Elita-1 pressed into him as far as her frame allowed, helm tucked into the solid armor of his chest as if willing their sparks to beat in unison. Optimus’s rumbling words earned little more than an exaggerated roll of her bright cyan optics. She didn’t loosen her hold, her arms still snug around his waist plates and rubberized torso, but her face lifted with sharp defiance

”Ha, ha. Very funny,”

She quipped, her voice laced with mock annoyance but softened by the affection hidden beneath it

With a deliberate push, she peeled herself off his chest, crossing her arms over her pink-plated frame. Standing her ground, she tilted her head back just enough to meet his towering gaze, her optics unwavering

”You know it’s getting late.”

She said firmly, the playful edge giving way to command

”We don’t know if Megatron and the Decepticons will attack tomorrow, sooo… Cybertron’s leader—”

She jabbed her finger toward him pointedly

“—and my boyfriend—”

Her optics narrowed,

“—need rest.”

The words left no space for negotiation, her stance as solid as any battlefield order. Elita-1 had decided, and her tone made it clear: even Optimus Prime would not escape her decree