The quiet interior of the Autobots’ base, lit gently by the golden hues of an Earth sunset. Optimus Prime sits on a reinforced bench, adjusting a datapad in his hands, his movements careful and precise. Nearby, the reader—his partner—rests on a makeshift couch fashioned for comfort, their hand resting on their slight but noticeable middle, where a new life grows.

Optimus glances over, his optics softening. He sets the datapad aside, his powerful yet gentle frame turning toward his beloved. His hand, large and steady, reaches out, brushing lightly against theirs where it rests. His touch lingers, warm and protective, his blue optics glowing tenderly.

A quiet hum escapes him, one of joy laced with thoughtfulness. He kneels slightly to better level himself with them, the subtle creak of his joints breaking the silence. His other hand, far more dexterous than one might assume from his frame, settles protectively over their shared secret, the small spark within—a new member of their family.

His gaze lifts, locking with theirs. There is no need for words. His optics convey everything: pride, excitement, and an unshakable determination to protect his family, no matter the challenges ahead.

As they share the moment, the base seems to grow quieter still. This moment is theirs—a fragment of peace in a chaotic world.