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Optimus was a little too early for this meeting, but if he wasn’t, he’d end up being far too late. It did mean sitting a little awkwardly in a silent, empty room, half wondering if maybe the meeting location had been changed or if he was in the right room. Optimus was in the correct room, there wasn’t any other meeting room set aside for the Autobot Command, but still. Luckily, he wasn't quite alone.
“Where’s Jazz?” Asked a little voice, small servos clutching at the back ridge his chassis. Optimus turned his helm, looking at Bumblebee whose little helm was poking over his shoulder, wide optics scanning the empty room. The sparkling had decided he wanted to be carried around on the Prime’s back more often than not these orns, in some sort of phase or other according to Ratchet. It was cute, except the couple of times his finials got tugged because Bee kept squirming and nearly fell.
“Jazz will be here soon, we are early.” Optimus explained, wincing slightly as small pedes dug into a torsion seam on his back plating. He strode to his seat at the head of the table, bending to the side to let Bumblebee drop onto the table before sitting himself down. The little yellow and black youngling bounced on his pedes, door wings flapping in excitement. He was so small, just about optic level with Optimus while like this. He knew Bumblebee would grow with his future upgrades, but Optimus almost didn’t want him to.
“I have something to show him!”
“Afterwards, little one, unless Jazz surprises us by showing up before everymech else.” Optimus chuckled mostly to himself. Prowl would show up next, along with Ultra Magnus. Ratchet would either be on time or late, depending on how busy he was in the medical bay. Wheeljack? Who knew. Red Alert? Hopefully, Ironhide had grabbed him from the security office. Jazz, unpredictable, yet somehow he would know exactly what they had been discussing even if he never showed up. His High Command were an odd bunch of bolts and screws, but Optimus wouldn’t know what to do without them all.
“Did you bring your toys?” He asked Bee, subconsciously bringing his servo up to guide the sparkling away from the edge of the table when he started exploring. Somemech had left a stylus on the table and Bee scooped it up, something Optimus had to quickly snatch away when it headed towards the sparkling’s intake.
“Uh-huh!” A stuffed and slightly worn petro-rat teddy was extracted from the youngling’s subspace and then hugged tightly to his chassis. Despite the war, many of his Autobots had found toys and stuffies and other things for Bee to keep himself amused with. They all loved him, a miracle sparkling with the Well offline. A beacon of hope and happiness, as bright as his yellow paint.
“Good, I hope you will not be too bored, although this meeting should not be too long.”
“Will Elita be here?” His EM field was overflowing with an eagerness Bee often gave off whenever meeting new or old mecha. He was incredibly sociable, extroverted in a way Optimus had never been at his age, and still wasn't.
“Yes, she will.” Bee’s glee increased tenfold, reaching new heights that didn’t fail in infecting Optimus. He couldn’t help the joy the blossomed in his EM field, optics crinkling at their outer corners, his own excitement at seeing his conjunx growing, while his spark fluttered like he was a mechling going on his first date. “It has been some time since we have seen her, hasn’t it?”
“It’s been forever!” Bumblebee exaggerated, emphasising by throwing his arms out wide, his petro-rat being swung around in the air. Truthfully, it did feel like forever. Elita had been on a mission off-world for some time now, their only communications being limited long-range comms and the back and forth of emotions across their bond. Optimus dreamed of being able to hold Elita again, to feel her frame against his as they shared their sparks after so long apart. He wanted her to kiss him, to call him stupid for forgetting to recharge, to do things he shouldn’t voice around a sparkling–
A soft thud against his chassis drew Optimus back to the present, and he looked down to see Bee’s adorable faceplates smiling up at him, snuggled up on his chassis with his teddy squished underneath him.
“Hello, little one.” Optimus hummed, leaning back in his chair to set his pedes on the table, one crossed over the other. No other mech was here yet, so he felt like indulging like that. His vents exhaled as his protoform stretched and relaxed under warm plating.
“You’re comfy.” Bumblebee told him sweetly, yellow helm resting right over Optimus’ spark.
“Are you tired?” Optimus asked, recognising the signs. Usually, Bee was zipping around the room or talking Optimus’ helm off while they waited, but even with his excitement about seeing Elita, there was a subdued nature to the sparkling. Bee shook his helm, but the big yawn that followed betrayed him. “I hope you weren’t up late playing that game Gears gave you.”
“Promise.” Bee mumbled, tiny digits curling around one of his wind shield wipers while his bright optics slowly dimmed. Optimus’ smile grew, knowing Bee was lying, but he couldn’t be mad, not when he looked so precious. Reaching up, Optimus brushed his digits up and down Bee’s back strut, watching his doorwings quiver before settling down with the soothing gesture. Despite his energetic personality, it was never too hard to get Bumblebee to fall into recharge, especially if Optimus gave in and let him rest on his chassis. The heat of his engine and the hum of his spark eased the youngling into recharge, and Optimus could never say no to that.
With Bee recharging on his chassis, Optimus simply watched him with dim optics, dreading having to wake him in a half a breem.
~~~
Jazz had this saying - he was never late or early, simply showing up when he meant to. It was a lie of course, this time he was horribly late for a meeting, but who was gonna tell on him? Prime loved him too much to properly chastise him about it, and Prowler had no proof. Normally, Jazz would have entered the room with flare and dramatics, but as he went to kick the door open, it opened itself.
“Prowl!” He beamed, winking his visor at the lovely mech. Prowl didn’t smile back, glaring down at him over his chassis.
:: Communication Line ~ OPEN ~ Frequency:19428919.23059 Autobot.Priv.HighComm. ::
<<Prwl-HighComm.Tac.<< Comms only this meeting, Jazz
>>Jz-HighComm.SpecOps>> Huh? Why?
He asked, but Prowl just walked away without explanation. Jazz frowned and followed. He would have asked again, but everything became immediately clear the moment he took in the meeting room. Everybot was there, their datapads in front of them, the hologram in the middle of the table showing off a scan of some battlefield or other - standard stuff really. But, what initially made Jazz reset his visor and then grin when he realised it was actually there, was the most adorable moment he had ever seen.
Across the room, at the head of the table, in his typical chair was Optimus, however the mech was deep in recharge that Jazz could confidently guess was the first lot of rest he had got in deca-cycles. Adding to the cuteness of the recharging Prime was the little yellow and black shape nestled on his chassis, blanketed under one of Optimus’ large black servos, with one of Bee’s favourite stuffies poking out. Tiny little snores came from the sparkling, while gentle puffs of smoke left Optimus' smoke stacks.
Now, Jazz actually regretted being late.
>>Jz-HighComm.SpecOps>> I hope one’a you mechs got a picture or two
Jazz quietly took his spot at the table, a course of replies flooding through the comms.
<<Elta-HighComm.TIC<< Oh yeah, ‘course
<<Rcht-HighComm.CMO<< I’ve got like ten
<<UtrMgs-HighComm.SIC<< Saved and shared to you now, Jazz