#but go easy- this is my first kr fanfic lol

[measlyfurball13]

Knight Rider: Tap Tap Tap

Summary: Micheal never thought anything of it until Kitt asked. - MichealxKitt, fluffy, SFW (as all of my fics will be)

   Another mission gone well. Another case solved. Micheal Knight was starting to get used to the feel of victory. Not that he had many failures in the past. . . but one failure that cost you a partner and almost cost you your life was enough to leave a lasting impression.    But now, it seemed that he was on a roll, pun partially intended.    Micheal looked over to where Bonnie was giving Kitt a once-over. The Knight Industries Two Thousand hadn't been damaged- Micheal had made sure of that, he always tried to make sure of that- but Bonnie, being Bonnie, felt the need to check over the car anyway.    After a few short grunts, she closed the hood and stood up. "Alright, Kitt's all set."    "Not a scratch on him." Micheal joked back. "Right, buddy?"    "Micheal, I am unable to get scratches due to my MBS. But, if you're meaning to imply that I'm 'all clean', as they say, then you are correct." Kitt replied warmly.    "Count me impressed, Micheal Knight." Bonnie shook her head. "For once, you really did bring him back without a scratch. How'd you do it?"    Micheal stepped alongside Kitt's hood and gave it a pat. "A little bit of good thinking on my part, a little good thinking on his part, you know."    "Mmm, more like a lot of good thinking on my part." Kitt had an air laughter in his voice.    Bonnie and Micheal both laughed, and Bonnie gave a smug grin. "That sounds about right."    "Aw, come on, no fair," Micheal said as Bonnie walked over to her toolbench.    "It might not be fair, but I'll still give you a good report when I go talk to Devon. He's currently out having lunch at some fine establishment or another." Bonnie replied, hanging up her tools. "In the meantime, you and Kitt can stay here and relax. You've earned it."    "Relax?" Micheal asked, but Bonnie was already walking out the door to the garage.    The word 'relax' had almost become as foreign for Micheal as he was sure it was for Kitt. Other than the occasional off-color vacation, (where they usually ended up saving the day anyway,) they were almost constantly busy. Sure, Micheal wasn't always the one driving all the time, but cross-country road trips were still exhausting.    The two sat in silence for a few moments. Micheal walked back over by Kitt's side and, almost instinctively, put his hand on Kitt's hood again. He gave it a few light taps.    "Micheal?"    "Yeah, Kitt?" Micheal blinked, startled.    "May I ask you something?"    "Sure, of course. What is it?"    Kitt wasn't normally one to initiate casual conversation. Was something wrong? Wait, no, of course not, Micheal internally kicked himself. Kitt would be much more straightforward if something was the matter.    After a short pause, Kitt spoke again. "I'm not quite sure how to ask this, but: why do you and Bonnie touch me?"    Micheal became aware of his hand against Kitt's cool black paint. He withdrew it.    "I'm not bothered by it, Micheal. You can continue resting your hand on me. I am simply curious at to what the meaning could be." Kitt interjected.    "Well, buddy, I mean. . . we do it because we like you, you know?" Micheal hated how lilting his voice sounded.    "Is it similar to the kind of touches you normally give to comfort the young women we often end up helping?" Kitt asked.    "Not. . . quite, but it's kinda similar. It's more like a pat on the back." Micheal gestured.    "Except I don't have a back."    "Yeah."    "So it isn't like a pat on the back."    Kitt's tone caused Micheal to stutter a bit. It was something cold, logical, matter-of-factly. It almost seemed hostile, coming from the voice box that had previously sounded so warm and emotive before.    "You're right, Kitt. It isn't quite the same." Micheal started. "But I'd like to think it has the same kind of meaning."    "And that meaning is?"    Micheal paused. He had to get this right. "It means that we're fond of you. It's a way to say it without having to say anything."    Kitt's light blinked, but there were no words. He must be thinking. Eventually, he replied. "So, it's a kind of physical morse code?"    "Hmm. . ." Micheal was struck with an idea. "It could be!"    Micheal turned his attention to Kitt's hood again. He put one of his hands against the paint once more. After a moment of thought, he gave three even taps.    "And what does that mean?" Kitt asked.    "How about that means, 'I, like, you'?" Micheal asked, more to himself than to Kitt.    Kitt sounded out the words. "I. . . like. . . you. Very well. I'll save that to the databank."    Micheal smiled, and repeated the three-beat phrase against Kitt's hood.    Kitt laughed a little. "If it helps you communicate better, then I suppose it works." --------------------------------    Soon enough, as it always was, they were back on the road again. 'The Foundation never sleeps', Devon liked to say. There was always a new mission to drive to. Thankfully, this next one, although "urgent" as always, was an investigative one. With nobody's life in imminent danger, Micheal could afford to stop every once in a while to stretch his legs and get something to eat.    Per Micheal's request, Kitt took the closest highway exit and rolled into a gas station parking lot. Micheal got out and performed his usual stretch routine. The gas station was mostly deserted at this time of night, but the staff inside the 24-hour establishment gave him a few weird looks. Micheal didn't care. Stretching was important- as comfortable as Kitt's interior was, sitting down in the same position for seven plus hours could make muscles stiff.    Micheal's excursion into the gas station itself was quick. They didn't have any cheeseburgers (darn!) but a breakfast burrito did the trick. He quickly scarfed it down and threw away the trash.    He left the cheery light of the gas station and entered back into the dark night. Kitt blended in perfectly. It seemed the only indication that he was there was his red sensor bar, continuously scanning back and forth. Micheal smiled, and as he passed by Kitt's hood he gave it a now-familiar, three-beat tap.    He was just about to open the door to the driver's seat when Kitt's voice stopped him. "Wait, Micheal."    "What's up?" Micheal raised an eyebrow.    "Would you mind putting your hand back on my hood for a moment?" Kitt's voice was light, almost timid-sounding.    "Sure, bud." Micheal gently set his hand down on the spotless black paint again. It felt cool and smooth under his touch.    Through the hood, Micheal could feel the soft rumble of the engine. The vibration almost felt like a pattering of raindrops. The raindrops then picked up speed and intensity in one crisp motion. Micheal could hear a faint roar as Kitt revved the engine. Silence returned and the vibration faded for a quick beat. Then, like clockwork, it sprung forth again with another increase in intensity, then faded again. By the final pulse of the engine, Micheal realized what it was.    Kitt's voice was barely audible. "Does it work?"    "It's perfect, Kitt. It's perfect." Micheal smiled.    Micheal opened the door and hopped into the driver's seat. Kitt's engine roared fully to life, and the headlights popped up. Micheal tapped the steering wheel three times. In response, the headlights blinked three times. Micheal laughed. He couldn't contain his smile.    Leaving behind a bunch of bewildered gas station staff, the Knight and the Trans Am drove off into the darkness.