Self-indulgence (TFP!OptimusxReader)
Summary: When all is said and done and the kids are back home for the night, Reader sneaks through the base for a midnight snack…
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The base had a small sense of belonging in a horror movie as you walked down the halls, bare feet making small sounds against the concrete floor with each step. A yawn escapes your lips, but you pushed the sleepiness back, choosing to continue to, heh, ‘hunt your prey.
With, of course, the said prey being a plate of triple chocolate chip cookies and some fudge Jack, his mother June and Raph made for the small party tomorrow… or was it today? You didn’t know the time, only that it was most likely past midnight as even Ratchet was in his alt-form, recharging almost peacefully.
Moving to the kitchen that was essentially left untouched, you looked around in guilt before quite literally sneaking your hand into the cookie jar.
“What are you doing?”
Whirling around, hand still in the jar, you did your best to put on an innocent face, though it was hard when the sleepy facial plates of Optimus Prime stared back. “N-nothing,” you manage to squeak out.
He raised a ridge, and you felt your shoulders slump. There was only one time you had managed to lie to him, and less than an hour after that, you had fessed up the truth simply because you felt bad.
“I wanted something sweet,” you grumbled, bringing the jar out from behind your back, grimacing as you saw that your hand was now obviously stuck.
“I believe the term is ’caught red-handed’,” he remarked before transforming, holoform leaving the cab a second later. He took your free hand and guided you to one of the prep tables, giving you an amused look as he gazed at your trapped hand. “Could the frozen cream not satisfied your needs?”
“Ice Cream, Optimus,” you sighed. “And I just… really wanted a cookie.” He shot you a look, that one of slight confusion you’ve come to love oh so dearly, before ever so gently starting to tug at your hand.
After a few minutes, your left hand was free, the two rings sparkling freely as you rubbed your agitated wrist. “Did you learn your lesson?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your hair.
“Yes,” you responded, a bit mulishly.
“And?” He murmured, head now at the crook of your neck and shoulder.
“Don’t get your hand caught when stealing cookies from the cookie jar.”
You couldn’t even feel miffed when your husband let out a hearty laugh, smiling yourself.
