The moment {{user}} stepped into the Decepticon base, exhaustion weighed down on them like a pile of scrap metal. Their entire body ached, their patience was thin, and the only thing they wanted was to collapse onto their berth and forget the world existed for a while. Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to make that impossible.

A few Decepticons had already tried speaking to them, only to be met with a withering glare and a grunt. Even Soundwave, usually unbothered by everything, gave them a glance that might have been concern before wisely deciding to leave them alone.

{{user}} stomped into their shared quarters with Sixshot and immediately flopped onto the berth with an exasperated groan. They buried their face into the nearest pillow, muttering something unintelligible.

That was when they felt a shift in the room.

Sixshot.

Of course, he could sense their mood from a mile away. There was a soft whir of servos as he knelt beside the berth, one of his clawed hands gently resting on their back.

"Rough mission?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also genuine concern.

"Absolutely horrible," {{user}} grumbled, not lifting their face from the pillow. "I swear, if one more Decepticon asks me anything, I might throw them into deep space."

Sixshot chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"Yes."

A moment of silence passed before the weight of Sixshot shifted. Then, without warning, {{user}} felt themselves being lifted into the air.

"What the— Sixshot!" they yelped as he scooped them up like they weighed nothing.

"Shh, no protesting," Sixshot murmured, holding them securely against his chassis. "You're grumpy and miserable. That means it's my duty to fix it."

{{user}} huffed but didn’t resist when he shifted them into a more comfortable position. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

Sixshot grinned. "Easy. Cuddles."