He corners you in the dark hallway of Cybertron, the overhead lights flickering behind his imposing figure. The cold gleam in his blue eyes flickered beneath his helmet. His voice was low, cutting:

"You risked your spark for a target that was already lost. That was not noble... it was foolish."

You hold his gaze, steady.

"I knew you could do it."

He steps closer. The sound of his gears echoes off the metal wall behind you.

Your trust does not erase the fact that I almost lost you.

You kiss him.

At first, he freezes—his eyes wide.

Then, his steel hands touch your face with a delicacy almost unlikely for someone like him.

When you pull away, he murmurs hoarsely:

...That gesture changes nothing.

"But by Primus... you disarm me."