My Spanish is incredibly rusty so I apologise if it's incorrect! Please let me know if it is :')
The skies above Jasper, Nevada, were pouring with rain the first night I met the Autobots.
It was the tail end of a long day at work. A long day that dragged, as though each second laughed in my face. A long day of answering phone calls, of inputting credentials, of assessing requests. I was called an office assistant. I think I was just thrown the jobs that nobody else with a higher title wanted to do.
"Hey," I greeted to my parents, who were busy cooking dinner for the massive family of ours, and hung up my jacket. Two of my younger siblings, Rosa and Martin, were helping them chop vegetables.
"Hola, cariño," my mother greeted while wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "How was work?"
I paused in the doorway and let my weary eyes shut. It was enough of an answer. All my mother could do was sigh and return to her task. She swiped at Martin with the towel when he began pelting Rosa with grated slices of carrot, snapping warnings in low mutterings of Spanish while the two giggled.
My bedroom was beckoning me and its call was impossible to ignore. I shuffled my way through the living room that could never be tidy in a family of nine and retreated to my private space, ready to kick off my shoes, pull on my pyjamas and sleep until it was time for dinner.
After successfully dodging a stray nerf foam bullet, I shut the door behind me and began with my nightly routine. I tried not to think too hard about how I was in a dead-end job that paid minimum wage, or that I physically couldn't climb the corporate ladder from said job. I focused instead on finding something to watch from a streaming site after hiding in my bed.
I scrolled through my suggestions and, like usual, nothing popped out at me to watch it. My hand sunk deeper into my cheek the more I searched.
A knock on my door broke my focus. I groaned. I didn't want to join my sibling's nerf gun war and irritate the already-blooming headache. A second round of knocking caused me to sweep the covers from over myself and lob a pillow. The door shook as it made contact.
"Go away!"
"Hey- hey, Y/n! It's me!"
I paused my preparation for a second arial pillow attack at the timid little voice that came flooding from behind the door. It was Rafael.
A sharp exhale left my nose and I dragged my weary body out of bed to open the door for him. The baby of the family looked up at me with a hopeful gleam in his large, youthful eyes. My irritation melted.
"¡Hola! Y/n," Raf greeted with a smile. He lifted a toy racing car as though he were bestowing to me an ancient relic. "Wanna help me reprogram the velocity locks in my car?"
I rested my head against the door frame and sent my baby brother an apologetic smile. I felt guilty in saying no, but work had all but given me a pounding headache and I could barely keep my body upright. I ruffled Raf's large tuft of hair and sighed through my nose.
"Not now, Raffle," I wearily replied. "I'm real tired. Next time, sí?"
Raf's shoulders dropped as disappointment overcame him. He cradled his toy car to his chest and nodded in understanding before turning to walk back down to his room. Jace, Dominic and Keira suddenly came barrelling through the hall, shoving past Raf and shouting war cries, armed with their nerf guns. I slammed my door shut just as it was pelted with felt bullets.
I dropped myself back onto my bed and caressed my aching forehead. He'd be fine.
Rafael was not there when I came out for dinner.
