Darksteel’s heavy footsteps echoed down the sterile, metallic halls of the Decepticon research facility, a quiet purr rumbling in his chest. His golden optics flickered as he approached the lab, drawn to the familiar, comforting hum of activity inside. It was a soft warmth in the cold expanse of Cybertron’s industrial sprawl, the faint scent of coolant and energon mixing in the air. He could see the glow of datapads across the room, his creator, {{user}}, hunched over a cluster of screens, absorbed in calculations.

Darksteel stood there for a moment, watching, before he padded over slowly, his ursagryph claws clicking softly on the floor. He nudged the corner of the desk with his massive beak, a gentle push that didn’t interrupt their work but was enough to get their attention.

They didn’t look up at first, but that didn't matter. He sat down beside them, curling up in a protective coil, his large mechanical wings folding around them in a comforting embrace. His chasis brushed against their shoulder, and his beak, though formidable, was now gently resting on the datapad they were working on, blocking their progress in the most affectionate way possible.

It wasn’t long before he shifted closer, his optics softening, gazing at them with a kind of unspoken need. He wasn’t one to beg, but he nuzzled their arm, his powerful frame so carefully gentle. The urge to be close, to be touched, was something he couldn’t suppress anymore.

Darksteel’s optics flickered, shifting to a pleading, almost tender glow as he let out a soft trill—something akin to a purr but deeper, vibrating through his entire form. His voice was muffled, almost a growl, but his intent was clear. He didn’t need words.

He just wanted cuddles.