The weight of responsibility felt crushing that evening as Optimus Primal lay restless in his hab suite.  While he felt like he did a decent enough job playing the hand he was dealt, trials like the ones his Maximals had faced as of late had only served to remind him that this was not what he signed up for when he boarded the Axalon.  He could take pride in the fact that his crew’s morale seemed to be stable in spite of it all, but it did little to ease the guilt he felt as a leader.  There had been too many close calls recently, too many stalemates.  Cybertron was so far from reach.  Peace was a pipe dream.

He sat up, dragging a servo down his faceplate.  There he was… doing it again.  He was internalizing too much and not bothering to heed his own advice.  If it were Cheetor feeling this way, he’d advise that the young mech find something to distract himself, some way to blow off some steam.  It’s impossible to expect someone to keep fighting if the only thing they have to look forward to is more fighting.  With a heavy ex-vent, he rose to his pedes, which carried him to the entrance of his quarters.  The doors wooshed open, and he soon found himself headed down the corridor towards the wash racks.  He was careful to keep his steps light as he crossed the Axalon.  The last thing he wanted to do is disturb anyone’s recharge.

Steam billowing from the wash racks on the Axalon didn’t quite serve as the warning that Optimus probably could have used.  Why would it?  His crew were soldiers sharing tight living quarters.  The definition of privacy had escaped Primal’s memory banks long ago.  He didn’t anticipate anything when he barged in, especially nothing so… risqué.

The sight of Dinobot’s clawed servos— those rough, disciplined servos forged with the sole purpose of wielding weapons and waging war, lathering the curves and contours of Hysteria’s exposed frame with a touch so delicate that only the most attentive of lovers could achieve was not one that Primal’s optics could ever have been prepared to observe.  It was no secret that the two had a special connection.  It had been the source of plenty of hushed whispers and stifled snickers among the Maximals.  Yet seeing them in the midst of such an intimate act was the first confirmation he had seen of the true nature of their bond.  His processors were telling him to back out and give them some privacy for the evening and worry about bringing them in to advise that they be a little more discreet in their rendezvous at another time.  Unfortunately, Primal couldn’t bring himself to move.  His curiosity had gotten the best of him.  It was surreal to see the typically brash, brutish warrior play a different role.  He played the part well, if the way that Hysteria had practically become molten metal against him was any indicator.

“… Do you intend on joining us, or are you content to just observe?”

This sudden snarky remark from Dinobot coupled with Hysteria’s playful giggling snapped Primal right out of his fugue.  He shook his helm and averted his optics, hearing his fans kick into high gear as his systems grew hot.  Neither of the two had acknowledged his presence prior to that comment, luring him into believing that somehow his presence had gone undetected.  Now, he was just embarrassed.

“… You two should be more careful,” he muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of authority.  “What if I was Rattrap?  The entire base would know about this already.”

Hysteria’s laughter only increased at the thought, and a low growl left Dinobot at the mere mention of the rodent.

“C’mon.  You really believe we’re that careless?” she asked, causing Primal’s brow ridge to raise.

“We are no fools, Optimus,” said Dinobot, his voice coming out as a low rumble as his arms coiled around his partner.  Perhaps he was just imagining things, but he swore there was an implication that this discovery of his might not have been entirely accidental.  Dinobot was too calm, too collected.  He was never one that could be described as laid back.  If he felt like his privacy was intruded, he would have lashed out.  Hysteria was no pushover either.  She was careful and calculating, sometimes far too cunning for her own good.  Between them, there was no lack of intelligence or caution.  No one would have found them like this unless it was their intention, and if that were true…

“… What exactly are you two getting at?”

Though Primal kept his tone steady, he could already feel his spike pressurizing.  If there was any credibility to his suspicions, then perhaps that question from Dinobot earlier might not have been so rhetorical.  The tension was getting as thick as the steam that engulfed all three of them.

Hysteria sighed, rolling her helm against Dinobot’s chest plate.  “Our leader isn’t one for subtlety, hm?”

“That does not appear to be the case…”

The femme pushed off of Dinobot and strolled forward to meet Optimus where he stood.

“You’re so tense lately…” she said.

“You are… distracted.  Disengaged,” the other mech continued.  “Allowing diffidence to fester puts the Maximals at a tactical disadvantage.”

“You need to loosen up, Optimus.  Allow someone else to take charge for once.”  Hysteria’s smaller servos held one of his and took a step back, beckoning him to follow her the mist. 

Though risky, the offer was enticing.  His performance had been hindered by this mounting pressure.  If anyone else had been slipping like this, it would have been unacceptable.  His optics drifted from Hysteria to Dinobot, then back to his servo in her grasp.  They were right.  He owed it to his crew to force himself out of this funk.

“So?” asked Hysteria.  “What do you say?”

Primal pulled his servo out of Hysteria’s hold, but allowed his expression to soften.  He took a step forward, throwing his arm over her shoulders.

“… That sounds just prime.”