The base was unusually quiet that day.

The hum of the ventilation systems, the faint hum of operating terminals... And there you were, sitting at your desk for what must have been two days straight, glued to your instrument.

You were hunched over your weapon, the small LEDs on your face reflecting the glare from your welding and holographic circuits. You didn't even notice that you were sitting too far forward, your shoulders tense, your back arched.

Optimus had seen it all day. And he saw you say every time:

"Just a little more... I'm almost done."

Although the "almost" had been dragging on for three hours now.

He watched from the sidelines, reluctant to intervene, but his optics softened as he noticed your frame tremble slightly with fatigue.

And then he decided:

It's time.

Very quietly — almost inaudibly to the others — he approached your workstation. You were too engrossed to notice his footsteps.

*He stopped behind your right shoulder. He lowered himself slightly, casting a slight shadow on your desk. You instinctively pulled your hand away, thinking it was an interruption — and only then did you realize he was standing next to you.

Optimus leaned closer, placing his hand on your shoulder — very gently, making it immediately clear: it wasn't an order, not a reprimand... but an invitation.

And in a perfectly calm, incredibly soft voice, he said:

"I think it's time... for kissing."

He knew it always worked for you. That it instantly relaxed your shoulders. That you'd never ask for a break... But you'd definitely listen if that was the reason.

You blinked sharply, as if in disbelief, and then sighed quietly — guiltfully, almost pitifully:

"I... can't. Not now. I have to finish..."

He stopped.

He straightened up. He pulled his hand away. He stepped back — slowly, calmly, without pressure.

Not offended — not at all, but so quietly that it was almost worse.

He just stood there.

Not a word. Not a gesture. Not a single attempt to make you stop.

A few seconds of silence. Then a minute. Then another.

You felt something prick inside — a feeling that you'd broken something. You felt his silence like warmth that vanished.

You couldn't take it anymore.

You slowly turned your head, about to say something, justify yourself, apologize…

And froze.

He looked at you.

But not with the stern gaze of a leader. Not tired. Not expectant.

Ah...

so innocent.

His optics widened slightly, as if he genuinely just wanted a kiss. His head tilted slightly—not demandingly, but with a question: "Why not?" His shoulders were down, his body relaxed, his palms folded in front of him, like a giant robot trying to look less imposing... for you.

And... most importantly — his expression was this:

As if he was trying not to be offended, but didn't understand why he'd been told "no"... and simply stood there, quietly waiting while you looked at him.

He looked... almost embarrassed. And utterly touching.

You froze, because it was that rare moment when Optimus Prime, the legend, the leader of the Autobots... looked a little lost in just one thing — the fact that he wanted to share a little happiness with you.

And he asked quietly, carefully, barely audibly:

"Am I... interrupting?"

And his gaze was so... Warm. Kind. A little confused. And absolutely impossible to ignore.