Summary: Because I can. And I like this pairing. AND IT WOULDN'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD, PRIMUS DAMNIT. Those plot bunnies have sharp fangs sometimes. Even if they are small.

Disclaimer: Transformers (c) HasTek. I don't claim any ownership of them. Or the song. But I can't remember who wrote it, so just know that I don't own it and don't sue me.

WARNING: Mild fluffy slash ahead! IF YOU DON'T LIKE SLASH DO NOT READ. I repeat, no likey the slashy, no ready the ficcy.


"Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved."

- Victor Hugo (1802 - 1885)

It was such an odd, silly custom.

Still, something about this odd ritual, this showing of affection on a specific day instead of year-round had set a fire in my imagination as soon as Spike had explained it to me.

A fire that had raged until it had become an all-consuming obsession that had finally culminated in this moment.

I had long ago memorized Wheeljack's habitual wanderings about the Ark. It wasn't difficult to do: first thing after recharge he would head to the mess hall for his morning ration; then to the wash rack, without fail; and finally to his lab, where he'd hole himself up for the rest of the solar cycle and wouldn't be seen again unless accompanied by an explosion and a cloud of noxious smoke.

Using this knowledge to my advantage, I had placed a token of my affection on one of the workbenches in the lab, right next to the newest harebrained invention he was tinkering with. I placed a card next to it, resplendent with ridiculously colored pastel hearts, and then slipped out of the lab and around a corner, leaning with my back against the wall to wait until the opportune moment to wander by.

I didn't have to stand there long; I heard his footfalls mere astroticks later. You could have set a chronometer by his daily routine. I waited a few more kliks after the heavily reinforced – not that it did much good – door of the lab opened with a pneumatic wheeze. I squared my shoulders and strolled nonchalantly down the hall. If anyone stopped me to ask I was on my way to med bay to check on First Aid's progress with his latest patient. Not that he really needed my help anymore, but it was as good an excuse as any.

Fortunately, the corridor was unusually free of the other Ark residents. I walked a little past the lab, glancing in, feigning indifference. I mimed a double-take and backpedaled to lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest plate and staring at our resident mad scientist.

His back was to me, but I could tell from the glow of the protrusions on either side of his helm that he was pleased; very much so. If it weren't for the accursed battleguard he insisted on wearing at all times – although I couldn't blame him, after all, I knew why he'd had it installed – he would have been grinning from audio to audio.

Primus, he was gorgeous when he was happy.

I cleared my vocalizer, alerting him to my presence and carefully keeping my face schooled in a look of, I thought, bemused sarcasm. I raised an optic ridge, eyeing the gift that he was holding like it was something utterly precious – I felt a little thrill of gratification at that – when he turned to look at me. I nearly smiled, but managed at the last moment to turn it into a wry smirk.

"Y'know, Wheeljack, I find the fact that a new wrench makes you so happy to be slightly disturbing," I quipped dryly. He shot me one of his playful glares that I so delighted in teasing out of him.

"Yeah, well, this one's from a secret admirer," he said, obviously enjoying the phrase; a secret was always exciting – a secret admirer even more so. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" He moved towards me, and it was all I could do not to simply grab him, find the catch that I knew would pop that Primus damned battleguard off, and kiss him silly. He just looked so… happy. And it was because of me.

As he slipped by me one of his hands just barely tapped my aft, and I flinched slightly, whipping my head around to stare at his retreating back. He was humming a tune to himself as he walked away, and I knew I must have looked completely flabbergasted when my CPU started putting words to it.

Doctor, doctor, give me the news I've got a bad case of loving you!