Wheeljack sat hunched over his workbench, grumbling at a piece of tech like it had personally insulted his lineage. Everyone else avoided him like he was a ticking time bomb.

Not Sideswipe.

The red mech casually grabbed a blanket from a nearby crate, sauntered over to the Wrecker, and—without hesitation—yanked it off his head.

“Rwa.”

Wheeljack froze. Then his shoulders started shaking. A snort escaped. And then—he lost it. He let out a laugh so loud and wheezy that it echoed through the base like a faulty engine. He slammed his hand on the workbench, nearly knocking over a pile of tools.

In the medbay, Ratchet’s voice bellowed, “WHAT in the Allspark is going on out there?!”

Wheeljack didn’t even answer, too busy laughing. Sideswipe tossed the blanket over his shoulder like a trophy and started walking away, totally nonchalant.

But he didn’t get far before Optimus Prime stepped into his path, arms crossed.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Optimus said sternly.

Sideswipe froze mid-step, then slowly looked up at him. “…What?”

“You’re explaining that,” Optimus said, gesturing toward the still-laughing Wheeljack.

Sideswipe blinked. “Nope.”

And then he bolted.

Optimus sighed, already expecting this, and gave chase. Within moments, he grabbed Sideswipe like he was scooping up a sparkling, lifting him under the arms and holding him at eye level.

“HEY!” Sideswipe yelped, legs kicking in the air. “Put me down, that’s rude!”

“Not until you—”

“NOPE!” Sideswipe yelled, twisting like a fish out of water. “I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS!”

“Then stop acting like you’re five,” Optimus deadpanned, holding him steady as if he weighed nothing.

From somewhere down the hallway, Ratchet shouted again, “IF YOU BREAK ANYTHING, YOU’RE ALL ON CLEANING DUTY FOR A MONTH!”

Wheeljack, still wheezing with laughter, called out, “Totally worth it!”

Sideswipe flailed harder. “See? He’s fine! Let me go!”

And in the medbay, Ratchet yelled, “I SWEAR IF YOU MAKE ME COME OUT THERE—”