Optimus is possessive over his babe,
As demonstrated in this quick crack fic, featuring Wheeljack. Bought to you by A Depressed Aro™️
"Have your legs gotten curvier since the last time I saw you?"
"I'm trying to work, Wheeljack."
"Gotcha, Sunshine. I'll be sitting over there. . . I like the show from behind, anyway."
"Ugh."
Wheeljack strode off, that cocky smirk of his plastered proudly on his face. Getting to flirt with Ratchet was probably the highlight of visiting the Autobot base, aside from seeing his friends. He had been trying to talk the medic into his berth for years now, and took each snarky dismissal in stride. He was no quitter.
What the wrecker didn't know was that Ratchet was very much taken.
Optimus entered the main hangar, glancing around at it's emptiness. It appeared that Ratchet and Wheeljack were the only ones present. He looked over at his mate, observing for a moment as he bent over to scoop up a fallen tool. The ghost of a smile played with the edges of his lips; Ratchet was a very pretty mech, watching him was always a treat. His spark swelled with affection. He took his gaze away from Ratchet to observe Wheeljack, and was surprised to find the wrecker intently staring at his mate.
Optimus noted with curiosity how Wheeljack was smirking widely. What about Ratchet was so amusing? He strode over casually, greeting kindly.
"Hey, Chief." Wheeljack barely spared him a glance. After a moment of Optimus watching him, he flashed a grin. "I'm just enjoying the view."
The Prime followed his gaze, looking at his medic briefly. "The view?"
The wrecker gestured towards Ratchet, engines humming pleasantly as the medic bent over a second time. "Damn nice aft on him," the white mech said more to himself than anyone.
Ah.
"Well, I cannot disagree." Optimus admitted aloud, venting. He recieved a look of pleasant surprise. It wasn't like him to speak like that in front of his soldiers, if at all.
Wheeljack quirked an optic ridge, grinning. "I can't believe you've known him for eons upon eons and haven't fragged him. In the short time I've known him, it's all I try to do."
That made Optimus inwardly cringe. Had Wheeljack been attempting to seduce Ratchet for that long? He was surprised that Ratchet hadn't told him, but he also knew how utterly uninterested Ratchet was in anyone but his Prime. Even still, this ignitated a more. . . Possessive side of him.
Wheeljack was wildly far off by assuming Optimus had never interfaced with his medic. Just the night before, Ratchet had thrown himself onto Optimus' lap and demanded a frag. Of course, Wheeljack couldn't have known that.
"You misunderstand my relationship with my physician." Optimus answered simply. Before the wrecker could reply, he strode over to his mate, greeting him with a warm smile and a servo on his shoulder. "Ratchet," he murmured quietly, his affectionate field reaching out to intertwine with the medic's. Ratchet looked up at him tiredly, but softened at the sight of that benevolent, forgiving smile of his. Optimus dipped down and caught his lips, gentle and sweet. His mate vented, reaching up to brush his cheek, his taut shoulders relaxing and his tires tension giving way to calm serenity. Before the kiss could end, Optimus slipped his servo down from Ratchet's shoulder to cup his aft, pulling their frames together, squeezing a soft noise from Ratchet.
"You'd better knock that off," his mate whispered playfully against his lips. "I don't have time for you right now."
"Take a break soon, Old Friend. I would love to relieve your stress." Optimus gave his aft one last longing squeeze, to which he recieved a glare.
The pair parted, and Optimus turned his helm to glimpse Wheeljack's reaction. The white mech was sitting back, dazed, his shock slowly turning into a smirk. As Optimus approached him, he held up his servos in surrender.
"I get it, that aft is all yours. I won't tread on your turf again, Chief."
"I'm glad we've reached an agreement."
