So Megatron is de-aged and people on cybertron are concerned about what's happening on the Lost light because of the news of their shenanigans, so when the lostlight unexpectedly gets relatively close to a station where an officer is posted or to cybertron its self, someone takes the opportunity to do an inspection. (I'm thinking Prowl but it could be anyone).
They were not expecting Batmobile with her children cuddled up in her arms walking into the dispensary with a large but soft looking organic blanket draped over her frame...
(Hear me out, Cybertron is terrified about a rogue Decepticon Warlord and Optimus has no clue to feel about his old nemesis, a wayward Prime, and a feral racecar.)
Everyone was highly concerned with the lack of intergalactic accidents and the sudden silence of bad press spearheaded by the Lost Light.
By sheer chance, the dispatched party from Cybertron managed to reach the checkpoint of a planet from the buffering zone between Cybertron and her colonies' space and the Galactic Council's outermost edges, the wayward ship sent an incoming message to dock to a relatively neutral species.
Said species had sent an official warning to Cybertron and an unofficial non-hostilities agreement due to the Lost Light's recent actions on single-handedly dealing with the plague of space privacy in their region.
Optimus mobilized a heavy-hitter group with Starscream's begrudging blessing under the barest pretensions of an inspection.
Ultra Magnus is unflappable as always. Ratchet seems to be his usual gruff self. Quite a few familiar faces are still active among the crew -Perceptor, Brainstorm, Bluestreak, and Smokescreen, and a handful of new ones.
The most conspicuous new mecha has a white visor with a large frame swaddled in a larger blanket, and even in the distance, there are the unmistakable squeaks and chirps of sleep-addled sparklings.
The moment a very familiar face pops up, the comms lights up in a flurry of activity.
:: -not really surprised. But wouldn't Rodimus- ::
:: -had to be a really spot of trouble to keep the mech down- ::
Another helm pops out, frame so tiny and optics at half power, a yawn to show off an endearingly toothy mouth.
:: Oh, frag, even Drift- ::
:: -think those idiots had a bet? I wouldn't put it -::
:: -I knew racecars ran fast, but damn- ::
Of course, when a small grey face appears, everyone lost their fragging minds.
Meanwhile, Optimus' own glossa stills, turning into a weighted lump as he picks up the total familiarity of those flickering fields enmeshed in the strangers'. The Matrix has quite a few unique powers, including the ability to memorize and recall everyone's signature. There's no way that these three are merely sparklings of infamous mechs.
Megaton manages to lock optics with Optimus and immediately bursts into loud tears, which sets off Rodimus and drives Drift back underneath the blanket.
Whatever tension deflates in, by Jazz's words, this "powder keg of a Mexican standoff" trails into silent awkwardness as you attempt to wrangle the distressed, squirming sparklings onto separate shoulders.
Ratchet pinches his nose and Ultra Magnus drops another bomb, "Y/N, you're dismissed along with your charges."
"Roger that, acting captain." You nod in agreement and make your way back to the ship.
There's renewed screaming over the comms on this "newfound slag and fuckery," another of Jazz's phrases, and Optimus can't help but keep his optics on your back. Drift makes no reappearance, remaining a still lump attached along your seams. Meanwhile, Rodimus' face is wet as he peeks over a shoulder and Megatron refuses to lift his helm away from your neck.