imagine cleaning optimus in his alt mode.
you weren't expecting to clean an autobot when he rolled into your garage. in all honesty, he looked like just another freightliner, albeit with a very pretty, candy apple red paint job beneath all that grime. he's clearly in good condition, despite being unused for god knows how long. he just needs a deep clean before he can get back to work.
cleaning him's an intimate thing. cleaning and restoring trucks always is, but something about this one is different. as you scrub away the dirt and muck, you can see the scratches and scorch marks from past events you can't comprehend. you've never seen this sort of damage on a truck before. what sort of hell has this beauty been through?
as you start to clean his interior, that's when he wakes up. your tiny, gentle hands wiping down his dashboard are what clues him into something being in his subspace. at first, he thinks it's another vagrant in need of a warm spot to sleep, but no, this feels different. these hands are deliberate. they're slow, methodical. they feel... good.
he wakes up slowly, almost imperceptibly. his engine hums quietly, unusually quiet for a truck of his size. his lights begin to flicker on while your back is turned. his smokestacks go off with what almost sounds like some sort of cough. that's what grabs your attention, and you freeze where you are, asking yourself how did this thing start on its own...?
the radio crackles to life. amid the changing stations, eventually settling on some 60s rock, you hear a low, tired voice rumble all around you.
"thank you."