#out in the science lounge until five minutes before. It hits me like BRICKS.

[minminambus]

Bites drywall. Socializing is SO complicated, my goodness.

[allsassnoclass]

Hazel! Can I submit ““i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years” for lashton??

as you wish my dear

Ficmas Day 2

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Ashton knew he was screwed the moment he picked Luke’s name out of the hat for Secret Santa, but it doesn’t fully hit him until the night before the last day of school before break.  They’re going to exchange gifts once all of the students leave at the end of the day, and Ashton has to admit that he went a little overboard.

He’s supposed to wrap and bring one gift.  He has six.

“Hey, Calum,” he says once the other person picks up the phone.  “So.  I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

“Why?” Calum asks, voice tinny and almost overpowered by Michael’s very loud singing in the background.  He gasps.  “Ash, tell me you didn’t leave Luke’s present until right now.  There’s no way I can help you with less than 24 hours to go.”

“How do you know I have Luke?” Ashton frowns.  “Have you been snooping?”

“No, but I saw your face when you drew the name.”

Ashton sighs.  “Fuck, do you think he knows?”

“Well, he’d have to know that you’ve been in love with him since he started at the school, and we both know Luke is not self-aware enough for that.  You can’t drop hints with him, because he won’t pick them up.  Remember when we all went to eat and the waitress was tripping over herself to flirt with him?  He didn’t even notice.”

Ashton remembers that night well.  It hadn’t been the first time a stranger tried to chat up Luke, and just like every instance before Ashton had to tamp down his jealousy.  Luke is an attractive and appealing guy.  He can’t fault other people for noticing that too and shooting their shot.

“That doesn’t help my crisis.”

“Which is…?”

Ashton glances at the presents sitting on his floor with wrapping paper next to them.

“Can you come over?” he asks.

“You didn’t get him another dog, did you?” Calum asks dubiously.

“Of course not,” Ashton says.  “I’m not an idiot Calum.  Dogs aren’t surprise presents.  I just… still may have gone a bit overboard on this one.”

“Overboard how?”

“I have six presents and I need you to help me choose.”

Calum sighs.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, and I’m bringing Michael.”  He hangs up before Ashton can protest.  

Great.  Now instead of being subject to Calum’s quiet judgement, he’s going to have to deal with Michael laughing at him, too.

They find him sitting on the floor of his living room, wrapping paper tube in hand but no closer to figuring out what he’s doing.

“Hey,” Calum says, sitting down next to him.  Ashton grunts.  “Walk me through the presents.  Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

Michael flops down on the couch behind them.

“Well, I got him a cookbook, because I saw it at the store and know he wants to start cooking for himself more, plus it says they’re easy.  But cookbooks are so bleh, so I made a donation to the shelter he got Petunia from in his name, but I don’t want to show up and have him be the only person who doesn’t get to take something home with him at the end of the night, so then I started thinking about how he’s always late so I got him this personalized watch with his name and an engraving on the back, but I don’t want him to take it as something passive aggressive so I got him a framed artistic map of his hometown since I know he misses it, but then I thought that’s lame because he can get a map anywhere, so I called up his mom and there are these rings that you can get thumbprints engraved on so I worked with her and got one of those with her fingerprint because I know he misses her like crazy, but that’s way too much and I wasn’t sure if it would arrive on time so I got one of those books of affirmations and personalized a few for days when he feels bad.”

Calum gapes at him.  Michael pats him once on the head.

“I think you should just fuck him for Christmas.”

Ashton groans and buries his head in his hands.

“Shut up, Michael.  No one asked you.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Ashton,” Calum says slowly.  “We are teachers at a public school.  There was a $20 cap on the presents.  How much did you spend?”

“Um,” he says.  “If the cookbook was paperback it might have been less than $20.”

“Well,” Calum sighs, “at least you aren’t the economics teacher.”

“If you fuck him, it would be free.”

“Shut up, Michael!”

“Babe, stop antagonizing him.”

“But I’m right!”

Calum gives Michael a look that makes him sulk off to the kitchen, probably to eat all of Ashton’s ice cream.

“Okay,” Calum says.  “You can’t give him all of that in front of everyone.  He’ll definitely know you’re in love with him, and it’s not fair to everyone else getting smaller $20 gifts.  Wrap the cookbook and give him the rest later.”

Ashton grimaces.

“Luke deserves better than just a cookbook, though.  He’s…”

“He’s what?”

Ashton has known Luke for three years and is still no closer to figuring out how to describe him.  He’s an English teacher, yet all words fail when he thinks about the math teacher who’s classroom sits down the hall.  It makes him want to read more Shakespeare or Browning or EE Cummings to see if someone else can say it better than him.

Luke is a breath of fresh air when he’s been underground too long.  He’s flowers in bloom, meteors visible from Earth, and rain when the sun is still shining.  He’s incredibly grumpy in the mornings when he comes in to work, but always gives Ashton a smile.  He gives his students pop quizzes but doesn’t count them towards their grades, only uses them to see what concepts need clarifying.  He has his students complete logic puzzles for extra credit and brings snacks on Fridays.  He has stupid rhymes and songs to help people remember formulas and they actually work.  Ashton had never seen a group of students truly excited about math until Luke joined their staff.

“He deserves better than a stupid cookbook for his present.”

“Meet him later to give him the rest,” Calum says.  “Unless you want everyone else on staff to know you’re hopelessly in love with him, too?”

“You don’t,” Michael calls from the kitchen.  “If you think I’m bad, you have no idea what Sierra is capable of.  When she found out I like Calum, it was brutal.  Hey, do you have any chocolate sauce?”

“You were no help tonight.  You don’t deserve chocolate sauce,” he calls back.  Michael appears in the doorway with a bowl and spoon, distressed.

“I said you should fuck him.  If you need different advice, then do what Calum says.  He’s smart most of the time.”

“Aw, thanks,” Calum says.

“Most of the time,” Michael emphasizes, brandishing his spoon.  “You’re still stupid for liking the lesser science.”

“Please don’t start that again,” Ashton says.  “If you two start arguing about chemistry and physics I’m kicking you out.  I know it’s foreplay for you, and that makes it weird.”

“Well, Michael and I do have a lot of chemistry together.”

“Nice,” Michael says.  “We should use my lever to shift your center of mass.”

“I hate you both so much,” Ashton groans.

“You’d hate us less if you had a boyfriend of your own,” Michael says over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen.

“That’s not the point,” Ashton says.  “I’m not trying to get a boyfriend right now.  I just… I don’t know.  I want him to have nice things.”

Calum clasps his shoulder, giving him a small shake.

“You’re a nice thing, too.”

Ashton buries his head in his hands again.

“Hey.  He’ll love his cookbook, and if you give him the rest he’ll absolutely love that, too.”

Something crashes in the kitchen.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Calum says.  “Give Luke the cookbook.  Ask him to meet you later so you can give him the other presents.  I’ll be right back to help wrap them.”

Ashton nods miserably and unrolls the wrapping paper.

-/-

Ashton wakes up the next day with a headache already pressing against his skull.  Calum and Michael had stayed late the night before, helping wrap the presents and then poking at him until he agreed to play a few rounds of MarioKart with them.  Halfway through the first race he remembered that he still had papers to grade that he promised the students would be done before break, so he moved his grading to the living room and listened to Michael and Calum trash talk each other and the cheesy music of each course.  Nothing managed to fully distract him from the presents sitting in the corner, though, and even when he eventually went to bed he spent most of the night tossing and turning.

The kids are always squirly the day before a break, but the lack of sleep only makes his patience shorter.  The end of each class period brings a sigh of relief for everyone, and he relishes in the few minutes he gets where he can relax instead of teach as long as he doesn’t dwell on the impending gift exchange.

Not even seeing Luke this morning and having lunch with him had managed to ease some of the tension pressing against the base of his skull.  He can’t fully enjoy his company when he’s the source of his problem.

When the final bell rings, Ashton wishes he could rush out of the building with the students, but instead he puts his classroom back to rights, monitors the hall for a few minutes, then grabs his present and heads to the staff lounge.

“Hey,” Michael says, sliding up to him after he deposits his present on the middle table.  “How’s it going?”

“I’m shitting bricks,” Ashton says.  “And I slept like shit because you and Calum didn’t get out of my house until midnight.”

“Relax, dude.  It’s Luke.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ashton doesn’t say he could hate my present and then hate me or he might figure out that I’m hopelessly in love with him.  He shrugs.  Michael snorts, then promptly forgets about Ashton as soon as Calum walks in the door.  Luke walks in right behind him, so Ashton pretty much forgets about Michael, too, because Luke is wearing a red button up and black slacks and his hair is a big curly mess.  His math classes seem to be perpetually bursting with activity, and Ashton loves seeing the transition from grumpy and put-together to beaming and unkempt throughout the day.  Luke is the only person he knows who gains limitless energy from his students, always bouncing after the last class instead of exhausted by a full day of work.

Ashton doesn't have a chance to greet him before Principal Feldman walks in, promptly starting the gift exchange since "so many of us will be happy to go on break and there are a lot of us to get through."  He takes it upon himself to start passing out the presents.  Ashton joins along with everyone else "oooo-ing" and "ahhhh-ing" at each gift, but he's too distracted to try to help people guess who their particular Santa may be.

Michael gets a stapler and a gift card to an office supply store because he keeps misplacing his desk materials.  Calum gets a shirt with a chemistry pun from Anne in the office. Ashton ends up getting a small care package from Calum with some bath bombs, chapstick, and a scented candle because Calum says he needs to learn how to relax more.  Ashton is just happy it wasn't another mug with a book pun on it, because Calum likes sending him pictures of those whenever he runs across one but Ashton already has too many to fit in his cupboard.

Luke is one of the last people to open his gift.  He comments on the cute snowflake pattern on the wrapping paper then tears through it, flipping the book around to fully read the cover.

"It's a cookbook!" he enthuses.  "I need this.  Who knew I needed this?"  He looks around the room, lighting up once he locks eyes with Ashton.  "Ashton!  Is it you?"

"Yeah, that's from me," Ashton says.

"Thank you!" Luke beams.  Feldman quickly moves on to the next present and Luke opens the cookbook, pursuing the pages instead of paying attention.  By the time everyone has their present and starts to filter out of the lounge, Ashton has been doing breathing exercises to ensure he doesn't psych himself out.  Michael pats him on the back when he drags Calum out, which does less to encourage Ashton and more to ignite his nerves, but he's not about to let the other five presents he has go to waste.

"Hey, Luke," he calls.  Luke pauses in his tracks, stepping to the side to get out of the doorway and let the rest of their coworkers pass.  "Can you stop by my classroom?  There's another part of your present I need to give you."

"There's more?" Luke asks.  "Ash, the cookbook is already amazing, I don't need anything else."

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Ashton asks.

Curiosity wins out over any lingering politeness.  Luke eagerly follows Ashton out the door and through the halls to his classroom. It's tucked into a corner, which Ashton likes because it means he has a lot of windows, and he's been there for long enough that the walls are covered in posters, quotes, pictures, and some particularly striking student works.  Four boxes and an envelope sit wrapped on the desk in the same snowflake wrapping paper.

"Are all of those..."

"Yeah," Ashton says.  "I got a little carried away."

"Wow."

"Here."  Ashton hands him the envelope.  "Start here."

Luke tears open the flap as messily as he tore open the wrapping paper earlier, pulling out the donation receipt inside.

“This is the place I got Petunia,” he says.

“I know.”

“Thanks,” he says.  “I try to donate to them every year but… thank you.  They’ll be able to do some good with this.”

Ashton clears his throat.  “You’re welcome.  Here’s the next one.”

He unwraps the map next.

“I know you miss it,” Ashton says.  “There’s some star stickers in there, too, if you want to mark important places.”

Luke’s eyes glitter with memories as he looks over it.  He gasps and turns the frame towards Ashton.  “Here’s my house!  Right there.  And then over here was my school, and the movie theater…. Sorry.  You don’t want to listen to me go on about this.  What’s next?”

Ashton could listen to Luke tell him stories about his hometown all night, but he’s looking expectantly at him and there’s still three presents sitting on his desk.

He tosses him the watch next.  Luke fumbles when he catches it.  Ashton is extremely thankful that it’s packed in the box well and won’t break, especially when Luke shakes it.

He laughs when he sees what’s inside.

“I get it.  I won’t miss our lunch dates anymore.”

“Sure you won’t,” Ashton teases.  “There’s an inscription on it, too.”

Luke takes the watch out of the box and flips it over.

“‘Education is our passport to the future.’”

“‘Education is our passport to the future,” Ashton recites, “for tomorrow belongs to the people who prepare for it today.’ Malcolm X.”

“Appropriate,” Luke says.  “Thanks.”

He puts the watch on, struggling a little with the clasp.  Ashton reaches out and helps, careful not to make it too tight or too loose.  Luke’s wrist is soft beneath his fingers, a patch of smooth pale skin covering his pulse.  When he finishes, neither of them move away.

“It’s wonderful, Ashton.  Thank you,” Luke says.  “I’m going to wear it every day.”

“It suits you.”

Luke gives him a smile that sends Ashton reaching for another present before he does something uncalled for like lean forward and try to kiss him.

“This one’s for bad days.  It’s not much, but I wanted you to have reminders of how amazing you are.”

Luke rips off the paper and softens like butter once he starts flipping through the book of affirmations.

“A lot of them are generic, but there are a few personalized ones in there, and all of them are true anyway.”

“Ashton, this is too much,” Luke says.  “This is insane.  You went above and beyond Secret Santa.”

“Well.”  Ashton scratches the back of his neck, the feeling of a blush prickling under his skin.  “I can’t exactly return them since they’re personalized.  I kept seeing things that made me think of you.”

“Thank you.  I don’t--” he laughs-- “I don’t know what to say.”

“Save it until you get your last gift.  Then you can judge them all.”

The last box is the smallest, but it’s heavy with a phantom weight.  Ashton went above and beyond for this one, going so far as to contact Liz when he’s only talked to her a few times before, and Luke is either going to think it’s sweet or creepy.

“It’s small,” Luke says, testing the feel of the box in his hands.  He glances up at Ashton before taking off the paper, then again when he sees that the box is a ring box.  Ashton holds his breath while he opens it, wanting to spare himself from seeing Luke’s reaction but not able to look away.

The silver ring glints in the light, a thick band pinched between Luke’s fingers so he can look at it closer.

“What…” he trails off.

“I talked to your mum,” Ashton says.  “The engraving on the outside is her fingerprint.  I know you miss her, and this way you can have a piece of her with you all the time.

“I can’t accept this,” Luke says.  “It’s too much.”

He tries to hand it to Ashton, but he closes Luke’s hand around the ring and pushes it back towards his chest.

“It’s personalized,” he says.  “It doesn’t mean anything to me, so you need to keep it.”

Luke briefly looks down at the ring again.  When he meets Ashton’s gaze, his eyes are glistening.

“You’re going to make me cry,” he laughs.  “Sorry.  Thank you.  So Much.”

He reaches for him, and Ashton’s thankful that Luke seems to fit perfectly in his arms.

“I can’t believe you got all this for a stupid Secret Santa,” he sniffs when he pulls away.

“You deserve it,” Ashton says earnestly.  “I kept seeing things I knew you would appreciate.  Guess I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit,” Luke teases.  Ashton smiles.  Luke’s teasing is a different kind, always giving the impression that it’s somehow an inside joke between them instead of Luke laughing at him.

“I have something for you, too,” Luke says.  “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but if you got me so much I feel better giving you this one thing.”

“Oh?”

Luke reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a book.  Ashton can tell what it is even before Luke hands it to him.

“Leaves of Grass,” he says, running his hand over the vines and leaves adorning the hard cover behind the gold leaf of the title.

“You said you wanted another copy since your old one is full of annotations.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, tracing the swirling script of Walt Whitman’s name.

“Okay, Mr. I-got-a-billion-presents-for-my-Secret-Santa.  I wanted to give you something nice.”

It’s a thought Ashton has had thousands of times during his own gift-buying process, and that’s what compels him to finally ask “Do you want to go on a date with me?  We could go to dinner or a movie, maybe ice skating or something more festive?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

Ashton grins, smile threatening to split his face in two.

“Maybe not ice skating, though,” Luke says.  “I’m all legs and no coordination.”

“Dinner, then,” Ashton says.  “Do you like Italian?  I could pick you up next week.”

“I love Italian, and getting picked up.”

“Good,” Ashton says.  “Great!”

“Great!”

Ashton knows his smile is verging on dopey, but it’s okay because Luke has the same stupid-happy look on his face.  Luke’s phone rings and shatters the moment, but Ashton can’t even be that upset when Luke takes a few steps away to answer, glancing back with immense fondness and answering the person on the other line with vague and distracted noises.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke says when he hangs up.  “I have to go.  I promised Sierra I’d help her with some last-minute classroom things.”

“That’s okay,” Ashton says.  “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Luke smiles.  “Please do.  I mean--yeah.  I’d like that.’

“I will,” Ashton says.  Then, because someone has to be responsible and get Luke out the door instead of locked in a staring contest, he stacks Luke’s gifts and passes them off to him.

“Okay.  I’ll see you later!  On our date!”

“See you, Luke!”

Luke stumbles on his way out the door, too distracted trying to look back at Ashton.  He’s right: he really is all legs and no coordination.

Watching him leave with his new book in hand, Ashton thinks that he got the best gift of all this year.

[transform-or-treat]

Treat from Anonymous!

Treat for @synthesizeher!  Your gifter wanted to remain anonymous but they really hope you enjoy this!

Prompt: "G1 Dinobots and the Technobots, Halloween Fun, Grimlock tries to take the Technobots out for their first trick or treat, cue disastrous costumes and jumpscares and candy trading" for @synthesizeher on Tumblr.

"They're asleep," Grimlock said, coming to sit beside his conjunx. Misfire sighed and draped himself across the Dinobot's lap, wings twitching with exhaustion. Grimlock rumbled in amusement and started rubbing his back. "I've been thinking…," he said softly. "Mhm?" Misfire asked, optics closed in bliss, giving him however much time he needed to order his words. "I want them to have more Earth culture. I am from there." "Did you have anything specific in mind?" Grimlock tilted his head, considering. "There are so many festivals." "You could ask the Witwickys." Grimlock grinned behind his mask and leaned down to nuzzle the back of his conjunx' neck. "You have the best ideas." "Halloween!" Daniel cheered. "I'm going to be Lance from Voltron." Grimlock made an inquisitive noise. "Halloween is when you dress up as other people and go knock on people's doors and ask for candy by saying 'trick or treat!'," Daniel explained, grinning. "The better your costume, the more candy you get." Lightspeed shared an excited look with Afterburner. "I call Buzz Lightyear!" Wheeljack laughed and stood from the seat where he had been lounging. "Guess I'll be dusting off the old tools of the trade." "You don't have to do that, Ri," Grimlock protested. Misfire nodded. "We'll just use temp paint." Wheeljack spluttered. "Nonsense! You have to really get into the spirit of the holiday! Alright, kiddos, give me your requests!" The Technobots all started babbling over each other in excitement. Very carefully, Scattershot approached his grandcreator and tugged on his arm. Wheeljack leaned down, tilting his audial as the Technobot leader whispered. His optics crinkled at the corners as he grinned. "You got it, kiddo." "Okay, hold still," Wheeljack said, as he carefully pinned the steel wool he had lovingly spun and woven into the kind of fabric Cybertron hadn't seen since the Golden Age. "How come you know all this stuff?" Nosecone asked, staying indeed extremely still. "I used to live on a cybersheep farm," Wheeljack said, his fins flashing cheerfully. "It was my great-great-great-grandsire's farm. We had sheep and zap-ponies and mineral fields and an energon distillery." "Can you teach me?" "Maybe. I don't know, I still like science better. But I am the only one who still knows this stuff, as far as I'm aware, so I probably should pass it on." "It's okay," Nosecone said. "You don't have to decide right now." Wheeljack chuckled and patted his hand. "I appreciate that, kiddo. Alright," he said, rocking back, "that ought to do it. Just gotta get it all sewn together, and then all the costumes are ready." Nosecone grinned as Wheeljack helped him out of his costume. "Did you get to make the visor?" "Yep, but no lasers, okay? It's a safety risk." Nosecone nodded solemnly. "I understand." Grimlock chuckled as he watched his creations file out of Wheeljack's back room. Lightspeed zoomed out the door, shouting "To infinity - and beyond!" Strafe followed at a slightly more sedate speed, but that was due to the long "mustache" that reached almost to his feet and the giant oversized hat that was nearly as tall as he was than anything else. He swung toy pistols from his hips. "Pew, pew, pew! I'm the fastest gun north, south, east, and west of Ibex! Pew, pew!" Grimlock smiled and nudged Misfire over their bond. He's a better shot than you. Misfire collapsed into giggles, losing it even more as a suction cupped foam dart hit him between the optics. Strafe grinned sheepishly. "Oops." "Raaaarrrr!" Afterburner screeched, jumping out, completely enclosed in some kind of monster costume. "Radiation breath! Radiation breath!" Grimlock laughed. "See, I told you the radiation breath could be invisible and still work!" Nosecone called, adjusting the yellow sash over his blue jumpsuit. "I don't have any eye lasers cause that would be a safety risk." Misfire and Grimlock nodded solemnly, then waited for Scattershot to make his appearance. There was a crash from the workshop. "Everything alright?" Grimlock shouted. "Fine!" Wheeljack called back. "Just forgot a very important costume element!" Another few minutes passed, and then Scattershot burst out of the door, dressed in silver, red, and yellow, and waving an orange sword in the air. "Me Grimlock, King!" Grimlock's jaw nearly hit the floor, and Misfire's optics just about bulged out of his faceplates. Scattershot yelped as the Tyrannosaurus Rex head on top of his helm slid down, covering his vision. He pushed it back up and grinned sheepishly. "Do you like it?" Grimlock laughed and scooped his creation up into his arms. "I love it!" He looked up as his creator walked out, hands still covered in various shades of orange paint. "You did a good job, Ri. What do we say, sparklings?" "Thank you, Grand-carrier!" the Technobots chorused. "Are we ready to go trick or treating?" Grimlock asked. The excited yells that earned him were nearly deafening. They met the Witwickys outside the Earth embassy. "Here!" Daniel called, waving. "I made a list of everybody I know for sure will give us candy. We've got to get these guys first so we have something to snack on." Nosecone rushed over to review the list and come up with a plan of attack. "Are you ready for your first Halloween as parents?" Carly asked, eyes sparkling. Grimlock crouched down to greet her and made a non-committal hum. "As much as we can be." Carly laughed. "Sounds about right." "How long are we staying out for?" Misfire asked, putting a hand on Grimlock's back as he straightened. Spike shrugged. "A joor maybe? We want the kids to have fun but not get overtired. At the very least, we'll be able to hit everyone on Daniel's list. First I think is Rodimus." He raised his voice to carry over the sound of excited younglings. "Everyone ready to go?" A chorus of affirmatives rang out, and the party slowly moved down the broad street that ran in front of the embassy. They didn't head to the Primal Palace or the Senate Hall like most would to meet the Prime, instead with the privilege granted to them as friends, they strolled leisurely to a nondescript apartment in what was decidedly a middle-class neighborhood. Bluestreak answered the door and promptly fell over himself laughing. "Radiation breath!" Afterburner yelled, pointing at the giggling Praxian. "No!" Bluestreak yelled, clutching his spark. "Not radiation breath! I'm dying - I'm melting - tell Rodimus… I love him. Blergh!" Afterburner stared in shock, then glanced at his creators, completely out of his depth. "Trick - Trick or treat?" "A trick!" Bluestreak sat up with a shout and grabbed Afterburner, fingers diving for ticklish seams. The Technobot collapsed in fits of laughter, pouring sheer delight down the bond with his brothers. Rodimus stepped out into the doorway and laughed at what he found. "Alright, alright," he said, patting his Conjunx Potentia on the head. "Who wants candy?" He made quick work of passing out energon goodies, chocolate, and compliments on the children's costumes and then dragged Bluestreak back inside. "They're trying to have a baby," Daniel said when everyone looked confused at the normally affable Prime's hurry. "Rodimus told me cause he wants me to be an uncle." The parents exchanged knowing glances. "Oh," Scattershot said, as if that explained everything. "Well who's next on the list?" Ultra Magnus turned out to be next, peering out at the Technobots through a comically large door. He gave each sparkling precisely two goodies, and Daniel precisely two goodie-sized chocolate bars. "An excellent choice of costume," he congratulated Lightspeed and Nosecone. "Peacekeepers are always noteworthy." "Especially when they're corrupt," Misfire interjected, smiling saccharinely. "Then you have to watch them to make sure they don't hurt you or your friends." Ultra Magnus stared at him for a moment, then wisely chose not to engage any further. "As you say," he said, and then closed the door. "Why don't you hurry on ahead?" Grimlock asked, putting a hand on his conjunx' lower back. Carly nodded and she and Spike gathered the children together and started walking. Grimlock waited until they were out of sight before dragging him into an alley. "We will never let what happened to Cybertron before happen to our children," he promised. "You weren't there," Misfire snapped, attempting a rare dig at his partner's age. "Stop that," Grimlock chided him. "That doesn't mean I don't know it was wrong. It just means I don't know what it was like to live it." Misfire sighed and shuttered his optics, burying his face in Grimlock's chestplates. They caught up to the others just outside of Jazz and Prowl's hab, and the Technobots immediately swarmed Misfire with hugs. Grimlock eyed the walkway suspiciously, something off about the serene look to it - tall crystal trees and soft tingrass, a path made of Earthen bricks that cracked beneath Cybertronian feet. "Everything alright?" Spike asked. Grimlock huffed and shook his head. "Yes," he answered. But he couldn't help but be on edge as they walked up to the door. He did have to admit the brick was an effective early warning system. Out of curiosity, he started counting the number of footsteps he could hear, tapping out the number on his fingertips. One, two, three, five, seven, the humans made barely a sound but they were there, and eleven. Wait. He stopped, turned around, sword drawn. With a yell, Scattershot ran back and started attacking something with his own little sword, leaving streaks of orange paint on - "Argh! I have been vanquished by a ferocious beast!" Mirage's electrodisruptor cut out as he fell to the path, pretending at a mortal wound. Scattershot huffed and pushed up the slipping dinosaur head. "I'm not a ferocious beast! I'm sa! Afterburner's a ferocious beast!" "Radiation breath!" the sparkling in question screeched as he pounced on the former spy, followed quickly by the rest of his brothers. "What are you doing?" a voice called from the door. Mirage was too busy wrestling the sparklings to answer, so Misfire opened his mouth to step in. "It was my idea, Prowler." Misfire shrieked and turned around, unsubspacing a gun to shoot the enemy that had appeared out of thin air. True to form, he missed, the bolt being absorbed by a crystal instead. Prowl surveyed the disheveled party and sighed. "Well, come get your candy." The Technobots shouted with joy and quickly abandoned Mirage for the treats. Jazz reached down to help his former second to his feet and grinned. "You look good covered in younglings." Mirage smiled and put his haughty airs back on like a cloak, patting Jazz' cheek affectionately. "You're getting ahead of yourself, darling." The human adults stared open-mouthed as Mirage sauntered up to the door and greeted Prowl with a kiss before sashaying inside, then turned to Jazz for an explanation, much more shocked at the idea of him and Prowl and Mirage than the idea of three. Jazz simply grinned and shrugged. "Towers courting. What can you do?" "Look!" Lightspeed called, running up with a small toy car. "We get one of these, too!" "Did you say thank you?" Grimlock asked. Lightspeed darted back away to do exactly that. Jazz patted Misfire's arm sheepishly. "Sorry about the scare, man." Misfire did what any Scavenger in their right mind would do and bolted for the goodie bowl. Grimlock chuckled at his conjunx, glad to see he was back to himself. Kup was next on Daniel's list, and he laughed at Scattershot's costume, patting the dino head. "You're gonna grow up to be just like your creator, huh?" "I hope so!" Scattershot said, grabbing handfuls of goodies out of Kup's bowl. Grimlock beamed at his eldest and leaned down for helm pats from Kup for himself, sneaking a goodie or two for himself while he was at it. Springer and Arcee were last on the list, and the Amica pair were waiting out on the stoop of their townhouse, dressed up in costumes themselves, though not as well-made as the ones from Wheeljack. Springer leapt to his feet and pointed imperiously at Afterburner as they walked up. "There can be only one!" Afterburner gave a mighty battle cry, and then the two Godzillas were dueling for supremacy. Grimlock was pleased to notice Afterburner was winning. Arcee laughed as she bounded over, spinning so her skirts flared out. "Isn't this fun, Grim?" Grimlock beamed under his mask at his friend. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the gauzy fabric. "Just some princess," Arcee said, waving her hand. "She routinely gets captured by a giant lizard, but Springer didn't want to be that giant lizard." She grinned. "She kicks aft in the PVP games, though." Grimlock nodded, not having a clue what she was on about. "Suits you." Misfire grinned at her, bowing playfully. "You do look excellent, m'lady." Arcee giggled. It was disturbingly similar to the slightly maniacal cackle she gave in the middle of combat. "Radiation breath!" Afterburner yelled at the very top of his volume threshold. Springer cried out in mock pain and fell to the ground, defeated. Afterburner put a foot on his back and put his arms up in victory. "I am the one true Godzilla-aaaaa!" Grimlock chuckled, but then gestured the Technobots nearer. "Last stop," he said, "get your candy and give Auntie hugs, and then it's time for bed." There was a chorus of disappointed groans. "That's okay, guys!" Daniel said. "We still get to do this again next year!" Mollified, the Technobots formed an orderly line for goodies and hugs from Arcee, and then trooped on home. "Can I keep my costume on?" Scattershot asked. "Me, too!" Afterburner piped up from where he was trading candy with Nosecone and Lightspeed. Strafe had already shucked off his giant mustache and was working on the boots. Grimlock and Misfire shared a look and then shrugged in unison. "Sure, why not?" Scattershot bounded over to wrap his arms around Grimlock's knees. "Love you." Grimlock smiled and squeezed his creation back before tapping him gently on the shoulder. "Two goodies and then time for recharge." The Technobots rushed to consume their chosen treats and finish up their trading, and then they filed orderly into berth, already pleasantly exhausted by the outing. Grimlock and Misfire each took an end of the row of berths and started giving last hugs and kisses of the night. Meeting back at the door, they looked back over their creations. Grimlock turned off the light and closed the door, and then he pulled his conjunx close for a kiss. "Thank you."

Costumes: Scattershot - Grimlock Strafe - Yosemite Sam Lightspeed - Buzz Lightyear Afterburner - Godzilla Nosecone - Cyclops (X-MEN) Arcee - Princess Peach Springer - Godzilla

[vaenire]

Has anyone requested Baze/Chirrut + 003 yet?

hello……… here it is. word count: 1,709

it’s a college au and please look here for an idea re: visuals

03 “I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.” (from here)

Class finishedearlier so I’m heading over. Want a coffee? Leave the door cracked for me :)

Baze dragged down on the phone screen, sending a quick affirmativeback to Chirrut before putting his phone back to sleep, rubbing at his face,and rolling over to look up at his roommate, seated primly at his desk, fromwhere Baze laid on the ground. His laptop was in front of him, a pillow underhis arms to prop him up a bit.

“Obi, Chirrut’s on his way over.”

Obi Wan, Baze’s long suffering roommate, sighed deeply, his handshovering over the keyboard of his laptop.

“I’m going to a study lounge.” He clapped his laptop closed andgrabbed his notebook, and was already out of his seat.

“Could you leave the door open a bit?” Baze called over his shoulder.Obi Wan hummed derisively, but Baze didn’t hear the door click and wassatisfied.

In the meantime, before Chirrut arrived, Baze reviewed his notes. Hewas writing an analysis paper on some philosophical theory he didn’t reallyunderstand. That’s where Chirrut came in—as a philosophy major and Baze’sboyfriend, he hoped that Chirrut could be of some help.

Baze rubbed over his eyes again, yawned, and force himself to readover his introduction paragraph for what felt like the hundredth time. Everythinghe said was starting to blur and he couldn’t even tell what were originalthoughts and what was just lifted off of his source material anymore.

He was starting to get a headache by the time Chirrut arrived,throwing the door open wide and letting it bang against the wall.

“I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses,” he said with a cheekygrin. “Sit up and take your coffee.” He sat on the ground beside Baze, handinghim his large cup of black coffee and taking the laptop from him, setting it halfwayon Baze’s thigh and halfway on his own where they sat against each other. Hepushed up his glasses where they slipped down his nose as he sat.

Baze took a long drink from the coffee and sighed deeply. He turned onhis app to make the colors on his screen easier for Chirrut to read.

Chirrut sighed theatrically, watching Baze fiddle with the font size. “Youshould just read it to me, I’m tired.” He laid his head against Baze’s shoulderfor emphasis.

Baze took another long swig of coffee and began reading.

When he was finished, he took another drink of his coffee. Chirruthummed.

“Let me resummarize what I remember, just to make sure I caught itall,” he said. He went back over Baze’s main points quickly. His memory wasalways amazing to Baze, as he pointed out details that Baze himself forgot heput in, even though he’djust read it. He really had been staring at this essayfor too long, frankly.

“Ok, all of that makes sense except the third argument. I think it’syour fourth paragraph.” Baze scrolled back up to it. “You’re defining somethinghere, but it’s not exactly accurate. It kind of changes the rest of yourparagraphs, too. I think this paragraph is where you introduced a reallyimportant concept but you went over it too quickly.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Baze asked. He furrowed his brow, rereading itagain. The words didn’t mean anything to him anymore.

“It’s just unclear. And uh, this term,” Chirrut took the laptop andleaned in to squint at the screen. “This definition isn’t quite accurate. Doyou have class notes from that lecture?”

“Yeah,” Baze said. He was frustrated. He opened the documents of classnotes and found the key term Chirrut pointed out and read over the definitionagain, but didn’t see how he messed it up. He read it aloud for Chirrut.

“Huh, your professor gave you a different one than mine did. Paragraphfour is fine then. Paragraph seven is inconsistent though.”

Baze huffed and scrolled down to read back over it. His headache wasback, sitting like a brick on the front of his head. He could tell that Chirrutwas right, but he couldn’t tell how to fix the problem.

“What should I do?” His voice wavered, betraying his vexation.

Chirrut paused, putting a hand over his. “Hey, when’s this due?”

“Midnight.”

“You’ve got plenty of time,” Chirrut said. He got out of class atfour, and that couldn’t have been much more than an hour ago. “Let’s take abreak, alright?”

Baze bit his lip. Chirrut could feel the tension in him.

“I have to do some readings for class tomorrow so I need to get thisdone.” He swallowed hard. “And I have a lab report due in the morning.”

“Alright,” Chirrut said. He carefully extricated the laptop from Baze’shands and closing it, setting it down next to his leg on the other side. He puthis arm over Baze’s shoulders. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Baze laughed sullenly. “I don’t know.” Chirrut clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, we’re taking a break, alright?” Chirrut leaned up to press akiss to Baze’s cheek before he got to his feet, holding his hand out for Baze.He could sense Baze’s reticence, saw him glance at his discarded laptop, andwas pleased when he took Chirrut’s hand and allowed him to be pulled to hisfeet. Chirrut sprawled out on Baze’s bed, scooting over to make room for Bazeto lay beside him.

Baze put his head on Chirrut’s outreached arm, where it cushioned thecurve of his neck. He still felt tense. Chirrut reached his other arm over tograb his waist and pull Baze onto his side, tucking him firmly against hischest. His arm under Baze’s head curled around Baze’s back.

Chirrut’s eyes were tired, so he closed them and let his fingersoutline the tenseness in Baze’s jaw and brows. He ran circles over Baze’stemple until he felt him relax somewhat.

“The lab is for physics?” he asked gently. “Is it hard?”

“It’s just busy work. I should’ve tested out of this level.”

Chirrut chuckled. “Imagine if I were taking that class, though. God, I’ddie.”

Baze laughed a little at that. It was true that Chirrut did not do sowell with math or science like Baze did. Equations were something that Bazecould see and put his hand on, but these rhetorical and reflective papers hehad to do for philosophy were well out of his comfort zone.

Baze sighed and pressed up closer to Chirrut. He tried to hide hisyawn to no avail.  

“So I took a psych class last quarter, and if I remember correctly, aforty five minute nap would be ideal right now.”

“I don’t have time,” Baze protested softly.

Chirrut pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Grab your laptop and Ican go over it again and mark places to work on while you sleep.” He let Bazeroll over to reach for his laptop, handing it to Chirrut and curling back up.

Chirrut increased the font size until he could see it from where hehad the laptop balanced on his hip, his leg bent so prop it up. With his freehand he highlighted areas of Baze’s essay to talk about when he was donenapping.

Baze adjusted before he got comfortable, first tucking his faceagainst Chirrut’s neck, his hand flat on his chest. His breath on Chirrut’sthroat was distracting, so Chirrut trailed his fingertips over Baze’s arm as hereread the essay. Slowlhy, tension drained out of Baze’s shoulders and hisbreathing deepened, growing a touch louder than Baze, ever self-conscious,would allow it to if he were awake.

Chirrut was just highlighting a portion of the conclusion paragraphfor review when Baze shifted again, making the smallest sleepy sound and bowinghis head so his cheek was pressed against Chirrut’s sternum, clasping his handinto a fist and resting it against his own forehead.

Chirrut bit his lip to keep in his “aww” like sound. All Chirrut couldsee was the top of Baze’s head, but he could feel the warm squish of Baze’ssoft cheek against his chest.

He decided he was done with the essay for now. Instead, he opened the cameraapp on Baze’s laptop. He grinned at the new view of Baze snuggling into him. Hiseyebrows were still quirked with stress and his lips pouted slightly. He looked soft.

Quickly, he silenced the laptop’s volume and adjusted it so the viewonly picked up Chirrut’s smile at the top of the frame and took the picture.

Gently, Chirrut took Baze’s hand and inched it away from his face sohe could take a clearer shot. He got one before Baze started shifting. He movedhis head up to sleepily look at Chirrut. Chirrut discreetly hit the button fora photo to be taken in three seconds, and quickly put his hand on Baze’s jaw.

“Go back to sleep, babe,” he said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’mstill reading your essay.”

Baze hummed and put his head back down. He was really cute when he wasso sleepy.

Chirrut pressed the button to take one last picture before sendingthem all to himself.

Just a moment before the photo took, Chirrut saw Baze’s eyes pop openand felt him tense, suddenly awake again.

“Chirrut!” he exclaimed, voice rough from sleep. Chirrut startedlaughing at Baze’s face in the photo, quickly pulling open a messenger app andputting all of the pictures in a message to himself from Baze. “Hey!” Bazetried grabbing the laptop, but Chirrut’s arm around Baze’s shoulder squeezedhim, pulling him to the side while he pushed the laptop out of his reach. Hequickly hit send.

Chirrut grinned at his petulant scowl.

“You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am helping you. And inreturn, I get these photos. Is that not a fair trade?” Chirrut closed thelaptop and wrapped his other arm around Baze as well. “And now you’re allrested, we can finish up that essay and maybe take another nap.” He kissed Baze’snose and his grinned widened proportionately to Baze’s scowl.

“Fine.”