I am not insane!

“Give. It. Back.”

“But I miss your pretty smile and your button nose.”

The shuttle picked up the smaller mech, rubbing the others nose against his own. An Eskimo kiss.

“What are you doing, you imbecile?!”

Laughing, Jetfire did it again, which resulted in the grounder sneezing.

“My little sugar plum is cranky today.”

Wheeljack’s optics flashed pink as he snarled at his partner.

“Give me back my mask!”

Chuckling, Jetfire walked off with the squirming grounder in his arms.

“Hush dearest, you'll ruin the surprise.”

“I want nothing to do with your surprises!”

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thestalkingmoodlight:

“Jetfire!”

The shuttle was determined to anger him. Nothing was ever simple with Jetfire, everything had to be a drama. Blasted mech was like a plague.

The way the other just threw him around was embarrassing. Curse the others height advantage. Being thrown around wasn’t exactly comfortable for the engineer.

“Are you trying to dismember me?!”

The others signing was the last of the engineers troubles. Maybe this was Jetfires revenge for Wheeljack spending so much time in the lab.

While rough, Jetfire was well aware of his own strength - or at least, he knew enough about Wheeljack’s limits from previous engagements to know how not to damage him. So he really didn’t pay much mind to the shouting grounder.

“Come down …”~

He did, eventually, slow down at some point; having had enough of the chorus, he pulled down Wheeljack for the last time, and simply held him, patting and smoothing out his agitated winglets as he spoke to him, soothingly.

“Lady, calm down.”

#husband #all this fir a pun

Jetfire was ignoring him and still tossing him around like some doll. If they weren't bonded, Wheeljack was certain the shuttle would have killed him by now. Accidental deaths was probably the reason Jetfire didn't keep pets. "Come down so I rip off that smug look of yours!" Still struggling and cursing the shuttle, Wheeljack tried his usual tactics of assaulting the other until he let go. One day it might worse. The other was starting to slow, it was almost a soothing type of rocking. Leaning back into those glorious touches to his winglets, Wheeljack let out a content rumble of his engine. "You are sly." Trying to fight back only made it worse and Jetfire had found a very sore spot, which was now being soothed by gentle hands... "M'not a lady." Optics shuttering, Wheeljack relaxed in the others hold.

“Oh leave thy lily-flower bed …”

By this point Jetfire’s wingspan was spread in full display, twitching in time to the movement of his ballad. Still, he reluctantly lifted Wheeljack off his frame when the engineer demanded release-

“-oh lady mine; come down …”

Or so it had seemed. With the next stanza, he whipped the grounder around and jerked him back into his lap, forcefully so that the mech’s helm practically snapped to the rhythm. Wheeljack was spared no dignifying mercy as he was then continued to be shaken up and down to Jetfire’s infernal tune; the entire time, the flier howled its chorus, far too appropriately worded for the situation:

“COME DOWN~! LADY COME DOWN~!”

"Jetfire!"

The shuttle was determined to anger him. Nothing was ever simple with Jetfire, everything had to be a drama. Blasted mech was like a plague.

The way the other just threw him around was embarrassing. Curse the others height advantage. Being thrown around wasn't exactly comfortable for the engineer.

"Are you trying to dismember me?!"

The others signing was the last of the engineers troubles. Maybe this was Jetfires revenge for Wheeljack spending so much time in the lab.

#husband

((Accurate representation of Wheeljacks singing ability))

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badspeeder

(( who you calling a hermit >:U wheeljack might be crabby but he's more a fiddler crab imo))

[[ … Okay, that’s pretty accurate. But, Blurr called him a hermit crab mostly because he’s always in the labs ( or he assumes he is ) and he thinks that term is adorable. He’s gonna call Jack that from now on. ]]

((Wheeljack will hate Blurr forever and I approve of this.))

badspeeder

[[ Good. You are now deemed Blurr’s favorite Hermit Crab. ]]

[[ I cannot believe all of our interactions have resulted in Blurr somehow annoying Wheeljack with a new name or invention he wants. ]]

[[ They need to go get coffee together at some point. ]]

((He will hate you forever and Jetfire will probably join in.

Shh no this isn't a bad thing. But an evil day off in an evil cafe sounds like something from despicable me and we must do this.))

badspeeder

(( who you calling a hermit >:U wheeljack might be crabby but he's more a fiddler crab imo))

[[ … Okay, that’s pretty accurate. But, Blurr called him a hermit crab mostly because he’s always in the labs ( or he assumes he is ) and he thinks that term is adorable. He’s gonna call Jack that from now on. ]]

((Wheeljack will hate Blurr forever and I approve of this.))

#ooc #badspeeder

As Jetfire pulled back into the shadows,he couldn’t help but admire how … cute, this scene was turning out to be. Were the dinobots accustomed to these morning performances? It was the only explanation for why they wouldn’t be out and about joining their master … unless they were terrified of the noise. The shuttle suppressed a chortle, smirking widely to suppress his laughter - he wasn’t going to complain, no.

Ah-!

Just then, an idea sparked … but first, he’d wait for Wheeljack to get lost in yet another melody before he put his plan into action.

Not even the Dinobots knew of Wheeljacks secret. They rarely slept in the lab, their cave was much more comfortable.

“You light up my life.”~

Without the facemask, Wheeljack was a very expressive mech. Closing his optics, Wheeljack began dancing with an invisible mech. His frame twirling around the lab.

With the engineer wound up in yet another song, his listener very intently honed in on his clunking steps, keep track of their echoing waltz throughout the lab.

Close … closer …

With a non-too dramatic hum, Jetfire reached out and very casually grasped Wheeljack by the leg, catching and dragging him straight into his dark clutches. Where he had interrupted his bonded, his brooding and musically superior tone filled in for the absent melody, replacing it with a version made sinister by his mock imitation of the grounder’s displaced spacing:

“-finally. A chance. To say …”

And though his crooning turned only more unsettling with each intonation, its gradual descent to a whisper managed to erase whatever menacing undertones their situation might have otherwise suggested. With a necessary vent and the brief silence it wrought, the ominous atmosphere quietly dissipated; when Jetfire’s tone next returned, it was suddenly light-hearted. He adjusted his grip on the hips of his hostage, so that:

“… the western wind is blowing fair~”

With a light tug, he tipped Wheeljack in one direction - then the next. Back and forth, like a mast on a ship set to waves, set to his melody.

-across the dark Agean sea. And at the secret marble stair, my ‘Tyrian galley’ waits for thee~!“

#ooc #Sorry stuff is happening in work #BUT OH MY GOD DO I HATE THE UN

Wheeljack was enjoying his waltz, it was very relaxing. The engineer was a skilled driver, he graceful danced on his tires on almost any terrain. A shame his bipedal mode was so clunky in comparison.

It wasn't unusual for Wheeljack to lose himself in his musings, he became so easily absorbed in something that it was often quite dangerous. However, it was also the reason he was so skilled. With no distractions, his mind was left to wander and create. This made him very easy to startle of course, something his bondmate seemed to adore doing.

With a loud yelp, Wheeljack was dazed and shocked when he found himself in the others lap. The engineer could only stare up at shuttle, how did Jetfire catch him so easily? The lab was soundproof how?

His confused face quickly turned to anger as his mask snapped shut.

"Why was I cursed as your bondmate?"

The other was mocking him. When was Jetfire not mocking him? Blasted shuttle would be the death of him.

"Yes, very amusing. Now shut up singing and let me go."

Anger rising, Wheeljack waited to the other to stop his singing. Eventually Jetfire stopped and silence was almost peaceful until...

"YOU MORON! I AM NOT SOME TOY RELEASE ME!"

#husband

((Also the UN is fucking useless so SG UN might actually do something. Or maybe that's just not possible.))

((WHY DO YOU PEOPLE ONLY ASK ME THINGS AT 2AM GDI I'M SLEEP DEPRIVED)) ((I'm in the GMT timezone so I'll get to you after work. Just an fyi for you people for when I don't reply. It's either a stupid hour or I'm working.))

#ooc #YOU AMERICANS AND YOUR WHATEVER HOURS BEHIND ME #and istg call me British I will end you

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As Jetfire pulled back into the shadows,he couldn’t help but admire how … cute, this scene was turning out to be. Were the dinobots accustomed to these morning performances? It was the only explanation for why they wouldn’t be out and about joining their master … unless they were terrified of the noise. The shuttle suppressed a chortle, smirking widely to suppress his laughter - he wasn’t going to complain, no.

Ah-!

Just then, an idea sparked … but first, he’d wait for Wheeljack to get lost in yet another melody before he put his plan into action.

Not even the Dinobots knew of Wheeljacks secret. They rarely slept in the lab, their cave was much more comfortable.

"You light up my life."~

Without the facemask, Wheeljack was a very expressive mech. Closing his optics, Wheeljack began dancing with an invisible mech. His frame twirling around the lab.

#husband

it was rather a rare phenomenon to learn of Wheeljack’s ‘extracurricular’ activities, that, to actually catch him in the act was a bit of a surreal experience. Blending expertly against the shadows, Jetfire kept out of sight - as much as he wanted to see, he dared not venture directly into the lab. Listening would have to suffice for now, even as that harsh voice scraped against the surrounding acoustics; the shuttle found himself intrigued by the cacophany.

He’s got no timing.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the grounder had a very unique sense of rhythm … there was definitely a pattern to his warbling. Perhaps a few more rounds of sitting through the infernal racket would provide an answer.

Unaware of his audience, Wheeljack continued his “dancing” and “singing” act around the lab.

Earth. Who knew the humans could be capable of something. Even if it was just music, it was something. Music in a number of different languages. About different things. Some of the music here was beautiful.

The musical ballads however…Wheeljack still wasn’t sure what he enjoyed about them. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of these songs, a mech like him never had time for something so silly.

Yet here he was, singing his ember out to an empty room.

“I'Il think of you every step of the way.”~

Standing on top of his desk, Wheeljack braced himself for the high notes.

“And I will always love you!”~

This time he had to flinch. Had to. Recoiling forward against his own frame, the flier tuned down his audials until the other’s shrill falsetto faded back to a bearable pitch. His bonded was in desperate need of vocal coaching. Taking just the barest risk, he peeked around the corner of his hiding spot; how the lab, littered with various glass articles, had survived the sonic assault, he’d never know.

Something must be done.

#husband #Send music requests if you want

Wheeljack was no longer on the lab table, however he was dancing again. At some point his mask had slid open, another rarity.

Wheeljack was now lost in the music, his frame swaying side to side. The small winglets on his back moving to the music.

"My eyes adored you, like a million miles away."~

((I feel like this is relevant right now. Do enjoy.))

it was rather a rare phenomenon to learn of Wheeljack’s ‘extracurricular’ activities, that, to actually catch him in the act was a bit of a surreal experience. Blending expertly against the shadows, Jetfire kept out of sight - as much as he wanted to see, he dared not venture directly into the lab. Listening would have to suffice for now, even as that harsh voice scraped against the surrounding acoustics; the shuttle found himself intrigued by the cacophany.

He’s got no timing.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the grounder had a very unique sense of rhythm … there was definitely a pattern to his warbling. Perhaps a few more rounds of sitting through the infernal racket would provide an answer.