Work Text:
“Thought I had the day off.”
There went his plans to get totaled for the next 13 hours.
Wheeljack registered the tiny, sharp steps too late and nearly crashed into their smallest warrior on two wheels.
“So did I. If you want to whine about it, just get it over with before our first checkpoint. I’m not in the mood.”
Uh-oh. Arcee was pissed.
See, if Ratchet was pissed, it was usually because of Wheeljack. Magnus? Wheeljack. The Prime? Probably space ghosts or something. Smokescreen? Magnus, ha! It’s not always Wheeljack’s fault.
But Arcee? Couldn’t read her to save your spark.
Ten minutes into patrol, after they passed a cluster of farms, Wheeljack casually slid into the opposite lane to be next to her.
“Back behind me, Sparky.”
“Wow.”
Arcee’s engine ticked and Wheeljack merged back to where he was before.
After a moment she asked, “You’re really not going to gripe?”
The Wrecker turned his attention away from the cows they were passing.
“Thought I’d spare ya this time. I can still do it if ya want. Y’know I’m a good bitcher.”
The motorcycle caught herself before a swerve.
“You need to stop watching human movies,” she said, and already her field wasn’t so prickly anymore. “Yeah. Actually. I could use a distraction. Complain at me.”
He wanted to say he understood but instead he told her the most recent multiversal drama in his stupid life.
Arcee honestly didn’t understand most of it and legitimately wondered if Wheeljack was just the kind of bot who can function while incredibly hazed on crystals.
Either way, it was stupidly entertaining and by the time they reached the checkpoint, her plating seemed brighter. Tired, but brighter.
Wheeljack pulled out the cube and opened the seal, passing it to his patrol partner first.
“Thanks.”
“Uh-huh. You alright?”
Arcee shuttered her optics, small vents working in a sigh. When she opened them again she looked at the high sun through the broken roof of the barn.
“I’m fine,” she vocalized. “Just one of those days.”
She passed it to him once she had enough to settle her tank.
“Thank you.”
“Y’already said that.”
“You know what I mean this time.”
Mid-sip, the bigger mech nudged her gently with his free servo.
”Don’t need to thank me, two-wheeler,” he beamed down at her. “All ya gotta do is make out with m—Ow, I’m just kidding! Frag, you’re strong.”
Arcee held onto that stupid audial of his. Of course he couldn’t go even a few hours without hitting on someone, but in their secret little spot in the shade, birds cawing sleepily above, with Wheeljack’s bright blue optics lighting everything up, how he’d so easily made her feel better... Suddenly things felt okay.
Before her processor could catch up, she was kissing the Wrecker. The breeze danced with a windchime that startled them both away from each other, Arcee letting go of his helm and Wheeljack turning nearly ready to draw a blaster.
When it stopped, he turned back to her.
”Am I having a stroke or did you just kiss me?"
He already knew the answer from the glow in her optics but he was still not quite sure he believed it.
”Sorry. I’ll take you up on that offer is what I meant to say.”
“Wait, what?”
Arcee’s optics rolled with a grind of gears and she put a servo on his leg to gently stop him from thinking too hard.
”We made it here ahead of schedule, so we have twelve minutes before we should get back on the road.”
Wheeljack was smiling so big. “Copy that.”
All it took was one servo to pull her closer.