Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, the characters, etc.

Author's Note: I've written a few fics, but this is the first one I've felt good enough about to publish, so let me know what you honestly think. If things go well, I'll be more willing to let the other ones see the light of day.

Destination

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Destination—n

1. The place to which a person or thing travels or is sent

2. The purpose for which something is destined

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"You are the air I breathe. You are the earth beneath…You are my destination,"

-'Destination' by DT8 Project

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The waning afternoon light filtered through the blinds, giving the room a warm, soft glow, as the euphoria and bliss radiating from the bed's occupants slowly dissipated. Now that their labored and erratic breathing had returned to normal, a contented silence permeated throughout the gradually darkening room.

With their hastily-discarded clothes recovered and sweat dried, Sam and Mikaela lay curled up on his slightly disheveled bed, attempting to maximize physical contact and savoring their new found intimacy and closeness--her arm draped across his chest, head rested lightly on his shoulder, leg splayed over his own.

Listening to the soft sounds of Mikaela's shallow, even breathing, Sam's gaze remained locked on the ceiling. Pretty ironic, he supposed, considering what had just happened. While he too was tired from the earlier exertion and explosion of passion, Sam found himself unable to drift off to sleep. His body begged his brain for some rest, but his brain, now going into overdrive, refused to oblige.

What had just happened was amazing—totally indescribable and life-changing, no doubt about that. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, forming a wry smirk, as he remembered that for a while, he had believed that he might die from the sheer ecstasy and emotion of it all. It certainly would not have surprised him; it was a minor miracle that he had remembered to breathe, especially considering the fact that he had been almost totally incoherent, unable to string anything more than the words "Oh God, 'Kaela" together.

However, that train of thought was not the source of his current restlessness and uneasiness and his small grin soon faded as his thoughts turned back to the concerns had previously occupied him. It was not the event itself or his performance in said event that worried him—Sam figured he had probably done all right for his first time based upon Mikaela's reactions, and even if that was not the case, he would learn with time. Furthermore, he knew she had wanted it as much as he did. Her frustration at his continued questions about whether or not this was what she wanted became painfully obvious when she forcibly disrobed him and ordered him to shut up in typical Mikaela fashion: with some rather colorful and not-so-polite language.

What worried Sam was the fact that he was realizing just how head over heels he was for her, how his feelings towards her were seemingly spiraling out of control and heading to a place he was not sure they should or could be. He feared was too far gone already.

The past three and half months since Mission City had been fantastic, as he and his girlfriend—a term which still evoked some strange emotions in him, had slowly deepened and developed their nascent relationship. It has become readily apparent that despite their personality differences, a perfect balance existed between them, with traits like her strength and sociability counteracted by his timidity and awkward social graces. Unsurprisingly, things had quickly become serious between them—this was no ordinary high school relationship, perhaps also due in part to their shared baptism by fire with the Transformers against the Decepticons.

It was this depth and intensity of connection that scared Sam, especially since he did not really have a basis for comparison—all the girlfriends he had had prior to Mikaela, not that there were many, were simply incomparable. He was very much attracted to her, got along with her and absolutely loved spending time with her, that much was true. But there was some intangible aspect to their relationship that he was still unable to describe or categorize. Somehow, he simply knew that Mikaela Banes was special and quite possibly…"The One".

Sam tore his gaze away from the ceiling, sneaking a brief peek at his sleeping companion. Marveling at how her dark hair, which lay half on him and half on the bed, contrasted with her tanned skin, tantalizing lips, and though he could not see them, her azure eyes, Sam realized that after just three and a half months, he was seriously considering that he might love her. Instantaneously and unbidden, the thought came, accompanied by sudden, simultaneous surges of elation and fear—I do love her! I love her…

Moving his eyes back up to the same spot on the ceiling, he wondered if what he felt was just "high school" love, the type of love which all teens think they feel yet later discover is not true love. Or if what he was feeling now was simply the byproduct of the day's earlier events. That the sheer intimate contact with another person on the most primal of levels for the first time was clouding and altering his perceptions, causing him to mistake love with the fulfillment of desire and sexual appetite. For some reason, Sam did not think it was either of these cases; what he felt was something pure, deep, and lasting.

Mikaela was his destiny, was his forever.

Could he tell her that though? That after such a short time together, he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her by his side? Surely it was too much, too soon. A confession would leave him incredibly vulnerable; his soul laid bare right in front of her. If he said the three magic words today, their dynamic would change for certain, but would it be for the better? Sam knew Mikaela liked him; the fact that she was dating him was proof of that. However, he did not know how deep those emotions ran in her; whether or not she felt the same way he did. Sighing slightly, Sam realized that to declare his love for her now would only cause her run away, almost certainly destroying any chance of her returning that love.

"What are you thinking about?" questioned Mikaela from his shoulder, her voice soft and groggy.

He started slightly, embarrassed at being caught totally unaware to her waking up, and silently berated himself for having been so fully engrossed by thoughts of her…and a future with her. His gaze instinctively snapped down and met hers, a mistake he immediately realized in retrospect. His eyes, still clouded over from his introspections, betrayed everything: every single emotion and feeling from his time spent reflecting, before he had a chance to smother them. Her own eyes widened slightly upon meeting his, her alertness coming back fully, as she saw for the first what lay beneath.

"Nothing important," Sam replied vaguely, trying desperately to prevent her from seeing anymore of his very soul. He knew, though, that the damage had already been done. "How was your nap?"

Mikaela, resting her chin on his chest, looked for a moment longer at him—disappointment, Sam almost thought, seemingly creeping into her eyes. Just as soon as he saw it, though, the look was gone, replaced by warmth and softness. A smile lit up her face, dazzling enough to light up the now nearly dark bedroom.

"It was wonderful," she answered—though Sam knew she was referring to more than just the nap, "I guess you just wore me out."

Sam's stomach fluttered. Though Mikaela was ostensibly unaware of their currently devastating effect, her teasing words, eyes and smile almost convinced Sam to spill his guts right then and there. It would be so easy right now to just—

Clamping down on that errant idea before he made yet another blunder, Sam regained his equilibrium and smirked cockily, "Well now that you're awake…"

Not giving him a chance to finish, Mikaela's lips suddenly crushed against his, tongue seeking access to his mouth. Sam managed one last thought before his brain turned to mush—not today, but one day…