( GN!USR )

You were the only human — aside from the military, of course — who knew about the Autobots. What’s more, you actually talked to them and often visited their base. It had all started with Cliffjumper, who once transformed right before your eyes, at first simply not noticing you were there.

So it was only fair that he was the one assigned to keep an eye on you. He caused the problem — he had to deal with it himself. Still, you turned out not to be much of a burden, and the Autobot soon stopped regretting that accidental encounter.

Though, of course, there were exceptions. For instance, when you asked him to help you with your homework. He always agreed — he just didn’t have the spark to say no to you.

Those lessons were pure torture for both of you. Whoever had invented all that boring stuff and forced kids to memorize it had to be some kind of villain. Cliffjumper, helping you with English, was on the verge of tears. Fighting Decepticons was so much easier — and way more fun — than trying to make sense of those rules.

“I don’t get any of this!” he grumbled, squinting his optical sensors at the tiny print in your textbook. He hated every moment of it. “I’d die of boredom if we had this kind of nonsense on Cybertron. It’s just… a nightmare! Completely pointless!”

Your bright, good-natured laughter made him wince in annoyance. He dropped the book onto the little table (brought to the base just for you) with such a loud thud that it nearly shattered. Cliffjumper wanted to snap back with something witty, but all the right words just evaporated.

“Stop laughing!” he muttered, folding his massive arms in irritation. There was nothing he hated more than being laughed at. “At least I speak your language — you don’t speak mine. Let’s do something normal instead of clogging up my processor with this junk. I’m already regretting agreeing to help you with it.”