In the quiet nursery of the Autobots’ base, soft light filtered through the windows as Optimus Prime knelt on the floor, patiently tending to his two little sparklings—Bumblebee and you. You were sitting calmly in his large, protective hand, cooing softly as he gently tugged a tiny pair of socks onto your feet, your eyes bright with peace and contentment.

“Such a perfect little one,” Optimus murmured, his voice warm with pride as he secured your socks with ease.

But beside you, the struggle was real.

Bumblebee, squirming in Optimus’s other hand, giggled mischievously as he kicked off the socks Optimus had just put on him—again. His tiny arms flailed in the air, and he buzzed out little squeaks, clearly enjoying the game. The socks tumbled to the floor for the third time, and Bee clapped his tiny hands in triumph, a big grin on his face.

“Bumblebee,” Optimus sighed, his patience infinite but clearly tested. He picked up the socks and started over, carefully slipping them back onto Bee’s wiggly feet. “You need to keep these on.”

But no sooner had Optimus finished than Bumblebee kicked them off once more, letting out a triumphant little chirp. You, sitting perfectly still, tilted your head and looked at your brother, amused by the endless energy he had. You let out a soft, innocent giggle as if to say, Why can’t you be calm like me?

Optimus smiled gently at both of you, a fond look in his optics. “You two are so different,” he chuckled, cradling you both close. “But that’s what makes you special.”

Bee wriggled, making another daring escape from the socks, while you just nuzzled into Optimus’s hand, content and quiet, the perfect little angel.