Author's Notes: Well, this idea is a weird one, I'll admit, but it won't go away so I'm writing it anyway. Basically, I see so many romantic stories in the Transformers fandom about the popular and classically handsome characters, and I thought I'd do something different by writing about a character who is a real underdog (for good reason). This is as much an excuse to do a character study on Huffer as it is a chance to write a romance (I don't do them very often). Anyway, I hope you like it, and please review, follow, and favorite to see more :)

"Talking"

::email::

Thinking

/Comm link/

Chapter 1

It was a lousy day! That seemed to be the mantra that ran through Huffer's helm most of his life on this miserable planet! Of all the planets to have to fight the Decepticons on, why did it have to be this organic mudball called earth?

He walked to the rec room for his morning energon. He had an early shift that day since Prowl had switched his schedule around. Part of him wanted to think that Prowl had it out for him, but that couldn't be true since the Datsun would have to actually notice him in order to harbor any ill will, and nobody noticed Huffer!

He didn't have a lot of friends among the Autobots he was stationed with now. He mostly stayed close to the other minibots since at least he could look them in the optic. Gears was his best friend, and every now and then Brawn and Windcharger would hang out with him, but mostly he was left alone. Powerglide would talk to Huffer, but the little dump truck didn't like to encourage it. Like most fliers, Powerglide was full of himself and didn't care who knew it.

When Huffer entered the rec room it was blessedly empty. Well, at least one thing was going right for him. He grabbed a cube, filled it up, and sat down. He sighed as he stared at the pinkish purple liquid swirling in his cube.

"Well, at least the energon looks the same here as it does on Cybertron," Huffer said to himself in the dark and quiet room.

Deep down, that was the root of most of his problems. He was homesick. He just wanted to go back to Cybertron! He knew it was at war. He knew the Decepticons ruled most of the planet. He knew he was safer here. He still didn't care. He wanted Cybertron…

Huffer stared at the monitor almost hoping something would happen. He was glad to not have patrol duty for once so his tires could stay clean for a change, but that still didn't alleviate the boredom that came from staring at security monitors all day. He wondered if he thought hard enough if maybe he could will a Decepticon to attack! No, that was silly! Of course he couldn't, and if he could it would be the lamest super power ever!

He almost smiled when he thought about that one. Decepticon vision!

"Hey Huffer!" Cliffjumper shouted abruptly from behind Huffer's chair; startling the poor mech.

"Hey, don't do that!" Huffer griped, "You almost gave me a spark attack!"

"Yeah, whatever!" Cliffjumper replied dismissively, "I'm here to relieve you of duty. Get out of my chair!"

Huffer grumbled but complied with the order. He was glad to get out of monitor duty finally, but he still didn't like the way Cliffjumper spoke to him.

Ah, well...Huffer thought despondently. I guess you can't have everything. Of course, having something to look forward to besides another day of this would be nice…

Huffer went back to his quarters. One thing that was nice about the Ark was that most of the Autobots got their own rooms. He still remembered being stationed on the Gem back during the early days of the war. He shared a tiny room with 3 other mechs! It was miserable! He supposed the Lamborghini twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared a room, but most mechs on this ship didn't have to.

With a resigned sigh he sat down at his computer looking for something to do. Most of the crew was interested in the human computer games and Internet, but not Huffer. He had Blaster rig up a wireless port to Cybertron so he could get reports on various battles or the results of sports games. It wasn't much, and most of it wasn't good news, but at least it was something Cybertronian.

He searched the reports for something interesting. Nothing. Typical! He searched for games he might want to place a bet on with Smokescreen. Nothing. Of course! He was getting desperate for something to do to take his mind off earth when a pop-up ad appeared on his monitor: MEET HOT FEMMES NOW! JOIN COURTITRON!

"Aw, geez! I finally get mail and it's a stupid ad! My life sucks!" Huffer whined as he looked at the flashing ad on the screen, "Then again, maybe that is what I'm missing. A little romance. A little excitement. Hm...Nah!"

Huffer got up out of his chair and went to recharge, but the thought was still lingering in his processor. That pop-up ad was obviously a scam, but maybe he could find a legitimate dating service for Cybertronians. On the other servo, femmes were rare since the war had seen most of them killed off by either Megatron or starvation. With so few left, they could have their pick of any mech they chose. Why would a femme want Huffer? What could he possibly have to offer a femme that they couldn't get from an officer from either faction?

He shook his head to try to dismiss the idea, but something unusual was happening. Something that he normally never felt was coming over him...The need to try.

Huffer found a site called cyberdate,trn and was immediately asked for his personal information. Gears was there to observe, and frankly it was hard to tell which one was being the bigger pessimist.

"Favorite color? They all stink!" Huffer griped.

"Just say blue. Femmes love blue," Gears suggested, "Or you could put the color of your spark: grey."

"I'm goin' with blue," Huffer replied; not paying attention to Gear's remarks, "Okay, here it asks if I'm a leader or a follower. Problem is I'm neither. I'm not a leader, but I hate it when people give me orders so I'm not a follower."

"You're a follower," Gears replied matter-of-factly, "No matter what orders you're given even if you hate them, you still follow them. You do your duty and that's nothing to be ashamed of. Check follower."

"Fine, if you insist," Huffer said reluctantly; knowing Gears was right but not willing to admit it, "Okay, here it's asking for confirmed kills. Um, could you turn around? This is kinda personal…"

"Sure, pal. I won't ask yours if you don't ask mine," Gears drawled as he turned his back to the computer screen.

Huffer waited until he was sure Gears wasn't watching and typed 43. It was almost nothing compared to what other soldiers had done, but he still felt guilty that it was even that high. He never did get used to this war…

When he was finished with the questions he logged in to see all the different mechs and femmes logged in to the site. There were 167 mechs, and 12 femmes.

"This is hopeless!" Huffer wailed in defeat, "Look at all these guys! The femmes are the ones who have to contact the mechs on this sight! How am I supposed to get a femme to notice me with all these other guys on here? It's just not fair!"

"Hey, I recognize some of these names," Gears informed Huffer, "Most of these guys are Decepticons."

"Of course they are!" Huffer exclaimed miserably, "Decepticons outnumber Autobots 10 to 1 on Cybertron! In another thousand years we'll probably be extinct!"

"Yeah, you thinking of defecting?" Gears asked sardonically.

"Of course not!" Huffer snapped; offended despite his friend's joking tone, "I'm an Autobot, and I'll die an Autobot! Probably soon with my lousy luck."

Huffer and Gears both knew the evil the Decepticons had committed in Megatron's name. They knew of femmes and sparklings being ripped apart by vicious Seekers and entire cities burning to the ground because of Gestalts grinding them into dust! They both knew that the Decepticons would stop at nothing short of genocide to achieve their collective goal of tyrannical conquest.

No, Huffer would never join the Decepticons! He would rather die! Gears felt bad for saying anything about it. He also knew what the merciless Megatron was capable of, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"Maybe there aren't any Autobot femmes left unattached," Huffer wondered, "If there are, I doubt any of them would be compatible with me. Look at all these guys. I've got no chance…"

"Maybe you're right," Gears said glumly, "Listen, I need to go by to see Ratchet about some ointment for my ball bearings. Care to come with me? I could use a buffer for old Ratchet the Hatchet."

"Sure thing, pal," Huffer said as they left the room, "Maybe I can bum some bug spray while I'm in there. There are these butterflies that hang around near my window. They drive me nuts…"

Their conversation continued as they walked down the halls. Every other mech they passed by was taller than them, but together they felt confident (if grouchy). One thing Huffer was grateful for was that Gears never lied to him. No matter how grim the truth was Gears would never give Huffer sweet but hollow words. They understood each other better than anyone else. Even if Huffer could never find a femme, at least he had a friend.