Hal bit the inside of his cheek. Thing was, he’d been asking nicely, trying to coax Tarantulas into allowing him close enough to examine his injury—to no avail. He hoped to god he was getting somewhere now, and that this wasn’t just a ploy to get him to grovel.

“All you have to do is ask.”

The soft rumble of the Autobot leader’s voice filled the space between them, the air warmed from his engines.

Optimus was sat, his back against a sturdy brick wall with the human known as Hal resting on his thigh.

Optimus didn’t know much in the way of human interface. He only knew the basic mechanics of it. But he was willing to learn, if Hal was willing to teach.

The soft sparked mech scooped Hal up in his servo to be more eye level with him. Optimus had to admit, he was nervous to even proposition such a thing, but in the pursuit of education, and helping someone he cared about, he would stifle his own personal concerns over the matter and allow the human to speak for himself.

Optimus’s hesitation was, admittedly, adorable, which wasn’t really a word that often applied to him. Hal couldn’t help a fond smile. Being propositioned by Optimus goddamn Prime presented its own set of hurdles and, in turn, made Hal a little jittery as well. He huffed a nervous laugh.

“I must admit, you’ve caught me at kind of a disadvantage,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. God, those optics were intense. “I, uh, haven’t done this in a while.”

Waffling. He was waffling. But asking the commander in chief of the Autobots to please fuck me was a little daunting, dry spell or no.

She couldn't quite understand the disdain most of her faction held for these intriguing little aliens. Carbon-based structures aside, there was no denying the similitude.

Since arriving on this planet, she found herself enthralled by the vast varieties of flora and fauna, many of which seemed to mirror the species that populated her home world. Humans, most of all. Their languages, cultures, and architecture; she drank it all in, using every spare moment to study them.

This, however, was the first human she'd had the chance to meet. Crouching, perched back on her heel struts, Naja took a long moment to consider him, head swiveling in a very avian fashion. He interacted with their kind regularly, from what she'd seen, so she hoped he wouldn't be too off-put by the sudden appearance. She just couldn't stand to wait any longer.

Lifting a taloned servo, she wiggled her digits at him, mimicking the common human greeting she'd seen exchanged most frequently.

"Hello."

Hal was, admittedly, taken off guard by how silently the mech had stolen up on him, a sleek, dark red shadow. But she made no aggressive moves, and, in fact, gave him a little wave—so, in spite of her insignia, in spite of the strange, avian movements and the piercing light of her optics, he smiled and waved back.

" Relax, " he affirmed, looming, " allow me to serve you where no one has bothered to. Ease your burdens with me. "

This... has to be a dream. Or something. Optimus doesn't exactly care at the moment—the briefest brush of Shockwave's digits over his body has his engine rumbling hot in moments.

"I..." The words catch in his throat. So much to say.

Orion was his best friend, his confidant. He was the moral rubric that Shockwave adhered to.

Optimus is a stranger; a tool to be used, an standard to uphold, an ideal to be revered. A trophy placed on a tall mantle away from stray, wandering hands.

But, down the line, Shockwave has come to understand that both Orion and Optimus exist mangled and twisted around the Matrix.

And — regardless of all that, all he has ever wanted for him was the best, even if he won't acknowledge it himself.