Optimus had just begun to stir, his systems humming softly as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. They had spent the night outside due to the mission, and while it wasn’t ideal, the team had made do. His optics flickered online, taking in the stillness of the clearing—until a movement caught his attention.

You were waking up too, stretching in the most dramatic and painful-looking way possible. Arms flung out, back arching at an almost unnatural angle, legs kicking slightly as if battling some invisible force. It was as if your body had given up halfway through the process. Optimus barely held back a chuckle, his optics crinkling with amusement as he watched.

Then—whoosh.

In the most spectacularly unfortunate display of morning coordination, your overzealous stretch sent you rolling straight off the tree branch you had chosen as your sleeping spot. The peaceful morning was suddenly interrupted by a loud thump as you landed right on Jazz, who had also been stretching.

Jazz, completely oblivious, continued his routine, rolling his shoulders and flexing his servos as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, you were sprawled across his back, blinking in stunned silence, your limbs tangled awkwardly around him.

A full six minutes passed.

Optimus, watching the entire event unfold, was now internally dying trying to hold back his laughter.

Finally, Jazz’s visor flickered in realization. He slowly turned his helm, his processors catching up as he noticed the extra weight on him.

“…Wait a damn minute.”