Redline

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Part 8

Optimus made her circle around the lot several times, letting her practice until she was capable of shifting between gears without the aid of the clutch. He would not let her go past second gear— as it was, there were still a couple of times where Mikaela had made a mistake. Once, she had accidentally stalled him while trying to get him rolling from a dead stop, and another time, she'd meant to slide him into second, but had not been moving fast enough. It did not go in—the shifter had with trembled with the guttural, hair-raising noise of a missed gear.

"Oh shit!" she gasped immediately, releasing the shifter as though it had burned her. "Sorry!"

The Peterbilt shuddered a little but then the stick slid forward into second of its own accord. "It's perfectly fine," said Optimus calmly. "Mistakes happen, Mikaela, and you are still doing well."

"Are you sure?" she asked, feeling guilty. "You—you're not hurt, are you? That sound always seems like it would be painful…"

"No. Remember who you are talking to, Mikaela… it would take more than that to wear my transmission out."

The rearview tilted at her, momentarily showing off its darkened tint. It was the closest the Autobot could come to winking at her in this form.

Mikaela relaxed. Some of the embarrassment she had felt was eased by the knowledge that he was not upset. That was the most awkward thing about learning to drive with an Autobot as your instructor—if you did make a mistake, not only did you have someone continually observing you who would, without doubt, notice, but you also had the potential to hurt them. Even though she knew that the Autobot leader was very tough with inhuman reflexes that were much greater than hers and that he could easily take control back before she did manage to break something, she was still cautious. She couldn't imagine how terrible she'd feel if she somehow managed to harm him.

"I just want to make sure." Mikaela redoubled her grip on the gearstick's knob. "The last thing I need is to break you somehow…"

"That is not going to happen," Optimus comforted her. "Although… you could benefit from handling that a little better, next time," he teased.

She knew that he was joking, but she still could have kicked him.

"Oh, really?" Mikaela scoffed, ignoring the way the truck growled in response to her command to accelerate. "Well maybe it would be a lot easier to shift if you didn't have such a huge gearshift, Optimus Prime!"

It was immediately apparent that she had hit a nerve. The truck's engine spluttered in surprise, nearly stalling out.

Oh no you don't—Mikaela stepped on the gas, revving the engine as she smirked. You had that coming, you god damned sassy Peterbilt, she thought to herself as the sheer power and vibration thrummed through her seat. See what you have to say about this—no third gear yet, my ass—

Catching him off-guard, he was unable to prevent her from upshifting. While she'd expected the Peterbilt to produce the usual low, rumbling diesel growl in third gear, she did not expect to hear the engine purring even before she'd gotten the thing in the right slot—but as soon as her fingers had closed around the shifter's knob and gripped it tightly she'd felt the truck's RPM jump without her help.

"Jesus, Optimus," Mikaela frowned, confused. "A little enthusiastic?"

Optimus chuckled hesitantly, and over the radio, his voice sounded different—there was a distinct undertone of something she could not quite place. He sounded almost nervous. "…You are not the only one who likes to drive fast…"

He had sounded shy.

But just as this had occurred to her, she noticed that it fit with the truck's body language—the phosphorescent-cobalt glow of the radio was abnormally radiant and the dash's lighted gauges shone bright white.

Was he blushing?

Oh, now she just had to say something to make him blush even more, if that was the case. Just to see. You know, to test whether or not she was right.

'Cause it wasn't like it was very easy to tell if the giant Peterbilt truck was bashful or not, on account of him not technically having a face.

"And what about being driven fast?" she said.

She thought she detected the smallest spike in RPM, and checked the dash, just to be sure. The tachometer needle rose a minuscule amount, just as the light behind it flickered and then Optimus answered in a voice that was very clearly more quiet and reserved than he usually was.

"I can't say that I… see any reason as to why that would be any less enjoyable," he said.

So much hesitation was in the normally-smooth Autobot's voice, it was adorable—but something about it made her start to think.

"Optimus," Mikaela said suddenly, voicing her thoughts. "Have you ever had somebody else drive you before?"

The Autobot leader was slow to respond. "…No," he said finally. "No, I have not…"

She was so distracted by his response that she almost crashed. At the last second, she span the wheel, turning sharply to avoid running straight into the very-solid garbage bins—but she missed third gear and for the second time, the Peterbilt ground out the most horrible sound. Mikaela gasped, horrified with herself.

"Ah," she squeaked, "I'm so sorry, I got distracted, Optimus—you really have never had anyone drive you before? I'm the first?" She was shocked. "I mean, fair enough… you guys probably didn't like, go around driving each other around on Cybertron… But you could have had someone drive you on earth by now. You… you have driven someone else around as a passenger before though, right?"

"No," the Peterbilt answered in a very gravelly, deep voice. "…But I am honored to have you as the first, Mikaela."

"Well, jeez, Optimus," she answered, feeling flattered. "Thank you!"

It made her wonder whether maybe there was a flirtatious undertone to what he'd said.

The idea of him flirting with her on purpose had never really left the back of her mind even after she'd outright asked Optimus about it. She knew that the giant Peterbilt had a knack for just being nice, which would explain everything, and that he would always deny any ulterior motivations, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that there was somehow more to it than he was letting on.

Not that she was complaining. It was damn cute when he said things that sounded so unorthodox coming from him just like that was, in his usual trying-to-be-so-professional, I-am-the-leader-of-the-Autobots type way. It reminded her of Sam, almost—only, Sam was a lot dorkier, and a lot more apt to put his own foot in his mouth.

But I am honored to have you as the first, Mikaela.

So she was the first human he'd even driven around with inside of his cab. It did explain a lot—like why she felt like he had been trying to 'show off'—apparently this was a thing that men of all species enjoyed doing to females, then, regardless of how hard Optimus would try to deny it.

But when was the last time that he'd even been around a woman in a non-professional environment, then?

"Optimus…" asked Mikaela slowly, "does that mean that you haven't—god, Optimus, when was the last time you were even around a lady besides me?"

"…Arcee?" he pointed out.

"Oh—um, not what I meant, boss. I meant, errrrr, outside of work. When's the last time you were with a lady," she hesitated, realizing how bad what she'd just said sounded. "I mean! That's not—no, I… oh my god." Her face turned bright red. "I just meant, like, hanging out? Going for coffee, or something? Not—"

The entire truck shook with Optimus's laughter. "Hah!" he chuckled before continuing in a serious tone. "I understand what you mean. And the last time I entertained the company of a femme—that is to say, a female, in your terms—while I was off-duty, was a very, very long time ago. Long enough ago that our planet still existed, and was still habitable."

Mikaela's foot accidentally pressed rather hard on the accelerator, and the truck rumbled forward noisily.

"You haven't been on a date since then?" she asked, shocked.

Optimus proceeded to explain that he'd mostly just been too busy—there was an Autobot 'femme' he'd had his 'eye' on for a very long time, and he was pretty sure that the feeling was still mutual—but they were at war with the Decepticons, and not only did they just not have time for such things, but romantic interests posed a risk he could not take.

"I do not like to admit this," Optimus sighed heavily over the radio, "but sometimes, I do wish it was different. As you already know, I have little time even for myself these days… I must stay focussed… even if it is, ah, a rather lonely lifestyle."

Mikaela immediately felt a sharp pang for the Autobot leader. What must it be like, to live your days with nothing but the promise of endless war? She knew that Optimus did have things he looked forward to, and he always had the company of the other Autobots and the handful of humans he'd managed to befriend, but she couldn't imagine how alone he must feel in the downtimes.

Optimus Prime had clearly known almost nothing aside from responsibility for years. The heavy weight of the Autobot's survival weighed on him relentlessly. It made her feel even gladder that somehow, she had been the one to make him realize how badly he needed to take a break, even if only just for the afternoon.

Seeking to comfort him, she reached out and brushed her palm against his dash, letting the pad of her thumb run along its underside, trying to put everything she was feeling into the action.

He sighed even more heavily, and she felt the entire vehicle shake.

Even just the touch could make him tremble, she realized. It was heartbreaking to think of him as being so starved for affection. It was so clear to her now, not only why he had been so eager to take her out to practice driving, but why he'd seemed to enjoy her company so much (even the teasing comments—which he had done a fine job at throwing right back at her thus far) and why he had seemed to share so deeply in her excitement.

The Autobot leader was just undeniably lonely.

"I'm so sorry, Optimus," she whispered, still running her thumb under the lip of the dash. "I wish there was something I could do…"

She wanted so badly to do something to console him. It would have been so nice to hug him—but how could she hug a giant Peterbilt truck?

"Forget what I have said, Mikaela," he said in a would-be cheerful voice that instead came across as quite hollow. "It is not your fault. It is not anybody's fault, but simply the way fate has fallen. But you… you have done wonders to help so far today. I am in your debt…"

"Oh, shush. You already know that's not true. This was all about you helping me, not the other way around."

He was silent for a moment. "…Thank you, Mikaela."

But somehow a simple 'you're welcome' didn't feel like it was going to cut it. Still partly lost in the aftermath of the adrenaline surge she'd experienced earlier and overcome with emotion, she found herself leaning forward into the steering wheel. Her body was reacting of its own accord and before she knew what she was doing she had squeezed the wheel against her chest as tight as she could and had planted a small, gentle kiss to the top of it.

"Oh my—" Mikaela gasped in surprise as she had accidentally triggered the horn with the tightness of the hug (or so she thought she must have, even though in reality she hadn't noticed herself gripping him that hard), and let go immediately in embarrassment. "Ah… whoops, I—ahhhhhh—"

Having let go of every instrument she was supposed to be handling, the truck span out of control before she'd thought to remove her foot from the gas—Optimus took control back in a nick of time, narrowly avoiding running straight into a chain-link fence by slamming on the brake.

"Shit," Mikaela panted, trying to catch her breath as the nose of the Peterbilt stopped inches from the fence. "Shit, shit, holy shit, I'm so sorry…"

"Primus…" came Optimus's voice, and she noticed that he, too, sounded breathless. "That was—I—"

"I know," she choked, holding her hand against her heart. "I almost killed us."

Optimus was confused. "What?"

"What d'you mean, 'what'?"

"I mean, I, ah—I didn't expect that—"

Mikaela stared at the rearview. "Yyyyyeah, me neither," she said, also confused. "Are you feeling okay, Optimus? I didn't hurt you—?"

"I… no, Mikaela, I am not hurt. Never mind—I was just… surprised. By your kiss, that was all."

She felt her cheeks burn red-hot. "Is that what's got you all flustered?" she laughed, relieved. "Hasn't the big, bad Optimus Prime ever been kissed on the steering wheel before?"

There was no doubt about it this time—all of the dashboard lights flickered, and the radio dial suddenly rotated to play an array of static interference and jumbled-up clips before Optimus's voice broke through. "N-no, definitely not," he said jerkily.

"Glad I had the chance to fix that, then," she grinned evilly before slapping her hand rather enthusiastically back over the knob of the gearstick and squeezing, ignoring the way the rig's windshield wipers flicked on and off once as she did so. "So! Are you gonna let me take this thing out on the real road or what, boss?"

"If… if you are sure…"

It was adorable, she thought, the way that the big, huge, somewhat intimidating Autobot leader's rock-hard exterior was cracking into a shy, bashful mess and it was all her fault. In the back of her mind, she thought of Sam, and how he'd probably be uncomfortable with her teasing the Autobot so much—but Sam was not here, and it was all in good fun… it wasn't like she was serious about it, or anything.

Just 'cause deep down she found him super sexy didn't mean she was about to lose her cool...

Mikaela had self-control, even if it was hard to ignore that the Peterbilt would rumble her seat in just the right way…

What was a little more fun, anyways? A little more fun wasn't going to hurt anyone, she thought as she slid the transmission into third and tweaked the steering wheel, heading for the gravel lot's exit.

She'd just drive him around town… just to the other end of it and back, once… and then back to the highway… and then maybe, a long time later, back to NEST headquarters…

After all, it was only two o'clock, and Optimus had promised her to be out at least 'til sundown…