Going back into that garage full of parts was bad enough, but it was far worse to find Arkvander in there.
"YOU AGAIN!?" she cried, backing into Grimlock, mid-cakebite.
His smile, slow and sweet and easy and beautiful, came up in delight at the sight of two things he never thought he'd see in his life. "You got him."
"ME GRIMLOCK EASY TO GET! NOW WHAT YOU WANT ME GRIMLOCK FOR?" Grimlock finished his second treat and transformed back into mech mode, galloping over to both.
"Grimlock, I am Dauber, and this is Arkvander. We need your help." Dauber gestured towards the piles and piles of sacrilege. Lyra recognized the energon dispenser, re-formatted. She also noticed that Arkvander was unlocking a small safe to bring out the personality chip she'd procured as Dauber told Grimlock what they needed from him.
Grimlock's face showed nothing, but his voice lowered 100 decibels to a threatening growl. "You know Me Grimlock can make new Autobot. No one know that."
"Remember Wheeljack? He built you. He used a certain personality chip that I KNOW for a fact knew how to make new 'bots. And Wheeljack got them from me...before every Autobot security system in the world learned to recognize me and vaporize me on the spot." Dauber put his hands on Grimlock. "That knowledge is in that brain of yours somewhere. I'm hoping it'll come to you as you go. Here-" The computer showed schematics of a wasp-looking mech. "This is Waspinator. We're bringing him back. With your help."
Grimlock nodded slowly. "Me Grimlock see. And Me Grimlock help. Then Me Grimlock smash whole place. No one else use Me Grimlock like this." He turned to Lyra. "You Lyra promise Me Grimlock more cake."
Lyra nodded.
"Good. Me Grimlock do it for more cake. And for Scientific advancement." That...was specific..."HAND ME GRIMLOCK SOLDER IRON!"
With a flurry of movement, the giant Dinobot gave Dauber orders. Arkvander slipped back to Lyra, who was backing out of the terrifying garage.
"Come here, I want to give you something," he announced, pulling her closer.
"Oh, really? What's that?" More than likely shoot her for finishing the three tasks. It would get them out of their side of the bargain.
He kissed her.
In the middle of mutilated corpses in a poorly-lit reverberating garage, with a madmech and a Dinobot to their left and Mercuria pacing the hallway to their right, he pressed up against her, holding her as tightly as he could, then pulled away before handing her the small model of Starscream.
"About last time..." He didn't even fidget. Hard as a rock, no disingenuous smile, nothing but purpose. "I stand by what I said. I love you. I don't just say that, I mean it." He gestured to the Starscream. "Keep that to remember me."
She didn't think. She just reached. Enveloped herself into as hard a hug as possible, enfolded in his arms. Deeply. Her head was the perfect height to be nestled in his shoulder. No kissing. After a moment, she worked up the courage to tap his back, to signify that he could let go...he didn't. A deep deep hold, only relinquished for him to kiss her forehead and back away, calling to Dauber that he would expect his equipment back the next day. Dauber made a noncommittal noise before Grimlock commanded more things. Arkvander turned and hurried out.
Lyra stared at the toy in her hands. Starscream was perfect. No flaws, no painting mistakes. The cruel upturn of his lip was a nice touch. Arkvander did nothing halfway.
Things were getting violent in the corner. Grimlock was welding and bellowing more orders to Dauber.
She...needed a moment. To sit at the table, perhaps.
Optimus Prime did not usually partake in communal beverage consumption in the main dining area as the others. He WANTED to, but he was always so busy! Time was incredibly difficult to acquire, being the most precious resource he had.
Other than his Autobots.
He had to keep reminding himself that. Energon with the others it was, this report on Megatron's odd prison population could wait a moment. He walked down the hallway, filled with Autobots scurrying and moving, all being really nice and taking a moment to say 'hi' to him. They didn't have to do that. It made him feel loved. Respected.
Bumblebee ran up to him. "Optimus! How's it going? Did you hear about Spike?"
"It's going well, Bumblebee, I'm on my way to get refreshment. Want to come with me?"
"Sure!"
The hallway was a little harder to navigate, but they did fine. "I had not heard about Spike. What happened?"
"He got a guitar for Christmas and finally learned a song? Want to hear it? He's in the commissary now."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Optimus replied. He was glad to be out and talking to people.
Before he'd walked out of his office he'd spent a few seconds pondering his options. He stood up, went to the shelf full of odd objects, and took down the small model of Elita-One. Whenever he required comfort or a moment to think he'd go to his shelf. Elita-One was a beautiful rendering from Drill Bit. He had been an amazing craftsmech. Rumor had it that he could build mechs from scratch. That was a tough but limited skill, so he'd been told, but several Autobots had admitted to knowing how. They just didn't want to, they claimed. Wheeljack dove into it when it was Dinobot creation time.
Grimlock and the other Dinobots had surrounded Spike, seated on the ground, legs crossed, ready and eager to hear. "Hey! Optimus! Nice to see you! "
"I came to hear your song," the Prime declared.
"Just in time! Two three four-" Spike strummed quickly and efficiently. Simple four-chord progression. Jazz and Prowl came in and ducked to the side, Prowl continuing his intended path, Jazz folding his arms and listening.
"AND AFTER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL
YOU'RE MAH WONDERWAAAAAAAAAAALL."
It seemed as though he were attempting a different accent. And the strumming slowed down. And he forgot the words. All in all, a solid C+. Everyone applauded politely when he finished.
Prowl had returned to Jazz, mugs in hands. "You clapped? I thought you said any douchebag could play that song," he commented.
Spike hadn't heard, but Optimus did. "WELL DONE, SPIKE!" he announced a little too loudly, patting him on the back. "What song will you learn next?"
"Well, I'm not sure yet. Maybe 'Creep.' Or some Dylan?" Jazz and Prowl cackled uproariously at that. Optimus gave them a LOOK.
"I'm sure whatever talent you have will come out with practice and hard work," he assured him, glaring at the two black-and-white Autobots who obviously didn't have enough to do. "Jazz! Prowl! I need status reports. Follow me."
"Wait, Optimus, you forgot your drink!" Bumblebee knew he wouldn't take a mug with him; commissary rules.
"I'll get it later." Always later.
Much later. When he came back, Grimlock was the only being there, silently coloring with giant crayons. Something pulled at him. He sat next to the Dinobot and said nothing, merely drinking his beverage.
"So...how are you?"
Silence. Grimlock's violent battle scene gained more orange laser shots at Laserbeak.
"Me Grimlock fine." He had a lower voice, weighted down by the sludge of resentment. Wheeljack had warned him that Grimlock had figured out that Optimus' redirection was a rejection.
"And the Dinobots?" This was getting awkward.
"They fine, too."
"That's good." This continued to be all wrong. They cared for each other. They knew it. But it was all wrong. It didn't work, it couldn't work, and it frustrated Optimus that he was expected to TRY, as though an attempt would mitigate the disaster that would follow. He couldn't tell Grimlock how he felt and couldn't show it. Grimlock held a grudge for it. "What are you drawing?"
"A picture." He selected a lovely shade of pink and outlined some of the energon cubes.
"Oh. It's. Lovely." This awkwardness was too much. He finished his beverage in silence, replaced his battle mask, and stood up. "I'll get going. See you later."
"Yes."
Never was an empty hallway so welcoming.