C.M.D: This was once posted before, but was taken down I believe for the couple, though very short, mature scenes. So, I've edited them out in this version so as to re-post, but if you are interested in reading them, you can follow any of the other links available on my blog off-site to an uncensored copy.

"That's it! I've had it up to here with those morons!"

"Hey Snow," Tracks greeted distractedly, his face in a mirror. Ratchet growled at the accursed nickname, whirling on the winged mech.

"Don't you start with me!," he yelled. "Primus -I hate that blasted title! Every single day, some crankshaft making an overdone, stupid crack about how I'm all white and my title is 'Snow White'."

"Did Wheeljack try to be funny again, sir?," First Aid spoke up timidly from where he was, baking at the stove. Perceptor, helping him, looked up at the white mech just as Ratchet screamed to the rafters above.

"I guess that would be a yes...," the two 'bots whispered to themselves.

"Honestly, I don't even see why they deigned you Snow White," Tracks sniffed disdainfully, turning away from the vanity. "Who would be jealous of you?"

"If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to tear you a new one!," Ratchet screamed.

"I-i'd listen to him, sir," First Aid directed to the other 'bot.

"Quite," Perceptor agreed. "I'm sure that living with five dinobots would temper any 'bot with a series of brutal and violent methods in which to use against those they find irritating."

All mechs present, not counting the one still huffing like a beast, looked at the scientist dryly. "W-well," the red mech stuttered, grabbing his books. "I-i suppose I shall be going now. I want to return these to the library and pick up some new ones before they close this evening."

"Goodbye, Belle," First Aid waved in farewell. Perceptor waved back, heading out the door.

Shrugging indifferently, Tracks turned back to the mirror and his intense study of himself. "I wonder where our dearest Riding Hood has gotten off to," the young medic pondered aloud.

"Oh, he's probably gotten himself lost again," the winged mech replied in boredom. "He's always going on about how these woods are too large and the path too dark. He probably saw optics following him again and has locked himself tight in his cabin. The guy always was such a spazz."

First Aid frowned at Tracks' callous comment, distracting himself by pulling his tray of energon goodies out of the oven. "Still... I worry about Red Alert," he sighed. "I hope everything is alright with him."

Ratchet sighed as he plopped into a free chair, smacking his helm onto the table. "Aid...," he pleaded, "Pour me a glass of high-grade, please."

Tracks chuckled a little as the medic's protege hurried to comply to the request. "Oh, Cinderella... don't you ever get tired of running around, doing errands for people?"

The aforementioned mech actually paused in what he was doing, shuttering his optics innocently at the winged Autobot. "Of course not," he replied, slightly confused.

"Stop picking, Tracks," Ratchet growled. "Otherwise, I swear I will lock you up in that same fragging tower with Mirage. Let you two tear each other apart for the rest of eternity."

First Aid tried not to smile at the pout that showed up on Tracks' face.

Beauty and The Beasts

Sunstreaker was unhappy. He growled as Sideswipe tried to sling an arm around his shoulders, tearing away from his brother. "Oh, c'mon Sunny!," the red twin pleaded sheepishly. "It was an accident, I swear!"

"Accidents," the other prince growled. "It's always an accident with you! Can you not do something so stupid for once. You almost damaged my paintjob!"

Sideswipe scratched the back of his helm contritely. "Well, um..."

"And now we've been kicked out of our own palace! Why the slag would I want to be stuck in this stupid, little village all day!?," Sunstreaker practically bellowed at his brother.

"But, uh... Oh, hey, look at that!," Sideswipe thrust a finger over the yellow mech's shoulder, turning and bolting when his brother actually turned at his motion. Realizing an astrosecond after that he had been duped, the volatile prince whirled back around, howling in rage when he saw that the red mech had used the opportunity to make his escape.

"When I find you Sideswipe, I'm going to break your helm in!"

XXXXXXX

Perceptor gasped in surprise as he was knocked into suddenly; falling to the ground, his books scattering all over the place. "Oh dear...," he groaned, trying to get back up. He had to get these books back to the library, or else he'd have to wait until tomorrow to get his new items and he didn't really want to spend the evening alone without his favourite textbook on particle physics.

Unfortunately though, the scientist found that he just couldn't move yet. Making a small noise in confusion, he lifted his helm -about the only thing that he could still move- staring down at the weight pinning him to the floor. He squeaked in alarm, servos flying to his face as he saw that it was another mech lying on top of him.

"W-what... Why, hello!" The red 'bot lifted his helm, flashing a sparkling set of denta at Perceptor. Getting up a little, the other Autobot quickly ran his navy blue optics down the smaller mech's frame; still wearing that cheeky grin. "Aren't you a cute lil' thing."

"O-oh my...," Perceptor mumbled, his cheekplates burning brightly at the lewd look. He hurried to get out from under the stranger. "I-i'm so sorry," he stuttered. "I-i-i-i must n-not have been watching wh-where I was going a-and-"

"That's quite alright," the other mech cut in. He leaned in closer, a servo stroking along the scientist's hip plating. "The name's Sideswipe. I'm sure you heard of that handsome, talented, young and brilliant prince -yeah, that's totally me. Wanna go somewhere private, just the two of us?"

The princess eeped when that wandering servo dipped lower, squeezing his aft.

"I-i-i have to g-go!," Perceptor squeaked, shoving Sideswipe off him suddenly. "G-goodbye!" Grabbing his books, the smaller mech hightailed it out of there.

Sideswipe picked himself up off the ground, staring in disbelief at the direction that the nameless Autobot had just run off in. Seriously, was his only thought. Had he just been rejected?

XXXXXXX

Sunstreaker never realized just how much he hated the library until it became the only hopes for entertainment to him. Growling under his intakes lowly, the prince stalked through the shelves, having long since abandoned the thought that any of the books could occupy his processor for a whole day. Just how was he supposed to get through an entire orn?! Everything he wanted was at home -a place out of his reach at the moment, since all of his servants had unanimously decided that both princes needed to be locked out, for their own sakes as well as the staff's. Those peasants even had the ball-bearings to tell the twins they weren't to come back until nightfall at the earliest!

Sideswipe he could see... His stupid brother was always pulling practical jokes, stressing out their over-worked staff as it was. But why him?! Sunstreaker never stooped to the same levels as the red mech, so why did he have to get punished alongside him?

Not that this could probably be deigned as a punishment to Sideswipe. His twin had probably already found himself a 'bot to frag to pass the time.

Growling harder now, the yellow prince continued his angry marching.

"Oh, yes, they were quite a delight to read," said a voice up ahead. Turning the corner, Sunstreaker came to an abrupt halt, almost swallowing his glossa in shock. Before his very optics was the loveliest aft if he ever did see one; lifting his gaze, the temperamental mech was pleasantly surprised to see that it belonged to an even cuter Autobot.

"I'm glad to hear that," the librarian was saying to the stranger. "Are you going to look around before checking out your other books today?"

"Hmmm... yes, I think I shall," replied the other. He smiled sweetly, tipping his helm politely to the librarian. "I'll be back in a few kliks." Turning, he quickly padded down another aisle, that soft smile still on his lip components.

Maybe this orn wouldn't be so bad after all. Sunstreaker hurried towards the librarian, looming over the smaller mech. "You," he hissed, "Who was that mech you were just talking to now?"

The other Autobot quailed under the prince's dark glare, trembling loudly in his plating. "H-him?," he squeaked fearfully. "T-that was B-belle, the r-region's number one sc-scientist."

A nerd, huh? That was somewhat disconcerting... but also an honorary princess as well? That was interesting. Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder plating in the direction that Perceptor had gone, before turning his fevered optics to the librarian again. "What's his name exactly?," he demanded impatiently.

"U-uh, I b-believe it is Perceptor, m-my lord..."

"Good. We didn't talk, understood?"

The frightened mech's helm nodded rapidly. Satisfied, the yellow twin turned on his pede, stalking down the aisle, towards his unsuspecting prey. His smirk and hungry optics shone in the darkness, systems purring lightly as he headed for his target. The librarian quickly turned away, silently apologizing to his favourite client in his helm.

XXXXXXX

Oh, that looked like an interesting one!

Perceptor pulled the large tome down from the shelf, grunting lightly as the action prompted him to stand on pede-tip to reach the book. He cradled it in his arms once he had it, about to crack it open and look inside, when a servo winding around his waist kept him from achieving that.

"Y-yes?," the princess asked timidly, turning around to see who was behind him. He was pinned by a lustful look coming from the yellow mech towering over him.

"Good afternoon," greeted the other Autobot, his vocalizer a captivating baritone. "The name is Sunstreaker. I thought I might ask if I could keep you company."

"O-oh, well," Perceptor tittered, backing slowly away from Sunstreaker. Optics flickered from floor to mech uncertainly, a shy blush creeping across the princess' cheekplates. "I-i-i'm really quite alright on my own."

"What if I said that I was feeling a little lonely, and wished for someone to spend these next few cycles with?," the prince asked, matching every step the scientist made. With his optics fixed wholly on the bigger mech, poor Perceptor never noticed the alcove and its plushy armchair until he had already walked into them both.

"I-i-i'm s-sorry, but I-i r-really am -ah!" The red Autobot gasped as he tripped, falling back into the armchair, legs splaying across the armrests. Sunstreaker took this opportunity presented to him, diving onto his knees and shouldering between those open thighs.

"Don't be so shy," he leered, fingers already at work, gently pulling back the scientist's codpiece. "I don't think I've ever seen someone as cute as you. I bet you'll look utterly ravishing after you've overloaded."

"W-wait! I-i-i- Oooh!" Perceptor's protests morphed into a moan as Sunstreaker lunged forward, servos tightening around the book he was still grasping, digging his faceplates into the cover.

"S-stop whining," the other Autobot growled irritably. "You act as if you've never done this bef-," his optics by chance dropped down. "Y-you're sealed?!," Sunstreaker shuttered his optics in surprise for a moment, before his lust came rushing back in. "You're sealed," he repeated lecherously, smirking wickedly at the blushing princess. "Well, allow me to be the first, Percy."

He bent forwards again, as Perceptor began to gasp and whimper once more. "P-please, S-sunstreaker," he cried, writhing. "S-sir, pl-please, don't! I-it's dirt-"

Just when it was becoming too tight behind his own codpiece, Perceptor let loose one, final wail of ecstatic desperation; overloading in the armchair. "Really beautiful," he purred lowly, looking up at the red mech.

Perceptor's optics were dimmed, swollen lip components -nibbled that way from his own attempts to silence his moaning- slightly agape as the princess tried to equalize his intakes. The thighs around his helm were still trembling, flashes of heat spiking across the other's sensory net from the over-stimulation. A healthy layer of condensation also slicked that rosy paintjob; the poor encyclopedia that Perceptor had been grasping, squished unceremoniously against the Autobot's chestplates.

"Much too beautiful," Sunstreaker commented, feeling his core temperature rise another notch. "Tempting me to devour you once again, looking as lovely as you are."

The scientist's blush darkened, everything but his optics disappearing behind the book. "I-i-i..." Coolant collected in those blue orbs, Perceptor's vocalizer awash with shame. The prince straightened up suddenly, not expecting the tears.

"H-hey!," he stammered. "T-there's no need to cry! L-listen, let me take you back to my palace. We'll get you cleaned up, fed -you can e-even take a look at our own book collection. I'm sure there'll be something there for you to like!"

The princess only shrunk further into the chair. Sunstreaker, sighed, lost at what to do. He helped cover the red mech again, gently grasping his elbows and pulling him into a proper sitting position. "Perceptor...," he began softly, still kneeling. "Yes, I know your name," he answered at the frightened, baffled expression sent his way. "You are the Belle of the lands; many know your name. Forgive me, what I've done surely must feel like an insult. But I promise that isn't the case. Would you allow me the chance to prove you wrong in your assumptions?"

He didn't quite understand what prompted him to say all that, but seeing that little mech begin to weep caused a cold piece of shrapnel to dig itself into Sunstreaker's spark. He suddenly wished never to see Perceptor in pain, and certainly not because of anything he had ever done. That's why he had decided, in that split second, that he would bring the princess home and court him. Even if he was a geek. The yellow prince couldn't bare the thought of anyone else touching Perceptor like this, or receiving any of his beautiful smiles.

At his begging, Perceptor slowly lowered his book, looking at the prince hopefully. "...re-really?"

Sunstreaker nodded, spark pulsing erratically when those soft lip components quirked in a timid smile. "A-alright...," the red 'bot whispered. "I-i am w-willing to accept y-your proposition."

The bigger mech tried his best to hide his joy. "Come," he said, rising to his pedes suddenly, and pulling Perceptor up with him. He wrapped a strong arm around the scientist's waist, purring at the warmth that pooled along his side immediately at the action. "Let us go. We just have to stop first and find my idiot of a brother."

"B-brother?"

XXXXXXX

"T-this is your b-brother?," Perceptor squeaked, attempting to hide behind Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe gaped at the sight of the scientist, feeling as if the whole universe were playing a mean trick on him. "How the slag did you find him, when I've been looking for this cutie for a whole cycle already?!," he demanded, looking at Sunstreaker.

His twin frowned, crossing his arms over his chestplate. "I just did. And I plan on taking him home this very klik -the servants be damned- so I might begin courting him. Dear Percy here is to be my mate," Sunstreaker declared smugly.

Sideswipe shuttered his optics for a moment, before a devilish grin split his own faceplates. "Well, then, I guess I'll just have to court Perceptor as well," he cooed, winking at the blushing princess. "After all, I just don't want to lose my adorable Belle either."

The yellow mech was silent for an astrosecond. "Fine," he agreed. "But I've already gotten a taste," he added, taunting his twin.

The red prince gasped in dismay, before pouting like a spoiled sparkling. Perceptor, embarrassed, looked at the two mechs. Oh, just what had he gotten himself into now?

Snow White

Once upon a time, a poor femme, with too weak a spark for carrying, prayed to Primus above for a sparkling to call her own. She spent many vorns talking to the deity, even when her faith was at its weakest and she thought that Primus was either not listening or refused to grant her wish. Sitting at the window one orn, she prayed again, and inspired by the beauty of the winter wonderland just beyond the pane, adjusted her wish some. "I would love either a little mech or a little femme," she prayed, "With plating as white as the snow, and optics the same shade of the crystals. Let them have a chevron as grey as the stone, and servos as red as the sun, and make them so they would be willing to heal a 'bot in need."

Less than a stellar cycle later, the femme became sparked. Unfortunately, her frame was indeed too weak and shortly after the sparkling had been protoformed, the femme died, leaving her young mechling all alone. A good medic took the bornling in, raising him as his own, which sparked some jealousy among his own creations who were just as spurned in their feelings when the orphaned mech turned out to be amazingly talented in the medical field as well. Having had enough of their creator constantly fawning over the protege, they turned on their adopted brother, threatening that he leave or else they would make him.

Well, Ratchet, being this young orphan, took one look at his obnoxious step-siblings; drew out his wrench, beat them cold for daring to threaten anyone, and casually left his adopted creator's home. He headed out into the woods, intent on finding himself his own place to call home. He wound up finding a run-down cabin, abandoned some years ago. He fixed it up, morphing the front section of the cabin into a sort of medical facility, and sent out word to the nearest villages about his clinic. Patients were soon to come along.

One of these such patients was a rather handsome mech that drove Ratchet up the wall. Every time he came in to get patched up, it was always for some grievous injury, made by his own servos! The medic had blown up in the stranger's face one time especially, after the mech came in, cradling his servos in his arms after having them blown clean off of his very wrists. After all the yelling had finished though, the stranger's headfins merely flashed in his joy, as he said, "My name's Wheeljack, Ratch. Yeh can call meh th't when 'thoughtless, stupid moron' grows old."

Ratchet never thought that such easy, calm words would have made his spark pulse wildly, or his cheekplates to turn pink with his blush.

But fall in love with the mad, crazy inventor of a prince he did, which landed him here, vorns later...

XXXXXXX

"Slaggit...Wheeljack!" Ratchet stood in the doorway of his cabin -now extended in the back to a sizeable mansion- his optics a dark indigo in his rage. Everything, all of his tools and other essential materials for repairs, had been scattered all over the clinic's floor; smashed, bent or otherwise pulverized into oblivion. "Wheeljack! I know you can hear me! Get down here, right now!"

Something shifted behind the medical berth, and the princess zoned in on it, crossing the room quickly in three, long strides. "Wheeljack," he hissed, pushing the furniture aside. Ratchet was shocked to see not the cerulean optics of his mate looking back, but the calm, naive grey-blue orbs of his youngest son, Swoop.

"Swoop...," the medic sighed.

"Swoop am," the dinobot agreed. "Is momma bot okay? Swoop say momma bot look tired."

Of course, he was tired! He couldn't leave the room for more than five kliks without his sons tearing it apart in his absence. It was not like they did it purposefully, but their rambunctious playing always led to the clinic eventually, where it was destroyed in the moments of their passing. He had specifically told Wheeljack to be mindful of where their sons were playing, but did that mech ever listen to him? NO!

"Do you know where your daddy has gone?," he asked the pterodactyl. Swoop canted his helm to the side, shuttering his optics innocently.

"Me Swoop say dada not gone, but Swoop not know where is he."

Another typical happenstance... Wheeljack could make himself amazingly sparse when he wanted to avoid another lecture. Ratchet didn't know whether to be angry or cry. The past few weeks, him and the engineer had been doing nothing but running around, constantly getting on the other's nerves. If things didn't change... well, the medic was good and ready to leave that useless prince's aft out in the cold. He had been well enough on his own before meeting Wheeljack; he would do alright again afterwards too.

"Go play, Swoop," Ratchet told his son dismissively, his helm darkened with heavy thoughts. "Mommy's going to go for a walk." Turning around, the princess left the clinic again, heading into the woods and away from the mess that his life seemed to be at the moment.

XXXXXXX

"Hey, Ratchet, look at what I ma-" Wheeljack trailed off, his optics shuttering in surprise at the mess before his optics. He saw Swoop in the middle of the room, attempting to sweep everything into one pile. The dinobot seemed to be having a little difficulty though... "Umm, Swoop, what happened here?"

"Swoop and brothers playing," Swoop readily supplied.

Oh, slag. Wheeljack looked around the room, servo rising to his blast mask the more he saw the damage done. Ratchet was going to have his spike on a silver platter! He knew his mate treasured his clinic a lot and had told him time and time again to make sure that their sons didn't roll into the room during one of their play sessions, but he'd been really busy this time, making this awesome invention he was sure Ratchet would love. And it didn't explode either! But he wouldn't even be able to show the princess it before he flipped out at the destroyed state of his clinic.

"Uh, 'ight, so this mess needs t' be cleaned up 'fore Ratch gets back..."

"Momma bot come home Swoop say," the dinobot interrupted. "Momma bot get mad and go again. Swoop clean mess to make momma bot happy."

"Oh... frag...," Wheeljack mumbled, face dropping into his waiting servo. Ratchet had already come home... and had evidently stormed off again. No doubt the medic was furious with him. He tried, he really did, but sometimes he got so caught-up with his inventions that he didn't notice when the dinobots were rampaging in the clinic again. And apologies weren't going to work either with the princess. Ratchet had been so testy lately, that a simple mention of "I'm sorry" sent the medic into a rage, in turn, turning their one-mech argument into a giant screaming match. The prince really hated when those situations occurred. He loved Ratchet dearly and didn't want to do anything to upset his mate.

"Alright, Swoop?," he started, turning to his youngest son. The pterodactyl turned at his creator's call, looking at him curiously. "Listen," Wheeljack continued, sighing softly. "I'm going to go look for mommy. Stay here and look after your brothers okay? Don't play too roughly while we're gone, okay?"

"Swoop say will do!," the dinobot chirped back obediently. Anxious about leaving his babies all alone still, the engineer headed out of the clinic, choosing a random direction and heading off, beginning his search for Ratchet.

XXXXXXX

It was pure chance that Hook had run into Ratchet. The white medic was miffed, grumbling and stomping up a storm. Though neither would admit it, there had even been tears in the princess' optics when the Decepticon had decided to approach the Autobot. Snapping angrily, Ratchet had demanded to know what the green mech was doing sneaking around the bushes, and Hook had replied with a cover story about heading into the next village over for new medical supplies. In truth, he had been seeking the princess out, intent on injecting him with the new toxin he had been working on just for him. Ever since he had heard Ratchet's name, Hook had been jealous: of the other's title, his luck and good looks, but mostly for his skills and fame. The Decepticon felt that his own talents were greater than those of Snow White's, but everybody was only concerned about the white medic, barely giving his counterpart the time of day.

But if Ratchet was out of the picture, then Hook could finally get the recognition he deserved!

"And he doesn't care a bit about me! I mean, I only ask of him to do one thing, one thing!," the white 'bot was grumbling. "Keep the dinobots out of my clinic. But can he do that? No!"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hook said sympathetically, scooting closer to Ratchet. He slid an arm behind the other medic,lightly resting his servo on the Autobot's hip. If he wanted to make sure that the venom was injected properly, he would have to initiate close contact. So far, things seemed to be working. Either Ratchet really was so mad with Wheeljack that he didn't notice the Decepticon making "moves" on him, or otherwise, he was desperately needing a friendly audio and a warm hug.

"And I-," Ratchet's vocalizer clicked off as he turned his helm, suddenly realizing how close he and Hook had gotten. Cheekplates flushing slightly, the white medic attempted to put some space between them again. "Listen, I... I may be angry at Wheeljack but I'm not some kind of floozy either. He's my mate, and I won't betray his trust by fragging some random mech in the woods."

"But weren't you just saying that he tramples on your own trust every time he neglects a request from you?," Hook retorted, pushing closer to Ratchet. He tightened his arm about the Autobot's waist, effectively pinning the princess close. "I'm not suggesting anything long term...," the green medic persuaded softly, leaning in. "But perhaps you and me could come to a small arrangement?"

Ratchet's brow furrowed, confusion and indecisiveness reflected clearly in his ice blue optics. "W-what are you...?"

"Nothing too complex," the Decepticon assured, cutting in. He slowly reached into subspace, wrapping his free servo around his poison. "Just a trade of sorts. I make you forget about all your little problems, and in turn, I am finally rid of you!"

The white mech's optics flared at the hissed threat. "Y-you-!"

"'Ey!,"shouted a voice. "What 're ya doing wit' meh mate!"

"Slag!," Hook hissed, helm whipping around to see Ratchet's crazy prince Wheeljack stepping into the clearing. Quickly, the green medic turned, jabbing his syringe between the Autobot's neck cables; the needle piercing one of the cords, injecting its corrosive toxins directly into Ratchet's fuel lines. Stiffening at the unexpected assault, the white mech was unable to stop his fall as he was dropped by Hook, the other 'bot taking off into the woods. Wheeljack was tempted to chase after the fleeing Decepticon, but one look at that shaking servo weakly reaching for him, and the engineer temporarily forgot about his jealousy.

"R-ratchet!," he choked, falling to his knees beside the medic. "O-oh, Primus... R-ratch, y-yeh're turnin' cold!" And indeed he was. The poison was working fast, shutting down each of Ratchet's systems as its spread its clawing grasp further within the mech. "P-pehlease, R-ratch... d-don't leave meh..."

The white Autobot couldn't even speak. Coolant pooled in his optics, trickling down his cheeks as even his vision began to blur, the pixels being attacked next by the toxin. "I'm sorry," he wanted to say to Wheeljack, "I'm sorry for every mean thing I said! I'm sorry that I'm always so mad at you. I know that's why you don't love me as much anymore, why you're always so busy with your projects. I've been a terrible lover and parent... I wish I could have changed that before it was too late." His spark whirled achingly within him, strangled within the cloud of poison slowly pouring inside of it.

"Oh, Ratch...," the prince was choking still, his own tears falling past his optics and down his blast mask. "A-ah sh-should of done what yeh asked o' meh. M-maybeh if Ah'd been m-more attentive, yeh w-wouldn't go stomping off s-so much. T-then yeh wouldn't ha-have been angreh wit' meh so much, a-and let that s-sneaky m-mech g-get past yer guard. S-sticking that p-poison in yeh, t-there's no way Ah c-could get it out i-in ti- Wait!"

Wheeljack wiped at his optics, frantically digging into his subspace. "Ratchet!," he cried, voice growing more excited by the astrosecond. "Ratchet, do yeh know what this is!," he exclaimed, holding the unknown device towards the medic. "I-it's meh toxin-extractor! Ah jus' finished building it this very orn; Ah rushed down t' show yeh, but yeh'd already gone!"

Quickly, the prince unwound cords from the sphere, plugging them into Ratchet's neck, right about the area where the poison was first injected. Fiddling with dials on the metal's surface, the machine eventually whirred to life, flashing various colours as it set to the task it was made for. In the meantime, Wheeljack grabbed one of the medic's servos, cradling it comfortably. "It's all gonna be al'ight, Ratch," assured. "Trust meh."

"I-i...I do," Ratchet croaked, the machine's suction allowing him to gain some control over his vocalizer again. Tears fell from his optics harder, a pained smile appearing on his face as he looked up at his mate. "'J-jack... I do... trust you... s-so much, l-love..."

"S-sorry...," he coughed, squeezing the servo back.

"Y-yeh have nutthing t' b-be sorry about Ratchet," Wheeljack protested. But he did, Ratchet knew, and he promised himself he would make it up to the crazy prince as soon as he was better. He'd clean up the clinic, fix dinner and passionately make love to his wonderful mate. And after that was all done, he was putting triple steel beams on the clinic doors, making sure that it had the security and fortifications strong enough to keep his darling sons out for their own good.

Little Red Riding Hood

Red Alert was sure someone was following him.

Okay, scratch sure. He was one hundred percent certain that THOSE WERE OPTICS IN THE BUSHES WATCHING HIM THIS VERY INSTANT! Quailing in fright, the mech scrambled for the paper bag in his basket, wrenching it out and up and over his sparking horns and hood. He fell to the floor in an undignified heap, scrambling into a sitting position and rocking in place quickly. He could hear the bushes shake a little outside of his safe paper bag, but the princess attempted to ignore it, telling himself over and over again "There's nothing there. There's nothing there. There's nothing there."

He almost jumped out of his shell when something cold prodded his back.

XXXXXXX

Inferno had been following the little mech for quite some time now. He had happened by the Autobot wandering through the woods one sunny orn, cringing at every bird call and squirrel scamper that came within hearing range. At first, the cyberwolf hadn't thought much of the princess. But then the sun fell in a sharp beam upon that hapless beauty, highlighting his gorgeous white plating and his large, captivating pale blue optics...well, Inferno had been hypnotized right then and there! He didn't even mind that the other mech seemed ever so frightened of the world around him; the big Autobot vowed that he would do anything to protect this stranger and see a smile come to his usually timid faceplates.

Three weeks he had been stalk- ahem, guarding, his precious princess and he still had yet to even learn the other's name! Oh, the cyberwolf wanted to whine at the unfairness of it all. But, he told himself, if never knowing a thing about the red and white Autobot was what it took for him to make him happy, then Inferno would gladly suffer it all.

And he was quite content to do so, but that was before he saw his lovely Angel spiral into a terrible panic and yank a paper bag over his helm. Inferno, after studying Red Alert all this time, had seen this very scenario play out on multiple occasions. He also knew that within a couple cycles, the princess would have calmed down enough that he could safely return home again. But today was a bad day for Red Alert to have one of his fits -nasty insecticons had taken up residence in the forest lately and they had started the morning with a heavy craving. They were known to sometimes tackle and devour hapless travelers as well, depending on how hungry they were.

The cyberwolf had noted such a trio of insecticons not but a mile down wind; if they weren't careful, those Decepticons just might come their way. Inferno didn't want to see his beautiful stranger eaten by bugs! That's why he had weighed his options, deciding that having his chance to ever be more to Red Alert than a friendly stalker was not worth running the risk of the smaller mech's safety. Coming out of hiding, Inferno approached the rocking Autobot, gently poking him with one finger.

"U-uh, 'xcuse meh," he mumbled shyly. "A-aye'd 'ate ta interrupt but Aye jus' wanted ta say now was not a good time ta be hidin' yer face. T-there's some nasty Decetibugs d-downwind; don't want ta be runnin' inta 'em anytime soon."

The princess merely stiffened, shaking like a leaf caught in a storm; the glow from his sparking horns visible through the bag and clothe.

Inferno, unwisely, tried again. "U-umm, p-princess?"

"How do you know who I am?!," Red Alert shrieked, tearing the bag off his helm. He fell backwards in fright, floundering on the ground before the cyberwolf. "G-go away! Help, help! I'm going to be eaten by a giant monster! Help, please!"

"N-no!," the bigger mech tried to protest. "A-aye'm not-"

He never got the chance to finish, because suddenly Red Alert was up on his pedes, grabbing the nearest object -a branch- and smacking Inferno with it wildly. The cyberwolf at first growled at the assault but he realized that was a bad thing to do after the smaller mech increased his efforts; instead, falling silent, clenching his paws in his lap, allowing each of the random blows to ring across his plating. Slowly, Red Alert began to take notice that his supposed attacker was no longer attacking, and though his mind screamed at him not to relent and hightail it out of there, the princess actually slowed his hitting. He dropped the branch entirely after a klik, looking at the battered cyberwolf ashamedly.

"I-i-i...," he stammered, unable to get the words out.

"I-it's alright," Inferno tried to smile. "Jus' a-"

The rapid buzzing of Insecticon wings cut off the red mech. Quickly and without warning, Inferno lunged at Red Alert, tackling the other Autobot to the ground. He covered the princess' tiny frame with his own, slapping a paw over the red and white 'bot's mouth. "Ssh!," Inferno hissed. "They'll 'ear ya!"

Cautiously, the cyberwolf looked over a shoulder plating, watching as the Decepticons flew by, their helms turning slowly, looking for prey to munch on this orn. Spotting no one, the Insecticons were quick to move on again; their systems buzzing in disappointment the entire way. Double-checking that they were gone for good, Inferno slowly lifted himself off of Red Alert, still looking all around them.

"Good, 'ey seem ta be gone now. Shall Aye escort ya ho-" The red mech turned around, vocalizer clicking shut at the sight he saw beneath him. The princess, with his servos clasped at his chestplates and his hood billowed out under him, was looking up at the cyberwolf with dimmed optics. They were glazed with a fine sheen of coolant, and his cheekplates were painted a lovely shade of cerise. Inferno's tail perked when he realized that he was currently straddling Red Alert as well, those lovely white thighs trembling softly against his waist.

The bigger Autobot hurried to distance himself from the paranoid mech. "A-aye'm v-very so-sorry," he stammered, "L-let m-meh g-git yeh 'o-ome 'fore y-ya run inta a-anymore t-trouble."

"O-okay...," Red Alert mumbled. He timidly reached for the servo held out for him, allowing himself to be picked up of the ground. "T-thank you," he blushed, quickly turning away and gathering his things. The red satin of that hood pulled forward as the princess bent over, displaying the pristine steel-grey aft to the shell-shocked cyberwolf. Inferno just couldn't tear his gaze away! Especially not when he could smell the faintest traces of lubricant behind those delicate protective panelling.

"Aiiiiieeee!"

Red Alert whirled around, falling onto his aft. His own bright optics met with the wide, surprised ones of the princess. "W-wh-what...?!" The red and white mech stuttered, choking back the questions he just couldn't bring himself to ask. He had been dead certain that he had felt the other Autobot sniffing at his aft, but there was no way he was asking for confirmation!

"U-uh... s-sorry," Inferno mumbled, quickly backing away. He had his ears pressed against his helm and his tail tucked between his legs contritely.

"I-it's alright... J-just, I, umm, I-i think I should be going home n-now," Red Alert mumbled, picking himself off the forest floor for a second time that orn. He anxiously turned, padding a few steps towards his home. Inferno could only watch him go, sadly, cursing himself silently all the while for his mistakes. He almost missed it when the princess slowed to a stop, turning and looking back to the cyberwolf.

"W-would...," he paused, glancing off to the side, before returning his gaze to the cyberwolf. "W-would you still c-care to walk m-me home?"

"Y-yes!," Inferno cried out, before he could stop himself. He flushed in embarrassment, chuckling quickly to try and regain his composure. It was in that moment that he was granted his very first glimpse of one of those small, beautiful smiles he'd come to see every orn from then on.

"O-okay...," his lovely princess said, holding a shy servo out for the cyberwolf to take. The red Autobot was quick to close the distance between them, grasping the smaller servo within one of his very own paws. "M-my name, i-it's Red Alert by the way."

"Red...," Inferno purred, rolling the name across his glossa in bliss. "Ya can call meh Inferno."

A larger smile graced Red Alert's lip components, his optics glittering merrily.

Rapunzel

"Oh, princess, I wish you'd speak to me," the voice cried out from below. "I only hope-"

"Oh hush!," Mirage scowled, leaning out precariously from his window. He glared down at the mech standing at the very bottom of his tower, a bushel of wild flowers in his servos. At his presence, a smile showed itself on the stranger's face; his optics glittering like two sapphires.

"Princess, you look as lovely as ever! The sun and stars themselves would be ashamed to hold their light against your frame, for they would surely fall short of your own radiance."

"You can barely even see my frame from your tiny patch of dirt down there," the princess snorted disdainfully. "How do you know I'm even beautiful to begin with?"

The green Autobot blushed, but his smile did not lessen. "Would goddesses be anything but beautiful? Besides, your voice is proof enough. A melodious tone that even the fair birds are envious of," the stranger praised. "I could listen to it for the rest of eternity."

Mirage couldn't help but blush, even though he was unimpressed by the other's flattery. "Good day," he quipped callously, turning on his heel and retreating into his room. He could hear the unknown mech down below politely requesting that he not leave yet, but the princess had enough. He didn't want to stand at his sill all orn and listen to prattles of some love-sick fool, especially when they had never properly met before!

...and he never would...

The Noble crossed his arms over his chestplates, turning and glaring at the stone walls circling him. Nothing but stone walls... there was a door, yes, but it only led to a small kitchen beneath his pedes and a tinier washrack so that the mech might feed and clean himself. Other than the window in his berthroom, he had no other entry point to the outside world and certainly no means of escaping his prison. He was trapped here for the rest of his function, just like he'd been since he was but a small sparkling.

He did not need to be taunted by those on the outside as well...

His would-be admirer was still calling for his return. Mirage headed straight for his berth, grabbing a pillow and clapping it around his audios.

XXXXXXX

Hound felt his smile finally fade away as the kliks dragged on, and his beautiful angel still did not return. The flowers he held dropped from his servos slowly, and he sighed softly. He had been trying to court the nameless mech for a whole decacycle now, but still, the other refused to even give him the time of orn or tell him his name. It hurt, to say the least, because the Autobot didn't think he'd ever be able to move past the princess. He'd been hypnotized from the first time he heard him speaking, quoting love sonnets to the cloudless sky above with the most forlorn look Hound ever did see on his faceplates.

It was an expression no one ever should bear and the hunter wished nothing but to erase that pain from the princess' spark.

How lonely it must be, he thought, to be stuck up in a dreary tower with only a little window to look down upon the world with. That's why Hound had vowed to find a way to free his lovely swan from his stone cage... if for the other's happiness and nothing else. Perhaps the chance would still be there, for him to learn about that strange beauty, but the hunter tried not to hope too much. It would only cause his spark more pain if he did. Turning, the Autobot marched back into the surrounding forest, his thoughts still fixed on the mech trapped up in the tower.

XXXXXXX

"Please, you must know of a way to free him," Hound begged of the fairy, sticking close to the other's heels.

Fireflight twirled in place, his optics glued to the sky above and his wings fluttering impatiently behind him. It was obvious that he wanted to shoot off into the puffy clouds, to dip and swirl, trailing his fingers through them as he soared with the birds. "What place?," he questioned dreamily.

Hound tried not to frown, knowing the frivolous nature of the fey, especially this one in particular. "The sad mech who lives in the tower, in the forgotten woods. Is there not a way to free him from his sad prison?"

"Ah...," the little mech sighed in recognition. He turned to face the hunter, his expression one of blissful serenity. "You speak of the Noble Mirage, the one whom was born into his tower through a foul occurrence of vanity and pride. He is never to leave it and the force field surrounding it would keep all manners of ladder and pulley away. There is no escape to be had with such a dark magic cast."

"Mirage...," Hound mumbled dazedly, giddy from the unexpected revelation. "Such a worthy name for one so beautiful and distant." He grew serious quickly though, trying to capture the fairy's rapidly fading attentions again. "But what about magic? Surely, magic can undo magic, allowing fairest Mirage the chance for freedom!"

Fireflight bounced into the air, hovering a few feet above the ground. His optics were again glancing to the skies wantonly, but he refrained from taking off at once. "Yes," he agreed, "Magic does have the strength to undo other magics, but the strength varies for each. The spell cast on the princess and his domain are a dark and ancient one; not likely to be broken by mere conjurers."

The fairy was beginning to lift higher now. "Wait! Please, I beg of you," the green mech pleaded, "If only another strong spell will break the curse, then can you not perform it yourself? I will give anything that I have if necessary but please, if you have any charity in your spark, attempt to break the spell so that Mirage can choose for himself whether to live out in the world or in that lonely tower!"

The small Autobot turned, looking at the hunter who was down on his knees, his servos clasped tightly in begging fashion as he gazed up at the tiny fairy with desperation in his honest optics. Fireflight could not help the smile that rose at the sight. "Do not fret," he said. "My processor is as flighty as my born nature, but I am not callous to your selfless wish. I shall discuss this with my brothers -perhaps, we may just be able to break the spell yet."

Drifting towards Hound, he helped the mech up, patting his helm as if he were a tender pet. "Take care, strong hunter, we shall meet again. And with hope, a means to free the princess." Fireflight pulled away. "Until then...," he called in farewell, shooting off into the clouds above.

Hound could only watch him disappear, his spark a little more confident now that he had spoken with the fairy.

XXXXXXX

"Why in all the realms do you persist on hounding me?!," Mirage hissed, leaning out of his window again.

The stranger far below smiled up at him warmly, no gifts in his servos this time. "Because I believe that no one, whether beauty or hag, should be left alone in a terrible, forsaken place like this. I could only hope though that you might find my company, irritating as it may be, some relief in the dreariness you know."

Mirage, again, blushed.

"And, despite never having yet met you, I find myself in love with you, fair Mirage," the green mech continued. "A love that would be satisfied with you being happy, however that is made possible."

"Y-you... stop speaking such nonsense!," the Noble croaked, turning away from the other Autobot. "Love me?! You don't even know me!"

"It is a chance I'd be willing to give my very spark for...," came the far-away reply.

Mirage hugged himself at the words, feeling a cold chill overtake him. Many mechs and femmes had come wandering by in the past, perchance finding the princess' forgotten tower. Each and every one of them had spouted proclamations of love, vowing that they would find a way to "rescue" the Noble. Only a few bothered to return once or twice before giving up entirely; none had even mentioned wanting to learn about exactly who it was they were supposedly madly enamoured with. This hunter was the first to ever come back after the third time, and that in itself had been shocking to the white mech. But now the stranger had to say this...?

"Mirage...," the Autobot called softly. "Please, don't run away. Not yet, at least. I came because I had good news."

Against his better judgement, the princess turned, complying with the other's desperate request. "What," he asked heavily, "Do you want now? And how do you know my name?"

The green mech's smile grew an inch it seemed. "The good fairy that I talked to told me. Mirage, I've asked them if they might help from the bottom of their sparks, to cast a counter-spell upon the curse keeping you trapped here," the hunter explained. "I know, it seems a selfish act, but the thought of you being free to choose for yourself the life you want makes me happier than the chance to simply court you in proper fashion. I'd be willing to sacrifice everything to see just the faintest trace of happiness within your spark."

"Y-you..." Mirage couldn't find the words to speak with. "Go away!," he shouted, rushing back into his tower and out of range of the window. He could hear the other Autobot's pleas echo up to his lonely room and it dug at his spark, but not nearly as much as the bitter pulse of hope he felt. Would it... could it possibly be, that he might someday soon honestly be free?

"I'll be back tomorrow, please believe me!," the stranger was still shouting. "I'll come back as often as necessary, until the orn you are free. But when that time comes, you must understand that you need to trust in me. I am your friend, your ally; I do not want to see you hurt 'Raj. Beautiful swans are meant to soar... yet, they must first be willing to leap."

Silence followed the valiant statement.

Rising to his pedes slowly, Mirage padded quietly to his window. But peeking down, he saw that his admirer had already left. The veil of loneliness descended, weighing heavily on the Noble's shoulder plates.

XXXXXXX

He couldn't believe it... that idiot of a mech had actually returned.

Mirage watched as the storm clouds gathered heavily in the sky, turning the bright orn to an early night, lightning crackling and high winds beginning to howl viciously through the trees. Yet, that foolish Autobot was standing there down below, with a gaggle of fairies; all of whom were that moment whispering arcane words under their breaths and zipping about the base of the princess' tower. The very atmosphere was lit with the strength of their spell-casting, causing Mirage to shiver anxiously as the weather took a darker turn for the worse.

That was nothing though to the turmoil within his processor and spark. He'd always been so rational, not allowing himself to fall into love, knowing that he would never be free to pursue anything. His bare communications with the other princesses of the land were poor means of company, but they had kept him sane so far, when all else threatened to destroy him with the very sadness of his situation. His supposed friends though had never gone to such lengths before...

Rain fell from the sky in bucketfuls, coming down as a sudden crack of thunder rang across the entire forest. Shocked by the frightening sound, Mirage leaned further out of his window, trying to glimpse his would-be rescuer. It was hard to see though, with all the rain and wind, the darkness not helping much either.

"Sir!," he shouted over the gale. "Sir -this storm! It's too dangerous! You must seek shelter!"

"Oh, Rapunzel," the green mech laughed. "It's just some rain and wind! And please, call me Hound. I refuse to leave because of a little wet and cold, not when we are so close to freeing you finally!"

"You fool...," Mirage whispered to himself, feeling his spark pulse at the care-free words. Primus, why did this mech have to be so pure-sparked? It was making it harder and harder for the Noble to remain rational... unattached...

"...it would certainly be no good for me to fall in love with someone like you..."

The tower suddenly pitched, the very floor tilting under the white mech as his home began to creak and groan. Mirage cried out in alarm, grasping the windowsill tightly as the only home he had ever known started swaying from side to side, still bellowing like a wounded beast. "What is happening?!," he screamed, lifting his helm over the lip of the window, optics wide as he stared at the rocking ground below.

Oh, Primus... such a height to fall from!

"Mirage!," Hound shouted back in alarm. The hunter was dancing about anxiously, the faeries hovering uncertainly a safe distance from the tower now. "Mirage! The curse -the tower, it'll fall! Without the curse in place, it can not stand upright any longer! You must jump; it's the only way to avoid being crushed to death. I will catch you, but you must trust me!"

"J-jump! Are you mad!?"

"Please! Trust me!"

The tower rolled forward, threatening to dump Mirage onto the ground right then and there. Only the firm grasp he had on the sill kept him from being tossed out. But when the stone building began to tip backwards, something cracking deep within his home, the princess realized that he had no choice but to do as the other mech suggested. Frantically, Mirage clambered until he was squatting in the frame of his window, looking down upon the wet, wild world that was almost spinning far beneath his pedes. Rain water filled his optics, blurring his vision, almost blotting out Hound's presence entirely. It was only thanks to his dark green paintjob standing out amongst all the mud, that Mirage was even able to see him at all.

"Mirage!," he could hear the other calling to him again. "Trust me!"

Cycling a deep intake, the white mech jumped.

Hound ran for the plummeting Autobot, arms outstretched to catch him. He felt the faeries shoot past, using their magic to slow down Mirage's descent, but the speed at which he still fell caused him to smack into the hunter's chest none too gently, knocking them both to ground unceremoniously. Mud squished beneath their frames, coating them thickly, while rain water continued to dump upon them. Groaning, the green mech slowly began to sit up.

"'R-raj...," he hissed, rubbing the back of his helm. He must have hit a rock on the way down. "A-are you okay?"

The Noble pushed himself out of the mud, turning and flinging himself at the hunter. It took Hound almost three whole astroseconds to realize that he was being kissed passionately by the slimmer mech, delicate servos cupping the back of his helm so as to increase the pressure of their lip lock. Shocked, he quickly put his servos on Mirage's shoulder plating, pushing the other mech back.

"W-what-"

"What do you mean, 'What?'," those luscious lip components pouted, golden optics flickering in mild annoyance. Oh, primus... Golden optics. Hound didn't think he'd ever seen a more gorgeous sight than those two orbs right there. "I'm kissing you, you fool!"

"B-but...why?," the green 'bot stuttered. "I mean, I-i just don't want you to feel obligated to me because I freed you! I'm not expecting anything in return, honest! I just wanted you to be happy."

The princess' expression changed from one of irritation to coyness. "Well, expect it," he husked, gently moving Hound's servos, so that now they rested nervously on his hip plating. "I'm cold and wet, and covered in filth... but I'm free. Freedom -something many have promised me, but you were the only one to give me it. Yet, without you, it'll seem like a bitter victory in the end."

Hound spluttered, cheekplates stained pink as his lovely Mirage pressed closer, laying his helm on the hunter's chestplates as he embraced the bigger mech. "I think...I'd like to get to know you a little as well, Hound."

"Y-yes...," the green Autobot replied softly. It felt like his spark was going to implode at any moment! "I... I would like that." His precious princess laughed lightly, straightening up and kissing him again -this time, softer and more sweetly. Purring slightly, Hound returned the affection, pulling Mirage all that more closer.

Behind them, the faeries watched, with various expressions of amusement and shock. "I think..." Fireflight whispered to his brothers, "...we should leave them alone." The other fey nodded their helms, silently taking off into the skies at their youngest sibling's lead, leaving the new lovers to themselves.

Cinderella

"First Aid!"

The young mech turned at the cry, his arms burdened with a large basket of fruit. He watched as his brother, Blades, ran into the kitchen, huffing and puffing wildly. "Aid!," he cried, looking about the room. "Where's my swords? I've got to prove to that crooked Vortex that I'm the better fighter!"

"Oh...," First Aid gasped, "Brother, must you really fight him? Could you not get along with sir Vortex?"

"No way!," the knight protested. "That stupid, insane, twisted excuse for a mech is- First Aid, are you doing work, again!?"

The bigger mech finally noticed that his youngest sibling was once more doing chores; their large stove covered in pots and pans, all of them emitting various steam and scents. Frowning, Blades abandoned his search for weapons, grabbing the basket in First Aid's arms and carrying it for the medic over to the pantry. "Honestly," he grumbled, "We have others to do the work, Aid. You don't need to spend all orn bent over like a slave."

"But I enjoy doing it," First Aid protested softly. "It is no trouble to me."

"And what if you got hurt in the process? Hotspot would blow a fuse!"

The princess smiled at his brother's show of concern, heading for the stove. "I am a medic, brother. I know when to be cautious and not to over exert myself as well."

"That doesn't matter!," Blades said, stomping over to First Aid once he had finished with the basket. "You could-," he was cut off by the spoon being thrust in his face, warm broth steaming in the ladle. At the adorable optics looking up at him, the knight sighed softly, lifting First Aid's servo higher and sipping at the spoon. "It's good," he replied, licking his lip components.

"I'm glad you like it," the white mech smiled.

"Oh, there they are!," the older Autobot exclaimed suddenly, spotting his swords resting in a corner of the kitchen. He hurried forward to go and grab them. "I've got to run now- Vortex will no doubt call me a coward and a scoundrel if I don't show up in the next five kliks, and I'll be damned before I let that no-good Decepticon disgrace my name! But you better not work hard while I'm gone Aid, or I swear I'll spurn all of your cooking!"

"Very well," First Aid giggled, waving his brother off. "Please be safe Blades! Don't kill the mech!" When the knight was out of sight, he turned back to his stove, already going through the list of things he still had to do before the orn was up.

XXXXXXX

"Howdy!"

Swindle leaned against the fence, watching as the princess turned at his call, visor flashing merrily as he approached the merchant. "Good day, sir," First Aid greeted, a smile in his tone. "How are you this orn?"

"Well, business is moving, so I can't complain," the Decepticon shrugged. "You know, I've told you before, you don't have to call me 'sir'. You've been my best customer so far -I think it's only right that we address each other by our first names."

He could just see the cheekarches peeking out behind the mouth guard turn the palest shade of pink. "So, how about it?," Swindle pushed a little more. "You can call me Swindle, and I'll call you...?"

"F-first Aid," the medic answered softly.

"Nice name," the tan mech grinned. It fell silent between them for a moment, the two 'bots staring at each other, neither one bothering to speak. Eventually though, wanting to try and cajole the other closer, Swindle broke the quiet. "I've got some lovely wares if you'd like to take a look. New this week- a fresh shipment of peaches! They're quite good, if I dare say."

"Peaches...?" First Aid slowly shuffled closer, setting down his basket of wet laundry. "I don't think I've ever seen one."

Swindle shuttered his optics in surprise. "Never? Well, let me be the first to show you! Come, come," he urged, holding his arm out for the Autobot. "You won't be able to see properly if you hide behind a fence. The peaches are only just here on my cart."

"O-oh, no, t-that's quite a-alright, sir," the princess stuttered, "I-i-i can see j-just fine h-here."

"Swindle, First Aid," the Decepticon corrected sweetly. "Please, use my name."

"O-okay... S-swindle."

The merchant nodded satisfactorily, turning and rummaging through the bags on his cart. After a klik, he turned back to the waiting medic, holding in his servos a round, pink sphere. "This is a peach," he said, moving closer so that First Aid could see better. "They're gaining a lot of popularity right now for their sweetness and their delicate coloration. They're especially a favourite among the rich, as they are the only ones to really be able to afford these beauties. You see, peaches do not grow in these lands, and henceforth, have to be shipped in from another country. It has to be a quick trip though, or else the fruit will spoil before it gets here. Speed and exoticness make this tiny purchase worth a fair amount of coin."

"Wow...," First Aid breathed softly, leaning in closer to examine the fruit. He was indeed drawn in by the lovely shape and size of the peach, olfactory sensors detecting the faintest of scents wafting from the ripe fruit. Like flower blossoms in the spring. But at the Decepticon's mention of cost, the princess felt a small twinge of regret. He did not have that much coin on him at that moment, and it didn't seem likely that his brothers would give him more for even a meager basket of the peaches... his guilt at the thought of spending so much also forced the white mech into hesitation.

"They are quite beautiful," the medic agreed with a touch of sadness, pulling back.

"Here," Swindle said suddenly, pushing the peach into First Aid's servos.

"B-but... let me pay you!" The Autobot hurried to reach for his coin purse in subspace.

The merchant waved him off though. "Don't worry about it, Aid," he grinned. "Consider it on the house. Besides, I've got to get the rest of these to the customer before nightfall. I'll see you next week." Swindle clambered up onto the driver's seat, grabbing the reins and flicking them slightly for the sharkticon to start moving. The heavy beast grunted, the cart beginning to roll forward slowly.

"O-oh, thank you!," First Aid said.

"No problem!," Swindle called back. "Hey, are you going to the ball at the palace tomorrow night? I heard it's going to be a smash- you should totally be there!"

"I... I don't know...," the princess replied. He had never thought about going to a ball, nor had he heard about one being held this month. Not as if his brothers would allow him to go. They insisted that such events were not appropriate places for medics or princesses. First Aid was a little sad to say that he normally agreed with them.

It didn't seem as if the tan mech had heard him though. "Well, I hope to see you there! Goodbye, First Aid." Swindle waved one last time, before he disappeared over the mound, leaving the little medic all by himself, clutching his tender gift.

XXXXXXX

"You're looking positively depressed. It's quite funny."

"What do you want Vortex?," Swindle huffed, barely glancing at the knight. The ruthless fighter giggled back, visor catching the light, making it look as if he was glaring. The two different expressions were clashing.

"Oh, I just wanted to say hello to my dearest brother," Vortex answered, his servo spider-crawling up the merchant's back, before pinching at the other's cheekplate. The grey mech cackled at the glare it drew from the smaller Decepticon; patting Swindle's helm in mock consolation.

"Are you looking for your lil' crush? You know, I heard he never gets out of the house, except to meet the other princesses. I'm afraid his brothers keep him locked up tight."

Swindle was shocked to say the least. "How did you know about First Aid?," he asked warily, debating whether he should run or stay here with his sibling still. He didn't think the ballroom full of all of its party-goers would help him any if Vortex was in a "playful" mood. "And what do you mean brothers?"

Vortex honestly looked stunned. "Seriously...," he deadpanned, in a serious tone that was not heard often when it was regarding the insane mech. "You spent all that time spying on the little Autobot, and you didn't even know that he had brothers? I mean, we're not just talking about some shmucks here. The princess is sibling of our lovely Hotspot and Blades, and those...uh... other two."

"Streetwise and Groove, you mean?," Swindle retorted. He was almost tempted to snort at Vortex's own ignorance. Trust his crazy-aft brother to only remember the people he found entertaining. But the moment passed, and the merchant was truly depressed. "So he's not coming then..."

"Hmm, oh, no," the knight sing-songed. "But!," he giggled again, wrapping an arm about his brother's shoulder plating. "I do in fact know that our innocent princess is at home this very moment, all alone. After all, his brothers have to be at the palace tonight, as part of their duties."

"So, you're saying..." Everything clicked in the tan mech's processor. He couldn't help the foolish grin that split his faceplates, his spark pulsing eagerly at the idea of meeting with the medic, without the fear of interruptions. Yet, common sense was quick to make itself known again. "No... that would be stupid. There's no way that Blades and the others are going to leave First Aid alone all night long. They're sure to leave here soon."

"Not if they're distracted," Vortex whispered gleefully.

Swindle narrowed his optics, glaring at his brother behind his visor. "What do you want?," he asked again, knowing right away that the other Decepticon was making a proposition, not an offer.

"Well...," the knight drawled, "You see, it's unfair that you've stolen the sweet princess' attentions before I could, so I think some compensation is in order. I did spot the cutest little fairy in the woods the other day... Capture him for me, and I'll make sure that nothing distracts you tonight while you're away, wooing the naive Autobot."

It was a risky deal. Never mind the fact that Vortex seemed to have found interest in yet another person, the fact that it was a fey he suddenly wanted would pose some problems. Faeries were notorious for being sneaky and powerful little blighters... "Very well," Swindle eventually agreed, shrugging off his brother's arm. "Keep the family busy, and I'll get you your fairy."

"Good boy," Vortex complimented sarcastically. The grey mech straightened up, cracking his fingers in preparation. "Now to go find my dearest Blades."

The merchant wisely decided not to comment, slipping away from the party unseen and hurrying through the gardens to the carriages waiting in the stables.

XXXXXXX

First Aid sat outside of the kitchen, cradling the pit of the peach Swindle had kindly given him yesterday. He had cut it up earlier that orn, splitting it evenly between him and his brothers. He'd waited until they were eating the small desert he had made using the fruit, before asking them if he might join them that evening at the palace. He had almost pleaded, saying that he had never been to a ball and that he really wanted to experience at least one. He'd even used the counter-argument that nothing bad could happen if he stayed within supervision of his brothers all night.

But Hotspot had merely shook his helm, fixing the youngest Autobot with a regretful gaze. "I'm sorry, Aid," he had apologized. "But the palace is not a good place for you to be -us there or not. It is more likely that in such a large crowd, you might be snatched away by the more ruthless of guests and hurt before myself or any of the others can find you. It is better not to risk such a precious thing as your safety."

First Aid hadn't protested such loving concern. He knew his big brother only ever looked out for him, but it was disappointing all the same. With a bowed helm, he had mumbled his agreement to the terms, before retreating to the kitchen. The rest of the orn the princess worked in silent sorrow, his thoughts fixed on the kind merchant.

He really wished he could have gone, if only to meet Swindle again and thank him properly for the generous gift.

"You know... you're supposed to plant that, not stare at it sadly."

The medic whipped his helm up, squeaking in alarm when he saw Swindle leaning against the fence, that cheery grin on his lip components. "S-sir -I-i mean, Swindle!," First Aid exclaimed in surprise. "Y-you're here?!"

"Well, yeah," the Decepticon shrugged. "I thought I'd stop by and visit, since you weren't at the ball."

"B-but, but...," the medic stammered, at a lost for words. His spark was torn between joy and guilt. "T-the party! Surely, you must be missing out on the festivities coming here!"

Swindle shrugged again, pushing himself back a bit, before he hopped the fence. He rolled his shoulder joints, swaggering easily towards the Autobot. "It was becoming a boring affair. So...," he drawled, coming right up to First Aid's side. "Why the sad face?"

The princess canted his helm to the side slightly, confusion written clearly in his visor. "B-but, I-i wear a mask, sir..."

The merchant chuckled softly. "Yeah, I know. But so do my brothers. The mask means little, Aid, when I can so clearly read your spark." His statement drew a blush from the smaller mech.

"I-i...," First Aid swallowed, attempting to answer Swindle's question. "I had wanted to go to the ball, b-but my brothers... they said no..."

"Ah...," the Decepticon replied. "I'm guessing they thought it to be too dangerous?"

The white Autobot nodded slowly. "Well, they're pretty much right," Swindle said. "There are indeed a lot of sketchy 'bots there. Best not to get involved with those sort of people."

"...I d-didn't so much care for t-the others...," First Aid whispered, "I-i only wanted to see you a-again..."

Swindle though hadn't quite caught the medic's words. "You say something, Aid?," he asked. When the princess shook his helm, the merchant moved on. Grabbing the other's servo, the Decepticon tugged First Aid closer; sliding his other arm around the smaller 'bot's waist and slowly shuffling them in place.

"Well," he informed softly, between humming bars of a waltz. "You don't have to go to a ball to have fun. I think it's nicer here anyways."

The princess was stiff at first, but after a moment, his shock and trepidation wore off and he stepped in time with the tan mech. His free servo trembled slightly as he moved it, curling it hesitantly around Swindle's shoulder plating. The motion though was appreciated because the Decepticon sent him a pleased smile, pulling First Aid just a little bit closer. He agreed with the merchant... this, right here, was a thousand times better than going to some far-away ball.

"Swindle..."

The sure call of his name pulled the other 'bot from his daydreams, unshuttering his optics and tipping his helm forwards. "Yes?," he asked. His optics flared suddenly, a blush working itself on to his own cheekplates this time. Without him noticing, his princess had removed his mask, a sweet, shy smile forming on plump lip components. The sight was beyond beautiful.

"Thank you," First Aid answered, his visor dimming as his smile grew a couple more inches.

"Y-you're, uh, welcome," Swindle replied, stumbling over his words.

First Aid's cheekplates started to lighten with a blush as well. "C-could... m-might we d-do this again, s-sometime?"

"Yes!," the merchant cried out immediately. Though the rapid response made him want to kick himself endlessly, it brought a gentle giggle out of the princess. Slowly, First Aid pushed himself up on his pede-tips, placing a quick kiss to Swindle's cheekplate. While the Decepticon was stunned, the medic pulled away, folding his servos before him.

"I-i s-should head inside now. M-my brothers will be home s-soon," he said. "Goodnight Swindle."

Swindle waved back dazedly, his other servo lifting and touching the spot where the white 'bot's lip components had brushed. Humming to himself again, the merchant skipped out of the backyard, blissfully unaware of the princess' brothers coming up over the rise on the other side.

Sleeping Beauty

Tracks, ever since he had been a young sparkling, had always become most mischievous at night. To reign in that wild behaviour, his parents beseeched some faeries to help them, and taking pity on the poor creators' plight, the faeries gave them the recipe for a very strong sleeping draught. They were to use it in the utmost care, the faeries warned, or else there may be dire consequences. Well, Tracks' creators were not that concerned really... anything that could keep their wayward child from his wicked, nightly ways was okay in their books. And indeed, the draught was amazingly effect. Slipping a small vial of it into the princess' glass at dinner ensured a peaceful night for the entire kingdom.

Unfortunately though, his creators' over-indulgence in their easy fix for their sparkling's behaviour problems caught up with Tracks. Long after his parents themselves had moved on to the well of All-Sparks, the winged mech found himself growing increasingly drowsy when evening started to fall; slipping into a coma-like sleep that lasted until the very next morning. The constant treatment of the draughts through his young years ensured an ever lasting effect on the poor Autobot, who found he could not enjoy himself a sleepless night. Not that Tracks didn't make use of those same nightly activities during the day... but, it did explain why he had garnered the title Sleeping Beauty.

Waking up from one such regular night, the princess stretched lethargically, his processor beginning to fill with the slow rise of conscious thought. Frowning, Tracks sat up. He could feel phantasmal touches sliding along his frame, stroking along his chestplates; sliding down his curvy sides and curling around his codpiece. The ghostly sensations were enough to get him all revved up. For almost a whole decacyle now he'd woken from his sleep, feeling as if he had been molested most wonderfully. But obviously, given his situation, the Autobot couldn't tell if it was real or just mere illusions created by his desperate processor. Indeed, it didn't help Tracks' already frustrated state.

It was so annoying, truly! All he wanted was to have himself a nice good frag, but there were hardly any 'bots around that would spare the time in their busy schedules to oblige him, and he wasn't getting any once dusk arrived. It was indeed a bit of cruel fate that put Tracks in such a sad situation.

Deciding that there was no use thinking about these things anymore, the winged mech got to his pedes, heading for the washracks to get himself cleaned up for a brand new day.

XXXXXXX

"I don't feel like it."

Blaster did his best not to sigh, but it was a battle he was slowly losing. "But you have to speak with them. If you don't, the Decepticon ambassador might get insulted, and we don't need things to get more tense between our two kingdoms than they already are."

"Your point?," Tracks deadpanned. "Honestly, I don't care about any of those old, gross mechs. I just want to get myself a nice good frag. I've been having these wonderful dreams lately. Of large servos roaming all over my frame, sliding back my plating, ravishing my beautiful chassis until I just can't take anymore and I'm ready to burst..."

The advisor was left blushing madly at the other's dreamy swoon, threatening to blow his own cover.

"T-tracks..."

"The only thing is I don't think it's a dream," the princess huffed irritably. "Which probably bothers me the most right about now, more than my constant sleep patterns. Why do I have to be bothered by these lovely illusions when I can't even stay awake long enough to enjoy myself a moonlit affair? It's unfair I tell you!"

"Maybe if your dream lover frags you, you'll wake up...," Blaster mumbled sarcastically, physically turning his gaze away from Tracks. The winged mech caught his words though and canted his helm to the side in thought.

"Hmmm... not a bad idea, Blaster," the multi-coloured Autobot cooed. "I must run now! I've got to see if there's anyone who'd be willing to frag me while I sleep!"

Before the advisor could stop him, Tracks was running off through the gardens, his optics glittering with wicked delight at the jokingly made proposition, unaware of the red visor watching him through the rose bushes.

XXXXXXX

Tracks was upset. No, really. He was fuming mad! He'd asked all around the palace, even deigning to lower himself to asking his Decepticon guests if one of them would like to spend the night in his quarters. Of course, knowing the "misfortune" that fell the Autobot every night, they didn't want to have anything to do with the princess' twisted scheme. Insulted beyond anything else, Tracks had stormed back off to his room, refusing his dinner with the ambassador tonight. He didn't care one bit if his actions tossed the whole country side into war- he was a mech spurned of his chance to interface, slaggit! Wasn't that crime enough?!

Angrily, the winged mech turned, plopping down onto his berth stomach plating first. The sun was beginning to set outside his window, noting the end of the orn. He could just cry. This ghastly sleep of death he was subject to every night destroyed any hopes of a relationship for Tracks. No one would ever want to be with a mech that dropped like a carcass come sun-down. Most didn't even want to be in his company during the day!

"I hate it...," the Autobot mumbled forlornly, burying his face into a pillow. He could feel his consciousness already slipping away. A tear -of frustration and despair- slid out of the corner of his optics. "I hate it all..."

Finally, the sun sank beneath the horizon; Tracks slipping off into his comatose state of recharge. He was lost to the world, and henceforth, did not notice his door creaking open.

XXXXXXX

Primus... he had to be in heaven!

Tracks arched at the pleasure assaulting his frame, curling into the rocking mass above him, fingers scrambling for purchase on the wide shoulder plating; lethargic at first, but growing more quicker as the veil of sleep was wrenched from the mech.

"W-what -oooooh!" Tracks shuttered his optics blearily, looking up into the red visor so close to his own faceplates. "Y-you're – Aahh! P-primmmmmmmus! M-more, aah! Pl-please!"

The stranger complied to his screamed demands, Tracks servos' flying across the berth, gouging the sheets and pillows; even scratching the paint along the other mech's arms and chestplates. He shouted to the rafters above as he felt heat coil tightly within him, before it was all unleashed in one torrential rush of feeling.

His Decepticon partner was still rocking, slowly now, winding down to a complete stop; his helm dropping on to the Autobot's condensation-slicked chestplates. Content for a moment to bask in this wonderful dream, Tracks said nothing, merely sliding his arms around the blue mech's neck cables and pulling the 'bot closer to him.

"Mmm...," he sighed, snuggling into the warm frame, "What a nice dream..."

"Assumption: incorrect."

At the voice, Tracks quickly onlined his optics again, pushing himself away from the mech. He was on his pedes in the next instant, backing away from the berth and the stranger, finally realizing just how dark it was all around him. His dream lovers never talked before and certainly none of them had interfaced him within a night setting. But, if this wasn't a dream, then... A touch of dread filled Tracks and he hurried to cover himself.

"H-how...?," he choked, confusion and fear driving rationality far away. "H-how can i-it still be night?! I-i, I'm not s-supposed to be awake when it is night!"

"Fact: you speak of your sleeping 'curse'. Status: it was your proposition that extreme emotional or physical stimuli would wake you while it was still night." The Decepticon had gotten to his pedes now, tucking himself away neatly, before slowly approaching Tracks. His servos lifted, trailing softly around the winged mech's shoulder tires, dipping underneath his wings and down his backstruts.

The heated touch made Tracks whimper in desire, tripping backwards until he ran into a wall and then he was pinned there as the stranger drew closer. It was a touch that was familiar to the winged mech, having been branded into the very depths of his processor. "Y-you... I-it was you, wasn't it?," the Autobot said, anxious hope filling his optics as he looked up at the other. "The ghostly touches... t-they were yours, weren't they?"

"Affirmative," came the simple reply.

"B-but..." How was that possible? The blue mech kindly decided to save the princess from his confusion.

"Designation: Soundwave. Title: Ambassador. Arrived with Decepticon envoy last decacycle; have been a guest in your household this entire time," Soundwave informed. "Status: you were uncaring to meet me. Decided to take that action upon myself. Fact: did not expect that the rumors of your condition were true, was surprised when evidence stated otherwise."

"S-so...," Tracks mumbled, trying to get everything straight in his processor. "Y-you decided to molest me while I was incapacitated?"

"Correction: not at first," the ambassador replied. "Motion: took place after first week. Status: had become enamoured by you, wished to touch you. Was not certain if such forwardness would have been appreciated during the orn."

"E-enamoured?!" The Autobot couldn't help his blush. This all had to be a joke! There was no way that this handsome mech would be attracted to him enough to actually act upon his flippant offer, let alone be in love with him. It was beyond imagining! "N-no, no, no! You must be wrong. I-it's not p-"

Tracks found himself cut off as those servos went back to work, curling about his wings and aft, stroking the rapidly heating metal. Moaning, he pressed closer to Soundwave, wanting to drown in the mech's wonderful affections. "Fact: in love with you. Status: is not a mistake."

The Decepticon shifted, pinning the princess to the wall again, and withdrawing one servo to remove his mask. He dove in quickly, before Tracks had much of a chance to admire his rugged face, engaging the Autobot in a fierce and passionate kiss.

"Inquiry: Would you allow me the honour of courting you?," he asked, pulling away after a lengthy moment.

Tracks panted lowly, trying to cool his sky-rocketing temperatures. Oh, this mech was so lovely. Acting like a gentleman, even after the act. "Court me?," the winged 'bot smiled coyly, pushing at the ambassador. He kept his servo on Soundwave's chestplates, leading the mech back to the berth. When Soundwave had fallen onto the mattress with a small grunt, Tracks slid into his lap. "Oh, Big Boy," he husked, gently grasping at the other's chek vents, pulling their faces closer for another kiss. "You already have me."

Their lip components mashed against the other's again, glossa slipping past denta and tangling hungrily with one another. Soundwave was the first to break the kiss, his servos once more back on Tracks' frame. "Notice: good to hear. Inquiry: you are not tired?"

Tracks honestly laughed at that. "I've slept enough all my life. I've got lots of wasted nights to catch up on now!" His optics twinkled in mischief before he shoved Soundwave down into the pillows, intent on interfacing with his handsome lover again that night.

Epilogue

"Good afternoon everyone," Red Alert calmly greeted, coming through the door. A mixture of stunned faces met him, though not as surprised as when they saw the great, hulking cyberwolf follow him next.

"U-uh, umm, R-red Alert, sir...?," First Aid started meekly.

"Don't look now, but there's a giant cyberwolf behind you," Mirage quickly interjected.

"Hmm...," the usually paranoid mech casually looked over his shoulder at Inferno. "Oh, he's not dangerous," Red Alert smiled, turning his attention back to the others. "This is Inferno, everyone. He's my new friend. Come on Inferno, let us take a seat."

They all watched as the red and white Autobot headed for the fireplace, noticing how that small servo was clasped tightly in the other's large paw.

You'd have thunk, was the thought passing through all of their processors.

"So, Mirage," Tracks drawled, turning his attention to the Noble sitting across from him. "I see you've finally managed to get out from your ugly, little tower. We have this handsome mech right here to thank, do we not?" His optics lighted on Hound, sitting nervously beside his princess. Blushing at the lewd look the multi-coloured mech gave him, the hunter was ashamed to say that he wanted nothing more than to run away from this strange gathering. But Mirage's soft servo resting on his thigh prevented him from going anywhere.

"Indeed," clipped the white princess. "And I would be glad if you would please refrain from giving my mate any of your desperate, berthroom optics."

"Like that will stop him," Ratchet commented, coming into the cabin. He ignored First Aid's cheerful greeting, arching an optic ridge at Red Alert and Inferno sitting by the fireplace, before turning his attention back to the rest of the group. "And before anyone bothers to mention: Yes, things between me and Wheeljack have been better, so I won't be staying long today. The details are none of your business, Tracks," he added, catching the winged princess opening his mouth.

The medic canted his helm to the side slightly. "I'm actually surprised you're here. I heard you managed to somehow break your 'sleeping curse'."

All attention was on Tracks now, the majority of the group honestly surprised by the news. "R-really, sir?," First Aid asked. "That is most fortunate!"

"Fortunate, my aft," Ratchet deadpanned. "A Decepticon who gets his kicks from fragging unresponsive mechs? I rest my case on your level of insanity."

"Oh, don't listen to him, darling," Tracks cooed to First Aid. He winked at Ratchet. "It is a most fortunate thing indeed. Besides, it's not as if I'm unresponsive any longer."

"You're disgusting..." Mirage commented.

"And you're ugly," Tracks retorted. The two princesses locked into a fierce glaring contest.

"Well, I see we've gotten some more company since our last meeting," Ratchet noted, taking a seat at the counter. First Aid immediately set out a plate of energon goodies and a cool glass of oil for the older Autobot. "Where's Perceptor? He's usually one of the first few here."

"H-he unfortunately is unable to come," the smaller medic answered, his cheekplates tinged with a growing blush. "H-he wrote a-and told me that h-he was unable to get a-away from t-the palace at the moment. Ap-apparently, Prince S-sunstreaker and Prince Sideswipe a-are currently co-courting him."

"Yeah, okay," 'Snow White' drawled. "Courting... knowing those two, it has less to do with flowers and sweet words, and more to do with coping a feel as much as possible while trying to get Perceptor into a locked room."

First Aid's deep blush was response enough.

"I've heard that there's to be a new princess titled this week," Red Alert surprisingly spoke up. He turned his helm to Ratchet and First Aid, pulling his hood down. "A small mech by the name of Bumblebee. He's to be titled Little Mermaid."

"Ah... curiosity. I was wondering when they would fill that slot. What's he found that has earned him the honours?"

"Apparently, there is a small gaggle of tiny, furless creatures across the deep sea. Bumblebee stumbled across them and has been making allies with the unknown inhabitants since."

"I think it'll be nice to have another princess," First Aid commented, his optics glittering excitedly at the prospect of a new friend. "We should throw him a welcoming party."

Ratchet could only smile wryly at his young protege's enthusiasm. "Yes, a warm welcome indeed. To Bumblebee," he mockingly announced, lifting his glass. "Let him keep his helm at all times and not get caught in between the insanity that runs through the fold here. Cheers."

A distracted, half enthused round of cheers was heard around the room.