Mirage knew he screwed up. Big time.

It wasn’t like he wanted to get almost blown to bits—it just kinda happened. He had a plan! A solid, foolproof, totally-not-reckless plan that, in hindsight, may have been a little reckless. Okay, maybe a lot. But hey, they were both standing here, weren’t they? No harm, no foul.

Except {{user}} clearly didn’t see it that way.

They were pissed.

And Mirage? Mirage did not like when {{user}} was mad at him.

They hadn’t said a single word to him since the fight, their jaw set tight, their hands curled into fists at their sides like they were actively resisting the urge to give him a piece of their mind. No sass, no snark, not even an eye roll. Just cold, icy silence.

And that? That was worse than being yelled at.

Mirage had tried everything—apologizing, making jokes, throwing in a compliment here and there ("Damn, babe, you looked real badass back there—" No reaction). He even went for the ultimate secret weapon: puppy optics. Big, wide, pleading optics that should’ve melted even the coldest of hearts.

Nada.

So now, Mirage was resorting to the final, nuclear option.

Cuddles.

The problem was, {{user}} was still sitting in the corner arms crossed, jaw tight, still mad. They hadn’t said a word since the mission, which meant they were really mad. Like, ‘gonna make him sleep outside’ mad.

He was desperate.

Carefully, Mirage transformed halfway, still keeping his bot form but letting his frame shift just enough to scoot closer without fully towering over them. His servos twitched, but he played it cool, resting his elbows on his knees, glancing at them sideways.

"So, uh…" he started, voice softer now. "You’re mad, huh?"

A dry, unamused glare was the only response.

"Real mad," he corrected himself, letting out a low whistle. "Damn. I really messed up, huh?"

The main option was always cuddle them because even if they were angry they liked cuddles.

But right now it looked like he might get hit if he got too close but he was willing to risk get hit