind, blinking several times.

”Well?“ Bulkhead stepped up beside her and looked at her with large, curious, dark brown eyes. ”What does the boss say?“

”He's busy. We're on our own.“

”I'm going to go get Mom," sighed Jack, turning around and striding quickly toward the house. On his way, he turned back to the group and raised his finger warningly. “Stop Bee before he causes any more trouble!”

Easier said than done, because the Scout was currently fighting with the Trucker over the remote control that operated the truck.

Chapter Text

Optimus was the first to admit that this evening had taken an unfortunate turn and was now in a steep, and unstoppable, fall.

And although the Prime tried to maintain his composure and somehow keep the control that had been thrust upon him, he had to confess that even he was slowly losing it. In fact, he had now reached a point where all he wanted was his berth and a good amount of recharge.

With a sigh and the hope that he had made the right decision, he ended the comlink connection to Arcee and turned his full, undivided attention back to the nearly empty parking lot where he was standing with Agent Fowler.

There was no sign of Ratchet, as the ambulance had sped off away, never to be seen again, when he had realized he was no longer alone. Optimus couldn't say where his oldest friend was heading; the alcohol made the medic a bit unpredictable.

Panting heavily, Fowler staggered over to him after desperately trying to block the exit of the parking lot with his body, hoping that Ratchet would hold back at the sight of a human until Optimus was ready to catch him. But neither of the two sober men had seen that the ambulance had simply taken the most direct route off-road.

Leaning against the hood of his Alt-Mode, Optimus searched for the location of his wayward medic, but sighed heavily again and rubbed the spot between his eyes.

Fowler, immediately noticing the gesture, threw his arms in the air. “Oh, let me guess! You can't locate him.”

“That's not the problem.” - “And what is the problem?”

Optimus paused for a moment before answering. “Ratchet is currently in the city center. Judging by his speed, he is still in vehicle mode, yet he is in an area where it would be troublesome for him to transform.”

“Just what we needed.” Will rubbed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Any ideas? I'm desperate enough to try anything at this point.”

“Transforming myself is out of the question.” – “I agree.” – “Our best strategy in this case would be to get Ratchet to leave the city or head to a place where it won't be a problem for us to change into our root form.”

“Oh, of course. Brilliant plan, Prime.” Fowler threw his hands in the air as his cynical tone cut through the cool night air. “Since the Doc has been so cooperative so far.”

“Given the circumstances, it might also be worth considering me getting as close to Ratchet as possible and you boarding him and taking control yourself. That is, assuming Ratchet hasn’t changed his objectives in the meantime.”

If Will's jaw hadn't been attached to his body, it would have fallen to the floor as he looked at the man next to him and seriously considered just going home, accepting his future termination, and taking a peace-loving job. Salesperson at a 7-Eleven, for example. The agent was convinced that daily arguments with local Karens were better for his blood pressure than...whatever this was.

“Joined the Army...” he began, without taking his eyes off Prime. “...to babysit aliens.”

Optimus tilted his head, but remained unfazed. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I can do it myself.”

A sentence that immediately set off all of Will’s alarm bells. He flung his hands up and waved them wildly. “No, no, no!”, he cried, already opening the door to the truck. “There's no way I'm letting you do that alone. In the end, you'll flatten the elementary school or...,” he settled into the driver's seat and buckled up. “...someone will see you or what do I know?!”

He slammed the driver's door harder than necessary and crossed his arms. “I'm staying right here and there's nothing you can do about it! So get out of that damn holoform and move!”

Optimus looked at the agent from outside for a moment before nodding, dissolving his form, and starting the engine. Just a few seconds later, a conspicuous red and blue truck rolled out of the parking lot and headed for the city center.

***

“Bee, calm down!” Raf desperately tried to pull his yellow friend away from the trucker, but all his begging and pleading was to no avail. Raf was simply too weak, and even though Bee wasn’t acting like it at the moment, he was a grown man.

“Watch it, pal!” grumbled the truck driver, holding the remote control above his head and out of the scout’s reach. He smelled strong and his worn red baseball cap was crooked on his head. “I’m just doing my damn job here, alright? If ya dun like it, ya can complain. Otherwise, the car is coming to me for now, and you're welcome to pick it up tomorrow at Head Office."

Bumblebee, quite unimpressed by the man's words, climbed onto the truck's loading area and now attempted an attack from the side, which went just as well as one might expect. With a big step to the side, the trucker moved out of the mute scout's reach again.

“Sir, can't you just make an exception?” Bulkhead now tried the diplomatic route. “He'll park somewhere else, I promise.”

“No way!” the old neighbor now interjected, waving his fist. "That ugly yellow thing has been blocking my view all evening, and I want it gone! Especially when it belongs to little punks like that one.“

”Punks?“ Miko echoed, stomping toward the man. She nearly shoved her finger in his face. “Oh, I’ll show you a punk, old man! Let go of my friend’s car, or…” - “Oh, so now you’re threatening me, too?”

With exaggeratedly wide eyes, the old man looked down at her before giving her a warning glance. “Listen, young lady. When I was your age, we still had respect for our elders. So shut your mouth and have your parents teach you some manners.”

“Are you fucking kidding me...?” Before Miko could finish her sentence, Arcee quickly moved past her and stepped forward, ready to find a solution to the problem; after all, Optimus had more or less given her the responsibility. And what did the Prime always say? Strength lay in patience, not physical power.

“Sir, I can promise you that we don’t want any trouble. But don't you think this might be a bit excessive?“

”Excessive? The only thing excessive here are these flashy cars that young people drive today. Always those loud engines and all the smoke. You can't even leave the house or cross the street anymore in fear of being run over,” the old man ranted, waving his fist. “No! Not in my neighborhood,” he turned to the trucker. “Michael, just take this thing away!”

“All right, Pops,” sighed the man addressed. “I'm already on it.”

Meanwhile, Rafael tried again to calm his furious friend down. “Bee, please stop it. If you keep making trouble like this, everyone will really start to think you’re a punk.”

The scout froze in mid-motion and slowly turned to his little friend, with a look that looked as if Raf had just confessed that he had continued watching their favorite TV show on alone.

For a moment, he seemed to think, before sliding off the platform with slumped shoulders and pointing sadly at his Alt Mode, which made Raf nod. “I know this isn't right. But if you keep causing trouble, they'll call the police and then we'll really be in trouble.”

“Yes, but there are no problems!” Arcee interjected again. “There's no parking restriction here. You're just taking advantage of your position!” Her sharp gaze met the neighbor's, but he didn't flinch. On the contrary, the old man's expression only seemed to harden.

“According to the 1987 Housing Ordinance, paragraph 78, section 45…” - “Seriously, Gramps?” Miko put her hands on her hips. “You’re starting to quote history books?”

“Miko,” Bulkhead pleaded, while Arcee rubbed her nose. “Can't you talk to your father?” she asked, visibly desperate, turning her attention to the trucker, who just shrugged absently, clearly unimpressed by all the drama around him.

“Not my problem, doll! I'm just doing my job here.”

Everyone present knew at that moment... this wasn't going to end well.

***

“This can't be happening.” William hit his forehead with the flat of his hand as Optimus' headlights illuminated the man who was wobbling straight into a gas station, unsteady on his feet but still with a certain determination.

Optimus pulled over to the side of the road and adjusted the mirrors so that he had a better view of what was happening inside the store.

“What on Earth is he doing in there?” Will looked to the radio for help, assuming that it was Optimus’s face in that form. If you could even have a face in that form. What did Will know about Cybertronian anatomy?

“I can't say, Agent Fowler,” replied the Prime. “But based on our observations throughout the evening, I don't believe Ratchet approaches his goals with any deeper logic and is acting more on impulse.”

“You can just tell me you don’t know.” Fowler unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the truck’s cab, where the Transformer’s holoform soon followed. The smell of gasoline, which Will liked for some reason, filled his nose, along with the now quite cool night air.

“It's time to catch this medic before he does something stupid,” the agent decided and, without looking to see if Optimus was following him, made his way to the gas station building.

The bell above the entrance jingled as the two entered and their eyes wandered around the store for a moment until they settled on a person at the refrigerated section. While Optimus made his way to his doctor without a word, Fowler headed for the checkout, where the bored gas station attendant sat with his cheek resting on his fist and his phone in his hand. Will wondered if the guy had even noticed that one of his “customers” was currently rearranging his shelves. And it would be Williams' job to make sure it stayed that way. The last thing Prime and he needed was more unwanted attention.

So while Fowler rushed toward his target, Optimus stepped next to Ratchet, who was crouched in front of the bottom shelf of the refrigerated section, staring with a look of concentration at the drinks that were lined up there.

So far, Ratchet didn't seem to have noticed that he was no longer alone.

Optimus noticed that countless bottles had already accumulated in the doctor's arms, a wide variety of drinks and some snacks that humans often consumed during celebrations. The Prime recognized various chips, a few candies, mints, sodas, water, and energy drinks.

“Would you like to tell me what you're looking for, old friend?” he finally asked, determined this time to take a calmer approach to get Ratchet to cooperate.

Ratchet lifted the blond mop of hair that now propped up like a nest on his head, and when he recognized Optimus, the doctor's expression visibly brightened. Without saying a word, he began stuffing the goods he had been holding into the Prime's arms.

“Here, Optimus... Hooooold thish!” he slurred with an energy that one would not expect from him in his condition. Optimus did as he was told and held the bags, cans, and bottles Ratchet gave him. Still, he couldn't help but ask a question.

“Why do we need this?”

“Energyyyyy..” Ratchet replied, as if he assumed Optimus understood exactly what he meant. Optimus was aware that the food he was holding gave humans the energy they needed to survive, but it was useless to the Autobots. After all, they couldn't process human food.

But on the other hand, his oldest friend was currently dead drunk.

“You mean for the kids,” he said, but was met with a look as if he had personally insulted Ratchet's carrier. The medic pushed his lips forward and furrowed his eyebrows.

“No! Not for the kidsh. F'r us!” - “I'm afraid I don't quite follow.”

Ratchet threw his head back, swaying dangerously, so much so that Optimus almost feared he would fall backwards. However, he regained his balance relatively quickly.

Ratchet grabbed a can from Optimus' arms and held it right under the Prime's nose, his finger sliding over the bright letters on it. “Look! Eeeeneeeergyyyyy!”

“An Earth energy drink, yes. I'm afraid it's of no use to us, old friend. Sorry to disappoint you.” Optimus began to put the products down and return them to their places.

“See, Opt'muuusss!” Ratchet swayed again as he swung his arm back and, in an unexpected move, pressed his finger against the tip of the Prime's nose, bending it slightly upward. “That's your proooooob'em. You think too priiii-meeeee-miiiii-cally!”

“I think too much like a Prime?” - “Yu-up! Human'shh aren't cars or jeeeetssh. That's why they don need energyyyyy, seeee?”

Optimus saw nothing, but decided to leave it at that. He realized that any discussion with Ratchet at the moment would only lead to processor aches. He rose from his crouch and looked down at Ratchet, who had already begun grabbing the next products and gathering them beside him.

“Then why don’t we come back tomorrow and get the energy drinks then? It’s getting pretty late.” – “Nooooo!!!”

Of course not. Why should anything go the way Optimus wanted tonight? The leader of the Autobots suppressed the strong urge to groan, grab Ratchet by the collar, and simply drag him out of there. Mostly because he knew it wouldn't do him any good once Ratchet would dissolve his holoform again.

“And why not?” he asked instead, praying to the old Primes in the Matrix that they would give him the patience for this.

“’S on saaaaale, seeeeee?” With a shaky finger, the blond man pointed to a price tag where a discount promotion was advertised in large yellow letters. Optimus thought for a moment, then sighed.

“Wait here. I'll be right back.” Just as he was making his way to the checkout, he turned around again and gave Ratchet a warning look. “And don't open anything, you hear me?”

“Yeeeeh, Yeeeeeh”

Optimus didn't think Ratchet had heard him, but decided to try his luck anyway.

He approached Agent Fowler at the cash register, who was leaning nonchalantly against the counter and, at least so it seemed, chatting about everything under the sun, clearly intent on distracting the cashier. When Optimus approached him, he looked up.

“And?” - “I think Ratchet is willing to accompany us.”

Fowler's face fell as he looked at Optimus almost desperately. “I smell a big ‘but’ somewhere in there.”

Optimus tilted his head. “How much financial resources do you have with you?”

Chapter Text

Before Arcee had a chance to swing her fist, she was tackled from behind and pulled into a firm hold that hoisted her a few inches off the ground, leaving the furious warrior helplessly kicking her feet in the air.

“Primus, Bulkhead!” she gasped, trying to free herself from the tight grip. “Let me go!”

The bulky giant behind her just shook his dark head. “No way! Not 'til you calm down!”

“I am calm!”

“Well, calm doesn't look like that, Arcee. Ya really need to work at that.“ Miko stepped to the side of her guardian and shook her head in disappointment. ”I lied better than that when I was just a baby.

Arcee stopped her attempts to escape from the Wrecker's strong arms and closed her pale eyes before taking a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out.

“Like I always said, chicks are nothing but trouble.”

Frag the calm! Arcee would give this human a good ass whooping!

“Can you please stop making it worse?” Raf was now pleading, as he stepped up next to the trucker. “You can see she’s already angry.”

“Not my problem if she can't control her temper,” he replied with a shrug, whereupon Miko shot him a broad smirk. “But it will be your problem if Bulk lets her go. One word and you're fish food!”

“Miko, knock it off,” the Wrecker now pleaded. “I'm not letting go of Arcee until she calms down. Bee, can you try pinging Optimus again? We really need his help here.”

“No need,” a completely new voice interrupted the group. All heads turned and immediately saw June Darby, who was approaching them with a towel over her shoulders and Jack in tow.

The mother put her hands on her hips and quickly assessed the situation before fixing her gaze on the old neighbor. “Really? Again, Mr. Harris?”

“Yes, again! Until they finally learn, Mrs. Darby! I've told you over and over again that I don't want cars in front of my house,” replied the old man – Mr. Harris – with raging eyes.

“And I've told you over and over again that this street belongs to the city, not to you. Everyone can park here as they please, and it's not up to you to decide. So tell your son to put the car down and move before I call the police.”

“I know my rights, Mrs. Darby.” - “And I know mine. Besides, I've had a really busy afternoon. So think carefully about whether you want to argue with me today.”

“Oh dude!”, laughed Miko. “Mrs. Darby is serving!” - “Miko, be quiet!” - “Sorry.”

The mother looked at Mr. Harris again. “Well?”

“Fine, they can have the car. But I want an apology from these hooligans first. This pack has been insulting me all evening, and this lady tried to attack my son.”

June rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily. Even though the mother knew what a nuisance Mr. Harris could be, she also knew that he was stubborn as an old mule and therefore wouldn't back down until he got what he wanted. And an apology, whether deserved or not, was the lesser evil compared to what they would face otherwise.

“Apologize,” she finally said, which was met with loud protests.

“What? No way! That dude is a total jerk!” – “Miko!” – “It’s true!”

Bumblebee immediately agreed with the girl, frowning, and Raf also had a problem being made to look like the guilty party, as the boy crossed his arms and turned his head away.

Overall, the suggestion for arbitration was met with little response.

June was about to speak up again if it weren't for the conspicuous red and blue truck that pulled up alongside an ambulance and parked right in front of the tow truck, which now made Mr. Harris loose his temper again.

“You've got to be kidding me! Now the next ones are standing here!” he began to rant, already lunging toward the large man in the blue and red shirt who was getting out of the truck and reaching his hand inside.

The old man suddenly froze when he saw who was climbing out of the driver's cab.

And why was there suddenly a smell of vomit in the air?

***

Half an hour earlier, somewhere in Jasper, Nevada

“Sixty-five dollars!” Will cried as the three odd men left the gas station, packed with various snacks and drinks. “Do you have any idea how much money that is? And how long I have to work for it?”

“I apologize for your inconvenience. But I'm afraid that otherwise we wouldn't have been able to convince Ratchet to come with us without creating a commotion,” replied the Prime, casting a careful glance at the medic, who was walking between them, munching on a few chips.

The food was quickly stored in Optimus' truck, and then they faced the next obstacle. Fowler rubbed his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time today and looked at the medic doubtfully.

“Any idea how we're going to get him back safely now? I mean, technically it's your bodies, but I still don't trust the guy to drive safely. Amazing that he wasn't stopped by a cop on the way here.”

He looked expectantly at the big man in front of him, who just nodded silently before carefully guiding Ratchet to the passenger door of his Alt-Mode. “I completely agree with you. I think the best option is not to let him drive at all. I’ll take Ratchet with me and you take his Alt-Mode.”

“Wait a minute.” Fowler blinked at the Prime with wide eyes before his gaze darted to the inconspicuous ambulance a few gas pumps away. “You mean...” His fingers pointed to the vehicle. “...that I... when he. . .” His gaze flicked to Ratchet. Then he scrunched up his eyebrows. “That feels kind of wrong,” the agent finally said.

“In this form, Ratchet is just a vehicle. It would probably be best that you don’t think about it any further.” – “And what if the doctor has a problem with it? I mean, who says he’ll let me drive him?” Fowler couldn’t even begin to explain how wrong that statement felt.

Driving a good friend's car home when he'd had one too many? Sure! Leaving the car and picking it up the next day? Of course! But driving a car that was also a living alien that was capable of seriously injuring him with just a snap of its fingers... that was just a bit too much.

“Can't we just leave him here?” – “He'd be towed away.” – “What if we call June or one of your bots to drive the Doc?” – “I'd rather not give Ratchet any more opportunity to cause more trouble.” – “What if you drive him and I drive you?”

Now it was Optimus' turn to grimace and show a little more than his usual stoic expression. “That would be uncomfortable for me.”

“Oh!”, Will scoffed, crossing his arms. “So you get to choose the lesser evil and I don’t? Pretty damn unfair, don’t you think?”

Optimus looked at the agent for a moment until the Prime's expression hardened slightly. "Agent Fowler, in the course of this day, I was forced to get my medic from our base to a garden party where not only I was hit by a door, but also fell down a flight of stairs, hitting my head in the process. I have burned my mouth and made a fool of myself in front of my entire team because you neglected to mention that the chicken was over-spiced, and I have spent the last hour searching for my physician and oldest friend, whose behavior is confusing me in a way that is difficult to articulate. This condition is the result of a punch you brought with you. So, to put it mildly... and I apologize for my harsh tone... I'm not in the mood for fruitless arguments right now, so please do me this one favor and take over driving Ratchet while I keep him occupied in my alt-mode so there are no more incidents."

Will gulped hard as Optimus's brief monologue outlined what had happened to the Prime up to this point and how the evening in question had unfolded since then. As much as the agent hated to admit it, a significant part of it was down to him. After all, he hadn't told Ratchet that there was alcohol in the punch, assuming that the medic already knew. And in a way, he could have assumed that bots had no tolerance for spicy food. Especially Optimus Prime, who was the Cybertronian equivalent of a glass of milk: innocent, pure, and yet strong.

Not all of the Prime's points made sense, but William blamed it on the fact that even the leader of the Autobots had reached the end of his very, very long patience.

So he just gave a nod and made his way straight to the white and orange ambulance, before taking his place in the driver's seat and waiting for Optimus to take the lead of the small convoy.

It took a few minutes for the Prime to coax Ratchet into his cab using the snacks, but soon the truck and ambulance rolled out of the gas station and back on their way to June's house. There, they would just put Ratchet in the shower and then most likely to bed.

At least, that's what Will planned to suggest to the Prime, as he wasn't sure at this point if it was a good idea to keep the medic further awake.

But just as they were about to cross a green light, the truck in front of him stopped with a jolt, causing Fowler to slam his foot down on the brake pedal.

“What the hell is he doing?” the dark-skinned man cursed, clutching the steering wheel of the ambulance.

Just as he was about to storm out of the car and give Prime a piece of his mind for this maneuver, a voice came over the open radio in Ratchet’s alt-mode.

“Agent Fowler, we need to stop for a moment.” - “What the flying crap is going on with you, Prime? I almost ran into you!” In a car that was a living being, as the agent reminded himself.

The voice that came through the comlink was unmistakably resigned. “Ratchet threw up.”

A few minutes later, Fowler parked behind Prime at the side of the road, unbuckled his seatbelt, and practically jumped out of the ambulance before rushing toward the truck a few meters ahead, where the leader's holoform materialized, his face buried deep in his hands.

Will didn't even bother to address Prime, just yanked open the truck's driver's door, only to have his hand fly to his mouth a second later.

“Oh fuck!”, he gasped and turned away, not even using any historical figure for his swearing. “That burns right through your mucous membrane!”

Optimus just gave the agent a sour look as he crossed his arms. “That’s easy for you to say,” the Prime grumbled. “After all, this is my body!”

“And your body stinks like it just crawled out of the sewer. Sorry to have to break it to you,” Will coughed and gave the Prime a half-hearted apologetic look. While he could understand Optimus’ problem at the moment... it could have been worse. Vomit could be cleaned up!

“How did this even happen?” he continued, hoping to distract Optimus from the foul mood he had surely reached at this point. It seemed that this day was not going at all in favor of the leader of the Autobots.

“While driving, Ratchet kept consuming a mixture of snacks and drinks from the gas station,” Optimus explained with a dark expression. “I suspect that the combination of all these foods, along with the alcohol consumption and the unique suspension of the seats, caused him to throw up.”

In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, Will nudged Optimus in the side with his elbow.

 “Guess now you wish I had driven your truck and you had Ratchet in his car, huh?”

All he got in response was a dark glare.

“Fine, okay. I’m sorry.” Will raised his hands in a gesture of peace and hung his head. “So what do we do now? I mean, with all due respect, Prime, but we don’t have anything to clean you up with.”

At this statement, Optimus gave the agent an almost panicked look; it was amazing what range the Prime could show when he was pushed enough. “But I don't want to drive around like this!” he almost whined. “Do you have any idea how bad it smells?”

“To be honest, I can smell it.” - “So can I, Agent Fowler. And our sensors are much more sensitive than yours.”

“Prime, what do you want me to do now? I can’t just pull a cleaning rag and a bucket of water out of thin air.” Fowler understood the Prime; he wouldn’t want to walk around covered in vomit either, but they simply lacked the means to deal with the problem.

 So Optimus would just have to take the bitter pill and stick it out until they got back to June.

But just as Will was about to bring it up, the sound of retching caught the attention of the two men again, who looked up with alarmed expressions towards the truck, where Ratchet was still sitting, now holding a hand over his mouth.

Before Fowler could even blink, they'd jumped up the steps to the cab and were practically dragging the medic out of his seat and into the open air, where he was once again throwing up in a torrent.

And while Fowler turned his head away, swallowing his own nausea, Optimus was just glad it hadn't hit him again.

“Optiiimussss...” Ratchet wailed, now kneeling on all fours. “I’m dyiiiiin‘.”

And though Optimus was clearly at the end of his tether, he couldn’t help but let a weary smile creep onto his lips as he bent down to his friend. Gently patting the medic on the back, he began to reassure him, hoping to give him some comfort.

“You're not dying, Ratchet. You're just having a rough start at being human today,” he explained patiently as Fowler made his way to the medic's ambulance. Maybe, even though he didn't believe it, he would find some makeshift cleaning supplies.

Meanwhile, Optimus and Ratchet remained at the side of the road and engaged in what could be considered a conversation. Ratchet looked up at Optimus with moist eyes, almost dopey. “Have I ev‘r told ya how much I love ya, Optimuuuuus? I mean... like really?”

Optimus would have taken it seriously if it weren't for the remains of vomit hanging from the medic's chin. He looked around for something to at least clean his friend's face, but found nothing. Just as he was about to sacrifice his shirt for the task, a new figure caught the Prime's attention.

Contrary to his expectations, however, the figure only reached halfway up his shin, was covered from head to toe in dark brown fur, and had a long tongue that was in the process of licking up the puddle of vomit in front of Ratchet.

“Marlo!” exclaimed a new voice, causing Optimus to look up.

There in front of him stood an elderly lady, almost a sweet granny, tugging on a red leash and trying to pull the small brown dog away from the puddle.

“Stop it! You shouldn’t do that.” She cast a warm, amused glance at the Prime and gave him a crooked smile that deepened the laugh lines around her eyes. “I’m so sorry. He normally behaves better than that.”

“It's okay.” Optimus didn't know if it was okay. He was not familiar enough with humans' pets, but he decided to ask Agent Fowler for a documentary. He wondered why dogs licked up strangers' vomit.

“Say,” the old lady clicked her tongue. “What are you doing here anyway? At this time of night?”

Optimus could ask the woman the same thing. After all, she was already at an advanced age and the dog didn’t look like it could protect its mistress, considering that the little animal was currently engaged in an endless chase after its own tail.

“My friend is a little under the weather and couldn't keep down the food he just ate.” - “Oh, don't be so formal,” she waved him off and then leaned down toward him with a twinkle in her eye. “Your friend really overdid it, huh? Well, there's a first time for everything, right?”

Optimus hardly knew this old lady, but he immediately found her likable. He gave her a smile: “I'm afraid so.”

“Oh, if you only knew what concoctions we used to drink when we were young. You young lads can't even imagine!” she laughed and pulled Marlo away from the puddle.

“I'm not young,” Ratchet now grumbled. “I'm over forty-...,” he was stopped by Optimus, who without hesitation placed his hand over the medic's mouth and continued speaking. “I think you've said enough for today, Ratchet,” he cautioned his friend, who blinked up at the Prime with unclear eyes.

The medic moved closer to Optimus' face and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. ”You smell funny.”

“I wonder why that is.” Eventually, even Fowler returned from his unsuccessful search for cleaning supplies and nodded to the elderly lady. “Good evening, ma’am. Out for a walk this late?”

When the magic word was uttered, Marlo jumped up and began barking enthusiastically, which only prompted his owner to click her tongue admonishingly before turning her attention back to the men. “You know, I think I still have some seat cushion cleaner at home,” she finally said. “Marlo can't handle car rides either and has thrown up on the back seat more than once,” she smiled as memories came flooding back. „You should have seen my husband! He generally loses his temper quickly, but... oh, I'm rambling again. I'd be happy to help you clean your seats. But my house is a bit far away“, she explained, pointing behind her in the approximate direction of her home.

Before Agent Fowler could say anything, Optimus nodded with a broad smile. ”That would be fantastic." By now, the Prime didn't really care how many detours he had to take, as long as it meant he wouldn't have to smell like vomit anymore.

How could he have known that the nice old lady he helped in his alt-mode, who made herself comfortable in the passenger seat while Ratchet rode with Fowler, visibly exhausted from the evening, lived right next door to the Darbys?

Chapter Text

Miko was the first to make a face and press her fingers on her nose.

“Ewww!” she complained out loud, without taking her eyes off Optimus, who was helping an elderly lady out of the cab. “What the hell is that smell? It's like something crawled in somewhere and then died.”

“Miko!” June placed her hands on her hips and gave the girl an warning look, but the latter just shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s true!” the girl responded defensively.

And although June would have loved to lecture the child that some things don't need to be said out loud, she also had to admit that it smelled terrible here, even though she was an experienced nurse who had seen quite a lot in her long career.

Most of the others present also shared this opinion, as they displayed a wide range of expressions, some more obvious than others.

But when the nurse's gaze fell on the lovely and friendly Mrs. Harris, who was climbing out of Optimus' truck with her dog in tow, her expression changed to one of pure wonder. On one hand, because she was eager to know how the elderly lady had run into Optimus Prime of all people, and on the other... she only now realized that Prime and Will, who joined the Autobot, were gone in the first place.

She walked over to the three of them with long strides and briefly petted Marlo on the head, who jumped happily at her leg as he recognized the nurse, who had looked after the four-legged friend a few times before.

“Mrs. Harris,” she began, her mouth agape. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?” chuckled the old woman. “I live here, June.” She nodded toward the small house where she and her husband had lived for decades now, the man in question also approaching his wife.

“Angela! I thought you just wanted to go for a walk!” – “And I thought you wanted to watch your show, Bartholomeus!” replied the woman, suddenly no longer so charming as she eyed her husband sharply. “Here I am, not thinking anything bad while helping this young, charming couple...” - “Wait, what?”, Optimus shook his head, visibly irritated, and looked at the woman with wide eyes. However, she continued speaking, unaffected. “And what do I have to learn in the process? That you’re having our neighbors’ cars towed again.”

“They were standing in front of our house!” the old man defended himself, but fell silent when his wife glared at him. “When will it finally sink into your thick skull that we have no authority over the street in front of our house, Bartholomeus, hm? It's always the same with you! June is such a sweetheart, and her friends are such nice people.“ She pointed to Optimus and Agent Fowler with one hand.

”That reminds me!“ she suddenly exclaimed, looking at Optimus. ”I promised to bring you the cleaner. Just wait a moment, I'll be right back. And you're going to apologize to our neighbors, you hear me, you stubborn old man? Otherwise, you can kiss your meatloaf goodbye tomorrow!"

With that, she picked up her little dog in her arms, grunting, and headed into the house, leaving behind a visibly embarrassed Mr. Harris, who was now the target of several gleeful glances. Most of them came from the bots and kids who had been there throughout the whole argument, while Optimus and Fowler watched the events unfold with more or less confusion.

“Sorry,” the gray-haired man finally mumbled without looking up. More out of pride than embarrassment.

“What was that?” Miko leaned forward and put a hand to her ear. “I couldn't hear you.” She was quickly pulled back by Jack, who grabbed her by the collar and gave her a sharp look. It was hard to make out what the two were whispering about, but in the end, Miko just crossed her arms in a huff and kept her mouth shut.

And while Mr. Harris made his way into his house, beaten like a whipped dog, his son unloaded Bumblebee's Camaro from the back of his truck, prompting the scout to jump onto the hood with a silent cry of joy and embrace his Alt-mode.

Only one problem remained.

“Okay, but seriously, what stinks here?” Raf asked, waving his hand in front of his face. Everyone's eyes turned to those who had joined them just a few minutes ago, and while Will coughed into his hand, Optimus visibly turned his head away in embarrassment, avoiding everyone's gaze.

“Where have you guys been anyway?”, Bulkhead asked. “We could have really used your help here.”

“We were... occupied otherwise,” Optimus finally explained curtly, without looking directly at his Autobots, which did little to satisfy the others’ curiosity. Quite the contrary.

Miko stepped up to the great Prime and grinned broadly at him with narrowed eyes. “You're hiding something.”

“Something about Ratchet,” Arcee added matter-of-factly. “At least that's what I gathered from my little chat with you, Optimus.”

“Ratchet is...” Optimus eventually began, after exchanging a long look with Agent Fowler, and he would have continued if it weren’t for the medic, who, uncooperative as he had been all evening, pushed open the truck’s driver’s door, hitting Optimus right in the back of the head, which only caused a loud bonk, and then got out; if you could call his unceremonious fall on the sidewalk “getting out.”

“I'm heeeeere,” slurred the heavily intoxicated doctor, pushing himself up. And while Optimus rubbed his sore head and Fowler whacked his forehead with his hand, he staggered over to the group.

“What's goooin' on?” he asked. “‘S ‘nyone hurt? Oor neeed help? ’ 'Cos I've hafta lotta energy! 'Lots and lots of 'nergy! So 'nuch tha Bulkhead's 'ave enuf!”

“Is he...,” the Wrecker began with his mouth open, while Bee just nodded with wide eyes. Arcee was completely speechless, while the humans present showed a variety of emotions ranging from sheer horror to absolute delight.

“Oh my God!” Miko squealed, seemingly vibrating with excitement. “Where’s my phone? I have to capture this for posterity!” Just as she found her phone and opened the camera, the device was grabbed right out of her hand. She looked up in shock at Agent Fowler, who was putting it in his jacket pocket.

“You can pick it up tomorrow.” - “Really, Fowler?”, sighed the Japanese girl disappointedly. “And I thought you were cool.”

Then June raised her voice, as there were still things she didn’t quite understand. She tilted her head and watched Optimus carefully lean Ratchet against his truck.

“But that still doesn't explain where the smell is coming from...”

The Prime sighed heavily. “It appears that our holographic stomachs are unable to hold a wide variety of different foods.”

“So, Ratchet threw up?”, Jack concluded with a questioning look, to which Optimus nodded.

“Unfortunately, he was in my Alt-Mode at the time.”

“So, he threw up in your…” Before Arcee could finish her sentence, their leader simply raised his hand. “I don’t wish to go into further detail.”

That settled the matter, because the bots knew the tone their leader was striking here and, with wise foresight, kept their mouths shut.

After a while, Mrs. Harris rejoined the group, laden with cleaning supplies, which she happily handed to Optimus. After briefly convincing him that she would help the Prime whether he wanted it or not, the two set about cleaning the cab of the truck, while the others cleared the scene for the time being and settled down in the Darbys' living room.

As Ratchet had become more and more tired during the course of the evening, he was also much more cooperative and allowed himself to be carried into the house without a peep, where he promptly fell asleep on the couch with loud snoring, where Fowler and June had dropped him off.

Just as the last person had left the truck's hearing range, Optimus looked at Mrs. Harris, who was kneeling by the driver's seat and scrubbing the fabric frantically. Too frantically, if Optimus was honest, but he was doomed to silence as he held up the water bucket so the elderly lady could wring out the rag again and again.

“Mrs. Harris,” he finally began after a few seconds of consideration. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, young man. And don't be so formal. You sound almost like a robot,” the old woman smiled before turning back to the seat cushion.

“Why did you say earlier that Ratchet and I...”, the Prime didn't continue. He still had trouble understanding human relationships and therefore didn't know whether the old woman really meant what she said or not. Maybe he had just misheard her...

“Oh, don't be so modest, my boy,” the woman laughed. “I'm much more open about these things than my husband. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can keep it to myself. I just find it lovely when two people find each other.”

“I think you're misunderstanding something.” – “Young man, it's not as if I didn't hear your friend telling you how much you mean to him earlier. I may be old, but I'm not deaf, you know.“

“That was something different.” – “I know people like you aren’t used to being accepted like this, but I promise you, your secret is safe with me.” The old woman only winked at Optimus, who was about to object again, but then closed his mouth with a resigned sigh. He was just too tired for further discussion, and it wasn't as if he would run into this woman forever, right?

***

“Miko, leave Ratchet alone!”

The girl groaned and rolled her eyes when she heard Arcee's voice, shooting her a warning look. With her arms crossed and a pout on her face, she plopped down next to Bulkhead on the couch.

“Y'all are boring,” she commented, looking around. “I mean, we have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here! When is the Doc ever going to be a party animal again, huh?!”

“He doesn't look very party animal-ish to me right now,” now Jack muttered, resting his head on his fist and staring at the snoring medic from the far end of the other couch. The signs were clear that Ratchet had drunk well beyond his limit today, and he did believe Optimus and Agent Fowler when they said that the CMO had kept them on their toes... but at the moment, it just didn't look that way.

“Oh, believe us!” sighed Fowler as he came over from the kitchen with a chair from the dining table and sat down on it, as all the other seats were taken. “He even managed to work up Prime’s last nerve.”

“Optimus?”, Raf looked up from his spot on the floor, where he was sitting cross-legged next to Bee. Fowler nodded.

“Who would have thought that guy could show so much emotion when given the chance,” the agent hummed, folding his arms before looking around the living room.

“But Ratchet said alcohol has no effect on you,” June added, to which Fowler just shrugged. “He was wrong. It happens to the best of us. I'm just guessing that the Doc is a total lightweight and that's why he's so dense.”

“Then why wasn't Optimus wasted?” Miko leaned forward and thoughtfully placed a finger on her chin. “I mean, he downed a whole beer. Shouldn't he be at least tipsy? Was he swerving when he was driving?”

She looked curiously at Fowler, who shrugged again. “He's made a very level-headed impression on me so far. Much more composed than me, to be honest. At least until Ratchet threw up, then he was pretty pissed off too.” Will smiled a little at the memory, as Prime had looked like a small child who had been denied his favorite toy.

“Maybe Optimus is better with alcohol,” June began to mutter. “Because of that Prime thing. They're special, aren't they?”

“It doesn't matter how much Optimus can or can't drink,” Arcee groaned, leaning her head back wearily. “The question is, how do we get Ratchet back to base? He can't drive, that's for sure.”

“And someone has to take the kids home,” Bulkhead added, looking at Miko to his left, who yawned loudly with a bored look on her face. It was already quite late. Who could have guessed that this afternoon would turn out like this?

“I can take care of that,” June offered. “I'm sober, so you can concentrate fully on your doctor.”

None of the bots present were quite sure whether they liked that idea. On one hand, they were grateful to be able to go home and get some well-deserved recharge. On the other hand, none of them really wanted to work with Ratchet. The stories they had heard so far were enough to give them a good idea. You didn't need any personal experience to know that Ratchet was a lot of work.

But just as a thoughtful silence fell over the group, with everyone contemplating how to avoid the unpleasant task without making it obvious, the front door opened, and Optimus returned.

Visibly exhausted, the Prime sat down on the floor next to Raf and Bee and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he let out a soft sigh.

No one wanted to say anything... but the leader of the Autobots still smelled unpleasantly of vomit. Apparently, no matter how much you scrubbed, the smell wouldn't go away.

However, everyone present made the wise and prudent decision to say nothing. Optimus was clearly at the end of his tether and had not had a pleasant afternoon in general. Most others would have had a nervous breakdown long ago.

“Did you get it all out?” Fowler finally asked, giving Optimus a sympathetic look. The Prime nodded silently.

“The visual contaminants have been removed, but Mrs. Harris said I would have to live with the smell for a few more days. She offered to cover up the smell with one of her perfumes, but I assumed that, if it was the same one, she was wearing today, I could do without it.”

“Why not?” Jack chuckled. “Maybe you'll like it.”

Optimus smiled wearily and looked up at the teenager. “I think I've had enough new experiences for today, Jack.”

“Optimus Prime smelling like flowers,” Miko grinned. “Now that would be something!”

Arcee chuckled. “Why? So the Decepticons can smell him a mile away and be on high alert?”

“Either that, or they'll take to their heels,” Bulkhead added. “I mean, no offense to your human scents and what you like, but every time June puts on a new perfume, I feel like my optics are tearing up.”

The laughter that ensued was not shared by June, who looked at the wrecker with almost disappointment. “What's that supposed to mean? I think it smells better than the constant smell of motor oil and fuel that reigns in your base,” the mother defended herself, almost defiantly.

“Because that's how we smell,” Arcee explained. “It's our natural scent. You, on the other hand, pay others to smell like a chemical cocktail.”

“Really, Arcee.” June gave her a look of betrayal. “And I thought you were on my side here. One woman to another.” - “Hello? What about me?” - “You're a girl, Miko. Get through your first period first!”

Now it was Miko's turn to puff out her cheeks and put her arms on her hips. “Just for the record, I've had mine for two years now." - “Two years of menstruation,” Jack whistled, jumping right on Miko's vague wording. “That's tough.”

“This is not your business, Jack!” - “I agree,” agreed June with Miko, looking at her son with maternal severity. “That's women's business.”

“I don’t really want to know, to be honest,” the boy replied, shaking his head with a smile. He remembered well that one hour in biology class when they had gone through the female cycle, and since then he knew, he didn’t need to know.

It was Bumblebee who finally drew attention to himself, shaking his whole body.

“What's wrong, Bee?” Raf asked, but in that moment, Bulkhead burst out laughing, covering his eyes with one hand, while Arcee hid a giggle behind her fist and Optimus grinned silently to himself.

“What? What's going on?”, Jack looked at the bots one by one in confusion before Arcee took pity on the humans and explained their behavior, especially Bumblebee's.

“Bee just warned us to never Google human menstruation.”

This finally made the humans laugh too, much to the annoyance of the scout, who still had a grimace on his face.

Only when the snoring medibot on the couch muttered something that suggested they might be a little too loud did the group calm down and finally decide to call it a day.

The bots' concerns about who would drive Ratchet back to base were quickly resolved when Optimus volunteered again, reasoning that he already smelled bad and it wouldn't make any difference if the doctor threw up again. Besides, Ratchet was asleep for most of the time, so the Prime didn't think he would cause much trouble.

Arcee would drive Ratchet's alt-mode, and her alt-mode would stay with the Darbys. That way, she would only need to dissolve her holoform once Ratchet was safely at the base, and she would be right back with Jack and June. Otherwise, everything remained as usual: Bulkhead took Miko home, and Bee took Raf away.

And so a long day came to an end and calm returned to Jasper, Nevada.

***

Needless to say, Ratchet was in a foul mood the next day, in addition to his usual grimness.

Leaning halfway over the main computer's keyboard, one hand constantly on the processor and with an expression that looked as if Unicron himself had taken possession of him, the medic stared into space, unable to form a single thought. His processor was roaring, he was exhausted, his memories were fragmented or non-existent for some reason, and his mood was at an all-time low.

Sure, the CMO could have asked Optimus what had happened yesterday to make him feel this way today, but the latter was struggling with processor aches of his own, which were undoubtedly the result of yesterday's fall down the stairs.

And since the other bots and the kids were still coming – something that already made him feel sick – the doctor had little choice but to vegetate in his miserable existence.

When he heard his leader's heavy footsteps entering the main hall, he scrunched up his optics as his processor howled with every step Optimus took.

“Optimus, for Primus' sake...” he hissed, without looking at the Prime. “Do you have to stomp around like that?”

Optimus didn't answer him, just raised an brow before continuing on his way, much more carefully this time, to the children's seating area. Once there, he neatly placed the snacks that he and Fowler had been forced to buy at the gas station the night before on the table and was about to retreat again.

So far, the Prime had managed to avoid all of Ratchet's questions, which he undoubtedly had. And Optimus did not want to be the one to explain to the medic what had happened yesterday.

“June will have your head on a platter when she sees that you got the kids nothing but junk food,” Ratchet cut him off, more tired than actually concerned. With two digits creeping across the keys, a sight that made the experienced archivist cringe because he knew there were so many faster ways to type, Ratchet glanced up at the screen.

“Leftovers from last night,” Optimus finally explained, grimacing sympathetically as Ratchet flinched at the sound of his voice and rubbed his helmet.

“Yes, I was going to ask you about that anyway...”, But before he could continue his sentence, the sound of engines filled the room, and soon the children and their guardians were driving into the main hall.

It was Miko—of course it was her—who jumped out of Bulkhead's Alt-Mode and grinned broadly at the doctor. “Well, Ratch?” she called in a voice so loud it could only have been intentional. “How are you?”

“Until just now, astonishingly better,” hissed the doctor, glaring at the girl. “Which is quite an achievement, considering that I’m generally not feeling well.”

“Oh, really?” the Japanese girl whined in feigned disappointment and tilted her head. “How about I cheer you up with a song, hm?”

Optimus raised his brows. This girl was genuinely malicious at times. He almost said something, but Ratchet beat him to it.

“Counterproposal. You sit up there,” he said, pointing with a digit to the children's seating area, where Raf and Jack were already sitting but continuing to observe the proceedings. “And then you be quiet. Until I tell you that you can talk again.” - “Unfair, we both know you would never do that.” - “Exactly!”

“Miko, just let it go,” Jack sighed, and the girl shrugged. “Fine. Then don't.” With a leisurely gait, she made her way to the platform, smugly throwing Ratchet another provocative glance. “Then I won't tell you what you did with Optimus yesterday.”

Optimus felt the Energon freeze in his pipes and his Spark stopped for a moment. His optics found Ratchet's, who gave the Prime a bewildered look, and they just stared at each other.

It was the Prime himself who finally turned on his heel and disappeared in the direction from which he had come.

“Optimus, wait a minute!”, Ratchet called after him and immediately set off in pursuit. “What is she talking about? Optimus! You still have to explain to me anyway why you smell so strange! Optimus Prime, I'm talking to you!”

Jack watched after the two bots for a moment, then looked almost reproachfully at Miko, who sat down next to him with a satisfied grin.

“You really can't give him a break, can you?” – “Who? Optimus or Ratchet?” – “Both!"

Chapter Text

“No, no, no! That's absolutely out of question! Count me out! I'd rather stay here and rust away in peace than go along with this nonsense again.”

With a determined, very grim expression, Ratchet crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at the group of humans and bots gathered in the main hall of the Autobot Outpost Omega One.

“Doc, I understand you're upset, but this time I promise you things will go better.” Will raised his hands reassuringly as he approached the white and orange mech across the platform, who stared at the agent as if he had just announced he was the reincarnation of Unicron.

“Go better?” the medibot echoed. "I had two whole days of processor aches and still can’t fully remember what happened – by the way, you still owe me some answers! Optimus is lucky he didn't suffer any permanent processor damage, considering how often he hit his head. Bumblebee was almost towed away! And all this happened in one afternoon in a quiet little town? I don't even want to imagine what could go wrong there."

“I think it's better if you calm down first, old friend.” Optimus approached the medic with a gentle voice and tried to put his hand on his shoulder plate, only to be pushed away. “Don't you dare start like this, Optimus! The last time you started like this, it resulted in an absolute disaster.”

“Well, I had fun,” Arcee interjected, shrugging nonchalantly. This did not sit well with the group's medic, who waved his hand wildly in her direction. “Epp Epp Epp!” he hissed at the femme, who just grinned at him. “You stay out of this!”

“Dude, it's just camping!“ Miko rested her head in her hands as she dangled her legs over the edge of the platform. ”Don't tell me you're afraid of nature...“

”This has nothing to do with being afraid! I just don't enjoy causalities! That's all.” The medic's defense seemed almost flimsy, and everyone in the room knew that Ratchet was just looking for excuses.

It was hard to blame him after the barbeque a few weeks ago, where he got drunk and could hardly remember the evening, receiving only a terrible hangover as a thank you. And although the CMO had moved heaven and earth to get some answers out of a bot or a kid, why exactly he couldn't remember... he still didn't know.

A secret pact among the survivors to never tell Ratchet about the embarrassing events, whose extent only Fowler and Optimus knew in the end.

Since that afternoon, the subject of holoforms had rarely come up, from any side. The bots were struggling with the aftermath of their excursion, and the humans thought it more appropriate not to completely overwhelm the robots by bombarding them with endless adventures.

And one must not forget that war was still raging and therefore there was not always time to dilly-dally, as Ratchet put it, at least.

An argument that the medic now also made. “What if the Decepticons launch an attack?” - “They haven't done anything in a week.” - "That doesn't mean it will stay that way! Someone should remain at the base and keep watch, just to be on the safe side.“ With his chin raised, the Medic turned to the computer, but was disappointed again when it was Raf, of all people, who raised his hand.

”Don't worry, Ratchet. I'll take my laptop and a mobile router with me. That way, we can keep an eye on the Cons even while camping and summon a bridge if necessary.”

Visibly betrayed, the CMO looked down at his small human friend, then sighed deeply. He searched his processor for more reasons why he shouldn't come along to what humans called relaxation. Because he knew... whatever this was going to be, relaxation would be no part of it.

Once again, Optimus placed his hand on Ratchet's shoulder and smiled down at him. “I can understand that the circumstances of the last incident are troubling you, old friend. But this time, we all have the advantage of experience.”

“Which one exactly?” Miko grinned. “Falling down the stairs or eating chicken that's too spicy?”

Optimus glanced briefly at the girl, but then quickly looked back at Ratchet, who was still looking grim.

“Come on, Ratch,” Bulkhead added. “It'll be fun!”

Bumblebee's enthusiastic beeping agreed with the Wrecker, and clearly outnumbered, Ratchet finally gave in, knowing they would never let up until he said yes.

“Fine, fine!” he finally huffed, rolling his optics as the kids jumped up excitedly.

Just as the rest of the bots and kids lost themselves in excited conversation, the doctor sighed and looked up at his leader, who was watching the commotion with a warm gaze.

“I hope you've thought this through, Optimus.”

The Prime looked down at him. "I have. You know I don't make decisions like this lightly, and I had made it a condition that we have a safe way to act immediately if we need to. Besides, I trust that our initial experiences will help us handle this better.“

”You mean the ones I can barely remember?"

Optimus was silent, but a faint smile played around the Prime's metal lips. Ratchet raised an brow. “Will you ever tell me what happened?”

“Absolutely not, old friend.” – “I had feared you would say that.”

***

It didn’t take a bachelor to know that Ratchet was in a mediocre mood on the day of departure.

This was not only due to the premise itself, but also to the circumstances surrounding the start of the journey.

“Why, by all thirteen Primes...” he exclaimed, throwing his head back. “...are we driving to this damn park instead of taking a ground bridge like any sensible bot would? This is just a waste of time and resources!”

“Because it's part of the adventure,” Jack smiled up at him as he handed his heavy backpack to Optimus, who stowed it in the back of his driver's cab. This was followed by June's bag, which she also handed to the Prime. She flashed Ratchet a bright smile and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Wasn't it you who made sure that human food now gives you energy too? Why are you worried then?”

“Limited energy, June!” the medic corrected the woman, who was already dressed for the weekend trip. The nurse had swapped her usual scrubs for a loose-fitting light-colored shirt and thrown on a weatherproof jacket that stood in stark contrast to her shorts and hiking boots.

It was clear from the look on the mother's face that she was excited about the trip, no doubt because it meant she would get to spend more time with her son.

Ratchet was not distracted by this and snorted dismissively. “Certainly not enough to ensure a balanced fuel tank.” - “But more than enough that we won't encounter any problems, old friend.” Optimus looked up at him in his holoform, standing next to his truck, and also seemed unusually relaxed.

Dressed in brown pants, hiking boots, and a red and blue flannel shirt, the Prime looked almost as if he were made for a trip to the mountains. This was undoubtedly because Optimus was the only one of the bots who was almost obsessed with Earth's nature and seized every opportunity that came his way.

No wonder it had been so easy for humans to wrap the leader around their little fingers.

Not that Ratchet didn't want his friend to enjoy this trip and get some distance from the war, but in his opinion, Optimus could enjoy it very well without him. Unlike the Prime, Ratchet was very happy when surrounded by modern devices that made his life easier.

He sighed and rubbed the spot between his optics. “Could you please stop constantly falling in my back, Optimus? It kind of undermines my line of reasoning.”

“You’ll survive.” Optimus gave him a smile as he finally began to pack away the tents for the journey.

“Yes, try to look on the bright side.” Arcee, dressed in what Ratchet considered to be far too skimpy clothing, leaned against her Alt-Mode and fiddled for a moment with the dark blue top she wore with her shorts.

Why in Primus' name was everyone so excited about this horror trip into the depths of Kaon?

“You can observe the development of our food modules up close.” - “I can do that very well from here, thank you very much!”

“Oh, come on, Doc.” Fowler, who was wearing a terrible outfit that did not suit the agent's physique, finally joined in. A white shirt, pants that were much too short, and equipment that looked like the man wanted to build a new civilization. “You really could have left your bad mood in bed.”

Without another thought, he threw his backpack into Optimus' Alt-Mode and stuffed a fishing rod he had thrown over his shoulder after it. “Oh…” Will purred, rubbing his hands together, not unlike a fly rubbing its legs together. “I can't wait to catch some good fish. My old man and I used to do it all the time when I was younger.”

With a broad grin, he turned to Optimus. “I'm sure you'd enjoy it too, Prime. Just imagine. Just two men, a few cold beers, the sounds of nature, and a fishing rod.”

Optimus just raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything else.

“Wouldn't it be awesome if we got to see some animals?” Miko dangled her legs as she sat on the hood of Bulkhead's Alt-Mode and scrolled through her phone. “A bear, for example!”

“Why do you want to meet a bear?” Raf looked up from his laptop, where he was making the final adjustments to ensure constant access to the base's technology, and fixed his glasses.

“So Bulkhead can fight it, duh?” Miko shook her head, almost as if Raf were the one who had said the nonsense, and quickly turned her attention back to her phone. “I really need to free up some memory! I need the space for snapshots when one of you does something embarrassing. I still can't believe I couldn't take any pictures of Ratchet when he...“ - ”Miko!"

Almost simultaneously, almost everyone present called out the girl's name. She looked around with wide eyes, first confused, then with a certain realization in her gaze. “Oh, yeah! Sorry!”

Ratchet narrowed his optics but remained silent. One day he would find out what happened at the Barbeque Party. Even if it was the last thing he did in his long life.

“Right!” After a few minutes, June clapped her hands and looked around. “Do we have everything? Has everyone been to the bathroom?”

“Not yet,” replied Bulkhead, leaning against his Alt-Mode right next to Miko. “Bee is still missing.”

“True. Where is he anyway?” Arcee glanced down the hallway in the base where the bots’ rooms were located and furrowed her brows. Raf answered her promptly.

“Getting ready. Ratchet and Jack's mom have forbidden him from bringing video games, so he's looking for something to kill time with.” - “Really, Doc?” Miko looked up at Ratchet. “You banned him from games? Not cool.”

“I don't care if I'm cool and hip or not. Bumblebee spends way too much time with those Dilly-Daddle-Things!” argued the bot in question, but only got a grimace from Miko in return. “Please don't ever say cool or hip again.”

Ratchet rolled his optics and just snorted dismissively.

After a few minutes, Bee finally joined the group, relaxed and with a smile on his lips. Too relaxed for Ratchet's taste. With narrowed eyes, the Medic transformed, activated his holoform, and stepped out of his Alt-Mode before walking over to the Scout, who looked at him with big puppy eyes, almost as if he was saying, What's wrong, Ratchet? Is something up?

For a moment, the Medic and Scout looked each other in the eyes, then the doctor silently held out his hand.

Bee looked at the Doctor for a moment, weighing his options, but then dropped his head and pulled a Gameboy out of his back jeans pocket and pressed it into the Physician's hand with a pout.

“Everything, Bumblebee!”

An old Gameboy Color and a NintendoDS followed before Ratchet put the devices away.

Jack, who had watched this scene silently with the others, looked at the Scout with almost admiration. “Where did you get all this stuff?”

He couldn't understand Bee's explanation that followed, so he glanced at Rafael, who shrugged his shoulders. “Bee and I go to the junkyard every now and then to look for spare parts or old technology. That's where he found them and asked me to repair it."

“And even if Primus himself bequeathed these devices to him, he won't be taking them on this trip.” Ratchet returned from the medbay, where he had undoubtedly hidden the game consoles, before standing next to Optimus.

“True to the motto: If you can't have fun, no one else can either?” Miko shot the medic a taunting look but said nothing more as Ratchet rolled his eyes once again.

The CMO knew this whole operation would backfire.

It was only a matter of time!

Chapter Text

The journey to the campsite in a mountainous forest a few hundred miles away would take a long time. Sure, the bots would have no problem driving there and not even have to worry about gas or anything like that, but their human partners didn't have that luxury.

Pee breaks, rest stops, and lunch breaks were inevitable, much to the annoyance of those who wanted to get this trip over with as quickly as possible, but then nature couldn't be rushed.

So the first question was how to split up the cars.

Since rules had been imposed on bots with the holoforms, it was now mandatory for them to use them while driving on public roads, in cities, and in public places. Images of ownerless vehicles had appeared too often on websites, and both bots and the government agreed that this would prevent some problems for the future. Custom papers for the bots, registered for their vehicle forms, would prevent any suspicion if they were ever pulled over.

But that brought a few problems with it.

Jack couldn't drive Arcee as she now had to operate her alt-mode herself. Optimus was the one who had agreed to take the bags, wisely anticipating that humans might have problems with the special suspension of his seats. He was making it clear that he didn't want to be covered in vomit again, and no one argued with that.

They remembered all too well the unpleasant smell that the leader of the Autobots had carried around with him for days, which had sometimes caused unwelcome animals to take an interest in his truck during patrols.

You just didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the Prime suddenly called in over the radio and complained about raccoons that had made themselves comfortable in his tires, attracted by the scent emanating from Optimus.

So yes. Everyone agreed that only Agent Fowler was allowed to ride with Optimus, although today he was with Bulkhead and Miko, partly because the Prime's alt-mode was nearly stuffed to the brim with luggage.

June and Jack would ride with Bumblebee and Rafael, so every car with children in it had an adult who wasn't a robot from another planet and could handle checks if necessary.

Ratchet, whose alt-mode was quickly established to be a “decommissioned” ambulance model in order to avoid any questions, refused to take anyone with him anyway. Not because he wanted to be alone—he did—but also because he feared that the humans' snacks would not keep his seats clean for long.

So the division was quickly settled, and the small convoy of unusual vehicles, which would certainly not attract any curious glances, set off on the long road trip to their destination.

The first few hours passed peacefully enough. They chatted inside the vehicles or via comlinks, played games, sang along to music, or made plans for the upcoming weekend.

Once the first two hours had passed, they pulled into the first truck stop. A small problem arose immediately when Optimus, the only truck, had to park at the other end of the lot because it was already surprisingly full and the truck parking spaces were pretty much taken.

However, this didn't bother the Prime, as it gave him a chance to close his eyes and relax.

So while Optimus leaned back and enjoyed the peace and quiet, the humans and their partners stormed the small store, not only to relieve themselves, but also to complain about the utopian prices they had to pay there.

“Seventeen dollars for a pack of pistachios?!” Will fumed as he read the small price tag on the already meager package. “Where do these prices come from?”

“I suspect a lack of competition and alternatives for consumers.” The voice of the Autobot Medic made the agent jump. He turned around with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The man briefly looked the doctor up and down before raising his eyebrow.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were hunched over in your car, brooding?” - “I’m not brooding. I’m here to make at least some use of this pointless trip.” The doctor’s gaze wandered around the store. “I thought this stop would be a good opportunity to test our food modules.”

“So this is all just an experiment for you?” Fowler smirked. “Have you also hidden a clipboard somewhere in your fancy outfit?” Once again, the agent’s eyes wandered over the medic’s formal outfit, which consisted of a long white shirt with an orange tie and matching pants. One could almost believe that the doctor was going to a medical conference to give a presentation and not on a camping trip.

“I wonder if it's your joke that's supposed to be humorous or the fact that you're actually considering buying these pistachios,” his counterpart remarked soberly before heading for the refrigerated section. All that remained was an irritated Agent Fowler.

“I was not planning on buying this bag,” he defended himself weakly, but received only a bored wave of the hand, as the medic didn’t even turn around to face the man.

“If that were the case,” the CMO explained, almost absentmindedly, “you would have put the bag back a long time ago.”

***

“We need this! And this! Oh yeah! Absolutely, these too!"

With each new word, Miko piled the snack bags into Bulkhead's arms, who frowned more and more with each new product. The burly holoform of the wrecker, with his short-cropped dark hair and angular face, looked increasingly skeptical and finally found the words to address the excited girl in front of him.

“Miko, I don't know if we can afford all this. I know that Fowler gave us money, but…” Bulkhead sighed and looked down. He was reluctant to admit that, despite Fowler's explanation of how to handle money, he still had difficulty with it and didn't dare to spend it.

“Don't worry about it.” Miko waved him off and turned to him with a beaming smile. “My parents gave me plenty of pocket money. Together with your cash, we have enough! Come on! Let's go pay!”

Without waiting for her friends' response, the teen rushed past him and headed for the checkout without looking back. Bulkhead sighed deeply, but then followed her.

And as the bored cashier, munching on gum, scanned the products and the price kept rising, another figure joined the two unlikely friends.

Bulkhead said nothing as the man with the striking silver-gray pompadour stepped up to the register next to them and leafed through the magazines lined up there with little interest. Again and again, the man's steel-gray eyes darted over to the other two, and a smirk appeared on his pale face, on which a scar was showing.

Bulkhead furrowed his brow and eyed the guy who was staring so shamelessly at Miko, and clenched his fists in his crossed arms. Why was that dude staring at her like that? Was he one of those stalkers? Should he tell Fowler? Get Miko out of here? Punch the slimy prick with that dirty grin?

The wrecker continued to watch for a full minute before losing his patience, grabbing the scumbag by the collar of his white jacket with its conspicuous orange-green stripes and dragging him backwards.

“The end of the line is back there, amigo!” the bot growled at him, pushing the guy backwards, who stumbled a few steps but quickly regained his balance. He scratched the back of his head and looked to the side with a grin.

“Geez, that's pretty rough, dontcha think, buddy?” he chuckled. “I didn't really do anything, did I? Just enjoying the view.”

That finally blew the wrecker's fuse, and all of a sudden he grabbed the bastard by the collar and lifted him into the air so that he was hanging a few inches above the ground. He knocked over a large stack of canned ravioli, causing everyone in the small store to turn toward the two men.

“Enjoying the view, huh?” the wrecker barked, ignoring the panicked looks and pings from the other bots in the store who were trying to stop him from causing more trouble. No one wanted the police on the scene, and yet Bulkhead was about to make sure that’s exactly what would happen.

“That's a little girl, you slimy piece of scrap!” the bulky bot continued. “Do you know what happens to guys like you where I come from, he?

“Bulkhead!” He was only vaguely aware of Miko tugging at his shirt. “Calm down!”

The guy grinned. Now he still had the audacity to grin when he was so close to eating his teeth. Bulkhead's expression darkened further, as did the angry wrinkles on his forehead.

“Of course I know that,” the guy replied almost nonchalantly, tilting his head back slightly. “I've been there.”

Suddenly, Bulkhead calmed down and his unbridled rage turned to confusion and then to an expression of deep concentration. He looked closely once more at the man he was still holding by the collar before a spark of realization flashed through him.

The wrecker furrowed his brow deeply and blinked at his helpless counterpart.

“Jackie?”

Immediately, a variety of messages pinged through the comlink connections to the wrecker. Bumblebee sent a bewildered “Wait, what?”, Arcee sent a “Did I heard that right?”, while Ratchet only sent a hollow “Primus help us.”

“Jackie?” Miko repeated beside him, looking back and forth between the two men before she began to beam. “Like in… Wheeljack?!” With every second, the grin on the girl's face grew wider.

“The one and only, kid. Now can you tell this guy here to put me down? I put a lot of effort into this form and I don't want Bulk to ruin it right away!”

For a moment, Bulkhead just looked at his old buddy, then he let him down.

As soon as he had solid ground under his feet again, Wheeljack straightened his clothes and glanced past Bulkhead at the cashier, who was staring at them with wide eyes. “Everything's fine, sweetie! Just a misunderstanding.” - “Okay...” replied the woman, then pointed to the packaged snacks, which she had now fully checked out.

“That's still $54.78!”

Miko immediately spun around and set about paying, while the two wreckers, still standing opposite each other in the middle of the store, stared at each other.

Only one question hung in the air.

Why was Wheeljack here?

Chapter Text

“Why, by the shallows of Kaon, is Wheeljack here?”

In the parking lot, gathered around Optimus Prime's alt-mode, bots and humans alike stood around the wrecker, who was leaning nonchalantly on the truck's loading area, his expression visibly relaxed and his eyes closed.

It was an almost peaceful picture, if one didn't forget that Wheeljack wasn't supposed to be here at all, let alone in holoform. So one could well imagine the state between madness and confusion that Ratchet was going through at the moment. The doctor looked down at the wrecker with wide eyes, who just crossed his arms behind his head.

“Damn it, Sunshine...” – “Don't call me that!” – An amused twinkle could be seen on the wrecker's narrow lips: “You really gotta learn to relax. Maybe you guys should have another garden party. After all, it did you a world of good.”

Ratchet's prepared parade of counterarguments got stuck in his throat as he had already raised his finger to give the wrecker his piece of mind. The CMO blinked down at the newcomer a few times, holding his breath, before his eyebrows furrowed.

“Wait, what?” Ratchet straightened his back before looking at each person in the group one by one, then throwing his arms up in the air. “Does everyone except me know what happened that day?”

“Seems like it. — “Stay out of this!”

Unimpressed by Ratchet’s vicious hiss, Wheeljack raised an eyebrow. You could already see countless plans forming in the Wrecker's head to drive the Medic into a rage, but he was quickly interrupted when Miko made herself comfortable next to him.

With her hands clasped between her legs, the girl leaned forward and beamed at him. “How did you find us?”

“And why do you have a holoform now?”

Rafael added.

“Wow,” Jackie whistled. “I didn't know this was going to be a cross-interrogation.”

“These are valid objections,” Optimus added, who had been listening silently to the commotion. With a calm gaze and his arms crossed, he looked down at the Wrecker, who was making himself a little too comfortable on the Prime's alt-mode.

“After all, your sudden appearance almost resulted in an unpleasant incident.” - “Not my fault if the big guy here goes straight for the jugular. I could blame it on a lack of leadership, but I’ll just leave it at a warning,” he winked up at the Prime. The latter raised an eyebrow, but decided to talk to Wheeljack again later about respect for authority figures. Even though he didn't like this kind of heavy-handed approach.

“But I think I owe you a few answers.” With a feigned heavy sigh, Wheeljack rested his cheek in his hand.

“Bulk told me about your plans with the holoforms. He even told me some great stories about your last adventure. So I thought it might be fun to have something like that up my sleeve. Made my holoform and traveled around the world a bit. When I saw your convoy turning into that truck stop, I just couldn't help myself.”

“So you're coming with us?” Miko beamed at Wheeljack, and what followed was a wave of emotions that swept through the group.

While Bulkhead was completely into it, Will and June exchanged worried glances, Optimus kept a straight face, Arcee rolled her eyes, the boys looked uncertain, and Ratchet wanted to tear his hair out.

“Absolutely not.” – “Geez, Doc. And I thought we had something special.”

“In what universe do we have anything at all?" With a pleading look, Ratchet turned to his leader. “Please, Optimus, don’t let him come. My Spark can’t handle it. Isn’t it enough that you’re forcing me into this nonsense at all?"

It was almost pitiful how Ratchet looked up at the Prime with his big green eyes, and a slight smile played on the Prime's lips. And even though the last of the Primes understood Ratchet's concern, he couldn't deny the opportunity that presented itself to the team here.

Wheeljack was an Autobot who rarely worked with others and therefore roamed the area like a lone wolf. Even though he knew that Wheeljack might cause unplanned incidents, he couldn't deny that he wanted to join this excursion by choice.

Optimus had agreed to the whole thing anyway because he believed it was an excellent team-building exercise that would strengthen the bond between humans and bots and bring the two cultures closer together. So maybe this could also be a way to integrate Wheeljack more into the team, to get to know the bot better and understand why the wrecker was so resistant to being part of a unit.

Even if that meant he would have to metaphorically stab his oldest friend in the back once again.

“Old friend.” – “Oh primus, you're really letting him come!” – “I don't think we have the right to deny Wheeljack the journey. He's as much an Autobot as the rest of us and has the right to be part of our team just like everyone else.”

“That's all well and good,” Fowler interjected, popping a pistachio into his mouth. “But we only have a limited number of tents. Besides, the guy doesn't have any papers for his car yet.”

“Then hopefully Wheeljack will have enough sense to drive carefully so that there are no unwanted incidents. Also, there is always the option to share some tents more. If its getting to crowded, we still can deactivate our holoforms.” The Autobots' leader turned his admonishing gaze toward the wrecker, who casually made the sign of a cross on his chest before placing his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

Optimus thus decided to keep a special eye on the wrecker. This came in the form of Agent Fowler, who was on his way to Bulkhead's alt-mode to hop back in.

“Agent Fowler,” Optimus interrupted him, and the agent turned around. “What is it, Prime?”

“I would like to ask you to ride with Wheeljack.”

Will almost choked on the pistachio and coughed pitifully before looking at the Prime with wide eyes. The guy couldn't be serious, could he?

“That's a joke.” - “When am I ever in the mood for joking?” Optimus looked calmly at the agent, who just sighed deeply. That was right. The Prime was the last one to joke around. And even less so in this way.

Which meant he must be serious.

“Can't June handle this?,” he tried pitifully, knowing that even he didn't want Mrs. Darby to ride with the wrecker.

“I'm reluctant to expose Mrs. Darby to these circumstances.” - “But I'm okay?” - “You have military training.” - “June is a mother! That's equal, believe me.”

Optimus narrowed his eyes. “Agent Fowler, I beg of you. - “All right, all right.” Will raised his hands in surrender and bowed his head. “But you owe me.”

“Your request is noted.” – “You're going fishing with me. And we're going to have a drink, is that clear?”

Optimus raised his eyebrow. “As long as it's within limits, I'm not averse to that.”

So it was quickly decided that Wheeljack would accompany the Autobots.

Whether Will was now opposed to sitting in a sleek sports car like Wheeljack was debatable. Perhaps it was the beginnings of a midlife crisis speaking, but the man enjoyed sinking into the squeaky, softly upholstered leather seat, reclining the backrest, and closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

Yes, little things like this made his job as a liaison between aliens and humans very pleasant.

He heard the door on the driver's side open and Wheeljack slump into the seat before resting his hands on his faded jeans. He looked over at Fowler with a crooked grin. “Comfortable?”

“Feel honored.” – “Want to know which part of my body that is?”

And that was the end of the enjoyment. Will opened his eyes and reclined his seat before folding his arms. “How do you bots manage to ruin every ride? Prime is a rule-fart, Doc gets drunk, and you... I'm not even asking!”

“Relax, pal,” chuckled the wrecker. “I’m just messing with you.”

“For you, Agent Fowler, soldier,” Will grumbled, glaring at the bot. The bot just raised an eyebrow in response. “Should I wipe your ass too, while we’re at it? Agent?" The grin on Wheeljack's lips grew wider and wider.

Oh, this was going to be a long ride.

At least the wrecker wasn't a stranger to music, and it wasn't absolutely terrible. Simple songs that you heard in clubs and at parties these days, which Will didn't count among his absolute favorites, but didn't completely reject either.

They slowly chugged along behind the big red and blue truck driving in front of them, leading the small convoy.

“So, boss,” the driver finally whistled, one hand resting on the steering wheel and his gaze far into the distance. He drummed his finger on the steering wheel. "How did the holoforms come about, anyway? For years, the bots didn't even use this ability, and now they're going camping.“

”You're asking the wrong person,“ Will replied as he looked out the window in boredom. “I just heard something about Truth or Dare and then stopped asking questions.”

”The less you know, the less you're responsible, or what?” the wrecker hummed, and Will laughed. “Pah! I wish! If something goes wrong, I'll get my ass kicked regardless. But if I can spare my nerves by learning as few details as possible... then so be it.”

“No crying over spilled milk, huh?” Wheeljack raised his eyebrow.

“Something like that. But now tell me, Wheeljack.” Fowler cracked open another pistachio and popped it into his mouth. “Why are you here? It's not like you've been known for being a team player in the past.”

Wheeljack glanced at the empty nut shells and grimaced slightly. Silently, the Wrecker decided that if he found this filth in here, he would have the agent clean his alt-mode himself.

“Like I said. I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I'd join in the fun. Team building and all that. All that nonsense the bigwigs like so much. I'm sure your Prime is getting all oily about me participating.”

“I don't know exactly what you mean by oily, and I think I'm quite happy about that.” Fowler narrowed his eyes. “Still, I don't believe you.”

“Do you really need a reason to just kick back and relax?” Wheeljack shrugged. “I'm just happy to hang out with my old buddy for a few days. Bulk told me you guys were planning something again, so I invited myself along.”

“So it's pure boredom?” – “Lack of alternatives.”

Fowler left it at that. Even though he believed that Wheeljack didn't have any grand ulterior motive behind his actions, he still decided to keep an eye on the soldier. As far as Will had experienced, Wheeljack was known for stepping out of line, and he really didn't want any trouble.

Not again.

But he was already facing a problem. A problem that Wheeljack had almost involuntarily caused. With a bored look, Will pulled his phone out of his pocket and selected the text chat he had with June Darby.

Often just small things. Updates on how the kids were doing, reminders about certain things like toilet paper for the base and the like. But in recent weeks, Fowler and the nurse had been writing to each other more. And that was only in preparation for this trip.

His fingers wandered over the keys and he thanked T9 for not having to type out every word.

Any idea how we can deal with our problem with our new guest? It's kind of ruining our plans.

Will didn't have to wait long for the reply.

I'm on it. Trust me! ;)

With a satisfied smile, Fowler put his phone away and leaned back. June was always reliable.

***

When, after two more hours without any major incidents, they finally left the paved roads and turned onto the mountainous, dirt roads leading to a forest front, you could almost hear the collective sigh of relief running through the group.

No matter how you looked at it, everyone would be exhausted after a five-hour drive. Autobot or not.

Normally, campsites like this were well-attended and tended to be pricey, but thanks to Will's influence, they had the mountain almost to themselves for the weekend. It was a small precaution the agent had taken to ensure that no unwanted incidents occurred. Should one of the bots need to transform or they need to make a quick getaway because the Decepticons showed up again.

How Will had justified this request to his superiors was better left unsaid. In the end, all that mattered were the results, and those came in the form of the first problem, which affected the largest of them, of all people.

In his careful search for a nice camping spot in Nevada, Will had overlooked checking the accessibility of the roads for large vehicles. Such as a truck, for example.

So there they stood, gathered in front of the old wooden bridge that crossed a raging river, arms crossed and staring at the rushing water, almost as if their gaze alone could solve the problem.

Even though the climb so far had gone smoothly – apart from the countless complaints the bots made whenever another unwelcome branch scratched their paintwork – they now faced a problem.

This bridge was... old. And it had a sign indicating a maximum weight. A weight that the Prime exceeded, even without weighing him.

Chapter Text

“Maybe the bridge will hold.” June approached Will and Prime, both of whom had been studying the old wooden bridge with its crooked planks doubtfully, and placed a hand on her cheek. She glanced back at the children behind her and just managed to spot Miko, who, in her judgement, was standing a little too close to the riverbank.

“Miko, get away from there right now! I don't need any of you getting hurt before we even arrive.” With firm steps, she quickly moved away from the two men and approached the girl, who was already complaining audibly.

Instead, Fowler exhaled loudly through his nose. “Sorry, Prime. Should've checked that before we left.”

He glanced sideways at the leader of the Autobots, who just shook his head slightly. “You couldn't have known, Agent Fowler. However, it will still not solve our issue.”

Fowler had to agree with that so far. He had already gone through countless possible solutions in his head, but had not found one that would actually work. Simply taking the risk and letting Optimus drive was out of the question. It was also not an option for the Prime to transform and cross to the other side through the water. For one thing, Optimus was not only carrying the luggage, which would then have to be unloaded and stowed in the other vehicles – something that no one really wanted to do – but also because they couldn't be sure to what extent they were truly alone here.

Sure, Will had made sure that the woods were restricted to civilians that weekend, but there were always those few exceptions who viewed rules more as guidelines. And if there were reports of hikers seeing a giant robot in the woods, which just happened to be the same woods that Will had closed off, he would never be able to show his face at work again.

So the idea of transforming was out of the question. Relocating the luggage in general was also not an option, even then the Prime was still too heavy for the bridge. So? What options remained?

Will didn't think long and went to Wheeljack's alt-mode where he had stowed his bag before digging out an old map and awkwardly unfolding it. Damn it, what kind of idiot designed these things to be so big? There was no way he could fold it back up. He was sure that the people who designed paper maps were the same ones who designed medication package inserts.

With a triumphant cheer, the agent finally managed to unfold the map in all its glory and flatten it out on the hood of the wrecker, which earned him an indignant grunt from the wrecker, who was leaning against a tree trunk a little further away with Bulkhead.

Soon he felt the ever-present presence of Optimus Prime beside him, leaning over his shoulder.

Armed with a finger and a compass, Will followed the road they had taken to enter the forest before arriving at the river with a successful tap.

Surely there was a detour. How else would you reach the campground in an emergency? Not to mention the huge RVs that probably visited the site regularly.

“A paper map?” Jack chuckled, who had been watching the two men before joining them. “Isn't that a little old-school?”

“Maybe it's a little more rudimentary, young man. But if I have the choice between a navigation system and a good old map, I'll take the map. It'll always work.“ Will gave Jack a wink before turning his attention back to the map.

”And when it's dark and you can't see anything?“ Miko now asked with a grin, causing Fowler to roll his eyes.

”Or the map gets wet or damaged?“ Arcee added.

“Or if it's outdated?” Raf chimed in.

Fowler blinked and looked at the group that had gathered around him before huffing. After finding what he was looking for, he grabbed his map and began laboriously folding it back up.

“You kids need to learn to get by without your knick-knacks. In my day, we were happy if we had a map and a working compass,” he grumbled preachily as he struggled with the fold lines on the paper.

“Fowler, let's be honest,” Miko put her arms on her hips. “In your day, there were no GPSs.”

“Of course not.” Will rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before giving up the fight with the map and stuffing it half-heartedly into his backpack. “We also still lived in caves and hunted dinosaurs.”

“Depends...” Miko looked up at him with a questioning glance. “How old are you again?”

“Get back in the car!”

The girl didn't need to be told twice, turning on her heel and running toward Bulkhead's car, closely followed by Jack and Raf. Fowler watched them go for a moment, shaking his head, before turning to Optimus.

“No respect for their elders, I'm telling you, Prime.”

“They're young and carrying their own burdens. It would be wrong to judge without walking in their shoes...” - “Yes, yes, yes!” Fowler raised his hand and stopped the Prime's emerging wisdom lectute about respect, autonomy ectera, ecetera, ecetera. before he could start at all. Who knew how long they would otherwise be standing around here.

"There's a back road for larger trucks. But it'll take a little longer,“ Will explained. ”You have to go back to the highway and then drive about twenty miles south. There should be a small road into the woods that leads directly to the camp.”

“Are you not coming along?” Optimus tilted his head.

“ I can’t. There’s a park ranger at the camp who will open the gate as soon as we arrive and hand over the keys. And since I'm the one who organized everything, I don't think he'll give the keys to anyone else,“ Will explained with a shrug.

”And I need June to keep this group in line," he added, anticipating another objection from the Prime. Optimus looked at the agent for a moment, then nodded. The last of the Primes didn't believe that Agent Fowler was just trying to talk his way out of the detour, and his reasons made sense. Nevertheless, Optimus couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the thought of taking the other route alone. He didn't like that he had to rely on the agent's words after the latter had already failed to include this bridge in his calculations.

“Can you give me the map then?” he asked instead. “In case I need it and don't have access to the global networks?”

“You can just say you don't have signal when you're too deep in the woods,” Will finally smiled and rummaged out the crumpled map before handing it to Optimus.

Optimus nodded gratefully, got back into his truck, and drove back to the main road, while the rest of the group continued on the original route.

***

The campsite could have come straight out of a picture book. Or a new installment of the Friday the 13th series, depending on who you asked in the group.

The small but charming campground was located on the wide shore of a large lake, surrounded by tall trees. Small log cabins served as accommodation for campers who preferred a roof over their heads to a tent. There was a main hut where the park rangers usually sat, behind which the sparse power generators that would provide the most important electricity were hidden.

While the kids were already rushing out of the cars to the lake shore, where an old boat dock had been built, Fowler took care of the quick key handover and filled out a few documents with the owner before the latter said goodbye and left the site.

As soon as the engine of the Jeep he was driving could no longer be heard, Bulkhead transformed and stretched his limbs into the air.

“Finally, I can get out of this form,” he groaned, enjoying the view as the sun shone on his face. “I thought I was going to rust away!”

“Bulkhead!” a voice called, and the wrecker looked down at June Darby's scowling face. “My bag was still on your seat! It has the leftovers from the trip in it!”

“Oops,” the big green bot rubbed the back of his head, opened his subspace, and fished out the small shoulder bag before handing it to June. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“If it weren’t attached to your body, you’d probably forget your head too,” chided the mother before sighing and looking at the children, only to groan again.

“For crying out loud, Miko, Jack, Raf! Stop pushing each other! One of you is going to fall into the water and I'll have to explain to your parents why you got sick." That was all anyone could hear from the woman, as she hurried to the dock with a determined look in her eyes.

Just as Bulkhead was about to comment, an arm went around his shoulder and a fist pounded against his shoulder.

The Wrecker's mouth turned up at the corners when he recognized Wheeljack.

“Seems like you don't want to get on her bad side, huh? Females are the same everywhere,” chuckled the explosive bot, folding his arms. “But it's a really nice place to crash! You can really have a good time here.”

“Hey!”

The two bots turned around as Fowler approached them. “Come on, guys! You know the rules. No bot form while we're here. Is that so hard to understand?”

The Wreckers exchanged a brief glance, but then obediently listened to what they were told, transformed, and let their holoforms appear instead.

Leaning on his alt-mode, Wheeljack looked around. “Now what?”

“I'd like to know that too,” Arcee interjected, raising an eyebrow, while Ratchet got out of his car in the background and yawned extensively.

Fowler, as if he had been waiting for the question, clapped his hands together and beamed at the gathering group. “Now the camping begins. And every camp starts with good preparation. So we'll get everything ready.”

“And what is... everything?” Raf shouldered his backpack and stood next to Bee, who tilted his head curiously.

“Getting firewood, digging a hole, setting up the tents!” Will listed, raising his fingers one by one, but again got some raised eyebrows. Just as he was about to ask what the problem now was, June took pity on him and answered.

“Doesn’t Optimus have the tents?”

Jiminy-Damn-Cricket!

“How long will it take for Optimus to get here?” Jack asked, leaning against Arcee's alt-mode car. Fowler scratched his neck, visibly embarrassed.

“To be honest, I'm not sure,” he explained. “Maybe an hour or so? Maybe longer?” The agent had never had a good sense of time.

“So it could be anything from an hour to forever. That's just great! What do we do now?” Miko crossed her arms in frustration and stamped her foot. “If a bear attacks now...” - “A tent won't save you,” Jack finished her sentence.

“Not if I draw a circle around it with a stick.”

For a moment, Jack looked at the girl in bewilderment, then he learned to blink again, but couldn't close his open jaw. “Is that from SpongeBob?” - “You know exactly where I got that from!” - “You watch too many cartoons.” - “Yeah, yeah, say that again when I'm safe in my circle and you're not.” “

Fowler, ignoring the conversation, stepped back into the center. “We can prepare the camp in other ways. For example, we need firewood. Does anyone want to volunteer?”

“I can do that.” Bulkhead raised his hand and stepped forward before heading off toward the thicket. June leaned toward him. “But only dead wood, Bulkhead!”

“Roger!” replied the Wrecker, who had just disappeared between two bushes, only to pop his head out again a moment later. “Um... what is dead wood?”

This prompted Miko to sigh theatrically and follow her partner.

“I'll help him. Come on, Bulk.” She took the Wrecker's massive hand and pulled him into the undergrowth. “I'll show you how to survive in the wild.” - “Famous last words,” Jack muttered, nudging Arcee in the side, who responded with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

But the attention of the two was quickly caught by June, who handed them four empty buckets she had pulled out of Bumblebee's trunk. One of the few things that no longer fit in Optimus's alt-mode and therefore had to be taken by other bots. In general, the other bots had mostly taken tools with them. Shovels, toilet paper, pots for cooking, and countless amounts of drinking water.

”You could go and fetch some water,” suggested the mother, her eyes shining. “So we can wash up later and put out the fire, if necessary.”

“Not for drinking?” asked the femme, receiving a friendly pat on the shoulder in response. Jack chuckled quietly and took two of the buckets before marching down the path to the lake with Arcee. “Trust me, Arcee. You don't want to drink that water. We have filtered water. We're not cavemen, after all.”

“I don't quite understand,” replied the Femme, frowning. “Why would we sleep in caves? We have tents.”

Visibly satisfied with the division of labor, June turned away again and let her gaze wander. While William instructed Wheeljack to fetch stones for the bonfire to properly enclose it, Rafael and Bumblebee sat in the shade of a tree and stared at the boy's laptop together.

Without saying much, June approached them and crossed her arms. “Rafael and Bumblebee,” she admonished the boys, who looked up at her with wide eyes. “We're here to enjoy nature, not sit in front of a screen all day.”

“We're not,” replied Raf, a little too quickly for June's liking.

“We were just checking the equipment at the base.” The two looked at each other, then nodded in silent agreement, and Raf repeated what he had just said.

“Yes, we were just checking that everything was okay at the base.” - “Is that so?” June hummed, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She knew the excuses well enough. After all, she had already raised a boy and knew the little tricks that boys had up their sleeves. The Nintendo under the pillow, for example, was one of the oldest tricks she knew.

“Then surely you have no problem showing me the screen, right?”

Caught out, Raf closed the laptop and sighed heavily as June reached out her hand. Like a beaten dog, he handed her the device, which she carefully tucked under her arm. “I'll give this to Agent Fowler. He'll take a look at it to make sure no nasty cons ruin our camping trip.” With a wink, she turned away, but then paused and turned back with her hand raised.

“But if you want, you're welcome to dig a hole. I can well imagine that soon someone will need to do their business.”

When June turned around again and walked back to the vehicles, Bee tilted his head and looked at Raf with furrowed eyebrows. Raf waved him off, but stood up. “Trust me, Bee. You don't want to know.”

Together they headed to Bulkhead's alt-mode, pulled a shovel out of the trunk, and also disappeared to a secluded spot.

Chapter Text

Deep in the thicket of the forest, two people strode over sticks and stones, while branches and dry leaves snapped and crackled under their feet. Warm sunlight poked through the treetops in long rays, blinding them when it struck their faces.

One of them was less enthusiastic than the other.

“Oh, c'mon,” Miko groaned, her shoulders slumping as she held her phone up to the sky yet again. “Why is there no signal here? Why are we camping in some hillbilly place? Why not... I dunno. Tokyo? That'd be awesome! I swear, you and I would raid every single convenience store.”

Bulkhead followed her every step of the way, silent so far and cursing nature as he got whipped in the face by another branch, only to trip over a root shortly after. Just as he regained his balance, he looked over at Miko, who was standing on a fallen tree, still holding her phone up to the sky, her fingers hammering away at the keys.

“Why do you even need your phone?” he asked, tilting his head. “Isn't the whole point of this to get away from Tech?”

“Said the robot to the japanese girl.” Miko planted her hands on her hips and looked down at him. “Seriously, Bulk. If Agent Fowler didn't want us to use technology, then he would have... oh, I don't know! Done something!“

She turned back to her phone and tapped the keys repeatedly with an increasingly frustrated expression.

 “I'm trying to get on the internet to look up what the hell deadwood actually is,” she finally explained. Bulkhead raised an eyebrow.

“Didn't you come with me so you could tell me what it is?” - “Bulkhead, please!” Miko threw her head back and rolled her eyes. “You should know me better than that! I only came with you because I didn't want Jack's mom to give me other stuff to do. My nails are brand new and I want them to stay that way."

Bulkhead remained silent, but had to admit that he liked the little green alien heads on the black polish on her fingers. He always found it funny how humans imagined aliens, which was one of the reasons why he and Miko always watched those stupid sci-fi movies. It had become a competition between them to find as many everyday objects as possible in the background of such films that were used to make a set look futuristic. The most ridiculous one had been a pasta strainer that had been painted silver.

Miko groaned, folded her phone and stuffed it into her pocket before jumping off the tree trunk and coming over to him. “Screw it! We'll just use the wood lying around. It'll be dead enough.”

Bulkhead didn't need to be told twice and began picking up the first branches from the ground and stacking them on his arm. The small pile quickly grew into a whole stack, which was largely thanks to the wrecker and not Miko, who after a while grew bored of collecting and instead started hitting trees and bushes with a long stick.

Just as Bulkhead placed another heavy stick on his arm, his gaze fell on the back of the girl strolling in front of him, her head in the clouds. He was about to turn to the next stick when he spotted something on her back that made his breath catch.

There, unnoticed by the girl, a small black spider was crawling toward her neck, and Bulkhead felt the color drain from his face. He himself was not afraid of spiders, but he knew that Miko was terrified of the little crawlers. Now he could warn her and have her jump around in a circle, destroying his audio processors with her screams, or he could carefully remove the insect before she noticed anything.

Without thinking too much about it, he chose the second option and reached out his fingers toward the little creature, but he hadn't expected that his cautious nature would be the problem.

 Just as his fingers grabbed one of the creature's legs, a loud boom shook the forest, causing Miko to flinch in fright before she spun around, still clutching the stick tightly in both hands, and slammed it against Bulkhead's head.

He held the little spider between his fingers, which Miko now also spotted, causing her to scream before she narrowed her eyes and swung the stick again, trying to knock the animal away. Unfortunately, she had underestimated the length of the stick and, instead of hitting the innocent little spider, she hit the Wrecker's skull, who then simply clasped his hands over his head.

And even as he commented on the ensuing pain with a quiet groan, he wondered what the frag had caused that boom.

***

Ratchet was dissatisfied.

There were many reasons for this. For one thing, he was reluctant to be outside the base and thus away from the command console, where he could always keep an eye on everything, which had provided him with a sense of control. Second, he was forced to use this human form, even though everything in him resisted it. Then he was out here, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, forced to engage in these human activities! Hadn't Optimus claimed that these forms were intended to bring humans and Transformers closer together and mix cultures? So far, it seemed rather one-sided to him. And last but not least, there was Wheeljack.

As if this whole trip didn't already have the potential to completely fail, now there was this one bot who would make sure it happened with a loud bang. And who would have to patch everyone up again? Ratchet! And who would be told not to be so broody all the time? Ratchet! And who would tell everyone he'd told them so? Ratchet! Oh, how he was looking forward to that moment.

And although he couldn't wait to have his moment in the sunlight once the smoke had cleared... he would at least know how to prevent everything here from collapsing like a house of cards.

 That's why the Medic kept an eye on the Wrecker, who was walking around the shore of the lake, almost bored, bending down again and again to pick up stones, only to glance at them briefly and then carelessly throw them over his shoulder, where they landed with a splash in the water.

 This had been going on for quite a while; one would think that collecting stones for a campfire would be a quick task, but Wheeljack managed to turn it into a science. And something in Ratchet warned him that it was never a good thing when Wheeljack made something more complicated than it needed to be.

This was confirmed when the Wrecker spotted a large rock a few meters further down the shore and that terrible, ominous gleam spread across the man's eyes.

 With a grim expression and clenched fists, he watched through narrowed eyes as Wheeljack ran over to his altmode, opened the back door, and leaned inside. You didn't have to be a psychic to know that whatever he was up to couldn't be good.

He stomped across the dusty ground with long strides, annoyed that his pants were getting dirty, before standing next to the wrecker with his arms crossed.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm getting rocks. For the campfire,” replied the mech, his head still stuck in the back seat, or at least in the area around the footwell. For a moment, Ratchet could only “admire” the soldier's protruding rear end, then he blinked in surprise when Wheeljack held something out to him: “Here, hold this!”

Ratchet couldn't say exactly what he was holding in his hands, but he was sure he didn't want it anymore. A small disc-shaped piece of pale metal with a raised button in the middle. In his bot form, the little thing with the soft, rubbery back that felt like a kneadable ball would be just big enough to fit on his fingertip.

“What is this?” he asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer as he held the small object at arm's length.

“You can make an educated guess, sunshine. I'm eager to hear your ideas.”

Ratchet grimaced, then looked back at the small device. “Well, since I know you're not going to give me an answer—stop calling me sunshine.”

There was a chuckle, then Ratchet cleared his throat. “I suppose it's something that doesn't belong here.”

“Nawww, you're such a buzzkill.” Wheeljack pulled his head out of his altmode again. He reached out and snatched the disc from Ratchet's hands. “Explosives,” he explained, shaking his head and tilting it to one side. “And I thought you knew me better.”

“What?!” the Medic burst out, immediately performing a dance on tiptoes to reach for the disc, which was, of course, held out of his reach. A broad grin played on Wheeljack’s lips as he performed a balancing act to keep himself on his feet while an agitated Medic hung on him with almost his entire body weight.

“Relax, Doc!” – “You've finally lost your last gasket, you lunatic! You're not going to mess around with explosives here.”

Ratchet tried to grab the disc again, but almost fell on his face when Wheeljack stepped aside in a quick turn, only to keep the doctor off his back again. “It's not even a large amount, sweetheart!” – “Stop it!” – “Why do you think it's so small?” – “And even if it's so small you can shove it up your tailpipe, you're not going to mess around with bombs here.” – “We need rocks, none of the ones I've seen so far seem sufficient for a fire, and this way we not only turn one big rock into many small ones, no, we also get a nice hole for the fire!”

Another swipe from Ratchet, which Wheeljack dodged. “You don't expect me to believe that, you scrap-ready nutcase!” – “That wasn't very nice.” - “You just want to detonate that bomb.”

Wheeljack stepped aside again and shrugged his shoulders as Ratchet rushed past him in another rush and landed on all fours on the ground with a thud. “You got me, Doc!” - “I swear by Primus, you blasted…” - “I designed it a while ago. Officially, it’s for incapacitating enemies without making a lot of noise, but I haven’t had a chance to use it yet. So what could be better than—” Before Wheeljack could continue, however, with a loving glance at the little bomb, he was tackled to the ground when another body rammed into him with full force. With a loud “Oof,” the air was knocked out of his holographic lungs, and with another gasp, he landed on his back on the ground, Ratchet on top of him, both of them watching with wide eyes as the little bomb tumbled out of the Wrecker’s hands, rolled over three times, and then came to rest a few feet away.

The only thing that could be heard, apart from the chirping of birds, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the heavy breathing of the two men, was the soft beeping coming from the small disc, along with the soft glow of the button.

Without taking his eyes off the disc, Ratchet rasped, “Please tell me that's the beep that indicates this bomb is off and secured.”

“What kind of world do you live in?” Wheeljack pushed the Medic off his chest and rolled onto his stomach before his gaze also settled on the bomb. The sound increased in tempo, like a metronome being set to a faster speed.

“How big is the radius if this bomb goes off?” - “Since it's designed not to kill enemies directly but to render their weapons useless, for example, I'd say about four to five meters... Theoretically.”

Ratchet's gaze did not stray from the disc. “What do you mean, ‘theoretically’?” - “I haven't been able to test it yet to see if the proportions are correct. It could be bigger, but it could also be smaller.” - “And now you're telling me there's a live bomb between our altmodes?” - “Yep.”