Chapter Text
The afternoon sun was soft, casting golden light across Detroit’s skyline. [Y/n] sat cross-legged on the living room rug, helping Sari with her homework. The little girl leaned over her paper, pencil tapping against her lips as she muttered the answer to a math problem.
They were at the Autobot base.
“You’ve got it, Sari,” [Y/n] encouraged, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t second-guess yourself.”
Sari grinned. “Thanks, [Y/n]! You’re way better at explaining this than my dad.”
Before [Y/n] could reply, the front door opened. She turned—and there he was.
Optimus Prime stepped inside, tall and steady as always. He had slick, dark blue hair and bright blue eyes. Something about him radiated quiet authority. His uniform jacket was smudged with dust, a reminder of another city patrol. He froze for a moment when his eyes landed on [Y/n], then quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to have been caught staring.
Team Prime were humanoid aliens from a planet called Cybertron. Their ship had crashed into the lake fifty years ago. They were in stasis pods and only woke when Detroit was in danger.
“You’re back,” Sari piped up, bouncing to her feet. “Did you fight Decepticons? Was it Megatron?”
Optimus shook his head, offering a small smile. “No Decepticons this time. Just making sure the city is safe.” His voice was warm but slightly strained, as though he was still shaking off the weight of responsibility.
[Y/n] stood, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Good to know you made it back in one piece.”
The words were casual, but her chest tightened. Every time Optimus walked out the door, she wondered if it would be the last. He was always so calm about it, never letting fear show—but that only made her worry more.
Optimus’s lips parted, like he wanted to respond, but before he could, Ratchet’s voice echoed from outside.
“Prime! You’re needed down here. Now.”
Optimus stiffened. “Understood.” He gave a quick nod to both Sari and [Y/n] before heading out.
Sari crossed her arms. “He didn’t even stay five minutes…”
[Y/n] forced a smile. “He’s got important things to do.” She didn’t say what her heart whispered: He’s got a whole planet waiting for him. He won’t stay forever.
“You okay, [Y/n]?”
“Yeah. Anyway, you’d better start working on those math problems.”
“Argh, don’t remind me…”
Outside, the rest of Team Prime gathered near their hidden base entrance. Ratchet scowled, arms crossed. Bulkhead looked uneasy, while Bumblebee leaned against the wall with his usual grin. Prowl stood a little apart, silent as ever.
Ratchet had gray hair and light blue eyes. He was an older man with a grumpy face, wearing a coat and baggy pants.
Bumblebee was energetic, with short, messy yellow hair, baby blue eyes, and a short stature. He wore a yellow-and-black striped jacket and jeans.
Prowl was of average height, with dark black hair. He wore blue glasses, a black shirt, and brown jeans.
Bulkhead was tall and chubby, with light blue eyes. He wore a dark green shirt and gray pants.
Ratchet grunted. “Energy readings spiking again. I’d bet my wrench it’s those Decepticon lunatics stirring trouble… They never rest…”
“Blitzwing,” Bumblebee groaned. “I swear, that guy’s three times more annoying than anyone else.”
“Three personalities will do that,” Bulkhead muttered. “What are we gonna do, Boss Bot?”
Optimus listened, though his mind was partly elsewhere. He could still see the way [Y/n] had looked at him—relieved, but distant, as if she already expected him to vanish someday. The thought dug into him, distracting him from Ratchet’s briefing.
Why, though?
“Prime,” Prowl’s voice cut in, calm but firm. “Focus. You’re drifting.” It was unusual for Prime to lose concentration.
Optimus blinked and straightened, composure snapping back. “Right. We’ll investigate, but keep civilian areas clear. No risks.”
They exchanged looks before nodding. It was a solid plan.
__________________________
That night, after patrol, Optimus lingered outside the Sumdac building with his semi-truck, which he had received from Professor Sumdac as a gift. Everyone had their own vehicles, since they lacked teleportation capabilities. It wasn’t as if they tired from walking—their stamina and strength were excellent—but vehicles got them to their destinations faster.
Still, he missed his own vehicle back on Cybertron.
Optimus’s chest tightened. He had faced Decepticons, survived near-fatal battles—but here, he felt more nervous than he ever had in combat. He had fallen in love with [Y/n].
You need to tell her, a voice in his head urged. Before it’s too late.
But another voice—his duty—pushed back. You’re a Prime. You can’t afford distractions. When this war ends, you’ll leave. What right do you have to ask her for something you might never be able to give?
He sighed, turning away into the night.
Across the city, in the shadows of an abandoned factory, Megatron stood staring out of a broken window. Starscream and Lugnut lingered at his side, while Blitzwing’s laughter echoed through the empty halls.
Megatron was taller, his gray hair slicked back. He wore a shredded warlord’s suit with the Decepticon insignia on the back, a white shirt beneath, gray pants, and a large weapon strapped to his arm.
Lugnut was much taller and heavier. His greenish hair was messy, with his fringe covering one eye. His eyes were red, and he wore a torn uniform with a Decepticon symbol on the back of his coat.
Blitzwing had black hair and wore a hat, his grin wide and unsettling. His red eyes gleamed as he strode around in a large purple coat and brown pants.
Starscream, with purplish hair slicked back like Megatron’s, preferred a refined appearance. He wore a formal suit, high heels, and carried himself with pride, always trying to look sharp and polished. His red eyes gleamed, and he stood at an average height.
“This planet will soon learn the power of the Decepticons,” Megatron growled, eyes narrowing. “I will rule over this dirt planet…”
“Haha! Ja! What a plan!” Blitzwing laughed crazily.
Starscream looked annoyed. “Hmph! Trying to make yourself look cool, huh!”
“All hail Lord Megatron!” Lugnut shouted.
“Shut up, Lugnut!”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!!”
Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He didn’t bother turning to watch the pointless squabble behind him. One of these days, he really was going to kill them with his blaster.
Lousy idiots.
______________________
The parking lot buzzed with weekend shoppers, carts rattling and kids chasing each other between cars. [Y/n] slid her car into a spot near the entrance, cut the engine, and let out a small sigh.
“Alright… groceries,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her shopping list from the passenger seat.
She wasn’t exactly upset. But opening her fridge that morning to find the ice cream carton she had been saving—empty—had been a cruel surprise. A note scribbled on the counter in Sari’s handwriting read: Thanks for the ice cream! Bumblebee says hi!
[Y/n] couldn’t even be mad. They were kids at heart, even if one of them happened to be a Cybertronian teenager. Still, it would have been nice to know before she reached for the spoon with a movie queued up.
Now here she was, pushing a cart under the bright lights of the market, list in hand, a faint frown tugging at her lips as she maneuvered through the aisles.
“Milk, bread, pasta…” she murmured, checking off items one by one. She turned into the cereal aisle and nearly dropped her list.
“[Y/n]?”
She froze. That voice—steady, deep, instantly recognizable—pulled her eyes toward the middle of the aisle.
Optimus Prime stood there in front of a shelf stacked with brightly colored cereal boxes. His tall frame looked almost out of place among the chaotic display of cartoon mascots. In his hands, he held a box of sugar-coated cereal, staring at it like it contained the wisdom of the universe.
He might have been. Everything seemed to interest Optimus.
“Optimus?” [Y/n] blinked, clutching the cart handle. “What are you doing here?” She was genuinely surprised to see him.
He hesitated, almost as if she had caught him doing something wrong. Then he lifted the box a little, as though that explained everything. “Sari called me,” he said, voice calm but stiff. “She… requested that I pick up her favorite cereal.”
[Y/n] tilted her head. “So she sent you on a grocery run?”
Optimus cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. “She was very insistent.”
For a moment, [Y/n] just stared at him, caught between amusement and disbelief. The commander of Team Prime, the one who led battles against Megatron himself, was standing in the cereal aisle on a mission to buy breakfast food.
“…Of course she did,” [Y/n] muttered, finally smiling.
Optimus relaxed slightly at her smile, though he still stood awkwardly with the box in his hands. His fingers tapped against the cardboard, betraying the nerves he tried to hide.
“Are you… Shopping as well?” he asked carefully.
[Y/n] nodded, gesturing to her cart. “Yeah. Sari and Bumblebee raided my ice cream, so I’m restocking. And, well, a lot of other things.”
“I see,” Optimus said, though the way he lingered near her cart made it clear he didn’t want the conversation to end.
[Y/n] pushed the cart forward, and without really planning it, Optimus fell into step beside her.
At first, the silence was heavy—both of them hyper-aware of the other’s presence. [Y/n] focused on the shelves, trying to act casual, while Optimus seemed to be studying every item in the aisle as if preparing for a mission briefing.
“So… do you do this often?” [Y/n] asked finally, breaking the tension.
“Shopping?” Optimus glanced at her, startled. “No. Ratchet usually insists it’s inefficient for me to waste time here. He prefers… online ordering.”
[Y/n] laughed softly, shaking her head. “Figures.”
Optimus’s lips tugged upward at her laugh, almost as though he were relieved.
“Though… I admit, something about this feels grounding. Normal, even.” His gaze dropped to her hands as she placed items into the cart. What am I saying? he wondered. He couldn’t even bring himself to admit he liked spending time with her.
[Y/n]’s chest warmed at his honesty. She hadn’t expected Optimus Prime, of all people, to find comfort in something so ordinary.
“Well,” she said gently, “you’re welcome to join me. Could use the extra pair of hands.”
His eyes widened slightly before he nodded. “Of course.”
And just like that, they shopped together. Optimus carried heavier items with ease, loading bags of rice and cartons of milk into the cart. [Y/n] teased him when he picked up an off-brand cereal and squinted at the nutrition facts as if it were a classified document. He even hesitated between two brands of peanut butter until [Y/n] finally decided for him.
The nerves between them never completely faded, but little by little, it became easier. They traded small smiles, awkward glances, and once—when their hands brushed reaching for the same jar—both froze, hearts racing, before quickly pulling back.
By the time they reached the checkout line, [Y/n] realized she hadn’t stopped smiling in minutes.
Optimus shifted the grocery bags in his arms, straightening his posture. “Thank you… for allowing me to join you. I apologize if I made things… inconvenient.”
“You didn’t,” [Y/n] said, shaking her head. “Actually… it was nice.”
For a moment, their eyes met, the noise of the market fading into the background. Optimus opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something more—but the sudden buzz of his communicator shattered the moment.
He glanced down, brows furrowing. “Ratchet is calling. There’s… trouble.”
Why is it always when I’m with her? he thought bitterly. Is Primus testing me?
Of course, there was trouble. [Y/n]’s heart sank, though she forced a calm smile. “Go. I’ll take care of the rest here.”
Optimus hesitated, as though he wanted to stay, but duty pulled him back. At last, he nodded firmly. “Be safe, [Y/n].”
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as if he had never been there at all.