Notes: Another thing some of you have already seen, but I feel the need to post here before I press on with new material.

My family is Catholic. We celebrate the four weeks of Advent, each of which revolves around a certain theme. Though this story contains no mention of religion, I've written the four short stories comprising the overall story to each focus on one of these themes, even if it only does so in a small way.

Warning: This part contains much fluff of the gay variety.

Enjoy!

-

Hope

"Hey Hoist! Mudflap's leakin'!"

"Id hid fawt!"

Hoist's head rose quickly and he swiveled in his chair to look at the twins, alarmed. 'Leaking' was never a good thing and Mudflap's voice sounded more garbled than usual.

He had been enjoying a steaming mug of vanilla caramel tea, his new favorite. The twins had wanted to decorate the Christmas tree on their own -Skids had accused him of hovering. He'd trusted that they could handle that without supervision and therefore retreated to the kitchen, eager to relax with a cup of tea and enjoy the soothing sound of Christmas carols drifting in from the other room.

So much for that plan.

Instead, he found himself face to face with the twins, who were jostling each other through the door. Mudflap's face and hands were smeared with something brightly red -blood!- and he was cupping a hand under his nose and sniffling. He was also smacking his brother with his other hand, leaving bloody handprints on his face and shirt, and Skids was squawking and slapping him back.

"Mudflap!" Hoist was out of his chair in an instant, grabbing a towel from the oven door handle and running it under the tap. "What happened?" Always the medic, he started wiping the youngster's face, pushing the towel up under his nose in an effort to staunch the flow of blood.

"It wad hid fawt!" Mudflap screeched, struggling and trying to push Hoist away so he could tackle his brother, "He starded id! He thaid I pud id in da wrong plade!" In the process of his flailing, he wound up whacking Hoist, who stumbled back in surprise, dropping the towel. Mudflap immediately started towards his brother, snuffling and wiping his nose on his arm, leaving a smear of blood on his sleeve.

Skids backed away, a shocked look on his face, though it was due more to the fact that his twin had hit Hoist, no matter how accidental it had been. Especially considering it was Mudflap who'd done it; Skids had always subconsciously believed that if either of them were ever to harm their caregiver -even if it were unintentional- it would be him. Mudflap acted like a sap when Hoist was around; he loved that mech more than almost anything. Skids wasn't jealous; he knew Mudflap loved him more, but…His brother didn't always act like his brother when the medic was present.

"That is enough!"

Both of them froze at the tone of Hoist's voice. He sounded calm, but his arms were folded, mouth drawn into a thin line…And that was usually a sign that he was very angry.

"What. Happened?"

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Skids shuffled a little, squeaking when he backed himself into the wall that he seemed to have forgotten was there. Mudflap wiped at his nose again and -realizing the bleeding had stopped- glanced at his brother. "We god inna fight." He finally explained, still sounding somewhat stuffy, "Doopid ovah dere daid I wadn't hangin' duff up right. I told 'im I could do id howevah I wanna add we fighted."

Hoist glanced at the other twin, brow arched, looking for confirmation of this. Skids folded his arms, looking sullen. "I didn't mean at hurt 'im." He muttered, defensive and frowning, "Fergot that we mo' breakable now." Honestly, no one would have cared if they were still robots! It only mattered because they were fragile and easily damaged in their human bodies. They got in fights like that all the time and Hoist had never gotten mad about it before.

Hoist returned the frown, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "You are confined to your quarters, the both of you. After you clean yourselves up, you may sit in your room and think about why we're often telling you to stop hitting each other. It is not acceptable, especially now that it's easier for you to damage each other." The medic wasn't really angry, but he didn't know how else to get through to them. They were used to their shenanigans causing others to get mad. In all actuality, he was a bit scared. With the way they were always roughhousing, he was terrified that one of them would really hurt the other.

The mumbled a 'sorry' in unison, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. They didn't usually mean to be bad; they were just impulsive and energetic. And it was incredibly rare that Hoist lost patience with them. Usually, he was their biggest supporter when they were in hot water with any one else.

As the pair retreated from the kitchen, Hoist slumped back down at the table, head in his hands. What in the universe had possessed him to allow them alone in that room with that Christmas tree? Why had he even agreed to celebrate this holiday, when it made little sense and only seemed to invoke a sense of greed in the humans? He had heard it was supposed to be a holiday of good will and love and giving and hoped it would be a good lesson for the twins, but it was already looking to be a catastrophe.

Now he could only hope that they'd survive the season without any further disasters.

But at the rate things were going, that would require a Christmas miracle.

Peace

When they were asleep, the twins were utterly adorable.

They slept in one bed, every night, curled in a tangle of gangly limbs, bodies twined together, fingers twisted in each other's shirts. Sometimes, they got lost in a mess of pillows and blankets --They had way more of them than they needed, but they were thin and spindly and Hoist worried about them getting cold. Other times, the bedding wound up in a heap on the floor and the two youngsters would curl around one another, seeking warmth and comfort.

Mudflap was usually curled up -he was the more vulnerable of the two- his brother wrapped protectively around him. He was always clutching at some part of Skids' person: hair, shirt, arm, something. It was as if he was afraid he'd wake up one morning to find his twin gone…

Skids was restless in his sleep, always rolling around, sprawled and twitchy. And any time he moved, he took his brother with him, keeping him close. Neither of them got particularly good sleep because of this, but…

It didn't matter how they slept…They were always incredibly endearing in repose.

Hoist had gotten into the habit of looking in on them, ever since the change. He worried more about them now that they were all in fragile organic bodies, and found himself checking up on them quite often -especially since the incident at the school- even after they were asleep. It wasn't that they couldn't fend for themselves, it was just…He'd been looking after them for so long, it felt like they really were his.

Technically, they weren't children, not by any one's standards. Though young by Cybertronian standards, they had lived thousands of years already. But now, in these human bodies, they looked like children, and they certainly acted like them as well, which left Hoist feeling as if he needed to keep a closer eye on them.

Nothing had ever been amiss during the nightly checks. Nothing that couldn't be solved by turning off a forgotten light or covering them with an extra blanket or more pillows, that is. But it didn't stop Hoist from looking in on them, every night.

It was, after all, the only time they were ever still and peaceful and he loved seeing them like that.

After tucking them in for the millionth time -Mudflap was shivering, the poor thing- Hoist wandered toward the common area, intent on relaxing for a while. He'd been meaning to browse through a human anatomy book for some time, but had never had a spare moment to do so and this seemed to be the perfect time.

This was an opportune time; he had no pressing paperwork, no squeezed in appointments and nothing to do.

The common area was abuzz with its usual light chatter, coupled with the occasional loud outburst and spattering of laughter. It was a warm, comforting place, safe in its familiarity, and Hoist glanced around, smiling to himself. Even though their little family had its own space, he preferred to be around every one else.

The medic made his way through the room, returning greetings and exchanging pleasantries. His final destination was the big old easy chair they had salvaged from Sam's creators' basement. It had been headed for the garbage, but had been donated to the Autobots when they found themselves in their current predicament and it was Hoist's favorite spot to relax.

Legs crossed, he leaned back in the chair, the book propped up in his lap. This particular volume looked to be incredibly promising; it was full of interesting tidbits about the inner workings of the human body.

It only took a minute or two before the words started swimming before his eyes and he slumped over the book, asleep. Hoist had a habit of underestimating the signs his human body gave about how tired he was -or sometimes simply ignoring them- and often fell asleep right when he set about to do something relaxing.

Every one knew better than to disturb him; they all knew how hard he worked and how little recharge he got. And every one liked and respected Hoist too much to wake him, even if it was to move him to a more comfortable place for sleeping. So he had become a familiar sight there, most nights, dozing in the armchair with a book or file or something slipping from his grasp.

Most nights, Hoist woke to find himself alone, the rest of his comrades gone off to bed. Sometimes, some thoughtful individual covered him in a blanket; usually he was left exactly as he had been, and rose in the darkness, stretching and gathering his things before heading off to his quarters for some proper sleep.

This night, however, the first thing he saw when he blinked -muzzy- was Grapple sitting on the footrest near him, looking through a sheaf of papers in the dim light. He was leaned forwards, concentrating on whatever it was he was reading, and didn't even notice when his partner woke.

Hoist smiled to himself, just watching Grapple for a minute. Though he was distinctly different in appearance, he still displayed little mannerisms that were unique to him. The way he tilted his head, brow furrowed…the way he squared his shoulders while he was thinking; those things were distinctly Grapple.

He was a bulky man, with a build better suited for a football field than a drawing board. Everything about him was always slightly unkempt; Grapple had his head in the clouds and his mind on his work ninety-five percent of the time and was constantly running a hand through his hair. Hoist had to remind him often to do those odd little human things, like brushing his teeth and changing his socks, but the medic wouldn't change him for anything.

"Oh." Grapple glanced up suddenly, folding the papers and fiddling with them almost nervously, "You're online. Good." The smile that crossed his face at that wasn't one of his biggest, but it was one of the ones that made Hoist glad to know him.

Hoist bent to retrieve his book from the floor; it had fallen off his lap when he'd slumped down in the chair. "What are you doing still up? It's late and you're usually well into your recharge cycle by now…" Not that he was displeased by Grapple's presence or anything; it was just a change from routine. Truth be told, he was immensely happy to see his partner waiting for him; it was a good change.

"I was waiting for you." Grapple put his papers back in their folder and rose, setting the file down on the footrest he'd recently vacated.

"…" The other man gave him a quizzical look, head cocked to the side in confusion. His partner never waited up for him; just went to bed and was already dead to the world by the time Hoist dragged himself off to recharge. It crossed his mind, for a second, that maybe he wasn't even really awake; maybe he was just dreaming all of this. It certainly seemed like a situation out of a dream. "…Why?"

This time, Grapple's smile was a wide one. "Look out the window."

Curious, Hoist padded over to the aforementioned pane of glass, peering out into the night. "Oh my!" The world was powdered; white flecks swirling through the darkness and shimmering in the dim glow of the perimeter lights. Hoist watched, transfixed, as the wintry mix settled, still and sparkling, across the land. "It's beautiful…"

He was so intent on watching the snow flurry that Grapple's arm around his shoulders came as a complete surprise and he jumped at the touch, then glanced up at the other man, a sheepish look crossing his face. Grapple smiled back, understanding. It was another unusual gesture; they were both fairly reserved individuals.

"I thought you'd want to see it," The architect said quietly as Hoist nestled into the embrace, snuggling at his side, "But didn't think you'd happen to look out the window on your own, so I waited for you."

Hoist was silent for a long time, just thinking about that. The snow was beautiful; simple, peaceful and so unfamiliar a sight that the novelty would last for quite some time. Nature on this planet worked in mysterious and fascinating ways, and Hoist liked that. But even more…It was the gesture itself that made it perfect. He had heard that, sometimes, no matter how compatible you are, people start to drift apart after a millennia or two. Or they become so comfortable in their routine that nothing is ever new or surprising.

But Grapple had changed his whole evening routine, just to show Hoist something he would have otherwise missed: One brief moment of peace, something that would be trampled and ruined forever with the first light of dawn. Then young 'bots would be out, screaming and laughing and destroying the pristine tranquility of the winter world and it would be gone, lost to them forever. Sure, other similar moments would come -and go- but none of them would be this moment.

There had been a lot of words tossed in their direction: Old-Fashioned. Unromantic. Boring. The list could go on. And all of this from the younger generation, especially the soldiers who had never known a life without war; who found themselves constantly living in the moment. They didn't understand what it was like to be part of something bigger than themselves; to be part of some one else and have them be a part of you in return. They only thought they understood, and that was why they failed to see Hoist and Grapple's partnership as anything special.

Moments like this were what made it so.

"Thank you." Hoist said, breaking the silence with his calm, even voice. The thanks wasn't for the snowfall, but rather the companionship. They didn't often spend time together like this, just in one another's presence.

Grapple's arm tightened around his shoulders and Hoist smiled, knowing he understood.

Love

"…You two want me to take you where?"

"The mall!"

"…Isn't that something you should ask Hoist about?" Grapple blinked at the twins, frowning a little. They had never asked him to take them anywhere; it was usually Hoist that they pestered, driving him insane until he either complied and chaperoned their excursions or politely told them to knock it off and get lost.

"We can't ask him!"

"Yeah!"

"We wanna get somethin' fo' him. He can't be the one ta take us."

"Yeah, he might thee it!"

"And that'd ruin the surprise-"

"-Totally!-"

"-so you gotta do it!"

Another blink and Grapple scratched his head, glancing between the two of them again, slightly confused. He'd been so busy designing and building modular wall dividers for their now-too-large quarters that he'd completely missed the main point of Christmas: Presents. "Ah, why are you buying something for Hoist?" A pause, "And what kind of 'something' are you talking about?"

"Fo' Cwithmath!" Mudflap grinned, flailing his arms a little, "Annabelle thay you th'pothed to give yo' Mom an' Dad thomethin' ta thow you care 'bout 'em."

"And Hoist's kinda like a mom for us." Skids clarified, his thoughtful expression crossing his face and making it look as if he was trying too hard to be serious, "He does mom-stuff, like makin' sure our clothes are clean and feedin' us and slag."

Clearly, neither of the twins understood the concept of human gender and gender labels. The corners of Grapple's mouth twitched upwards at the description of his partner as a mother. He could, actually, imagine Hoist as the stereotypical human mother, dressed in an apron and baking cookies for the twins; he was that kind of caring, nurturing individual.

"An' we dunno what we gonna give 'im yet…That'th why we gotta go to th'mall." A look that Ironhide jokingly referred to as "the cute face" -because there was very little cute about the twins- crossed Mudflap's face and he clasped his hands together, trying his best to look innocent and adorable. "Pweeeeathe?"

"I suppose we can make a day of it…" Against his better judgment, Grapple found himself agreeing, though he suspected he would live to regret it. Doing anything with the twins often proved to be trying; they just couldn't control themselves. But Hoist loved them and he knew it would make the medic happy to receive a gift from them. "But you two have to promise you'll be on your best behavior."

"We do!" They chorused, matched grins lighting their faces. That, of course, lead to a fist bump and a few moments of horsing around, the two of them tussling playfully while Grapple folded his arms and frowned.

"Are you already trying to convince me this is a bad idea?" Threatening to end an activity before it began was usually a good way to get the two of them to fall in line. "Because I do have other things I could be doing, like constructing more barriers and tweaking the-"

"We'll be mo' than good!" Skids interrupted him, quickly trying to reassure the architect that all would be well, "We won't get in no fights or break nothin' or any a that slag that usually gets us in trouble with the boss. And we'll find the best present ever fo' Hoist, somethin' so cool everythin' else'll look like crap. And-"

Grapple resisted the urge to sigh, holding up a hand to stop him before his speech continued instead. "Just get your coat."

-

The mall, Grapple decided, was the most miserable place he'd ever been to. Worse than battlefields and officers' meetings, it was crowded and noisy and dirty and full of loud, whiny, greedy humans. The small humans were crying and leaking and demanding and the big humans were fast losing patience with them.

Of course, the twins had no idea what they wanted to give Hoist. This meant they had to go in every store, starting at one end and working their way to the other. It meant a stop mid-mall for the terrible greasy mess that somehow passed for food. It meant arguments over possible gift ideas, stops for pretzels, ice cream and raspberry lemonades (Grapple realized that he really needed to discuss the twins' allowance with Hoist; it seemed they had an awful lot of unnecessary cash) followed by subsequent trips to the less-than-sanitary restroom.

Grapple was at his wit's end by the time they dragged him into the "sexy underwear store," in which they started giggling immaturely and placing those mysterious undergarments known as brassieres atop one another's heads. A perky saleswoman wandered over just as one of the aforementioned items landed on Grapple's head; she looked as if she were trying to be serious and not laugh.

"Can I help you?" She chirped, a smile that was a bit too wide crossing her face as she glanced between the three of them, finally turning to address the flustered architect, "Are you looking for something for your wife or girlfriend?"

The twins immediately stuffed the items in their hands back where they belonged, shuffling a little and looking uncertainly at Grapple, who sighed and slowly removed the bra from his head and handed it to her. "No; I apologize…They don't mean to touch things."

"Yeah we do!" Mudflap interjected, grinning brightly.

"An' you should git somethin' fo' Mom here!" Skids chimed in, snickering and holding up another lacy undergarment, this one a festive green and trimmed with feathers. "This one is perfect, yo!"

"That's enough!" The glare that Grapple leveled on them could have sheered through solid steel. Both of them jumped a little at his tone and the sales lady wisely took a step back, snatching the item from Skids' hand in the process. "Both of you…Out! Now!"

They scurried out of the store without looking back; they both knew that Grapple's patience with them didn't extend as far as Hoist's did. He didn't even bother to apologize to the puzzled looking sales lady, just marched right out of the store after them, a scowl firmly in place on his face.

"We're leaving."

"Noo!" They both whined, identical stricken looks passing across their funny little faces.

"We didn't get no present yet!"

"We can't go!"

"What about Hoist?!"

They were playing dirty and Grapple knew it, but…There was nothing he wouldn't do for Hoist. And the twins were right; it would make the medic incredible happy to receive a gift from the two of them. Besides, they looked so upset and pathetic that he felt a little bad telling them the trip was over, even though it was their fault he was so agitated to begin with.

"We sorry, man!" Skids apologized for the both of them, as Mudflap stood beside him, nodding eagerly. They really, REALLY wanted to do this; Hoist deserved it. But they had such a problem with keeping themselves under control…It was hard to remember that they had to think about things before they did them; they were just so used to doing whatever in the spur of the moment.

Grapple sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He could feel the beginnings of a headache, a feeling that he knew all too well. "Fine. You have precisely half an hour to find a suitable gift before I drag both of you out of here and you get to explain to Hoist why you failed to purchase a gift for him." This was it; their last chance.

They scurried off, half in a panic and half over-excited. Grapple trailed behind them at a more sedate pace, shaking his head a little. The things he did out of love…

Joy

The day wasn't even half over and the twins had already disappeared to try out their favorite of their new 'toys' - a prototype game system that was being developed and still in it's early testing stages that Wheeljack had gotten his hands on Primus-only-knows-how - leaving a pile of crumpled wrapping paper and bows scattered around the room. It had been over in a matter of minutes; a whirlwind of paper and presents and delighted shrieking. The twins were video game and movie junkies; even as robots, they'd been interested in Earth electronics. Their small statures made it easy for them to partake in human video games, and the violence and destruction delighted them.

They had been thrilled with the gift, leaping at Hoist in a flurry of hugs and shoulder punches and excited chatter. They rarely did a thing without enthusiasm and their thanks were rather exuberant.

Then the two of them had raced off, Skids lugging the box along, to set up the gaming system in the common area and brag about it to the other young 'bots, leaving Hoist and Grapple ankle-deep in wrapping paper.

"Well…" Hoist looked a little dazed, blinking blue eyes and glancing around him at the wreckage and refuse, "That was quick. I suspect we would have missed it, had we blinked."

"Are you surprised?" Grapple couldn't help smiling a little, amused. The twins were hardly patient or contained and Hoist knew that better than any one. But he always seemed to forget their imperfections, no matter how obnoxious they were.

"Hardly." The medic smiled in response, stooping to gather the crumpled paper and fold it neatly for the recycling bin. He was a little bit of a neat freak; always tidying up when the twins or his absent-minded partner mussed something. The mess on the floor would bother him if it remained, and it had already been there long enough.

Grapple watched him for a moment, fond. Hoist was predictable and with his predictability came familiarity and comfort. Grapple liked things to be somewhat monotonous; without any sort of major surprises in his life, he was able to spend his days happily designing and building. It was selfish of him and he knew it, but…It was for the good of the Autobot cause that he created his masterpieces.

"It's a shame that it was over so fast…" Hoist was saying as he piled the discarded wrappings in a box, "It was enjoyable." Seeing the twins happy pleased him immensely; their contentment meant he was doing his job.

"It's not over." His partner took a step forward, resting a hand on Hoist's arm to gain his full attention. The medic looked at him in surprise as Grapple removed a stack of wrinkled paper from his hands and replaced it with a tiny, neatly wrapped gift, anticipation lighting his eyes.

Hoist turned the box over in his hands, examining it before gently tugging at the ribbon. Grapple looked awfully pleased with himself; whatever this unexpected gift was, it must have been something good, but for the life of him, Hoist had no idea what it could be. He stuffed the ribbon in his pocket and, suddenly curious to see what was inside the package, tore off the paper.

Nestled in a tissue paper bed within the box was a finely crafted silver ring. It was a curious gift; too big to fit around a finger, too small to slip over a wrist. The metal had been smoothed and polished, the workmanship exquisite -- There was no sign of a seam in the metal, though it undoubtedly had one.

Hoist glanced up at Grapple, an inquisitive look crossing his face.

"I got the idea while the twins were arguing over what they wanted your mug to say." Grapple shrugged a little, "The kiosk was next to a jeweler's and I happened to wander in…" Most of the jewelry had been flashy and garish and totally unappealing and the architect only gave it a cursory glance. But a young couple at the counter, discussing wedding bands, had caught his attention, and their discussion with the jeweler had prompted him to do some research on his own upon returning to the base.

"Humans have a custom of giving their partners rings to symbolize a bond." He went on to explain, "The continuous circle is meant to represent the never ending nature of the relationship, though I think humans are a bit uncertain about what 'never ending' means, given the way their relationships end rather quickly. They are a young race and don't understand the word 'forever'. But you and I…" Here he paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

There were a lot of things they didn't say to one another, mostly because -in their former bodies- they didn't need to say them. They were capable of understanding on a different level; they had mingled their sparks enough that it was sometimes difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. The word "love" was not one they said often; far too much, it was over-said and rendered meaningless.

The medic waited, curious to see what his partner would say next.

Grapple moved to take his hand, clasping it in his own and tugging Hoist closer. "What I've built with you, Hoist…We are my greatest masterpiece and I never want you to think otherwise. I know I get caught up in my work and don't always know what to do with the twins, but…I'd be lost without you. I want you to know that." He smiled faintly, admiring his own handiwork, "So I made this for you. I wanted it big enough to not get lost or broken, should we return to our original forms, and strong enough to endure anything, like us."

"Thank you." Hoist set the box aside, freeing his hands, and curled closer, a content smile blossoming across his face, "It's magnificent, like everything you make. And I hardly need anything to remind me I have you, but I'm glad for it nonetheless. Perhaps I don't say it often enough, but…" There was something about the way his face lit up, eyes sparkling, that left no doubt in Grapple's mind as to what he would say next, "I do love you."

And with that, he suddenly found himself swept up into Grapple's arms, and being kissed, a completely unexpected -but again- welcome turn of events. "I know…" The architect murmured as Hoist wrapped his arms around his neck, grinning, "I love you too." And he kissed him again, this time softer and slower and full of promise.

"Woo hoo…Wouldja lookit that?"

"And there ain't even no mistletoe in here!"

"Mebbe he did get one thothe frilly thingth fo' Hoitht aftah all."

"Go Grapple!"

…So of course the moment was utterly and completely ruined.

The twins had materialized in the doorway, interrupting the kiss with their catcalls and hooting; it never ceased to amuse them when their caregivers acted like that. It was an uncommon sight and, for whatever reason, they found it hilarious. It always lead to much good-natured teasing and Grapple sometimes found himself wondering if perhaps this was why they didn't often display affection for one another openly.

He blushed, always awkward when they were caught in an intimate moment, but Hoist simply laughed, the sound cheery and joyful, and hugged him again. Mudflap shot a thumbs up in their direction, happy that Hoist was happy, and high-fived his twin, and then they were gone once more, having completely forgotten why they returned in the first place.

Grapple gently placed his partner back on his feet, a little flustered by the entire situation. Hoist gave his arm an affectionate pat, completely understanding of the architect's discomfort with the situation, and nestled into his side, making a soothing sound. "…Grapple?"

"Yes, Hoist?"

"I don't have anything particularly special to give you. I'm sorry…"

"I don't need anything besides you." Their eyes met, and for a moment, Grapple didn't care if they ever reverted to their original forms, because he loved being able to see Hoist smile whenever the mood struck him; there was nothing to obscure the view of his mouth like this.

And there was that smile, content and bright and one of the most beautiful things Grapple had ever seen, and Hoist was hugging him again; it was as if they were millennia younger and still foolish and love struck.

"Happy Christmas, Grapple."

Grapple smiled in return. Happy Christmas indeed.