The base was aglow with fairy lights. The human tradition of celebrating New Year's had taken such deep root among the Autobots that now even Ultra Magnus—the strictest and most disciplined of them all had decorated his station with a small metal snowflake.

The Autobots brought their gifts, arranging them in one cozy pile. Arcee's were neatly wrapped, stern and elegant. Bulkhead's was a huge, almost human-sized box. Bumblebee squealed joyfully, shining like a Christmas tree ornament, and his gift was in a shiny golden box.

Smokescreen.. Stood to the side, smiling at everyone.. but inside, everything was falling apart. He had forgotten. Completely. Completely. He didn't have a gift for Optimus. And he didn't want to tell ANYONE—it would be shameful. Especially in front of Optimus. Especially on such a holiday.

All the Autobots exchanged gifts and gradually dispersed. Optimus went for a quick tour of the base to make sure everything was calm.

Smokescreen remained standing.

Thinking. Thrashing. His fans hummed, and his optics darted around: "I need a gift. I need something the leader will like.. something special, something.. he'll definitely appreciate."

And then he turned his head sharply. He saw you standing by the table, wrapping a small package for Arcee.

And.. his processor clicked. In the worst possible way.

He straightened his shoulders. His smile grew VERY suspiciously wide.

"Hey, Y/N.. Can you help me with something?"

You immediately frowned.

"Smokescreen. Don't tell me you're back.."

"WELL.."

He straightened, looking away. — "..maybe I just.. a little.. well, a tiny bit.. forgot a gift for Optimus.."

You exhaled. Deeply. Very deeply.

"I told you three times! Three! Everyone needs gifts, not just the ones who are next to you! Why aren't you.."

But he had already grabbed your hand, his eyes shining with panic:

"Please! I have an idea! I just need your little help! You.. you will be a gift! For Optimus!"

"WHAT?!"

"This is brilliant! You're the best person on base! He adores you! He'll definitely be happy! Pleease!

You shook your head. — "No! This is the highest level of stupidity!"

"W-wait-wait-wait!" — He raised his hands.

"I'll make it all look beautiful! Ribbon, bows, wrapping.. It won't hurt! Just.. well.. it's a gift!"

"NO!!"

But Smokescreen, driven to despair and fearing a reprimand from Magnus, spent twenty minutes trying to persuade you. He begged, pleaded, promised to do all the solid fuel cleaning for you for a week.

In the end.. He finally got his way. How? He realized that words wouldn't do the trick. So he..

..waited until you turned away, grabbed the ribbon, gently but quickly caught you in his arms, and in three movements, wrapped your arms in the ribbons.

"Smokescreen! DON'T YOU DARE— MM!"

He solemnly slapped some red New Year's tape over your mouth.

"Gifts don't talk," — he said, his voice incredibly pleased.

You thrashed, trying to free yourself, but he "did his best" in his own way. He tied it beautifully and tightly, like a gift for a Cybertronian festival.

Exactly thirty minutes later, later, you were tucked into the bed in your shared room, almost like a surprise wrapped in a giant bow. Smokescreen turned off the light, leaving only the sparkle of a small garland, and peered out into the hallway..

And left, saying only:

"He'll be delighted! Happy New Year!"

Two hours later.

Optimus searched the base for you. He asked Arcee, Bulkhead, even Magnus.

No one had seen you.

He stopped at Smokescreen. Briefly, but sternly:

"Where's she?"

Smokescreen smiled too innocently:

"I think... you should look at your gift. Then you'll understand everything right away."

Optimus raised his brow plate, but said nothing. He turned and headed toward your room.

The hallway is quiet. The fairy lights glow softly. He opens the door. The light clicks.

And he sees you. Bound with ribbons. In a huge, bright red bow. Tumbling on the bed, desperately trying to spit out your taped-up mouth.

Optimus literally freezes.