So I've been engrossed in Transformers movies and Fanfiction the last couple of days, and despite publishing a pilot chapter, I wanted to throw out a oneshot! As always, the ladies in the series are always oversexualized hotties that are less than realistic (save Mikaela, will always love her despite how over-the-top hot she is, haha) so I wanted to throw out my own OC that is flawed, not so gracious, and...real? Does that make sense?
That being said I wanted to hint at a relationship between Optimus and humans that isn't so fanfiction conventional. Autobots don't understand the concept of romantic love, so it must be learned and felt through emotions and interactions...but humans, on the other hand, we're designed to love. So, a human woman would, no doubt, have feelings before Optimus long before he does her...and what that looks like is a jumbled mess of awkward. I wanted to hint at that in a oneshot, so ta-daaa, here it is!
Thanks for reading! It was fun to write and maybe I'll play around with some more ideas like this. REVIEWS APPRECIATED, ALWAYS! *shrugs*
EDIT - I changed Mia's name 12/21/21 to Miri instead of Mia. Something about her old name just didn't feel right. xoxox
The world was still outside, save the howling wind which rattled the walls of the barracks. The building walls, though fortified to military specifications, may as well have been made out of paper, because for a moment that was all she could focus on as she balanced an overloaded tote against her hip, dropping her purse on the counter, which was currently overwhelmed with a mountain of paperwork, files, and military intel better left undisturbed.
Her hip was beginning to ache as she moved from the counter to the small breakfast table, nestled in the corner of the breakfast nook. Her quarters in the barracks wasn't much - not far from the size of a studio apartment - but, it served her well as home when she wasn't, well, home. Ignoring the half filled coffee mug she'd left that morning on the table, she deposited the tote on the table, its weight rattling the odd contents scattered about the furniture's top. Popping the lid, she peered inside at the contents and nodded to herself, satisfied that everything was accounted for.
Retrieving the coffee mug, she was about to move back into the kitchen when the floor trembled only mildly beneath her. Pausing, she listened to the bay's overhead door lift with a loud, mechanical whine, the adjoining wall of her quarters quaking. She could hear the few pictures vibrating in place as the sound continued, until they fell still when the noise stopped. She smiled when she heard the familiar acceleration of a diesel engine, as well as the few rumbles it gave as it died. Satisfied at its closeness, she crossed to the sink, depositing the empty coffee down the drain. She began to fill the sink, intent to finish washing whatever few dishes shed' managed to ignore.
A soft knock on the barracks door made her pause. "Yeah, come in," was her response. She looked over it at, and turned off the running faucet with a bat of her hand. She dropped the few pieces of eatery in the strainer, then brushed the bubbling suds from her hands as the door opened a sliver, drawing her attention to it.
The figure stepped into the barracks, his presence seeming to fill the entire room by just stature alone. He closed the door softly, then turned to see her in the kitchen. She looked over to him, smiled, and nodded at him as she rinsed another dish, setting it in the drying rack next to the others. Moving towards her, his steps seemed small and practiced, so unlike his usual, commanding self.
"Hello, Miri," he greeted, his voice its clear, familiar tone that made her smile. She looked back to the task at hand, though she didn't stop smiling.
"You're finished early," she commented, gesturing with her head to the adjoining wall. "Not like you to call it quits so early." Early was a relative term when discussing the never-breached abyss of person that was Optimus Prime, leader of the nonbiological robot organisms that called themselves "Autobots." She'd been working for his operation for six months - an amount of time that would, to most, be considered adequate enough to get to know somebody - but not Optimus. She could know him forever and not know everything about the bot, and that was just fine by her.
The holoform image of the robotic leader moved to the other side of her counter, standing between two barstools as he studied her. His face showed a curious expression as he watched her hands beneath the soapy water, almost transfixed by her movements. She, on the other hand, couldn't stop looking over at him, her hands beginning to slow in their work. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat, feeling heat beginning to blossom on her cheeks.
"I grew tired of Director Galloway's obstinance," he murmured quietly, folding his hands on the counter. He leaned against it fully now. "He refuses to accept our decision to deny your military access to our technological advancements." He was quiet a moment more, releasing a deep sigh. "He is a stubborn man."
She nodded, snorting in derision. "Well, you both can be stubborn." He looked at her, a brow rising in surprise. Realizing her statement, her eyes widened and she whipped her head over to look at him, hands still plunged beneath the water. His look of surprise hadn't changed. "Not negating the fact that Galloway is still the biggest fraghead I've ever met," she stumbled to recover, noticing that the holoform's features had upturned into an amused smirk.
Turning back to the dishes, she tried to dismiss the heat in her face. From the corner of her eye she spotted him reach for one of the files in Mount Paperwork, plucking it graciously from mid-stack. Thumbing it open is eye scanned it briefly, looking bemused and...innocent. Almost like a man.
Prime rarely used the holoform in the presence of other people outside their private conversations. It was still fairly new technology to the Autobots, developed by the team's medical expert, Ratchet, who also oversaw much of the technological development of their allegiance with humans. "NEST," or the top-clearance military operation, had been established shortly after the Autobots' battle in Mission City against their enemies, the Decepticons. Realizing that the aliens were here to stay could only mean choosing a side in their intergalactic war, which had lasted on for eons - either fight with the Autobots, or fight against the Decepticons. The decision had been relatively easy, thanks to Optimus extending the proverbial olive branch of peace between the two races.
She almost forgot herself, jerking out of her revelry to step away from the sink. Reaching for a dishtowel hanging from the stove's handle, she moved her hands through it to dry them before crossing her arms over her chest, leaning a hip against the counter. "So is the government content with your decision? Or will they oppose it?"
His eyes flecked up from the file. "I am not sure," he stood and blinked once at her. "It is early to say. Deliberations will continue, I'm sure. But my resolve is certain. Your people are not ready for the responsibility that comes with weaponry as advanced as our own. It would bring more harm than good to this planet, especially if it found its way into the wrong hands." He looked back down the file, as if the subject between them had been closed.
She nodded once, taking in his statement. From the christening of NEST's foundation, Optimus and his team had all been against the idea of converging technology with the United States. Namely, for the sake of equality - they still failed to understand, to some degree, the shifting political sands of Earth, and how nations did not always see eye-to-eye. She'd explained that it wasn't so straightforward as the war on their planet had been - Decepticons and Autobots represented two factions on one planet. Earth had many factions and many difference reaches, and hardly anyone fully saw eye-to-eye. Optimus was beginning to understand that sharing weaponry advancements with one nation was not in the best interest of peace - and thus, would cause more harm to humanity than benefit.
"This is incorrect." He stated suddenly, his brow dropping into a furrow. She found it fascinating his holoform was able to express beyond his bi-pedal Cybertronian form, and it added an aspect of his personality she realized she admired. It would be easy to believe that Optimus Prime was just like them - just another man - in this form, when in reality, he was anything but. Glancing at the document in his hand, she tossed the dishtowel over her shoulder and frowned at him. "These logs aren't synced from our global positioning report." He looked up at her. "This readout puts you twelve miles from the landing zone in Madagascar. Did you have this authenticated?"
Crossing to the counter, she snatched it from his hand. "Of course I had it authenticated, "she asserted sharply. "I even checked them against the flight plan filed with control. They can't be incorrect." Scanning them, she jumped slightly when his finger hit the paper aggressively, pointing out the coordinates in question. She read the coordinates and went to cross-reference them with another log further back in the document, but Prime's finger was planted.
"They're wrong, Miri." His tone was final. She looked up at him. "Trust me on this."
She narrowed her eyes at him, the tug in the corner of her mouth signaling that she was less than serious. "Must be nice to have a processor that cross references each and every detail of our lives," she chimed at him, folding the front of the file closed with her thumb. She moved to toss it on the counter. "I'll flag it in administration tomorrow and have Lennox run an edit."
He smiled softly at her, his eyes dancing with their familiar glow. "Of course." He was quiet for a long moment, eyes scanning hers, seeming to take in every feature of her face. The holoform seemed so curious, as if he'd never seen her so closely before, though he'd spent hours with her in this form before. It was unnerving, and she looked away suddenly, feeling warmth spread through her blood.
Her stomach toppled over itself, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Practically ripping the dish cloth from her shoulder, she wrung her hands through it, turned back to the sink, and went to plunge her hands beneath the soap when she felt him move around the corner, closing distance between them. Her heart skipped once, she tossed the rag on the counter, and delved her hands beneath the water, reaching for the sponge and a dish. She relaxes, thankful the slight tremble in her hands was concealed.
His closeness was overwhelming; the familiar scent of diesel and steel made her senses swim, leaving her with a murky feeling inside. So many times she'd wishes things had been different. Of all the Autobots, she'd harbored a fondness for Optimus since the beginning of her family's employment with NEST as civilian contractors. The anonymity of NEST's true secret hadn't lasted long, and she'd been drawn to the alien commander right away. And then, when she'd been asked to work alongside the aliens directly, to help him and his team assimilate to Earth's more...administrative protocols, she'd been hesitant being let it on such a responsibility. Surely there were better people more suited to the job, she'd protested - but no. They'd wanted her. Requested her.
It was a thing that happened only in the movies. She was a nobody who's father had landed a military contract that would ensure they'd be taken care of for life. It was everything they'd been praying for as business-owners. Now, she and her brothers would be comfortable for life, with relationships that were not only one-of-a-kind, but also lifelong. She'd developed a fondness for the Autobots not so shared with most humans she'd ever met, and had grown to value them as more than friends and comrades. They were...family. But with Optimus...things were different. He hadn't hesitated to welcome her friendship with an openness that was genuine and pure. He had no idea how she felt - how she valued him more than any of the others. He didn't know because he wasn't like her - he was an alien, for God sakes. It didn't matter, and didn't change anything.
She wanted from him something she knew he wouldn't understand.
She steeled herself against the overwhelming feeling thudding against her ribcage, and lifted a dish to rinse under the faucet. She focused on the task, aware that he was silently watching beside her. Becoming so absorbed with the running water, she didn't even feel Prime come up behind her until his warmth enveloped her, standing a head and shoulders taller than she was over the sink. She froze, her throat closing as her heart skipped a sudden beat.
Not moving, his voice fell over her. "Show me what you're doing," he murmured. "This is fascinating." He dove his hand beneath a mound of bubbles and then lifted it, a handful of the white soap lifting as he drew it close. Within minutes they fizzled away, leaving his hand damp, with a slippery substance.
She folded her lower lip inward, trying not to laugh suddenly. Only Optimus Prime, leader of an elite species of alien robots, would think doing something as mundane as dishes would be fun. The statement mildly put her at ease, until he lowered his head over her shoulder, and reached for her hands beneath the water. His larger ones slid into hers perfectly, feeling hard and cool, almost like his Cybertronian hands did against her skin. Goosebumps jumped up her arms, and a shiver ran down her spine.
"What are you doing -"
His voice was low against her ear, as if he were aware of its presence in her very being. "Show me, Miri. I want to learn this."
The huskiness of his voice was overwhelming, and she felt her throat explode with heat. She swallowed thickly, her mouth feeling dry, as her pulse kicked to life in the vein along her neck. Her mind was becoming fuzzy with emotions, and a small, almost unnatural clench in her ovaries sent a spike of pain to her abdomen. Biting the inside of her cheek again, she felt the sudden urge to break away and burst out of the barracks, but she couldn't - Optimus would be devastated.
He never asked for anything. He was always the one to give. I can't deny him something as simple as dishes.
She released a slow breath. "Well, Optimus," she said slowly. "This is called doing dishes -"
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. "I've detected a rise in your blood pressure, Miri. Are you feeling well?"
The statement made her laugh, a nervous little laugh that sent her heart soaring at his innocence. She bit her lower lip, and looked down to her hands, where his still rested within. She lifted them from the beneath the surface, the soap and water trickling back into the sink. His rested gently within her palms, and she intertwined their fingers, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, before glancing over her shoulder to meet his concerned gaze.
"You just surprised me," she said quietly, quickly dismissing the lie. Well, it wasn't a total lie - more of a twisting of the truth. "Here. Let me show you how we humans do dishes, Optimus Prime." Lithely, released his hands, dipped beneath his huge arm, and moved behind him, gently coaxing him forward before the filled sink.
She was about to fully assume his former position, but swiftly realized that the alien's hulking form was just that, hulking. She couldn't see over his shoulders. He glanced over his shoulder at her, looking like a lost child with bubbly hands, still dripping over the sink. Smiling at him, she picked up a plate, lifted herself onto the counter beside him, and reached over to hand him the plate that was dirty.
Crossing a leg over the other, she gave him a cool look. "Start with this." He accepted the dinnerware, stared at it a moment, and she gestured to the sink. "These are dishes. We eat off of them at every meal, keeps us civilized and our surfaces clean. Easier to carry food around too." He nodded in a small way, holding the dish preciously between his monstrous hands. "After we use them, we wash them - otherwise, in some cases, humans can get sick with food poisoning."
He furrowed his brow. "Your fuel poisons you?" He looked back to the plate. "I did not realize what humans consume to fuel themselves can also harm them."
She shrugged a shoulder. "Well," she batted aside a fallen curl. "In most cases, it doesn't. But if food has spoiled, or expired, it can make us ill. Sometimes if it's also prepared improperly, in the case of meats, we can get diseases like Salmonella and stuff. As you can imagine, we try to avoid this - cleaning our dishes with soap and water, is almost like cleansing them - it keeps them from carrying diseases." She smiled at him, giggling at his bemused face. "It also isn't fun to eat off of dishes that someone else has used. Kinda gross, if you can imagine it."
He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "You humans," he shook his head. "So very different than us Cybertronians. Something as trivial as this has the capacity to harm you, if not properly cared for." He lowered the plate into the sudsy mound, it vanishing beneath the water with his hands. "Everything about Earth is so fragile."
She softly smiled at him, nodding. "That's true. But, that's what's so charming about us fleshlings," she referred to the term that Ironhide, the team's weapons specialist, used when referencing humanity. "You Autobots are so fascinating because you're different than we are. That's why I love being with you all - you give me perspective; aren't the same. You offer something different."
She dipped her hand beneath the water, her knuckles brushing against the back of his hand. She ignored the heat that blossomed on her nose, and instead found the sponge. Clenching it in her hands, she abruptly lifted it from the water, gave it a squeeze, and extended it to the Prime. He watched the water flow from the object, seemingly fascinated that it was able to retain water and then release it so effortlessly.
"This is a sponge," she explained. "We use it to wash the dish." She placed her hand beneath his arm and applied pressure, gesturing for him to lift his hands from the water. Still grasping the dish, she plucked it from his hands, and ran the sponge over the plate's surface, taking the grime and remains of spaghetti with it. With focused interest the Autobot commander watched her, his eyes glowing with interest. "You do this until it is clean and has nothing left on it."
He plucked the sponge from her hand. "I understand." Within an instant his hands and the sponge were beneath the water again. She watched him silently, gripping the edge of the counter as he rinsed the dishes, just relishing in the...humanness of his motions. Entirely focused on the musculature of his arms, she didn't see him drop the plate into the sink accidentally.
In a splash it vanished, colliding with the ceramic sink all too forcefully, despite the water. She heard the unmistakable break, and saw the genuine horror and look of panic erupt on his face as he heard it to. Before she could open her mouth to excuse his concern, Optimus dove his hands beneath the water, going for the dinnerware. His eyes were wide, and his features were clouded with red - he was blushing, she realized, which was fascinating.
Forgetting for a moment that he wasn't organic, she lunged after his hands. "Optimus, don't!" Grabbing his arm and pulling on it, he lifted his hands from the water. Two halves of the cracked plate were within his grasp, as well as the glowing blue area from between his fingers. Horrified, she grabbed his arm and pulled it to her, noticing the area that was beaming blue.
"What is this?" Her voice rose an octive, disbelieving. "Are you...are you hurt, Optimus?" The idea baffled her. She didn't know holoforms could be injured.
She'd seen many Autobot injuries during her six months with the outfit. After every skirmish, most of the Bots came back with battle wounds and injuries that Ratchet would, in turn, repair. More than once her father had assisted in banging out some dents and welding some parts. While his contract dictated the manufacturing of military R & D and not the care of alien Cybertronians, he'd developed a rapport with not only the Autobots, but the humans of NEST, by making himself available. He was a simple welder by trade, hired to handle the outsourcing and development of products and draw up plans on a military scale - and, these days, play mechanic to a bunch of alien machines. She witnessed firsthand how severely the Autobots could be damaged - and how much damage they could take.
Unbothered, he looked down to the area of concern. "Oh, this. It is nothing. It equates to a small scratch, as if my armor plating came into contact with a sharp corner. Energon is flowing to the area to repair it, much like human blood rushes to a wound." She drew his hand closer, studying the area. Within moments the glowing dulled to a mere shine, still present but not nearly as glimmering. After a few moments of her blood pulsing nervously, he chuckled, "I don't even feel it, Miri."
She blinked up at him. "Oh." Looking down to the wound again, she lifted the back of his hand to her lips, and pressed a soft kiss to the area. "Nothing ever hurts you, does it, Prime?" Her murmur was barely audible, but obviously triggered his attention, because when she looked up at him, she found him utterly transfixed on the moment, looking pleasantly surprised.
"Especially not now," he said, softly.
Her gut exploded, almost like that feeling when cool Pepto-Bismol collided with the heat of an upset stomach, sending a nauseous feeling swirling about her senses. Realizing what exactly she'd done, and how he'd responded, she dropped his hand in a deadpanned fashion. Hardly able to breathe much less respond, she rubbed her hands on her thighs, and looked way, trying to dismiss the beat of scarlet that painted her face. She realized she was sweating and embarrassed, and palmed the perspiration from her palms on her jeans. Uncomfortable and beyond her depth, she scratched her head, swung her legs back and forth on the counter, and drummed her fingers on her knees nervously.
Feeling stupid, she didn't look at him. "Well, in that case," she hopped off the counter, turned to face him, and went to reach across his chest for the other half of the plate. "I'll take this and throw it away -"
Distracted, her socked foot caught the corner of the rug, and she tripped forward fully into Optimus' holoform. He turned to help her, sending the jagged corner of the plate directly against her palm. She shouted, whimpered, and drew her hand back as she recovered from the slip, feeling the lingering sting of pain in her hand. Looking down at it, she saw the small wound, dribbling blood down her wrist, and went for the dishtowel on the counter. Pressing the cloth into her palm tightly, she looked up to find Optimus staring in absolute terror at the scene, still gripping his half of the plate.
"Miri, I'm...I'm sorry," he stammered, looking flustered. She could hardly believe it - she'd never seen Optimus off his game. He was always so calm and collected, the steadfast pillar of strength that NEST relied on. He'd kept a level head in every bad situation that had befallen them, and that's one of the things she so loved about him - nothing flustered the Prime.
She shook her head. "I'm alright, Prime, don't worry about it," she nodded to his half of the plate. "This will stop bleeding in a second." Drawing the wounded limb to her chest, she nodded to the sink. "Set that aside and I'll take care of it." He looked at her sympathetically, as if he were a puppy who'd made a mistake on accident. Her heart folded and it was terribly hard to breathe, taking in the genuine regret in his face.
He set aside the dish, and turned to face her. "Let's have a look, shall we?" He reached for her hand, his own hands still wet from the sink, the coolness of his skin flush against her own as he slipped her hand into the palm of his. He raised it, and studied the back of her hand a few moments, his fingertips light against her knuckles as he pressed his other hand over hers. Absolutely engrossed in his movements, she didn't even try to hide the goosebumps racing up her arms and down her legs. She hitched in a breath and held it, unable to trust herself to breathe properly.
His breathing was even, and she realized he wasn't even in the least bit uncomfortable. He was totally level-headed, entirely in his own element. In control and cool, as he always was. She was positive nothing on Earth could unnerve Optimus Prime, leader of the free Autobots - nothing short of God himself, anyway. Her eyes followed the ministrations of his hands, her spine alive with a tingling sensation so surreal she thought maybe, for a moment, she was dreaming. It was only when he looked up and locked his eyes with hers that she realized she was awake, thanks to the need to breathe. She released her breath slowly, swallowing a thick dryness that had staked itself in her mouth.
"You humans," he said with a smile, "your organic state is breathtaking. Something so fragile has the capacity for so many things. I've never witnessed anything like it." Bewildered by his statement, she stood there frozen, watching him turn her hand over in his palm. He removed the cloth from her hand, letting it fall to the floor. It had stopped pulsing blood, but was still fresh, slowly clotting against the air. It was still stinging, but hardly at all - she could hardly feel it, so engrossed in the warmth of his hands. "Your humanity is lovely."
Oh, Optimus. Without hesitation, he lifted her palm, and kissed the wound tenderly.
Stunned, her knees buckled forward, and for a moment she didn't think she'd remain standing. His lips were warm against her palm, so unlike the rest of him, and she couldn't help but release a small squeak of surprise. Biting her lower lip so tightly she thought it to the point of splitting, she only relaxed when he lowered her hand, and looked up to her face again, looking so kind and docile that it was alarming. The Prime had absolutely no idea what he was doing to her - no idea that she was unraveling beneath his gaze.
He scanned her features, and reached out his other hand to rub one of her fallen curls between his fingers. She blushed, grabbed his hand, and looked away from him, trying hard not to blush beneath his focus. Instead of releasing her curl, he moved the back of his hand to her face, his knuckles brushing against the softness of her cheek. Heat flushed throughout her entire body, and when he pressed his palm against the fullness of her cheek, she couldn't help but press into his touch.
He smiled at her, softly. "You have shown us so much kindness. Have taught me so much I have not known." He dropped his hand from her face, "I never thought it possible, but there is so much more to you than meets the eye. Much like us." Sensing the moment of intimacy had passed - and thanking her lucky stars that it had - she released an exhale of relief and tucked the curl he'd touched behind her ear.
She stepped up to him, now almost against his frame, and looked up into his face. Popping a brow of speculation, she challenged him. "Are you saying we aren't so different after all, Prime?"
He shrugged a shoulder at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight upturn. "Perhaps not as much as previously imagined." Without warning, he wrapped both of his large arms around her middle, and hauled her into the air, folding her against his chest. Squawking in protest, she pressed back against him, trying hard not to laugh as he turned back to cross to the sink. He reached up to take a breath of her hair, exhaling in relief at its familiar scent.
"Now," he chided teasingly, "let's finish these things called dishes."