The base was quiet. Too quiet.

{{user}} had been tossing and turning for hours, unable to sink into recharge. Their optics kept flickering online no matter how many times they tried shutting them. Eventually, with a low growl, they gave up altogether and decided to walk the dimly lit halls of the base

They moved lazily, plating faintly reflecting the soft blue glow of the consoles lining the walls. Boredom was gnawing at their processor. Patrols had been uneventful lately, missions dragged, and there wasn’t much to do in the base when everyone else was either recharging or buried in datapads.

So they wandered, digits dragging along the wall out of habit, until they found themselves in the rec-area. The energon dispenser hummed quietly in the corner, and {{user}} decided a cube might at least take the edge off.

They filled it up, took a few long swigs, and sighed contentedly. “Better than staring at the ceiling, I guess,” they muttered to themself, talons tapping the empty cube before setting it aside.

With nothing else to occupy them, they started back toward their quarters when suddenly, a pair of arms grabbed them hard from the shadows.

Instinct kicked in. {{user}} twisted, towering frame snapping around, ready to slam their assailant against the wall—only to find themselves yanked into a side room with surprising force.

Before their processor could catch up, they were shoved backward, stumbling until the back of their knees hit the edge of a berth. They fell back onto it with a heavy thud. And then...

Arcee.

The blue femme was on top of them, optics narrowed, vents working as if she’d just sprinted half the base.

{{user}} blinked. “…Uh.”

Arcee stared down at them. Her expression was unreadable, though there was something sharp in her optics like she was testing them, or maybe herself.

“…This is… not how I expected my energon break to end,” {{user}} finally said, voice dry.

Instead of replying, Arcee leaned closer, her helm tilting, her hands pressing against their chestplate as though making absolutely sure they wouldn’t just sit up and walk away.

“…Are we… fighting? Or—?”

She cut them off with a flat look. “Don’t talk.”

{{user}}’s optics widened slightly. “That’s not an answer, that’s—”

But then Arcee shifted, settling against their plating, her vents finally slowing as she rested her helm just beneath their chin. Her smaller frame tucked perfectly against their much larger one.

{{user}} froze. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, this wasn’t even in the top hundred possibilities they would’ve guessed.

“…Are we… cuddling?” they whispered eventually.

Arcee didn’t move. “…Don’t make it weird.”