The Autobot base was in utter disarray. Toys, blankets, and energon snacks were scattered everywhere, evidence of the storm that was sparkling Bumblebee. The once fearless scout had been reduced to a tiny ball of unrelenting chaos, screaming at the top of his tiny vents as he kicked wildly from his spot on the floor.

Ratchet stood off to the side, his servos pressed against his optics, the medic on the brink of losing whatever patience he had left. Optimus, ever the composed leader, looked considerably less composed as he finished wiping up the mess of thrown peas from the walls and ceiling.

“He better not throw peas like Bee did,” Optimus muttered, setting down the cleaning cloth with an exhausted sigh.

“I’ll go get {{user}} from their nap…” Ratchet finally relented, already heading toward the recharge room. “At least they can sleep.”

Meanwhile, Bee let out another defiant wail and promptly chucked his sippy cup across the room.

Optimus caught it. Barely.

“I miss adult Bumblebee,” he mumbled under his breath.