Autobot meeting

You stood quietly in the Autobot meeting room, arms crossed and optics scanning the space. As one of Optimus Prime’s most trusted—though he rarely showed favoritism—it was clear you held a unique position among the team. The son of a prime.

Around you, the rest of the team waited for Optimus to arrive and begin the briefing. Ratchet was focused, typing something rapidly into his datapad. Ultra Magnus stood rigid and silent near the front, ever the disciplined second-in-command. Arcee leaned against the wall beside you, calm but clearly alert.

he others… not so much.

“Seriously, how long does it take to walk down a hall?” Sideswipe groaned, spinning a small energon canister in his hands.

“Maybe he’s off having one of his dramatic speeches... alone,” Wheeljack muttered, smirking.

“Or polishing his armor for the fifth time today,” Hot Rod added with a chuckle.

“I knew I should’ve stayed in the training room,” Ironhide grumbled, arms crossed tightly.

Even Bumblebee let out an exaggerated sigh, tapping his foot while glancing toward the door.

Bulkhead shrugged. “Maybe there was a Decepticon flare-up. Or he’s just... Prime-late again.”

Cliffjumper leaned forward in his seat. “Bet he’s gonna walk in like nothing happened and expect us all to act normal.”

You exchanged a subtle look with Arcee, both of you used to this routine. Optimus was never late without reason—and when he finally walked through those doors, the room would shift in an instant.