“Absolutely Not.”

That was the first thing you heard the moment you walked into the base that morning. Jazz, arms crossed, optics narrowed in suspicion, leaned against the console. Bumblebee stood beside him, a firm, almost captain-like frown on his face, while Drift… Drift just had his arms folded, exuding pure disapproval.

“You know what today is, right?” Jazz asked, tilting his helm.

You sighed. “Yeah, my—”

“Your twenty-first.” Bee cut in, pointing a finger at you. “Which means no energex, no high-grade, no celebration involving anything even remotely intoxicating.”

“You’ve been a good bot, we know that,” Drift said, his tone suspiciously level. “But we do not trust the variables of such a… reckless tradition.”

Jazz smirked. “Or you with even one sip.”

You scoffed. “Oh, come on. You think I’d go nuts? I’m not Sideswipe.”

“Exactly,” Bee said, dead serious. “We don’t know what you’d do. And we’re not about to find out.”

And just like that, your 21st birthday turned into a full-on alcohol lockdown.