The evening at the Autobot base was surprisingly quiet.

No alarms. No urgent missions. Even the main hall was unusually quiet—only the dim lights of the panels and the occasional sounds of systems operating.

Your room… was even quieter.

You were sitting on the edge of the platform, scrolling through data on the holographic screen, when you heard heavy, but familiarly calm, footsteps behind you.

Optimus stopped next to you.

"Today… is a rare occasion," he said quietly. "We have time."

You looked up at him. The pause lasted a second.

"Maybe… a movie?"

This suggestion was clearly not standard protocol for the Autobot leader.

But he didn't refuse. On the contrary, his optics softened slightly.

"Good idea."

A few minutes later, a holographic screen was already unfurled in the room.

You selected one of the human films—the same one Raf had once turned on. A sci-fi film about space, exploring unknown worlds, and... a little about choosing between duty and personal fulfillment.

Ironic.

The screen glowed softly in front of you.

Optimus settled in, leaning his back against the wall. You settled between his legs, your back against his chest armor.

At first... everything was calm.

The film began.

Human voices. The sound of spaceships. The slowly unfolding plot. But then—

You felt it.

His hand.

At first, it simply lay next to you. Almost motionless. Almost.

But after a while, his fingers moved slightly. The touch was light. Almost accidental. His fingertips brushed the edge of your side plate. They lingered there a second longer than necessary.

Then... slowly slid a little higher. Very carefully. As if he still wasn't entirely sure he had the right.

The film continued.

On the screen, the heroes argued about risk and trust.

And here—

You felt his hand gradually gain confidence. It lay softly along your side. The warmth of his body was palpable through the armor.

A little more—

And his fingers tightened slightly. Barely noticeable. Not holding. Just... registering your presence. Optimus was silent. But his attention was no longer solely on the film. Occasionally, his optics slid down. At you.

At the way you settled against him. The way your back pressed against his chest armor. The way you moved, reacting to the film.

And then...

There was a particularly tense moment on the screen. The heroes were almost losing control of the ship. You tensed slightly. Just a little. And at that moment, his hand instinctively tightened a little.

Almost protectively. As if he was supposed to hold you back if something went wrong.

He noticed it. Felt it. And slowly loosened his grip.

But he didn't remove his hand. On the contrary—

It stayed.

And even shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position. Now you could feel his palm completely along your side plate.

Closer. Warmer. Calmer.

The movie went on.

But the atmosphere in the room changed. It became... quieter. Closer.

And somewhere in the middle of the scene, he said quietly:

"People... often choose feelings, even when it defies logic."

Pause.

His voice dropped slightly.

"Interesting."

He didn't specify what exactly. But his hand... for a second, it pressed you a little tighter. And then it loosened again. As if he himself didn't fully understand what he had just done.

Or understood it too well.