Someone liked the first one to sneak in a request for another chapter while the box was still open for them. :D

Yay for these cuties.

The Desk

"You're not listening at all, are you?" Ambus said, dropped his datapad down a few inches below the mark of the House of Ambus. Rodimus had his head sitting on his hand, and his optics were unfocused. Ambus twitched a finger on his datapad. Rodimus was daydreaming. "I already shortened the report at your request, Sir, so you have no excuse not to pay attention to this list."

"I'm listening," Rodimus said. He didn't move, aside from a tiny quirk at the side of his mouth. "I am."

"Oh?" Ambus tapped the pad on the top of Rodimus' desk. He leaned over, bracing one hand behind his back. Rodimus leaned away and back into his chair. "What was the last thing I said?"

"Your mustache is really cute," Rodimus said, innocent as a newly constructed bot.

Ambus threw the pad on the desk and collapsed in the guest chair. He rubbed the space between his optics. He knew it. He just knew Rodimus wasn't paying attention. Ambus was too old for this. He was far, far, far too old to be dealing with this young sparkling of a commander. Ambus covered his optics with the palm of his hand. "What, may I ask, is a mustache?"

"Your facial ornamentation," Rodimus said, holding up a finger under his nose. "The mark of the House of Ambus, or whatever. It looks like what humans called a mustache, which is a style of facial hair."

Ambus touched the tip of one of said ornaments. Rodimus was grinning now, tapping his cheek with a single finger. Ambus dropped his hand to the armrest. "And you were focusing on that instead of my safety report?"

"It's really hard not to. My second-in-command went from this huge, hulking behemoth to a little tiny dude with a mustache." Rodimus grinned and pushed the unread datapad around with his finger. He had to dip it down to shove it over one of the many knife carvings on the surface. Rodimus shrugged. "It's distracting."

Ambus sighed heavily. "I'm not removing the symbol of my House to satisfy your absurdly short attention span."

"Wouldn't want you to. It's cute." Rodimus drummed his fingers on the desk, having abandoned the datapad. He crawled up onto the desk and laid on it. Rodimus reached over and poked Ambus in the forehead. "You're cute."

"Rodimus, please don't do this. I know I don't have quite the same intimidating figure as before, but I ask that you make things worse by completely stripping me of any respect."

"You think I respect you less because I think you're cuter this way?" Rodimus sat up on his elbows, his face dropping. He looked almost wounded.

Ambus didn't fall for his turbopup eyes. "Yes."

Rodimus dropped down, setting his chin on the desktop. He wrapped his fingers around the edge of the desk and pouted. "Well, you're wrong. As far as I can tell, the only thing that changed about you Mr. Too-Many-Rules-Tyrest-Accord-Person, is your size."

"And?" Ambus asked, almost regretting it.

Rodimus perked up, pulling himself up and over the desk so that his feet hit the chair on either side of Ambus. He leaned forward and bumped his helm into Ambus. "We should interface."

Minimus Ambus stood up from his chair and grabbed his datapad from around the fiery captain. "I'll just be dismissing myself now."

Ambus proceeded to use his small stature to duck under the captain's leg, leaving Rodimus' mouth agape, and leave the office.

"Come on, Ambus! You can see it, can't you? You and me. On top of the desk. Wires hooked up everywhere. Energy between us. The connection." Rodimus jumped off the desk and used a knee to stand in his chair. "It'll be fun. Maybe I can even dig out the Magnus helm and we can role-play."

"Good day, Captain."

Minimus Ambus closed the door with a slam, ignoring the disappointed shout that muffled through the metal. Honestly.

"On the desk? What in Primus' name is he thinking?" Ambus shook his head and walked away from the office and his ridiculous Captain. "I'll have to catch him later tonight, and remind him why berths exist."