#ic...something

She probably kicked the ground a little more than necessary in her walk to the diner and kicked at least one tourist--on accident, she swears! But she just wanted one nice weekend after all the shit college put her through. Working is the last thing on her mind, and she's only barely able to be thankful she's not working in retail.

The first thing she notices that seems a bit off is that the restaurant, as she approaches, is almost completely dark except for this soft glow from the dining area. The second is Midori, easily distinguished from the crowd by her spiky, lime-green hair tips, bouncing and waving from the front door. When she comes close enough, Maristela finds her arm tugged so hard she think it might pop off in Midori's rush to bring her inside.

The smell of good food wafts from the kitchen as Mari finds herself forced into a chair. Before she can ask what's going on, Ms. Carmen's olive hands are placing a plate in front of her from behind and Rosanne, sturdily built dark beauty looking even more radiant than ever, setting cranberries and stuffing on the table. Rosanne stops for just a moment to brush lips with Midori before continuing back to the kitchen. Mari does a double-take because there is no way the taller woman was smiling that broadly. She never does.

And then Fiona comes in, and Mari is pleasantly surprised to see that she has her little sister Felicity with her. In that moment, she is more thankful than ever for red hair, because theirs looks beautiful in the candlelight. Fiona grins at her as she takes a seat opposite her at the table.

The food keeps coming until the table is cluttered. When the turkey is set in the middle at last, she thinks for sure they're about to eat, but then Ms. Carmen checks her watch and says, "Hmmm, I thought for sure she'd be here by now," and it's only then that Mari notices the extra seat at the table. Before she can ask, the bell on the front door jingles. She turns around.

And knocks her chair over in excitement.

She practically flings herself across the room. Tears are streaming down her face, and even if they weren't tears of joy--which they very much are--it wouldn't matter because her face is soon pressed into her adoptive mother's pink coat, and Miss Tate doesn't mind at all. She just wraps her arms around her daughter and smiles that warm smile like the world doesn't matter except for them.

Not even moving to acknowledge her counterpart, the blue one shoots back, "It is better to be a glitch than to have one."

That's rewarded with a growl. "That was a low blow."

"At least I landed a blow. What do you have to show for this exchange?"

"You made one verbal blow. Tell me this: why haven't you attacked me? All the other shattered Autobots attack their counterparts. You barely seem to do anything!" She snorts and crosses her arms. "I bet it's because you're weak."

Not the slightest bat of an optic. "I have yet to attack you because you are not even worth the tip of one of my claws."

"Uh huh."

"So good to see we have come to an agreement."

Since some of you have either never been told or are having trouble believing this, I need to say that, regardless of the exact nature of our relationship, I DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOU.