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Author's Note: I absolutely adore Wheeljack in TF: Prime, and I also love Miko. It came to me yesterday that the Wheeljack/Miko relationship may actually be my OTP for the series! :D


Prompt: Smiling Face

Primus.

His spark sputtered when he saw his and Bulkhead's special girl waltz into the arrival bay, a contagious grin on her exotic features.

Primus.

Just how long had it been, exactly? Six years? Seven?

He had to admit that he'd been anticipating seeing how much his little co-pilot had changed after being startled by the unexpected growth and transformations of Jack and Rafael. Humans were such strange but fascinating creatures.

Well, when they weren't underfoot and nearly getting crushed, anyway.

He couldn't recall his own species ever really having such unique growth stages. Cybertronians all looked identical as sparklings, except sometimes in size. In fact, the moment they were capable of creating an individual personality for themselves at all was basically at the peak of maturity - when their T-Cogs were fully operational and capable of heavy upgrades on armor, weapons, decal and other vanity spoils, and the alternate mode of one's choice.

He'd also long since decided that it'd been no coincidence that the demand to immediately join an academy of some sort was also around that same time.

Of course, being of lower caste like his sire and further ancestors, he'd had few options to choose from in that aspect. Construction had seemed the best option at the time. It had either been that or just forgo an academy altogether and work the energon mines alongside convicted criminals and those of society's lowest caste, both of which had always seemed to go hand-in-hand anyway.

He continued to stare at her, probably rather rudely.

The spunky, bad-as-they-came kid who'd saved his aft so long ago from Hardshell was no longer the same femme smiling up at him.

Oh, there was still that devious mirth dancing freely in her honey-brown eyes, but she was no longer wearing it like she'd had for the rest of the universe to see. No more boots with neon-pink laces crisscrossing all the way up to her knees. No more purple and violet striped stockings. No more ink-black nail polish. No more fake-gauged earrings.

Even the rebellious, puff-pigtail hairstyle he and Bulkhead had been particularly fond of had fallen down into a long and thick cascade of rich black with only two striking strips of color running down the extent of her lengthened bangs. Where pink had once adorned the lock of hair, the dye of forest green and ivory white gently framed the left side of her smooth, slender features.

And there was something very familiar about those colors. He would have to ask her about it later.

"Well, well," she taunted, her grin tilting into an affectionate smirk as she came to a stop just a few feet from him, propping a fist on a tilted hip, "look what the scaplet dragged in. And when I say that, I mean that you literally look like you were gnawed on for days before being dragged in here. What happened? Couldn't get to your gooey, nougat-y center so they gave up and decided to let us deal with you?"

He couldn't stop the crooked grin splitting his mouthpiece. Still the ever fiery spit-take, I see.

Not to be one-upped, he made a show of looking himself over, splaying out his arms and giving her a good view as he turned full circle for her. "What do you mean, kid? I have all these new battle scars for you to analyze and swoon over. Heck, some of these I had to actually go out of my way to get. I figured you'd have my bearings if I went and buffed them out before you got to see them."

"Seven years and you still know me so well," she drawled, grinning up at him in satisfaction. "So, you going to tell me their stories or what? I can't wait to hear everything! Oh, and you better not hold out. You owe me at least an entire day's worth of adventure stories, got that?"

The curiously warm, soft look in those exotically shaped eyes had his intakes catching fast, immediately startling him. He inwardly scowled at himself.

Get a hold of yourself, you broke down Wrecker, he scolded himself. She's smiled at you millions of times in the past. What in the Pit would make this any different?

With a slightly forced smile, he inclined his helm at her. "You got it, squirt, just so long as you tell me everything that's gone on with you, starting with when the Pit you got so - " spark-crushingly beautiful " - tall. I remember when I almost had to scrape you off the underside of my boot, you were so damn tiny. Anyway, I don't want to have to repeat too much, so let's wait until Bulkh-"

"JACKIE!"

His optics nearly offlined under the near frame-shattering tackle-embrace he was assaulted with when tons of green Cybertronian steel came charging at him with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"C'mon, Bulk!" he grunted with a pained laugh, landing a hard, good-natured punch in the hulking mass's shoulder plating. "I didn't get any younger these last few years. You keep doing this and I just might have to stay after all if it means not collapsing into a heap of scrap the next time I drop by."

Surrounding gasps, followed by silence, befell the entire bay. He smirked faintly, rolling his optics at the dramatics.

Bulkhead got to his feet with an unusual amount of agility for someone of his heavily armored mass, and leaned down to help him up. "What - what are you saying, Jackie?"

He grabbed the offered servo and got to his feet, his joints groaning slightly. Instead of answering the hopeful edge in Bulkhead's voice, he busied himself with flicking imaginary dirt specks off his scratched and damaged arm guard.

He glanced up under his optic brow when the towering form of Optimus stepped forward, curiousness and mild surprise wavering in his solar-blue optics. "You have . . . decided to join our ranks, Wheeljack?"

He looked between the Prime, to the equally shocked faces of Jack and Rafael, to the disbelieving looks being exchanged between the other four Autobots, to the bright and eager grins of his favorite Wrecker and their little doppelganger.

"Tell you what, chief," he finally spoke, smiling fondly at the two before sliding his gaze to the calm and regal leader, "let me catch up with Bulkhead and Miko tonight and I'll give you my final answer tomorrow morning. Right now, I just miss the crew, and nothing short of some high-grade, an exchange of war stories, and maybe a friendly game of Lobbing or Praxus Fold 'Em is going to convince me to say anything definitive."

"Permitted," Optimus rumbled, gracing him with one of his small, rare smiles. "No matter your decision, friend, you know you are always welcomed here among us. This is your home as much as it is ours."

He gave a two-fingered salute, a light smirk pulling at the corner of his mouthpiece. "Duly noted."

"This is great!" he heard Bulkhead exclaim happily, and it was the only warning he got before his back was leveled with an overly zealous pat on the back that nearly knocked his spark clean through his chestplates, and then was roughly dragged against the big lug's side with a heavy arm locked around his head. "C'mon, Jackie - Miko and I will show you to my quarters and we can get right on top of that high-grade! Primus, I can't wait to hear all about the scrap you've gotten into!"

He chuckled and slammed an arm around Bulkhead's helm in return as he was guided out of the arrival bay and down a wide, long hall.

As Bulkhead started going on about the location and features of the newly acquired base, he took the opportunity to drift a discreet look down at the young femme twisting and turning ahead of them, giddily engaging the wrecking ball in his chatter, her endearing and lively personality making his spark pulse particularly hard inside its chamber.

Primus save me . . . I think I'm in some serious trouble.