Ratchet finally left.

But not before pointing a giant metal finger at Harry and saying, "I will be back."

Which was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Because if there was one thing Ratchet never did, it was make empty threats.

Harry, of course, just grinned and gave him a casual salute. "Can't wait, Doc."

Jazz, standing stiffly beside him, could wait.

In fact, he was hoping Ratchet would get lost on the way back and never return.

Unfortunately, Jazz wasn't that lucky.

Because not even an hour later—

Ironhide rolled back into the lot.

And he didn't come alone.

The first warning sign was the sound of laughter.

Not the mechanical kind, either.

The human kind.

Jazz tensed as Ironhide transformed, and standing beside him were two men—one tall, broad, and military-pristine, the other grinning like he was already causing trouble.

William Lennox and Robert Epps.

Harry whistled. "Damn. More guests? Jazz, I didn't know you were this popular."

Jazz twitched. "I'm not."

Epps smirked. "Oh, I like him."

Ironhide huffed. "You say that now. Just wait."

Epps ignored him, stepping forward and offering a hand. "Robert Epps. Former military, current poor bastard roped into this whole alien war mess."

Harry shook it without hesitation. "Harry Potter. Former wizarding hero, current poor bastard running an auto shop."

Epps blinked. "Wait. Wizarding hero?"

Harry just smirked.

Lennox, stepping up beside Epps, shook his head. "Oh, great. Another weird one."

"Another?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Epps snorted. "We work with giant alien robots, man. You think this is normal?"

Harry laughed. "Fair point."

Jazz, standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching his human—yes, his—get chummy with these two, felt his last nerve snap.

"Alright, that's enough bonding," he growled, stepping between them. "Ain't y'all got somewhere else to be?"

Ironhide snorted. "Nah. We're stayin'."

Jazz twitched violently. "Why?"

Lennox smirked. "Because this is fun."

Jazz stared at them, then at Harry—who was now grinning like he was having the time of his life—and realized, in that moment, that he had lost.

This wasn't his shop anymore.

This wasn't his peace and quiet.

This was now an Autobot daycare with bonus humans, and he was stuck with them.

Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Cheer up, Jazz. You love me."

Jazz groaned. "I really, really don't."

Epps laughed. "Man, you so do."

And Jazz, resigned to his fate, decided that next time, he was shutting off his comms permanently.