Boulder -RB-

Bots liked you. Well… kinda. You were what some would call a flirt, which wasn’t your fault. You were just that charming. It came naturally, the smirks, the tone, the way you leaned just a little too close when you talked. You knew how to make optics linger on you, how to make a simple comment sound like something more. Hell, you even dated Ratchet at one point, and that alone said a lot. If you could get him to crack even a little, you could get anyone. You could say you were a natural at it, really.

But when the war started, you didn’t stop. If anything, you got worse.

Some bots complained, quietly at first, then louder. They said you were distracting, inappropriate, not taking things seriously. You brushed it off every time, rolling your optics, tossing a comment back just to get under their plating. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand the situation. You just coped differently. And if that meant flirting your way through stress and chaos, then so be it.

Eventually, Optimus got tired of it.

So he sent you off with the rescue team, Heatwave, or whatever you liked to call him when you felt like pushing his buttons. Apparently a change of environment would help you refocus. Yeah. Sure.

Everyone there was a complete buzzkill.

It made you want to roll your optics and just deactivate for a few cycles.

Blades was loud, painfully loud, always talking, always moving, always in your space whether you wanted him there or not. Chase was… well, Chase was there. Stiff, rule obsessed, like talking to a wall that occasionally cited protocol at you. And Heatwave was a hard mech, no humor, no patience, nothing but orders and that constant look that said he was already done with you.

But then there was Boulder.

Boulder was different.

Kind. Soft in a way most bots weren’t anymore. Big, sturdy, dependable, and genuinely good. Not fake nice, not polite for the sake of it nice. Real. The kind of mech who listened when you talked, who helped without being asked, who smiled like he actually meant it.

And that captivated you.

Years passed. Actual years, stuck in Griffin Rock, running rescues, dealing with humans, dealing with Optimus occasionally checking in and getting on you for trying to flirt with him, which was a joke by the way. Mostly. Kinda.

But Boulder stayed the same.

And dealing with him was interesting.

You started small. Dropping hints here and there, nothing too obvious. A lingering touch, a compliment that stretched just a bit longer than necessary. Sometimes you’d hold a tiny flower in your servos when you handed him something, acting like it was nothing, like it just happened to be there.

You even asked Graham for help once.

Big mistake.

That mech was completely clueless. Every single time he would just smile, bright and oblivious, thank you warmly, and walk off like you had not just tried to hand him your spark in the form of a flower. It was almost painful.

To everyone else, it was hilarious.

You had a reputation, after all. The one who always got what they wanted, who could charm anyone, who never missed. And here you were, completely fumbling over the one mech who did not even realize you were trying.

So you made a plan.

Dani ended up helping without even knowing it. She was rambling about some human girl problems, something about her boyfriend, something about needing space, something about fixing things, but you were not really listening.

All you could think about was Boulder.

She showed you an empty, dirty patch of land, talking about how it could be turned into something nice, something meaningful. And that clicked.

So you set it up.

As a surprise, you brought Boulder out there, carrying gardening tools, supplies scattered around like you had been working on it for a while. Dirt clung to your servos, smudged across your plating just enough to make it look real.

“Is all this for us?”

You nodded your helm, a flirty smirk already forming, ready to finally land something after all this time.

And then it crumbled.

“I’m sure Blades will wanna join us!”

You froze for half a second as he started to turn away, already thinking about including everyone else, already making it a group thing.

No.

You hurriedly grabbed his arm, stopping him mid step, your grip just firm enough to keep his attention. You tried to explain with gestures, pointed looks, making it clear this was supposed to be just you and him.

Just the two of you.

Boulder blinked at you, optics glowing a warm orange, bright and completely confused.

“Shouldn’t we do it with the others? Like a team? I’m sure it’s a great bonding experience?”

Those warm orange optics stared right at you like this made perfect sense.