Optimus Prime - TFP

In this cycle, Cybertron shone differently. Iacon's main square was bathed in the soft light of holographic projections: ancient Prime symbols slowly rotated in the air, and music—old, pre-war—pulsed in time with the sparks.

The celebration was momentous. Resurgence of the Spark—the anniversary of the end of one of Cybertron's darkest periods and the adoption of the Autobot Oath to protect life, not power. It was a rare occasion: weapons were stowed away, patrols were reduced, and the tables were laden with drinks. Especially Engex.

A thick, glowing yellow form of Energon, deceptively mild in taste, making it easy to get drunk. And here... your mistake began.

You sat on the edge of the platform, your legs dangling in the air, your eyes a little brighter than usual, your movements a little too relaxed. The cube of Energon in your hand wasn't the first.

"I'm telling you,"
you said confidently, swaying slightly.

"Optimus doesn't know how to relax. He needs..."
You hiccupped.
"...finally have some real fun."

Arsi just smirked, looking somewhere past you.
"Yes,"
she said.

"That's what he's doing now."

You turned around. And saw him. Optimus was standing at the entrance to the square—tall, calm, far too sober for this celebration. His gaze immediately landed on you. He didn't quicken his pace. He didn't raise his voice. He simply approached.

"...ABOUT,"
you said, smiling wider than you intended.

"...There you are! You knew that this Energon..."

"...so insidious?"

He looked at the cube in your hand. Then at the second one next to it. Then at the third, empty one.

"I knew,"
he answered calmly.
"That's exactly why I came."

You tried to stand up. The attempt... wasn't very successful. Optimus was immediately at your side, holding you firmly but gently by the forearm.

"Hey,"
you objected, frowning.

"I'm standing just fine as is."

"Certainly,"
he said completely seriously.
"This is what the Autobots look like when they are 'perfectly positioned'."