[The answer alone softens his eyes, as if the weight of four million years is finally lifted. This Cybertronian in front of him was his. He had something after the war. The war that took everything close to him...all the mistakes he made...

He was able to save this.

His arm wraps around the other's waist, still keeping the opposite holding his face, although it moves to tilt his chin up. His spark is practically flaring, the warmth emanating beneath that armor.

Happy. That was what he was feeling.

Happy.

And the glow that had been lost to years of war now finally starts to show in his eyes, a smirk forming on those lips. The rare smirk of Optimus Prime.]

Not even you could force me to do something I don't want to. I am the one who raided the Senate despite any and all injuries.

[Orion, like Optimus, was stubborn.]