Chapter Text
Optimus lay in his berth, staring at the ceiling as his digits drummed against his abdominal plating. If his chronometer and decorative clock Bulkhead had made him were to be believed then it was well past time he should have entered recharge. Yet he found himself still awake, pede lightly tapping against the berth and servos unable to hold still. Optimus was not one for ideal fidgeting, he did not toss and he did not turn. The closest he comes to is pacing when he’s stressed, and he is not stressed. Because why would he be stressed? Well actually there were a lot of reasons but at this exact moment in time there weren’t.
…
“It wasn’t even that good of a line!” Optimus lamented, “It wasn’t even a line!” He told himself again. And it wasn’t a line, for Primus sake it was more of a one off comment at best. He should have forgotten about it as soon as it had happened. He needed to forget about it because it wasn’t even something his processor should be lingering on.
‘I vanna play vith ze firetruck~’
Optimus groaned, slapping a servo against his warming faceplate. This was ridiculous! He was not some freshly forged newspark and Blitzwing was not his type. At least that is another thing he has continued to tell himself. Sure Optimus had a preference for bigger frame types and there was a very distinct appeal to all those sharp angles that the decepticon possessed BUT that meant nothing because Optimus shouldn’t even be thinking about Blitzwing in any way that even resembles interest! He was the enemy! The con wanted to and has tried to offline him on several occasions! Optimus should feel nothing even remotely akin to attraction for the triple-changer. Nothing!
…
'I vanna play vith ze firetruck~’
Optimus was going to lose his mind.
…
…
‘I vanna play vith ze firetruck~’
Scratch that, Optimus was losing his mind!
He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. The only consultation he had was that he was blissfully alone in his habsuit, no one else needed to witness his continued lapse in judgement. Something had to have come loose in his processor during those 50 stellar cycles of hypersleep. Blitzwing hasn’t even said anything of recent that would even warrant this level of self-torment. Since the triple-changer landed on Earth there has been no indication that what he said when Optimus had been captured by Lockdown was anything more than a passing joke.
Nevermind the pointed stares and lingering touches that Optimus was choosing to ignore. He was just reading too much into it, that’s it. They weren’t a hint at anything more than Blitzwing wanting to crush him into scrap metal.
“Not that’d mind if he–” Optimus slapped his servos against his cheeks, NO! Nope, stop that, he was not going there! This was nothing more than a brief fixation because he hasn’t been with another bot in vorns and Blitzwing just so happened to show a moment of interest in him. There was nothing more to it.
So he kept telling himself.
Because it was true!
The first hints of morning were creeping in through the windows above and Optimus was determined to get at least a moment of recharge. Forcefully powering off his optics, he laid his servos at his sides. Willing his leg to stop shaking he began his defrag cycle. He would get over it in a few solar cycles, he was sure of it.
…
‘I vanna play vith ze firetruck~’
Optics snap back online and Optimus is letting out a heavy ex-vent.
Or maybe not.