#scorponok

• Moving toward the wash stalls, he glances in one as he passes, seeing an Autobot sitting on a bench, frame bowed forward slightly and attention wholly focused on the human washing him and chattering happily. You’re social creatures and most Cybertronians? They’re lonely. Weary of war, but after so long, they don’t know how to move on. Start over. How to live. Reaching up, his claws grip the wall of a wash stall and the human inside looks up, a sponge in hand. And you smile up at him. “Hello, sir!” You chirp as his spark aches.

• Neck craning, he’s big, but then, they all are. Squeezing the sponge nervously, you keep that smile firmly in place as he steps inside the stall. Visor brightening as he stares down at you and his lips press into a thin, serious line to leave you jittery. It’s strange how human his features are. That he’s so alien, but you can still find common ground, similarities in his appearance that are familiar to a person. Wish he’d say something. Smile. Hesitantly offering him your name, he finally moves. Stepping inside the stall and rumbling to make the fine hair at your nape prickle. What’s he even thinking?

• You look fragile, almost unreal you’re so small compared to him. And you meet his visored optics without hesitation. Kneeling slowly he reaches and his claws flex. Wanting to touch, but afraid he’ll break you. That it might break him. Knowing the war is over is one thing, but for it to actually be real? For him to be able to move on? It’s only a truce. Knows that. Like he knows it might end at any moment and he’ll be dragged back into a war he wants no part of. Reaching, he stops shy of touching you. What made you choose him?

• Heart hammering in your chest, he’s just staring. So you make yourself move. Awkwardly laying a trembling hand on his big claw. “Are you hungry or-” And he mass shifts so suddenly it’s dizzying. His arms going around you and you wheeze when the air is squeezed out of your lungs. Tensing, it takes you a second to understand that the giant, alien killing machine is hugging you, not trying to crush you. Flustered and arms pinned at your sides, you try to pat his arm as best you can, completely confused on what’s happening.