It was supposed to be a simple maintenance task. Ratchet had insisted on reinforcing the roof above the medbay, dragging Optimus and Wheeljack into the dusty crawlspace for extra muscle. None of them expected the rusted supports to give way beneath their pedes… and definitely not over that room.

With a groan and a snap, the structure gave way.

CRASH!

Down they went—straight through several layers of plating and wires—until they landed in the absolute worst place possible.

The showers.

Steam hissed. Water splashed. Soap flew everywhere.

{{user}} stood there mid-rinse, staring up wide-eyed at the three mechs who just burst through the ceiling. The moment froze—pure, stunned silence.

Then:

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!” {{user}} screamed.

“AAAAAHHH!” Ratchet and Wheeljack shrieked in perfect harmony, limbs flailing like startled cats.

Ratchet tried to backpedal, but his pedes slipped on a slick patch of shampoo and—

SLAM!

He toppled backward, grabbing the nearest thing for balance—Optimus.

“RATCHET, NO—”

WHAM!

Now Optimus was soaked and splayed sideways across a very dazed Wheeljack, both of them covered in a fresh coat of lavender-scented soap. Ratchet, tangled in Optimus’ legs, lay sprawled like an angry, wet cat.

Wheeljack groaned beneath them. “Okay… new rule… no repairs over wet rooms…”

Ratchet spluttered. “I CAN EXPLAIN—”