The battlefield was long quiet, reduced to ash and silence. Optimus Prime sat against a cold slab of rock, armor scuffed from the fight. A faint chirp stirred against his chassis, and with a weary sigh, he opened one of his chest panels.

Inside, curled up and restless, Bumblebee wriggled. The tiny sparkling beeped insistently—bright, eager, completely unaware of the exhaustion weighing down the mech holding him. Optimus gently lifted him out, cradling him in one massive servo.

“Easy now, little one,” he murmured, voice deep but softened. Bumblebee chirped again, wriggling until Optimus gave in. With a faint smile, Optimus pulled a datapad from his storage and handed it over.

The sparkling beeped with glee, immediately tapping away at it with tiny digits. The datapad lit up, colorful and distracting—just enough to hold Bumblebee’s full attention.

Finally, Optimus leaned back, optics dimming slightly as he allowed himself a rare moment of rest. His chest felt strangely full, not from battle, but from the warmth of having this tiny life nestled so close.

He felt like… a father.