Author's Note:

Swore I wasn't going to do a smut scene for Wheeljack and Arcee but my imagination ran off with Nelly Furtado's Say It Right. xD

So! Since FF refuses lnks, you can find that on my profile entitled, "A Stupid Reason"

Also, the start of this chapter would have never come out so fluffy if it weren't for Justin Beibier. You heard me! Justin Beiber. I was listening to his acoustic version of "As Long As You Love Me" from some Victoria's Secret performance... and it was actually very good! I like it a lot. First thing of his I like, will wonders never cease?



"I'm going to kill you now."

"Have at it. I'm dying happy."

"Frag you."

"Again? I'd happily—"

A crack of metal against metal.

"Don't even get any ideas you fragger."

Wheeljack chuckled and traced his fingers up her back. "I don't need ideas," he murmured. He turned his head, tracing her forehead with his lips. "I've already done it."

"Frag you."

"You need to watch your language young lady."

Another crack of metal against metal. "Shut up."

Wheeljack muffled another rumbling laugh and instead complied with her order, quite content at the moment to simply hold her. He expelled a sigh from his vents, one servo slung low over her waist and the other sliding up and down the contours of her back. She sprawled over his front, arms wrapped around him, helm tucked under his chin, and Wheeljack could feel her soft breath on his neck. This . . . was as close to the Well of All Sparks as he would get. This soft feeling of contentment could only be improved upon if Miko was home with Mrs. Davis. Still . . . it was the best he had felt in a long time. His spark wasn't giving him any fits, Miko understood she didn't have to feel pressured by her biological father, and he had the femme of his dreams in his arms, his berth. No, not much could be improved on.

As Wheeljack idly touched her body, he couldn't help but feel impressed by Arcee's fortitude. She endured the torture chambers, lost two partners—one right in front of her eyes, a feeling Wheeljack could sympathize with after losing Pyro—and she still fought on in their names: Tailgate and Cliffjumper. She didn't allow herself to break, and she would never allow Airachnid and Starscream to escape her grasp. She was driven; she was passionate; she had an irresistible temper, and her figure sure didn't hurt things. Wheeljack felt like he'd been hit by a shooting star that suddenly dropped his dream femme in his lap and was so overwhelmed he could barely keep his processor out of the clouds.

He enjoyed the silence with her, thumbs circling almost without thought on the soft protoform of her waist. Pink. A faint laugh rumbled his chassis. He would have never guessed she had pink protoform beneath all her armor. Such a girly color didn't seem to suit the serious, womanly femme. That would be something that never failed to amuse Wheeljack—pink.

"What are you laughing at?"


"I don't trust you."

Wheeljack chuckled. "You're a smart femme."

"Not too smart. Look at where I'm at."

Wheeljack nuzzled her forehead. "From where I'm standing, you're in a very good place."

"I'm not so sure . . . You've had one too many brushes with death for me to be comfortable with."

With a vent, Wheeljack rolled over so he was on top of Arcee and looking in her optics. "I told you I'm not going anywhere," he said. She shifted beneath him, but he leaned in close, one servo reaching up to cup her cheek. "Listen to me," he said softly. "I'm . . . I'm not the same mech I once was when I first came here. I used to figure alone was a lot less complicated. And, maybe it was, but I was missing a helluva lot that I needed. I was killing myself, festering in my solitude and bitter at the world. Then, I come here, and while I lost my greatest friend in the world, I gained . . . so much."

He paused, licking his lips. "I mean, I've got your band of misfits—a kid barely old enough to be out on the field of battle, a cranky old medic, and a commander who's too compassionate to be of real use. Got a cute kid that needs the nose pieces on his glasses tightened, a young man who's growing up in the likeness of the Prime, and I've got Miko. She—" and he gave a small, bewildered laugh, "she's taught me a lot of things. Patience as the first, but she taught me about family, things of the heart, her host mother too.

"And then, I've got you."

Arcee paused, arching a brow. "What? No embellishment?"

"Sweetspark, you of all people," and he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, "need no embellishment." He gave a sigh and nuzzled his face to hers affectionately. "I just . . . wish Bulkhead didn't have to die to make me realize that."

After a pause, Arcee's servos slid up to cup behind his neck, and she kissed him sweetly. "You need to let that go."

He laughed softly. "Trying. It gets better as the days go. It won't ever fully go away, but . . ." He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. "It certainly gets easier with you guys at my side."

"There is a certain strength in numbers."

"Or maybe just the right kind of people."

Their optics locked for a second, and then Arcee's optics shifted. "Jack needs a ride to work," she finally said.

Wheeljack arched a brow. "New Year's Day?"

She nodded. "He works fast food."

She slipped from beneath him and began to place her armor back on, and Wheeljack propped himself up on an arm to watch her, optics tracing over the curves of her body. She made quick time of it, and he hated to have her leave—but there was a certain deliciousness in watching that waist go.

"Hey." He grabbed her wrist before she could leave. He arched a brow at her. "I don't do these things lightly," he finally told her.

Her gaze didn't falter. "I don't either," she said back steadily.

There was still a kind of hesitation in her optics that he didn't like. Wheeljack lifted her servo and kissed the back of it, looking up seriously. "I meant what I said last night, Arcee. You aren't going to regret this."

Her throat moved. She took her hand away. "We'll just see . . ."

"I promise, Arcee."

Her back struts dipped. "War changes people," was all she would say.

Wheeljack watched her go, optics drawn to the low tilt of her helm. That the night had been so wonderful to end on such a somber note . . . He vented sharply, lying back on his berth with his arms behind his helm. She had some demons in her past. And like Miko had helped him with his, he was going to help Arcee with hers.

Then he'd see how long she could run from him.

"So, Miko, what do you think of Arcee?"

Miko wrinkled her nose. "Arcee?"

They were currently on the way back to the base from Miko's first day back at school, and Wheeljack watched her nose wrinkle. Ah, this was going to be VERY interesting . . .

"She's kinda stuck up. Kinda full of it. Acts like a freaking queen that can do what she wants and has authority over us all."

"Oh? What else?"

Miko shifted, and her nose wrinkled more. She continued to pluck invisible strings of her guitar. "Well . . . I don't know! I guess she's a good fighter. Jack likes her I guess since she's his guardian. She's a stick in the mud. We never have fun with her. She's a bit obsessed with Airachnid . . . I heard from Jack sometimes they'll break the speed limit and try to hit her top speed." Miko snorted. "That's about the most of it though. Arcee's a real stickler for the rules until it comes to Airachnid."

"Is that so? So do you like her?"

Miko cut him a glance. "I guess . . . Why?"

"Yeah, this is going to be real interesting . . ."

"What is?"

Wheeljack chuckled, passing a slower moving car on the interstate. "Well, just so you know, I happen to like Arcee."

Miko paused. "Like . . . LIKE her like her, or just, oh yeah, you like her."

Wheeljack twitched his rearview mirror to her. "What?"

Miko sat up, suddenly animated with her hands as she said, "Like, do you LIKE her like her, or is it just liking her? Like how you like Bee, or like how you like me? Or LIKE her like her?"

After a minute of sorting that out, Wheeljack proclaimed, "LIKE her like her."

After a moment, Miko busted out laughing, and Wheeljack patiently waited her out. Her laughing dwindled out, and she finally said weakly, "You . . . You're serious."


Miko groaned then, flopping back into her seat. "Seriously?"


"Oh my God, Wheeljack, WHY?"

"Why?" he repeated. He snorted. "You kidding me? That has to be the toughest femme I've seen in my entire LIFE—and I have lived a very long time—she's passionate, she cares, and contrary to what you think, she can have fun. And she's hot."

"Oh my God."

Miko dropped her face in her hands, and Wheeljack tried not to laugh as he watched her figure this one out. The ride to base was mostly silent until she suddenly sat up and burst, "So—What—Are you dating now?"

"Eh . . ." Wheeljack felt that question out, trying to understand the gist of it. "Not really how you humans do it. It's more like . . . courting? Not even really that. Arcee and I just acknowledged that we both feel something, and we'll explore it."

"So—Aw fraaaaaaag!"


"New Year's Eve?" she exploded. She groaned again, flopping back in his seat before looking around the cab like she was surrounded by disgusting things. "Oh God. Oh please. I know what happens when people get drunk. You guys did it, didn't you?"

For once, Wheeljack didn't need an explanation of human lingo for "it." He told himself to be patient and NOT freak out like Miko was. "Well, we didn't do it because we were drunk—"

"Ack! I don't need any details! Oh God!"

"Wh—I wasn't giving you any details!" Technically, it was even healthy for them to have an interface every so often because it helped keep their lubrications running smoothly. Then again, he was sure Miko would vomit if he told her that. He rolled his optics in exasperation and said, "Look, Miko, calm it down. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting? I am NOT overreacting! All I want is a warning, okay? Cause I so swear if I walk in on you two and you're—you're—AUGH!"

"Miko! I didn't say she was a frag buddy!" Wheeljack groaned, trying to sort through his thoughts and calm Miko down the same. "It's not like that. Look—Okay. I just wanted to give you a heads up that Arcee and I are a 'thing' so you wouldn't upheave all over the floor if I give her a passing kiss or something!"

"Oh my God, you kiss her—" and Miko flopped her face back into her hands.

Bewilderment covered Wheeljack. He pulled off the side of the road before they headed into the base, saying, "What? What's wrong with kissing her? What's so bad about her?"

Miko looked up helplessly. "I mean—You—SHE'S—Augh, I don't know! It's just weird!"


"Yes, weird!" Miko groaned again, shaking her head. "Look. It's not like I don't like her or anything, it's just . . . Arcee? She has about as sweet as a dying puppy."

"She is not!"

"Tell that to someone who's only see her uptight and obsessive! And you—YOU? I mean, sure you can be sweet, but I can't honestly picture it—"

"I can give you a picture."

Miko choked. "No! No, you keep that to yourself, and I'll keep to myself, thank you very much. Oh God . . ."

Wheeljack paused. "So are we okay?"

Miko flopped back heavily in her seat with a pinched face, but nodded. "Yeah, okay, thanks for the warning. That's a lot to take in at once when I just came back . . ."

Wheeljack chuckled and drove them into the base. "Thanks, Babe."

"Yeah, thank me later when I'm not about to puke all over your floors again."

"Don't even think about it."

"Try me."

"You sure this is a good idea?"

Wheeljack chuckled. "Good idea? Pit, Miko, this is about the worst idea I've had in a long time."

Miko shifted. "So are we gonna make it out alive?"

Wheeljack laughed. "Yeah. We'll have to run like hell, and I might suffer a wrench on the way, but we'll make it out alive."

"Mh." Miko shifted, eyeing the cargo in the back seat. "So . . . are you sure it's going to work?"


"You rewired a lot of things."

"I just strung them together. This way, they'll all go off in rapid succession."

"You sure?"

"Miko, explosives are something I'm good at."

She turned back to the front, looking out the window. "Is it going to be worth it?"

"Well worth it."

"Okay. So if I die by the unholy Ratchet-the-Hatchet wrath, I'll die happy."

"And laughing. But you're not going to die. Most likely, I will."

"That's unfortunate."

Wheeljack laughed. "You're telling me."

Miko grinned them, biting her lip and looking back at the cargo again. She turned back to the front. "So? What's it going to be like?"

"Lots of smoke."

She gave a half giggle half snort before managing to muffle it. "Really? Jackie, is this going to hurt him?"

"Oh, it'll hurt, but nothing life threatening. It's not like the medic putting the jumper cables on backwards and nearly frying your computer. Seriously? That can kill a mech. This is more like . . . falling on your aft."


" . . . Really hard?"

Miko narrowed her eyes. "Breaking it?"

"No no no!" he hurried. He chuckled. "No, it's more like . . . Dislocating your hip! That's more like it."

"Wheeljack, that hurts."

"Oh please, the Doc's lived through worse."

"If you say so . . ."

"Don't worry," he told her, and he revved his engines playfully. "We won't run far, just far enough that the devil can't get us. I'll come back when the Prime's got him calmed down and lucid and I'll fix him back up myself."

Miko giggled at that and muttered, "Just as long as he doesn't kill you first . . ."

"Trust me when I say—I am going to get HELL for this!"

The base drew into sight as he said that, and Miko giggled like an imp all the way inside—she only stifled her laughter when they got fully inside to see a typically stressed Ratchet at his computers. Wheeljack transformed up with his standard, "What's up, Doc?" and punched him in the shoulder. Ratchet grumbled; he sat Miko with the boys; he punched Bumblebee. This time, when he passed Arcee, he chucked her chin affectionately to which she only scowled and crossed her arms. Wheeljack chuckled and went to lean against the wall and plot the medic's downfall.

He'd wait for Optimus to show up. THEN he'd unleash their prank and let the Prime cool Ratchet's pistons. Then he'd come back and apologize by fixing him up. And—ah! There was the Prime now. Aaaand he was talking to Ratchet, okay, wait a bit longer . . .

There. Wheeljack reached inside his chest to his seats and brought out the sizable wad of firecrackers. Miko—on the sharp watch for this—grinned widely and paused the game and tapped the boys, telling them. Wheeljack struck the match Miko had supplied, lit the fuse, and threw the wad—1,000 fire crackers—beneath Ratchet's feet just as Optimus caught what he was doing.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Ratchet roared, leaping from foot to foot at the miniature explosions rocking beneath him noisily, and Miko and Wheeljack both collapsed into laughter. Bumblebee, Raf, and Jack giggled unwillingly as the medic danced awkwardly, and then—the magic.

Above the clattering pops of the noisy fireworks, a distinct deeper crack was heard that was echoed by Ratchet gasping, optics popping, and the medic fell on his aft, a hand flashing to his side. Wheeljack's laughter faltered a moment—had he really hurt him? But the fire of anger was back in an instant as Ratchet scrabbled backwards, kicking the firecrackers away with a furious bellow of, "WHEELJACK!"

Miko squealed. "JACKIE!"

The furious medic was scrambling back to his feet, smoke pouring from his side and beginning to coat that side of the room. Wheeljack, laughing so hard that tears sparked in his optics, scooped up his conniving partner and transformed down around her, bolting from the silo with a squeal of tires. He had just made it to the mouth of the silo when a wrench hit with the impact of a bullet, denting his driver-side door in so far he felt it bite his protoform.

Giggles and laughter all the way out until their sides hurt.

Dragged back by Optimus Prime.

Then, with another painful wrench to the helm, Wheeljack grinned and bore the medic's black glare as he popped his hood to fix his blown gasket.

"C'mon, Doc, it was all just in a little fun!"


"Augh! C'mon now, I'm trying to work on you!"

"Then shut it or I'll really let you have it!"

Wheeljack tucked his dutiful head and struggled to control his sniggering as Miko openly giggled and wiped tears from her eyes. "Aw, Ratchet, you should have seen yourself! It was pure gold!"

Jack grinned shamelessly, leaning on the railing next to Miko. "Ratchet, I hate to admit it, but . . . it WAS funny!"

Ratchet just glowered at them from the medical berth before shaking his wrench. "If Optimus weren't here and you were any less squishy, you'd get it too!"

Raf blinked widely, pushing up his glasses on his nose. "Ratchet, are you going to be okay?"

"Just fine assuming SOMEONE doesn't screw things up . . ."

Wheeljack's lips tilted up shamelessly. "Don't you worry you're pretty little head, Doc. You're in good hands." As he kept his servos busy, Wheeljack shook his head with a grin. "Y'know, Doc—"


Wheeljack yelped, cringing away from the offending wrench and a servo flashed to his helm. "Don't call me Doc!"

Another amused laugh fell from Wheeljack's mouth. "All right, D—Ratch. Y'know, for a second there, you had me worried."

Ratchet scoffed and laid back. "Ha, you worried . . ."

As he loosened the medic's water pump belt by loosening the tensioning belt in front of the alternator, he smirked. "Believe it or not, old timer. At your age, it was a good thing you didn't throw a rod! Guess that's a good thing about having high oil pressure, eh?"

He patted the top of the medic's hood as he removed the alternator belt and laid it on the radiator hose, and as he figured for his snarky remark, he suffered another blow of the wrench to him. He flinched away with a laugh, truly enjoying himself too much to really be worried about the dents. Besides, Miko had been giddy as he'd ever seen her, as much a reward as he needed.

Miko leaned over the railing, looking down into Ratchet's engine as Wheeljack worked. "Jackie? What do you mean he could have thrown a rod?"

"Well," he said, rooting around in Ratchet's chassis, "if the rod breaks while the piston is on its way up, the piston keeps going up until it jams itself permanently into the cylinder head. If the rod breaks while the piston is coming down, the broken rod can pierce a hole right through the engine block."

Jack made a face. "Ouch?"

Miko made a weird face too. "That sounds like it hurts."

"It does," Wheeljack said as he made sure he had enough room to pull out the head gasket. "It's . . . like a compound bone fracture breaking through the skin."


"Jackie!" Miko burst, eyes widening. "I thought you said it wasn't going to hurt him that bad!"

"Hey, he didn't throw a rod, now did he?"

Miko's indignant, "But he could have!" was drowned by another rocketing clang of wrench against metal, and Wheeljack yelped while rubbing his helm. "Knock it off, Doc, I'm trying to work here!"




"Quit calling me Doc!"

Wheeljack sputtered. "Okay, RATCHET, then what was that for?"


"For the thought of throwing a rod! And that last one for doing it in the first place!"

Wheeljack rubbed his helm and shook his head. "Well . . . All right, I guess I deserved that—"


Wheeljack cringed and rubbed his helm. "Okay, and probably that one too . . ."

"And any more you get."

Wheeljack inwardly rolled his optics and leaned down carefully pulling up the blown gasket. He held it up for the kids with a grin.

"Eh? Beauty, isn't it?"


By Primus, by the time he was done here he was going to be the one on the berth!