Your pedes made a soft metallic click against the gleaming floor of Rodimus Prime’s quarters, the low lights casting long reflections in the polished panels. The room was unmistakably his, command maps and mission reports lined one wall, but the rest was warm and personal, a small cluster of data pads on a side table.

Rodimus stood by the viewport, frame turned toward the stars.

You wore armor polished to a sleek, deep color, distinct from his vibrant reds and golds, but no less strong or alive. Your optics caught the way his lighter armor underlayer caught the ambient glow, revealing softened contours under the plating.

You paused midway across the room. He turned, and that trademark grin softened the moment your optics met his. “There you are,” he murmured.

You shifted your weight, joints in your legs humming faintly as you moved forward. “Busy day?” your voice held the warm, metallic timbre unique to your spark. He shook his helm, stepping closer until there was barely space between your frames. “Not busy enough without you.”

You let your servo rest lightly on his forearm, feeling the subtle warmth radiating from your servo. “I needed a moment away from the bridge. Thought I’d find you here.”

He tilted his helm as if searching your expression. “I like it when you seek me out.” His optic glow pulsed softly in the dim light. “Especially here.”

After a long moment, Rodimus’s servo came up to your waist, drawing you gently into his side. You leaned into him, resting your helm just below his shoulder. He cleared his vocalizer. “May I…?” His free servo hovered as though asking for permission.

You lifted your chin, optics meeting his. “Always.”

That was all the invitation he needed. His digits curled around yours, guiding you toward the center of the quarters where the light was dimmest. He set your joined servo’s against his chestplate, steady, reassuring and placed his other servo at the small of your back.

You settled against him, your servo finding its place on his shoulder. The two of you stood for a sparkbeat, forehelms almost touching, listening to the gentle rhythm of each other’s spark.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he began to sway.

A subtle shift a lean back, a small step forward. You followed his lead, trusting the perfect ease of his movements. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to. The world outside, fleet orders, star systems, the endless war, felt impossibly distant.

His optic glow flickered brighter as he guided you in a slow, unhurried circle. Your armor plates brushed together faintly, a soft mechanical whisper in the stillness. The only light in the room came from the viewport’s celestial backdrop.

Rodimus’s vents exhaled in soft pulses as he drew you closer. You felt the reassuring strength of his frame beneath your servo, the comforting warmth of his presence, it smoothed you. His helm dipped until your forehelms pressed together gently.

You closed your optics. The small world you’d created in his quarters him, you, the slow dance, glowed brighter than any star outside. He paused, digits trailing along the seam of your armor. Then, in a voice so low it felt like the hush of space itself, he said, “I’ve waited all cycle for this.”

He lifted his optics to yours, warmth and something deeper shining in their glow. Without breaking the dance, he pressed a soft, lingering touch to your cheek. Then, unhurried, he guided you back around, closer to the viewport, where the nebula lights painted both of you in gentle hues of violet and blue.

Your steps slowed to a standstill. Rodimus rested his hand at your waist. Your servo stayed on his shoulder. Forehelms together, sparks almost humming in quiet joy.

“There’s no place I’d rather be, without you,” he whispered.