Hello! This is just a little idea that's been buzzing around in my crazy head for a while. And I really wanted to get it down! OPxElita is my absolute favorite Transformers pairing, and stories about them are so much fun to write! Even though this one is kind of sad... Anyway, I don't own Transformers or anything like that.

Also, this is on Cybertron, and can be in any universe you want, even though I created it for Prime. Also, this has G1 characters that don't appear in the Prime series, so you can imagine them however you want. Now, onto the story!

To say I was anxious is an understatement. To say I was ready to hurl myself off a tall building is a little closer, but not there exactly. Now to say I was about to have a nervous breakdown and bury myself in the ground never seen again is about right. But whatever my feelings are, the fact remains.

I, Optimus Prime, am going to propose to Elita One.

I banged my helm against my berth room wall, still trying to decide how I would propose. Asking someone to be your sparkmate is no easy task, not to mention there's a brutal war going on featuring the entire planet, and the femme being asked is the commander of an entire fleet of Autobots, who will not hesitate to hurt me in very, very painful ways if she feels like it. No matter how you look at it, I'm dead.

After I started feeling my spark beat in my helm, I backed away from the wall and sat in my berth. I rested my chin on one of my servos, and stared at the dull gray ceiling as if the answer was written on it. Why couldn't the wisdom of the Prime's help him with a simple question? Especially considering how Elita's answer would decide whether I continued living or not.

A knock sounded from the door, and I quickly straightened and said, "It's open."

The door swung open to reveal Ironhide, who was holding a data pad. "You really need to be more careful to who you open the door to. Who knows, I could have been an angry Elita One."

I narrowed my optics at him, and he shrugged, "Sorry, bad joke. So, how's the proposal plan going?"

I jumped in shock and hit my helm on the top frame of the berth. The thudding of my spark returned.

"Oh, that looked like it hurt," Ironhide said and walked over to me, "but seriously, how's it going?"

I rubbed my aching helm, "Not good, and how do you know?"

He shrugged again, "Jazz heard you telling Ratchet, who told Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, who then told Chromia, who told me, and I'm sure the rest of the base. So now everyone but Elita herself knows. And Bumblebee, who wouldn't understand it anyway."

I sighed, "Well that makes my life easier."

Ironhide smiled, "Not exactly, now hold out your servo."

I obeyed, not in the mood to argue. I felt him scribble something on it, and he said, "There, you will now start asking everyone for more suggestions."

I took back my servo and saw that Ironhide had written something on it. I looked closer and was able to make out the words, "Off or on battle, I want you by my side." "What is this?" I asked, confused.

He scoffed, "It's a pick-up line. Face it Optimus, you're going to need it. And it would be wise of you to follow my other advice and get some more. You of all mechs know Elita won't be easy to handle."

I returned my optics to the ceiling, "As rarely as it happens, you're right Ironhide."

"Well you know I-, wait! Was that an insult?"

And that's how I ended up asking around the entire base for suggestions on how to propose. Ratchet said to wing it, Chromia said to speak from my spark, Jazz offered several pick-up lines, and frankly, I was too afraid to talk to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. But that didn't stop them from trying to talk to me.

"Come on Prime, one little suggestion?" Sunstreaker pleaded.

"No."

"Please?" Sideswipe added from the other side of me.

"No."

We were patrolling the outside of the base, on the lookout for Decepticon activity. The twins were somehow able to bribe Ratchet into giving me duty with them, and I made a silent vow to step on his welder. Even though a wrench colliding with my helm probably wouldn't be worth it.

"Please, please, please, please, and, please!" the twins asked in unison.

"No."

The pair grew silent, and I was able to manage a sigh of relief. But that's when they both got that all too familiar glint in their optics, and I increased my pace, eager to get the patrol over. Suddenly, Sideswipe shouted, "DECEPTICONS!"

I immediately activated my weapons and got into a fighting stance. No one could have missed Sideswipe's cry. But all was silent, and I gained the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Get him Sunny!"

"Don't call me Sunny!"

Before I could react the twins tackled me to the ground, and I landed face plates first. They secured my servos, and as I struggled to get up I felt something cold and hard whack me in the back of the helm, and I lost consciousness.

The army of small metal balls sailed through the air and hit me square in the chassis, the force of them sending me to the ground. "Come on Pax! At least try to hit us!" the other team's members jeered. I sat up and rubbed my helm, not in the mood to retort.

"Pax!" the coach barked, "Get in the game."

I moaned and got to my pedes, grasping one of the small lobbing balls that had been thrown at me. My creators had insisted that I go to this workout center, claiming that I didn't get enough physical activity for a mech my age. Today's method of torture was a "friendly" game of dodge lob, where two separate teams attempted to hit each other with lobbing balls. As usual I was the target.

I winced as several more balls collided with my frame, and the apparently, required, taunting resumed, "You play like a sparkling!" I had to glare at the offending mechs, who were smiling like they had just received unlimited energon candy. It wasn't unlikely considering their popularity.

A particularly hard thrown ball connected with my helm, along with several others, and I was knocked off my pedes again.

"Okay that's enough! Let's move onto something else mechs!" the coach ordered and the assembled group groaned. Except for me, being as happy as I could be that the game was over. I got back on my pedes, only to be greeted with everyone piling their ammo into my servos. A collection of sneers and crooked smirks came with them, and I had to sigh. Primus has some rather creative ways of torturing me.

I walked over to the equipment bin, and dumped the lobbing balls inside. "Okay everyone, we're going to be pushing these metal blocks to the other side of the room and back, got it?" I heard the coach instruct.

"Yes sir!" the assembled mechs exclaimed and went over to the large metal cubes at the edge of the center. I followed and chose the block closest to the door, hoping to sneak away if I could make it over to it. Joy.

The stronger mechs were able to move their blocks with little effort, while me and the others were struggling to move them at all. "These must weigh as much as my carrier's collection of buffers!" Dion, my best friend, moaned besides me. I laughed and nodded, at least Dion was suffering with me.

"Um, excuse me Coach," a delicate voice said from the door way. Everyone turned towards the door and saw the pinkest femme on Cybertron. She smiled and gave a little wave.

"What is it?" the coach asked as he walked over to her. Once he took his eyes off us Dion and I collapsed to the ground.

"Well, I have a message for Orion Pax," she replied. "Could I steal him for a nanoclick or two?"

Coach nodded, "If you must."

She smiled and said, "Thank you." She then started walking over to me, and I bolted to a standing position. I leaned against the block as casually as I could and greeted, "Hi Ariel."

Ariel's smile grew and she replied, "Hi Orion. Just came here to tell you that your carrier told me to tell you that you have an appointment with Ratchet. It's right after…" she paused as her optics fluttered around the room. I could help but notice how pretty they were. She returned to me, "well whatever you're doing."

"Thanks Ariel," I said, "but you know me. Always know when I'm needed for something, like a health examination. Since, you know, I'm big on health and all." I mentally punched myself, I did not just say that! Dion snickered from his place on the floor.

Ariel giggled, "If you say so Orion. Oh, and watch out."

I raised an optic ridge, "Watch out?"

"Pax!" the coach barked, "Get some work done!" He walked in front of the block and pulled it out of my reach.

"Whoa!" I yelped and fell to the ground on my side. "Ow…"

Ariel giggled once again, "See you later Orion."

"Yeah, see you later Ariel," I called and sat up, rubbing my helm.

"Smooth," Dion said, then proceeded to laugh uncontrollably. "Oh, you know, I'm big on health," he quoted between fits, "Where did you get that?"

I scowled and got to my pedes, again. "Remind me why I told you that I like her."

Dion smirked as he followed my example, "My friend, it was easy to figure out. You stumble over your words when you talk to her, your eyes get all glazed over, and you get this really weird expression on your face plates. If that isn't love then I can move this good for nothing piece of metal!" He kicked the block angrily, and then started cursing in pain as he grabbed his pede and hopped on the other one.

I narrowed my optics, "I do not! And are you okay?"

"What do you think?" he asked and kicked the block again. "OW!"

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?"

"I told you we shouldn't have hit him as hard!"

"It was your idea in the first place, not mine!"

I struggled to get my optics open, and saw a concerned looking Sunstreaker and Sideswipe right up in my faceplates. "Ah!" I exclaimed and jumped back. Or at least tried to. I looked down at my servos and saw they were tied to a chair, which I was now strapped to.

I looked around, and saw the twins, Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz, and Chromia gathered around me. Few things get me angry, but now I was pretty mad, "Okay, why am I tied to a fragging chair?!"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took a couple of steps back, nervous expressions on their faceplates. Ironhide shook his head and answered, "We wanted to help you with the proposal, and you didn't really seem too keen on the idea, so we improvised."

I glared at the twins, "So which one of you whacked me in the back of the helm?" They instantly pointed to each other, nervous expressions turning into scared ones.

Ratchet took out his wrench, and waved it in my face plates, "Optimus, we are here to make sure you don't make a fool of yourself when proposing to Elita One. And if you do, we'll be here to keep her from offlining you, are we clear?"

I leaned back from the wrath of the wrench and nodded quickly.

He returned the wrench to his sub space, and said, "Good, now first order of business. Where do you propose?"

I lowered my optics, "I was planning on asking her to come to the roof with me and then maybe-," a wrench collided with my helm and I stopped talking. Ratchet was shaking his head and caught the wrench as it bounced off my helm. "What was that for?"

"You don't wanna make it obvious that you're gonna propose!" Jazz said. "Make sure she's caught off guard, makes it more romantic."

"You want me, to catch the commander of a small army, the commander that could beat you in a fight in five nanoclicks, off guard?" I raised an optic ridge, "This doesn't seem very well thought out."

Jazz held his servo in the air and his mouth was open to say something, but he slumped in defeat.

I shook my helm, "I appreciate your help, but I think I know what I'm doing." I slid my servos out of the loose bonds and stood up, towering over the assembled soldiers. "I'll continue to ask for advice, but I think I have a plan."

I leaned against the door frame of my office, looking at a data pad. They contained secret military plans that some of the commanders from the other side of the Sea of Rust had given us, and had been recovered by Bumblebee. I made a mental note to thank him later.

I looked around the hallway, and then tossed the data pad onto my cluttered desk. It landed with a dull, thunk, and I winced slightly at the sound. I raised my servo to my optics, reading the mass of pick-up lines, conversation starters, and occasional evacuation plans scrawled all over it. I was careful not to rub it against anything, less risk rubbing some of the lines off.

I had categorized the lines in several groups, a habit that I had gotten into while being an archivist. They were, Will Use, Might Use, Use If Things Go Wrong, Use If Things Go Really Wrong, Use If I'm About To Die, and, Will Never Use Even If Elita's Calls Megatron To Help Offline Me. The last one was the largest group.

I twisted and looked around the door frame and through the window that added some light to my office. The sky was growing dark, and I decided that I might as well get it over. I left the wall and started heading to the rech room, where Elita always goes after a mission. She had just gotten back from scouting the outside the edge of the Sea Or Rust.

I was halfway there when a pink blur ran straight into me. I looked down and saw Elita One herself, and sobbing. She wrapped her arms around me and laid her helm on my chassis, tears leaking from her optics uncontrollably.

"Elita, what's wrong?" I asked and raised her chin with my servo.

Her lip quivered and she shook her head.

I looked around, and realizing she wanted to talk in private, I slowly led her to the weapons rack that was a few paces from us. I opened the door and looked in, and when no one entered my sights, I led her to the corner where we could sit. After we had sat down on the hard floor, Elita's sobs were reduced to a few leaking tears, and her helm rested against me.

"Elita," I whispered, "tell me what's wrong."

She lifted her helm and looked up at me, her bright blue optics filled with sorrow, "Oh Optimus, when we were out, we saw, we saw…" Another sob broke through, and reached out and held her servo.

"Please Elita, tell me."

She nodded, and said, "My creators, we, we found them, Decepticons had just been there…" Her shoulders trembled, and she continued sobbing.

"Oh Elita," I said, understanding. I wrapped my arms around her and started rocking her back and forth. "Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay." I caught a glance at my writing covered servo, and shook my helm. Not today.

Elita's crying was weaker now, but she continued to shiver. I closed my optics and started "Hush little sparkling don't you cry, you'll see me again through the sky." It was a classic lullaby, and Elita had told me her creators had sung it to her every night. "Hush little sparkling don't you fret, we'll be together again and I won't forget."

I sang for her, and soon she had stopped crying. "Thank you Optimus," she whispered. I nodded and lifted my servo to wipe the last tear from her cheek. She glanced at it, then narrowed her optics. "Optimus, what's on your servo?"

I looked down at my servo, and realized with horror that it was the one with all the suggestions on proposing. "Um, nothing."

She grasped it in her servo, and brought it closer to her optics to see it in the low light. Her optics casted a low glow on it, making the characters barely readable. Moments of silence past, and I thought she was going to start shouting at me, but instead, she looked up at me, her optics shining. "Were you, were you going to," she paused, as if the words felt alien in her mouth, "propose?"

I gave a weak smile, "I guess now isn't the best time. I'm so sorry Elita, I shouldn't have done-," I was cut off by a watery laugh.

Elita's face plates had a smile on them, and she said, "You silly mech, that's exactly what I need now."

My jaw dropped, "So, you mean, really?"

She nodded, "Yes Optimus, yes!"

We spent the rest of the night huddled in the corner of the weapons rack, lying on the cold hard floor looking at the various suggestions written on my servo. She giggled at the majority of them, and her favorites were the, 'Will Never Use Even If Elita Calls Megatron To Help Offline Me.'

"Whose is this?" she asked, pointing to a rather long one.

"Jazz."

"Ah. And this?" she pointed to the first one Ironhide had given to me.

"Ironhide."

"Oh, I would have guessed Chromia," she paused and narrowed her optics. "Who is this from? The, 'If I had to choose between you and high-grade, I would choose you?'"

I smiled, "You would never guess it, but Alpha Trion."

She gaped, "Really? You're serious right?"

I nodded, "He sent me the message not too long ago. Guess he's not too much of a ladies mech."

She laughed, "Yeah. But it's hard to believe Alpha Trion knew, he's halfway across Cybertron! Who all did Jazz tell?" (I had filled her in on the day's past events.)

I shrugged, "Everyone. I received a transmission from Soundwave right after Alpha Trion's. It said good luck, congratulations, and included this." I flipped my servo over and pointed to a line written on the center of my palm.

Her optics widened, "Wow, that's good. But why is it with the will never uses?"

"I was afraid when I said it, it would activate a bomb and explode the base," I admitted sheepishly.

She smiled, "Well if he went to all that trouble to send you a transmission without Megatron knowing I doubt that he would blow us up."

"I did meet him once, at one of Megatron's rallies before the war. He's a decent mech," I replied, "even though not without Megatron knowing."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I received another transmission from Megatron himself. All it said was, 'Congrats Orion, I'm glad you finally got her."

"That seems kind for him."

"And it also said that he now knows how to torture me in the cruelest ways possible."

"Oh…"

Ratchet's P.O.V.

When I opened the weapons rack while looking for Optimus and Elita, I didn't expect to see them lying on the floor in the corner, leaning against each other and recharging. After Chromia told me about Elita's creators, I immediately started looking for Optimus, hoping to tell him before he ran into Elita. The entire base had gotten into the search, and had been looking all night. Ironhide even went to the measures of preparing the box which would contain Optimus's remains. Well, what would still be salvageable, as he put it.

:Hey Hatchet, you find them yet?: Jazz asked over the comm. link.

For once I didn't mind being called Hatchet. :Yes, and Optimus is still intact too.:

:That mech is good.:

I returned my attention to the sparkmates, and noticed Elita's helm resting on Optimus's servo, the one that had all the crazy pick-up lines scribbled on it. I smiled, I guess he did have a plan.

So there you have it! I haven't seen an Optimus proposing to Elita story here yet, so I thought it would be fun to write one! Also, what do you think Optimus and Elita's theme song should be? I'm thinking 'Those Nights' by Skillet of 'Vanilla Twilight' by Owl City. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!