Chapter Text
Cybertronians' sense of taste was limited, at best. It was perplexing for humans, used to describing everything with all their senses - they used turns of phrase that confused and sometimes alarmed their Autobot friends, such as calling someone "honey" or when Carly said that Senator Matthew’s wife was “cloying”. Which wasn’t to say that Cybertronians could not taste at all - their senses functioned similarly to humans in that taste was a vital sense to determine the safety of whatever substance was being ingested and processed. That the substances varied widely between the two species accounted for the cultural discrepancies. Simply put, Cybertronians could taste in a way, but none relatable in any way to humans.
Somehow, Cybertronian senses weren't enough. He could say his partner was as sharp as over-packed energon, the kind that bristled with charge, ready to burst in spectacular destruction if not handled delicately. He could say he was smooth on the senses - when he wanted to be - like the best top-shelf highgrade, the kind he had never tasted.
Instead, Optimus thought long and hard, and described his partner to the curious congregation of Cybertronian inquirers as "spicy and sweet" and refused to elaborate, no matter how much they asked.