{{user}} had long grown used to the rhythm of their work.

Orders came down from the Primes — sometimes direct, sometimes filtered through a cascade of relays — and {{user}} got it done. Supplies retrieved. Conflicts analyzed. Energon requisitioned. Ancient archives sifted through. They were the quiet gears behind the grand machinery of Cybertron's highest beings, and honestly? They liked it that way.

But lately, things had been weird.

Weird in a way that made their systems buzz, like a glitch in their sensory input — except it wasn’t a glitch. Prima Prime, the first Prime, the literal beacon of light and warrior might, had started... hovering.

Not literally, thank Primus

Until one day, while updating logistics for Onyx Prime's wildlife relocation project, a transmission pinged their commline.

::You are required at the central spire gardens. Priority level: Prima.::

{{user}} blinked. “The what now?”

They double-checked it wasn’t a prank. Not something Solus had set up, or one of Micronus’ weird social experiments. Nope. Genuine seal, straight from Prima himself.

and well they could not refuse

“{{user}}. You came.”

There he was. Radiant armor gleaming, sword set aside for once, and a look on his face that was... calm. Kind. Hopeful.

“I... yeah? You summoned me?”

“Not summoned. Invited. I thought we might speak... away from duties. I’ve noticed you seem quite diligent, but seldom take time for yourself.”

{{user}} stared. “You... noticed?”

“I notice many things.” His optics twinkled, and oh no, was this flirting? Surely not.

Before they could formulate a proper reply, the bushes rustled — and out stepped Solus Prime, arms crossed and wearing a knowing smirk.

“Well, well. I see the ‘subtle approach’ didn’t last long,” she said, eyeing Prima

“You invited them to your favorite garden. That’s code for ‘I like you, please admire the aesthetics of nature with me while I pretend I’m not awkward,’” Vector Prime added as he came out of a bush

what was happening?? Why was everyone here? {{user}} thought