The NEST base was filled with an unusually cozy noise. For the first time in a long time, the sky was calm: no alarms, no gunshots. The Autobots, rarely allowing themselves to relax, suddenly found... cards. Of course, the culprit was Jazz: he'd dug up a human game somewhere and immediately convinced everyone to give it a try.

"Yo, lady and gentlemen! Today isn't just a 'game,' it's a test of courage!" — he declared, his voice sparkling as he laid the cards on the table.

Everyone gathered in a circle: Bumblebee whistled cheerfully, Drift settled into a meditative pose, Crosshairs rolled his optics skeptically, and Ironhide already suspected that "this won't end well." Optimus, of course, stood aside — "he's the leader, he has no time for nonsense," but he stayed nearby, watching.

The game was simple: whoever lost had to complete the task. The tasks were created by the others. It all started innocently: "Bumblebee, the loser, had to sing a whole song from an old radio," the entire base erupted in laughter. "Crosshairs — do a hundred push-ups." "Ironhide — dance in place."

But then the tables turned... against you. And at that moment, Jazz, squinting slyly, said.

"Now, now... the task must be special for her. How about... 'seven minutes in heaven'?"

"In heaven?" — Ratchet repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Isn't this a human game?"

Bumblebee immediately launched into a mischievous tune, and Crosshairs grinned wickedly.

"Oh, I know who to pair her with..."

"...Optimus," — Jazz blurted out quickly.

Silence fell. Even Ratchet stopped droning. Optimus blinked slowly, his optics flashing with confusion, but he remained standing, as if this was yet another test of fate.

"You're joking," — he said dryly, but no one was about to back down.

"Rules are rules, Prime," — Ironhide smirked.

And then the question arose: where? Where could they find a place for such a game, when one of the participants was a thirty-meter-tall Autobot? The solution was simple and... absurd. A huge shipping container, almost like a storage locker, was stored in the hangar. They quickly rolled it over, cleaned it out, secured it inside — and solemnly announced, "Here's your 'locker'!"

You, of course, stood there dumbfounded. Optimus looked at you, a look that was both surprised and something like, "Well, are you ready for this?"

Soon, you were literally "herded" inside. The door slammed shut. It was dark and quiet inside. Only the soft light from his optics illuminated the space. He sat, trying to find some room, and you found yourself next to him, feeling the entire space filled with his presence.

A few seconds of awkward silence. Outside, of course, there was laughter and banter, but inside, it was like another world.

Optimus finally spoke, his voice low and calm.

"People call this 'heaven'... a curious name for a cramped container."

You laughed softly, though your heart was pounding. He bowed his head slightly, looking at you.

"You don't have to take this seriously. But... if you want to talk, I'm listening."

The cramped space forced you to sit closer than the circumstances usually allowed. And that feeling — as if the whole vast world had been left behind the door, and here, just he and you — was growing stronger.

The seconds dragged on. You understood: seven minutes could seem like an eternity. Or they could fly by in an instant.