A/N: My computer is evil and broke down on me, so I had to take it to the repair shop. Thus I haven't been able to write anything on the fics I should be working on. I've managed to steal my mom's comp for short moments though, and comps down at the library, and decided to start up this thing that's been sitting in my head for a while. It won't become too long. Title stolen from the Motörhead song, btw, because I couldn't come up with anything. Go listen to it. It's great.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.


Tracks' POV

Most people, I think, won't be able to pinpoint that exact moment when they realise someone's been watching them. It's usually something that grows on them, a gradual process and not something that happens from one day to another. You sort of realise after a while that someone's been watching you, bumping into you, striking up conversations with you, smiling at you, and that it's been going on for a while. And then you either disencourage them, or you smile back.

With me it's different. I could tell you what time of day it was when I noticed. Or rather... well, actually, it's a bit embarrassing to tell really, but I didn't notice anything at all. I guess I simply didn't see the signs because I wasn't looking for them. I mean, after all, I know I'm not exactly the best-liked mech around. And when most people around barely can stand you (and to be honest, most of the time that feeling is reciprocated), you don't exactly go looking for signs that someone might actually be interested in you. Which might be why I felt so totally shocked when Jazz sat down next to me in the mess one day and began to tell me off for not doing anything about Smokescreen's advances.

oOo

"Mind if I sit down a moment?"

I jump somewhat, startled from my thoughts, looking up at Jazz who's standing next to my table, energon cube in hand. He cocks his head somewhat, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I wave my hand vaguely, inviting him to take a seat. He pulls out a chair and sits down, sinking into the chair with a self-confident ease, sipping at his cube. For a minute or so neither of us says anything. I look at him, trying to figure out why he's chosen my table, but he's just sitting there like it would be the most normal thing in the world. I'm getting increasingly annoyed with the whole situation, I'm not a people's person and I like my privacy, and I'm not too fond of people invading it without good reason. It's unsettling. Jazz, however, doesn't seem to care one bit. Of course he'd be perfectly comfortable and feel just as home anywhere. Drop him down in a desert and he'd probably make friends with the camels there and melt in perfectly.

"Did you want anything?" I say finally, getting fed up with him just sitting there, sipping his cube and humming occasionally. I sound rather impatient, but he seems not to notice. He simply puts his cube down and leans forward to look me in the optics.

"Yeah, in fact, there was one thing I wanted to talk to you about." His voice is serious, which throws me for a moment. Jazz being this serious is not very common outside of work. And not there either, to be truthful. It's almost a bit scary.

"Which is?" I'm probably not being very polite, but like I care. He's the one who came to me and disturbed me, I'm entitled to some impoliteness.

"Smokescreen."

I look at him, confused. That's not an answer I expected. What the pit is he talking about? Smokescreen?

"What about him?" I ask.

Jazz leans back in his chair, looking at me with a sceptical look on his face.

"Oh, I think you know what I'm talking about."

I open my mouth to protest angrily, but he cuts me off, talking in a no-nonsense voice that I've rarely heard from him.

"I want you to stop doing this to him, Tracks. Either tell him off or give him some attention, because stringing him on like this is just plain cruel."

Huh? What is he talking about? Stringin along? I don't understand. Some of that must have shown on my face, because he suddenly looks at me with a different expression, like he's surprised.

"You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" he asks, sounding amazed. I shake my head, waiting for him to explain.

"Wow," he says. "I knew you don't really pay attention to others, but man, you're really blind if you can't see what's right in front of you."

"I'm not really in the mood to be insulted, Jazz. Just tell me what you wanted to tell me, and leave me alone. Now, what about S?" I grumble the words, not really caring whether or not they sound friendly.

He levels his gaze at me, looking at me in that way that is almost like he's trying to see through you, know what you're thinking and what you want. It's unsettling, and I have to force myself to keep his gaze and not look somewhere else.

"Tracks," he finally says, "if only you made the effort to actually see, you might notice that he's been trying to get your attention for a very long time now."

"My attention?" I ask, truly bewildered. Why would he… oh. Oh. I connect those words to the ones Jazz said earlier, about stringing him along…and I don't know what to say. I just stare at Jazz, who slowly smiles at me, looking satisfied.

"I see you finally got it." He leans forward, patting my arm softly. "Now, go and think about it, and then do something about it. I don't want to see him suffer this anymore."

I have no time to say anything more, because with that he pushes his chair back and gets up, walking away from me quickly and disappearing from the room.

oOo

After he left me there, surprised and kinda in a state of shock, I finally regained some control and got up, walking back to my quarters, which is where I am now, trying to think. Smokescreen, seeking my attention? Maybe even interested in me? I haven't noticed a thing, which makes me feel foolish and mad at the same time. Foolish, because I feel like I should have noticed. Mad, because someone else apparently noticed. All right, so at least it was Jazz who noticed, and it's well known that he knows pretty much everything that goes on aboard the Ark. Imagine the horror if it had been someone like Sunstreaker. Doesn't bear to think about.

So, what to do with this new knowledge? I'm not sure. I don't really want to think about it. I know that most people see me as totally oblivious of the feelings of others, but that's not true. I do not wish to hurt anyone here, especially someone who actually might like me. I do not want to tell him off, I do not want to hurt him that way. But the other option scares me like nothing else.

Smokescreen. What do I know about him? Not much, I'm afraid. He's the diversionary tactician of our team, which I admit I'm not sure of what it means. I've never really cared much about what the higher-ups do, they tell me to do stuff and I do, and that's the end of it. I've worked under him a few times, but not enough to really get a hang of what he does. He's also the designated psychologist here, which means that he know more about me than I know about him. Not that I've seen him much in that regard either. Every now and then we have scheduled sessions, apparently to make sure we're not cracking up and go crazy or anything. Most of us thinks it's just a waste of time. I don't think I've ever told him anything important during any of those sessions, not that I've ever taken them really seriously.
For the first time I wonder if he knows that. Probably. It's not like I've hidden it well. I'm suddenly hit with the thought that if he knows, what must it be like to still do it? To still put down the work, only to have it pretty much ridiculed. Does he feel like he's failing? The thought makes me feel somewhat bad about myself. I've never ever given him a thought during those times, more concerned about getting away from there. How must that make him feel? Who will counsel the counsellor?

I try to think about something else, something that doesn't make me feel like a total jerk.

What else do I know about him? He's really good at card games. He likes to gamble, and I know he cheats, although he's good at it; most of the others don't notice. He's a bit of a loner sometimes, like me. He doesn't seem to have any really close friends here, even though he's pretty friendly with many.

Physically he's rather plain. Datsun altmode, rather unassuming colour scheme, not bad-looking but not eye-turning either. He… blends in well, I guess you could say. Same basic model as Prowl and Bluestreak, down to the chevron and door wings. All in all, he's nothing special. He can produce that weird magnetic smoke, which I guess can be useful in battle sometimes but otherwise lacks in finesse.

I realise that it seems a bit… cold, not to know more about him. After all, we're stuck on this planet together, we've been fighting in the same unit for a very long time, and this is all I know about him? His job designation, that he likes to gamble and that he looks rather plain? I try to think of anything else. What did he do before he joined the Autobots, for example? I have no idea. I know nothing about him except superficial things. I don't think anyone here really does. Does he have anyone to confide in? I don't know, but I do not think so. I try not to think of the fact that I don't really have anyone like that either. I've always told myself I don't need anyone. It's easier being alone; you don't have to worry about someone else. And if you keep things to yourself you don't risk someone suddenly babbling your secrets all over the place.

Maybe I've been wrong about that.

Maybe I should go talk to Smokescreen.

oOo

In the end, it takes me several days to pluck up the courage. I dither, and hesitate, tell myself it can wait a bit longer, that he's probably busy, that he doesn't have the time right now. Excuses. I'm drawn between running away whenever I see him, and staying, trying to figure him out. Now that it's been pointed out to me I notice his attention. It's not exactly obvious, and I wonder how Jazz could pick up on it. I find myself at a loss of what to do when he's near. Everything I say to him sounds phony and fake in my audios, and I can see the minute disappointment every time I pretend not to notice his advances. I find myself getting annoyed with him for not being clearer. Why can't he simply tell me if he's interested? Well, I know the answer to that all to well. I'm not exactly known for being overly friendly, and I guess he's afraid that I might laugh him off, saying something that a creature as plain as him would never have a chance with someone as beautiful as me.

What surprises me is that I realise that he would be wrong. I wouldn't laugh him off. In fact... the last few days have made me realise that I do not find him plain at all. It's not obvious at first, but when you look closer he's actually, well, almost pretty. He moves with a certain grace, and he seems almost uncanningly perceptive, always attentive. He's always on his guard, even when seemingly relaxing amongst friends, and I wonder against what. What did he do before he joined this outfit that taught him that? I wonder about a lot of things when it comes to him, and that scares me. I've never been interested in knowing anything about anyone before. But he intrigues me.

He's an enigma, a mystery, a riddle I want to solve.

I draw in air deeply, trying to relax my body, as I raise my hand to his door chime.