So, here goes the epilogue. It's been fun posting for you, I hope the 200+ of you had fun reading.

I currently have no intention to write more of this, or even ideas what to write about.

The narrator of this bit appears courtesy of the shadowcat. Thanks!


Epilogue – twenty years later

It would have been an absolute faux pas not to turn up, so Rob Moss was minus one free evening.

No, really. Or relatively, at least, because being President of the United States of America wasn't something you could leave on a hook by the door like any other job.

But, thanks to some cosmic sick humor, he had to listen to a bunch of officials make speeches and do a bit of offering platitudes himself.

It did not help that two of the other four were giant alien robots.

It wasn't Rob's first time to the Cybertronian embassy in New York City, but he'd sure never seen quite as many of those robots about, and it was fairly creepy how they sat on their big chairs in the back of the room, humming and hissing quietly like very silent cars idling. They'd made an interesting feature on TV when he was younger, and his teenaged daughters had giggled over the Prime's voice for a while, until they'd met the 28 foot reality.

Truth was, Rob Moss wasn't really sure he liked to have them in the same solar system with humanity, much less the next planet over, given that they currently only had an uneasy cease-fire with those Kaon Decepticons that didn't want the war to end. The exact details were never elaborated on; apparently, the then Decepticon Air commander was instigator of the peace process – by killing his commanding officer, no less.

Currently, said robot by the name of Starscream sat next to Prime, looking possibly more bored than Rob's daughters at family reunions. Rob wasn't exactly sure why Prime had brought him; he'd gathered that the robot now was the Cybertronian equivalent of the Democratic Party leader.

Eventually, everyone was done offering the usual trite stuff about love, peace and happiness and how good relations had become since the embassy had been established ten years ago.

To everyone's luck, Starscream hadn't insisted on speaking as well, because what little Rob knew of the robot's voice… suffice it to say it would have fit a cartoon character better than some 25 foot jet.

The mingling and sipping champagne part began then, and Rob spent two hours making polite small talk to his fellow VIPs. He talked to Prime for a little and was introduced to the "Cybertronian High Command", as it was put, including some stiff looking guy with doors for wings, Prowl, who was Prime's second in command, a robot with a visor sprouting slang named Jazz, Starscream and the intelligence coordinator, Soundwave.

The latter was possibly the creepiest individual Rob had ever met. He had no inflection when he spoke, hid his face behind a visor and a mask, and had absolutely no body language. There was no way to know what he thought about anything or if he even had emotions and opinions at all. The others, at least, had expressive faces, and you could believe they were well and truly alive, not some AI pulling a fast one.

Eventually, this, too passed, and everyone was ushered outside for some fireworks 'Cybertronian style'.

Granted, it let even the most elaborate Independence Day fireworks pale in comparison, and in the end, they had a glittering representation of Earth floating in the night sky that seemed to defy wind, gravity and logic.

Rob looked away long enough to find almost everyone still awed and getting a crick in their necks, even…

Oh.

There was Starscream, and Prime stood behind him, arms around his waist and chin resting on the shoulder thingie Starscream had. Like some teenaged couple.

Rob was definitely too surprised to be disgusted.

"Romeo'n'Juliet with a happy ending," a low voice next to Rob said.

He jumped, only to look into a glowing blue visor. This one was Jazz. "But. They're both males."

Jazz smirked. "Nope. They're both Cybertronians. We only come in one variety, parts wise, you see. Much like bacteria."

Rob nodded, though he really didn't quite…

"Maybe it's a not so subtle hint," Jazz continued. "About what is acceptable. I notice Mirage's been playing ambassador for the past ten years here, and you people still have no idea he's bonded."

That one, too? "Bonded?" It sounded… kinky.

"Soul mates for you. But, you know, I think you should stop ogling them…"

As if on cue, there was a flashlight from a camera, and Starscream wriggled out of Prime's grasp. It didn't help much, the reporter that had taken the picture made a bee line for them, Dictaphone out and at the ready.

He was denied, however, and it was just as well the entire thing was winding down, as quite a few people hadn't seen what was going on, and needed to be filled in.

The picture made the front pages the next morning, and Rob had to give it to his wife – they did look quite in love.