Author's Note: This story is complete crack. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise. I have no proper explanation for anything here. All is Because the Author Said So. For example, you will read some nonsense about a First-Forged called Veta and a day dedicated to him. Don’t believe any of it. It is merely Valentine’s Day In Disguise.

Also, it should be noted that I got the inspiration for this story from MentalTactics’ picture “Pretty Bows” over on deviantART. There is a link posted in my profile if you’d like to go see.

Also, Warning: This story would contain slash if robots weren’t asexual. But some are still offended by mech/mech stuff, so just be aware of that, anyway.

Update: Um, yeah. In case you're coming back here after reading this through once already, and a lot of it isn't how you remember... don't worry, you're not going crazy. I just put it through some major revision.

Disclaimer: If I owned Transformers, it would be filled with stories like this one and nobody would ever watch it ever again.

One last thing: a klik is a second, a cycle is a minute, a mega-cycle is an hour, and an orn is one Cybertronian day.

“Hey, TC….”

“No, Warp. I’m not giving you the answers to the history assignment.”

“Aww, come on….”

“No.”

“But it’s so boring! And it’s not like I’ll ever have to know any of this stuff once I graduate.”

“Don’t care. Instructor Chromia already suspects we might be cheating, and I am not going to let us get kicked out because you insisted we have all the same answers on our assignments.”

Skywarp pouted. “I swear, Instructor Chromia’s must’ve gotten her spinal column replaced with an extra-rigid I-beam. Can’t she cut us a break?”

“Hm.”

“Why does she have to give out so many assignments, anyway? Instructor Megatron doesn’t give out any assignments.”

Thundercracker snorted. “Instructor Megatron teaches melee combat. I’m pretty sure the headmaster would have some serious issues if he started telling students to go around hitting people for their homework assignment.”

“Not the point! Anyway, Instructor Chromia is one femme who needs to lock ports with someone.”

“Please tell me you aren’t….”

“You know, I heard a rumor that the weapons instructor, Ironhide, really has a thing—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You already took up a matchmaking mission with Starscream and Skyfire. I don’t want to get pulled into another.”

“Yeah, but that’s done isn’t it? I mean, yesterday, Star must have—”

“Actually, no, Warp, he didn’t.”

Skywarp looked back at his roommate. “Are you serious? After all that work? We practically handed him—”

“Yes, I know.”

“And he still didn’t—”

“No.”

Skywarp groaned and put his head on the desk in front of him. What was with Starscream, anyway? They guy had been pining after his lab partner, Skyfire, almost since the orn they met, and he had done nothing about it. It was a little worrisome, actually—Starscream was usually so impulsive, but when it came to Skyfire, he refused to make a move.

Skyfire was just as bad, but at least for him, it was expected. Skyfire always took everything at a steady pace, no matter what. He never rushed into anything… although, ironically, Skyfire was the one who seemed to have more initiative in this matter. Several times, Skywarp had seen the large shuttle reach out for the red jet—and Starscream was the one who always pulled away. What was up with that, anyway?

That was why Skywarp (and a reluctant Thundercracker) had decided to fix them up with each other. They had known Starscream almost since they were out of the factory. Sure, Star wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with… but they were still friends. And friends helped friends hook up!

But every time he came up with an idea to push those two together, something happened or they were interrupted before anything could happen, and then they were back to square one.

“I just don’t get it, TC.” Skywarp leaned back in his chair. “I mean, we’ve made it easy for them to confess, hook up, interface—do anything but nothing. And what do they do?”

Thundercracker sighed. “Nothing.”

“Exactly! Last night we got all four of us together at a bar, put some high grade in those two, and slipped out while they were happily chatting away.”

“I know, Warp.”

“It was the perfect opportunity for one of them—either of them, I don’t care who, I’m not picky!—to make a move of some kind. But did anything happen?”

“Nope.”

“Primus, TC. What more can we do? Everybody in the Academy knows those two have a thing for one another except for those two. How are we supposed to get that through their cranial units?”

Thundercracker hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we’re being too subtle.”

Skywarp’s head shot up to stare at his roommate. “Too subtle? TC, we left two tipsy mechs alone at a bar! How could we possibly get any more obvious?”

He shrugged. “Well, we could always lock them in a room together until they interfaced.”

“We can’t do that!”

“Why not? I mean, it’s not like anyone’s awarding us bonus points for subtlety.”

There was a long pause. Skywarp stood up. “Wait a klik. Isn’t tomorrow Veta’s Day?”

Thundercracker nodded. Veta was one of the First Forged, known for his philosophy that Love Solves Everything. Somehow an orn in the Cybertronian lunar calendar ended up being dedicated to Veta and his philosophy. It was supposed to be a time to love one another, friend and foe alike… but nowadays it was mostly just a holiday for bondmates and lovers to make out in public.

“Well, since it’s Veta’s,” he went on, “we can use it to get Starscream and Skyfire together.”

“Okay, but how?”

“No clue. But I know someone who can help.”

8o8o8

Instructor Megatron heard footsteps approach his office.

“Instructor Megatron?” someone said—but under his breath; not to him, but to someone else in the hallway. He recognized the voice as one of his students—either Skywarp or Thundercracker. Which, who knew? He could never tell those two apart.

“Yep.”

“This is the someone who can help?”

“Brilliant, right?” Megatron sat up in his seat. Help? Just what did these two have in mind? As he recalled, one of these two had a habit of playing pranks on his fellow students… although they seemed to keep it well away from him, so he could care less.

“Warp, this is a terrible idea. What makes you think our combat instructor knows about this kind of stuff?”

“TC, I’m surprised at you, assuming things about our instructors just because of what they teach.”

“But he’s not even in a relationship. All I’m saying is, why him?”

A relationship? Megatron leaned across his desk to hear better.

“Because we need advice from somebody more experienced than us, and he’s the only instructor in this entire Academy who doesn’t have a problem with us.”

Only because you keep your idiotic pranks out of my classroom, he thought.

“Only because you don’t play pranks in the combat room,” the other grumbled. Megatron had to grin at that.

“Whatever. Anyway, just because he’s a fighter, doesn’t mean he’s not a lover, too.”

Megatron nearly fell off his seat. Okay, that was unexpected. He decided to interrupt their little discussion so he could find out exactly what was going on.

“I can hear you, you know,” he stated.

A few clangs as the two fliers jumped back in surprise. Megatron just shook his head. “Come in. The door is unlocked.”

The two came in—the purple one looking rather abashed and the blue like he would rather be anywhere but here. Megatron raised an optic ridge. “Well?”

The purple one spoke up. “Okay, see, Instructor Megatron, we—”

“You,” the blue one interjected.

“… Okay, I wanted to ask your advice about something.”

“And what might that be?”

“See, there are these two friends of ours—and they’re totally in love with each other and everybody knows it, but they still haven’t gotten together and so I was wondering….”

“Hold on a cycle.” Megatron looked between the two jets. “Are you talking about Starscream and Skyfire?”

They looked completely shocked. The purpled one mouthed wordlessly while the blue one dropped his face in his hands.

“Holy Primus, everyone in the Academy really does know…” he mumbled.

Megatron chuckled. “If you two are trying to play matchmaker, I’m sure you have realized by now that the only thing that could make either of those two realize their feelings for one another is if one of them showed up on the other’s doorstep with a bow attached to their head and a note saying, ‘Take me, I’m yours.’” He shook his head, chuckling at the image.

The blue one snickered, but the purple one looked thoughtful. Then, without warning, he shot out of his seat. “That’s it!” He grabbed the other’s arm and began dragging him out of the room. He yelled a quick “thanks!” over his shoulder, said something to his companion about “getting supplies” and teleported halfway down the corridor.

Megatron stared after them, completely at a loss. Then he thought back on the look on the purple jet’s face and cringed. Why did he get the feeling he just encouraged a student to do something really stupid?

8o8o8

Starscream looked up from his data pad as Skywarp and Thundercracker entered the room. It was past curfew, and if they weren’t quiet, they’d wake Starscream’s roommate from recharge. Not that any of that could ever possibly stop Skywarp.

He put the pad down and shot his friends an annoyed glare. “I don’t suppose either of you have ever heard of knocking? Or curfew, for that matter.”

“And I guess you must’ve forgotten about my teleporter?” Skywarp said with a grin. Thundercracker moved around to the other side. “Besides, this is really important.”

Starscream tensed. Skywarp showing up late at night meant trouble—sometimes after the mischief’s been caused, to establish an alibi, and sometimes before, to get Starscream involved. But it always meant trouble. “And exactly what is so important that you felt the need to burst in here in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, nothing much,” he said, sauntering to his friend’s side.

Starscream watched him suspiciously. “‘Nothing much’? That’s an omen for trouble if I’ve ever heard one.”

Skywarp pretended to be offended. “Come on, Star, don’t’cha trust me?”

He growled lightly, still glaring at the seeker grinning way-too-innocently. “I know that grin. It’s the grin you have before you put cleaning solution in an instructor’s energon so they’ll be talking with bubbles coming out of their audio receptors for the next few mega-cycles.”

Skywarp laughed. “Oh, don’t be silly, Star, I’m not plotting—get him, TC!”

Thundercracker restrained Starscream’s arms as Skywarp grabbed his legs, teleporting them out before Starscream could so much as screech in outrage.

8o8o8

Skyfire awoke to knocking.

“Hey, Skyfire,” a familiar voice called, suppressing a giggle. “Come on outside, we’ve got a surprise for you.”

This was followed by some muffled yelling and a few loud clangs. Skyfire sat up on his berth slowly, trying to recall who that voice belonged to.

“Warp,” another voice said, quieter but still loud enough for Skyfire to hear, “why does this note say ‘From Megs’?”

The first voice couldn’t hold back the giggle this time. “Well, it was Megatron’s idea.”

“Umm… no, Warp, it was your idea….”

“Well, yeah, but I never would’ve thought of it if it wasn’t for our instructor.”

Some more clangs. Skyfire off-lined his optics and turned them on again. Warp…? Hmm. Sounded familiar. So did the second voice, come to think of it. And Megatron was definitely one of their instructors.

Another clang and—something like someone coughing, or like they were trying to get something out of their mouth….

“SKYWARP! THUNDERCRACKER!”

Skyfire fell off his berth in surprise. That voice he definitely recognized.

“Oops, gotta run,” Skywarp said. A zapping noise—one that Skyfire recognized as the sound Skywarp’s teleporter made when it was activated—followed by his lab partner screeching profanities after his fellow seekers.

“Skywarp, Thundercracker, you slag-eating, scrap-kissing, malfunctioning wastes of intelligence software! Come back here! Slag it, do you hear me? Come back here so I can KILL YOU!”

Skyfire launched himself towards the door and punched in the code to open it. Students in rooms all along the hall yelled for whoever’s screaming death threats to shut up,” that “it’s way too early in the morning to go around killing people!” and “can’t you wait till class starts, at least?”

Skyfire ignored the complaints and, after a moment of staring at the empty wall before him, looked down.

There, on the floor of the corridor in front of his room, was Starscream. Only he appeared to be… um. Well. At least now Skyfire knew why his lab partner was threatening to kill two of his oldest friends.

The first thing that jumped out at him was the big, bright pink bow resting atop Starscream’s helm. He sat in the fetal position, lavender energon cuffs binding his wrists and ankles. Decorating the wrist cuffs were various pink and red ribbons, which criss-crossed halfway up the seeker’s slender arms. Some kind of pink, glittery substance formed hearts on the bare white of the wings—although it was quite obvious two different people had done that. The left wing had smooth, symmetrical hearts, all the same size—whereas the right wing sported sloppy, crooked doodles, most barely recognizable as hearts. Resting a short ways away was a red cloth—probably what was gagging Starscream before he spit it out.

To top it all off, each wingtip carried a bouquet of hot pink ribbons bound together with a large, heart-shaped button.

If the mech sitting there had been anyone else—anyone—Skyfire would have laughed. Since it was Starscream, however, his vocalizer seemed to have shut itself down without his permission.

There was a long stretch of silence.

“A little help here?” Starscream finally managed, humiliation making his voice an octave lower than normal.

Skyfire shook himself out of it and crouched down to pick the smaller mech up, one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulder vents. Jet in arms, he hurried back into his room, closing the door behind him. He hesitated for a moment, and then set the seeker down on his recharge berth. He paused again, trying to figure out what to do next.

Starscream held his wrists up, some of his embarrassment fading away now that he was no longer sitting in the middle of the corridor. “I don’t suppose you have anything around here to get these off me?”

“Ah—right.” Skyfire went to his desk. After a few kliks of scrounging through the drawers, he picked up a tool with two short, metal prongs at one end. He turned back to Starscream and knelt in front of the smaller mech, taking the cuffs in one hand. He probed the lock with the tool, trying to find a sensor to deactivate the energon bindings.

As he worked, Starscream distracted himself by inspecting his partner’s living quarters. He had never been in here before. Usually when the two of them worked, it was in the lab or the study hall—they had never gone to the other’s dormitory.

Skyfire’s room was nondescript. Clean, tidy, everything in perfect order. Same design as his room and every other mech’s he had been to, except for one difference.

“Only one recharge berth?” he said. “You don’t have a roommate?”

Skyfire’s optics flicked upwards before returning to his work. “No. They figured having me share a room would be rather… impractical, given my size.”

The corner of Starscream’s lips quirked, though he suppressed the smile. He was still covered in pink ribbons, after all. That was nothing to smile about. “I guess being a huge white shuttle has its advantages, after all.”

Skyfire’s lips twitched. “Doesn’t seem that way when the chemistry instructor forgets to stock the lab with beakers I can actually hold.” He twisted the tool again, prompting a click—the cuffs powered down with a soft hum and the energy bar disappeared. He tossed it aside and glanced up at the other’s face. “Feet now.”

Starscream raised his legs obediently, placing his hands on either side of his hips and he leaning back to let the other work. Not that he was normally so obliging—had it been anybody else, he would have demanded use of the tool so he could get rid of the ankle cuffs himself—but it was Skyfire.

“So, what exactly happened?” Skyfire asked, not looking up.

Starscream narrowed his optics, though the animosity was not directed at Skyfire. “Skywarp and Thundercracker barged into my room, teleported me to theirs, and knocked me out. When I woke up, they had me trussed up like some kind of—of femme’s party decoration, shoved a gag in my mouth, and teleported me over here.”

Skyfire frowned. “Any idea why?”

Starscream snorted. “Probably just another one of Skywarp’s pranks, though I don’t see the point. Primus himself doesn’t know what goes through that slagger’s half-fried processors.”

“Hm.” Skyfire didn’t offer anything more; when Starscream was worked up like this, it was best to just let him vent until he felt better. He concentrated on picking the cuff’s lock.

A few cycles of high-pitched ranting later, the cuffs clicked and powered down. Skyfire let out a relieved sigh and sat back on his heels, tossing the cuffs into a corner with the other pair.

Starscream grumbled a small “Thanks,” still not quite done ranting. He raked his fingers over each arm, ripping off the ribbons tied around them. They tore away easily; obviously they were not meant to withstand the ire of an angry seeker. He threw them aside, and then crossed his arms and legs on the bed, pouting and grumbling. “Stupid Warp. Stupid TC.”

Skyfire turned away to hide the grin that spread over his face, only barely suppressing a chuckle. Not that it was funny, really… okay, yes it was funny. It was hilarious. But that was not why he wanted to laugh.

Skyfire never minded it when Starscream was irritated—and not because of his infamous patience or anything like that—but the expressions Starscream pulled when he got worked up were just priceless. The slight narrowing of the optics, the way his lips pursed and his shoulders hiked up. Skyfire rarely listened to any of the smaller mech’s tirades, but he loved watching him as he pouted: it was one of the few times the seeker was really cute. Yes, he was a handsome mech, but the only times when he was cute was when he pouted like now, or when he was surprised and his optics widened and his face relaxed, mouth open ever so slightly, giving off a perfect impression of genuine innocence. That, however, was much rarer than the pout.

Skyfire never said any of this, though; he doubted Starscream would appreciate being thought of as “cute”. Instead, he fought off the grin, composing himself in the time it took to go back to his desk and put the tool back in its place. He almost lost his control when he caught Starscream’s quiet grumbling: “Stupid pretty bows….”

He could not let Starscream see the grin on his face; he would think he was laughing at him, which… which he sort of was, but not at him being wrapped in pink bows! Just the expression on his face.

“Eh? What’s this?”

Skyfire turned around; Starscream had uncrossed his legs, his optics glued to a pink, heart-shaped note bordered with white lace he held in his hand. Skyfire walked back over, curious. He did not know what was on the side of the note Starscream was reading, but on the side facing him were the words, “Happy Veta’s Day.”

“Oh,” he said aloud. “I’d forgotten it was Veta’s today.”

Starscream looked at Skyfire blankly. Skyfire flipped the note over in his hands by way of explanation.

“Oh.” Starscream’s optics flickered once, and then he groaned and buried his face in his hands, dropping the note on the floor. “Oh, Warp, I am going to kill you….”

Starscream was not stupid. He had known for a while now that Skywarp (and Thundercracker) had been trying to set him up with Skyfire. Of course, he would have to have the thickest cranial unit on Cybertron not to notice, but he had silently hoped that if he pretended to be oblivious, Skywarp would leave him and his partner alone.

Not that Starscream didn’t like Skyfire—Primus, no. In fact, he may well love the big oaf… but there was no way Skyfire could possibly feel the same way. Starscream knew he could be screechy and, yes, annoying at times—and who, really, besides Warp and TC, could stand him for longer than a few mega-cycles? Skyfire could—but would he still want to if he knew the feelings Starscream harbored? If Sky did not feel the same, it would make everything so awkward… and that was the last thing he wanted. Of course, if Skyfire gave some indication that he was interested, then why not? Otherwise, better to pretend such feelings did not exist.

And, on that note, best to get out of Skyfire’s room now before he did something rash.

“I might as well get going,” Starscream said, standing up. “Class starts in—” He checked his chronometer. Then sighed again. “… In a few mega-cycles.”

“Ah… you’re leaving?”

“Hmm? What, why not?”

“You, um… still have some ribbons on you.”

“What? Where?”

“Your, ah….” He pointed at the seeker’s wings.

Starscream looked and his jaw dropped in horror. Skyfire sheepishly reached out and removed the bouquet of ribbons on either wingtip. Starscream seemed not to notice. “What—what is that?”

“I’m… not sure. Just—let me get some solvent.” He stood up to go back to his desk, but Starscream’s voice stopped him.

“Wait a klik.” He narrowed his optics at one of the hearts. The positioning was a little awkward, but he used a hand to keep the wing steady as he twisted his torso. After a moment’s inspection, he lifted his other hand and scraped some of the glittering substance onto his fingertip. He examined it for a klik—then stuck it in his mouth.

Skyfire almost yelped in surprise. “What are you doing? You don’t know what kind of paint that is! What if they used something toxic to—?”

“Relax, Sky,” he said, scraping some more of it onto his finger. “It’s energon paste.”

“Energon…?” Skyfire blinked. Energon paste was—well, it was food. A desert, to be more specific. “But why not just use paint? Why would they….”

“Obviously, they wanted someone to lick it off,” he grumbled, sticking his finger in his mouth again, his expression sour despite the treat.

“Lick it… off…?” His systems started heating up as the insinuation struck him. “Oh. Ah. Well….” He could not think of anything to say. What were you supposed to say to something like that? Not that he would mind licking the seeker’s wings clean—but that was not exactly an appropriate thing to say.

Starscream swiped off some more of the paste before looking at Skyfire expectantly. Skyfire gazed back, uncomprehending.

The jet let out an exasperated huff. “Well? Are you going to help me or not?”

How could he refuse?

Skyfire mimicked Starscream, scraping off the energon with a finger and putting it in his own mouth. At some point, he had gotten off the floor and joined Starscream on the berth, and they started talking as they ate… though he could not recall the topics for the life of him. Yet despite their proximity and what they were doing, there was no awkwardness, just an easy comradery.

Skyfire was not stupid, either. He knew Skywarp and Thundercracker were trying to push him and Starscream together. And honestly, he would be happy to oblige—if he thought Starscream felt the same. But how could he? Starscream was so impulsive. Surely if he held such feelings, he would have said something by now. The seeker never held his tongue on any subject, why stop now?

And honestly, even if it turned out Starscream would not mind delving into a more intimate relationship, what would come of it? Romance was a passing thing. If he made a move past friendship, they could very well lose this easy comradery. Love would last longer, maybe even forever, but who could say if he was in love? Unless love was the compulsion he felt, sometimes, to simply grab the seeker and kiss him, never mind the consequences.

… Heh. Him, indulging in impulse? Primus, Starscream must be rubbing off on him more than he thought.

Skyfire put his finger to Starscream’s right wing—they had finally finished with the left one—and the seeker squirmed.

“That tickles,” he murmured.

Skyfire looked up, surprised. Then his lips curved into a smirk. “A ticklish spot? Well, we’ll have to do something about that….” And he leaned forward and licked it.

Starscream burst into giggles and fell back. Skyfire followed, still licking at that one spot. “Knock it off!” the seeker screeched between giggles.

“Nope,” he said, still grinning and licking. He shifted his position a bit.

“I’m… hahee—serious, Sky… heheh (gasp) that—” Another fit of giggles. “That tickles!”

“Not stopping,” he replied airily, licking around the spot to see if he was ticklish anywhere else. More giggling, the seeker pushing at his shoulder, trying to squirm away—and suddenly he froze. Skyfire stopped and looked up, concerned. “Star, is something—”

Then he realized exactly what position they were in: Starscream, flat on his back one hand on his shoulder and the other at his wrist; and him, right above Starscream, faces almost touching, one hand pinning the seeker’s wing and his other by Starscream’s head, supporting his weight….

Skyfire practically jumped off of the seeker. “Um—sorry. I didn’t mean to—uh… sorry.” He took a step to go about finding that solvent—not so much because the seeker still needed it, but Skyfire needed a distraction—but Starscream caught his wrist.

“Skyfire.”

He did not look back, unwilling to meet the seeker’s optics.

Whatever Starscream was about to say was cut off by a loud beeping—an alarm. Skyfire checked his chronometer: they had a mega-cycle to get ready for classes. Starscream must have checked the time, too; he sighed and released the shuttle’s hand.

“Right. I should be going, then,” he said, standing up. He started heading towards the door.

“Wait,” Skyfire said, placing a hand on the smaller mech’s shoulder. Starscream looked back, face expressionless.

Skyfire opened his mouth—and nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he didn’t want the other to leave yet and he had to say something, anything, to make him stay a little longer.

Starscream waited. “Yes, Sky?”

“Um.” His optics landed on his helm. And the bow still perched there. “Ah—you still have this on your head.” Skyfire took off the bright pink bow and tossed it aside.

Starscream stared at where it lay on the floor, surprise casting one of those rare, genuinely innocent expressions on his face. Skyfire chuckled, the hand that lifted to cover his mouth a klik too slow. Starscream’s gaze snapped to him, O-so-offended, optics narrowed and lips drawn into a pout. That adorable little pout.

Skyfire could not help himself—he leaned forward a planted a tiny kiss in the bow’s place.

Then he stepped back, and before another thought could flit through his processor, Starscream grabbed his head and captured his lips, the sheer force of emotion behind it making Skyfire light-headed.

Then Starscream pulled away, optics bright. There was a pause.

“Well,” he said finally, a smirk curling his lips. “I am your Veta’s Day present—” he wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, “—aren’t I?”

Skyfire stared at him for a few kliks. A slow smile spread across his face. “Only if you want to be.”

“Of course I do.” Then pulled Skyfire in for another kiss.

Author's Notes: I hope you people appreciate what I do for you. I wrote the majority of this story in five hours without a break, all so you people could have some shamelessly fluffy Transformers crack to read on Valentine’s Day. Well, okay, I mostly wrote it because my Muse was driving me up a wall, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, you should leave a comment so I know how much you loved/hated/were amazed at the utter crackitude of this story.