He didn't like the humans--except as snack food; they were excellent snacks--but he would grudgingly admit that sometimes they had good ideas. Like those easy to access solar arrays that Kickback liked to chew when he was feeling anxious. Or the interrogation techniques that Bombshell had been eager to try out their fellow Decepticons.
Or gift-tokens for the object of their affection.
Shrapnel felt a bit stupid for not thinking of the idea on his own, but the extra-terrestrial insect that his beast form was based on did not give such tokens and its tendencies colored his programming and actions more than he wanted to admit. But now that his attention had been directed toward the idea, he acknowledged how excellent it was.
The Insecticon would just be very sure not to mention that he was giving the gift on a human holiday designed for the purpose.
He took his time, stalking the perfect prey and bringing it down with minimal damage. Not that Hook minded damage--he sometimes preferred it, in fact--but he wanted the other mech to know just how much thought and effort had been put into this gift. They prey had fought of course, but that just meant Shrapnel had to work a bit harder.
And he enjoyed the chase.
In the end, the prey was carefully crated up and carried back to the Decepticon base. Once there, Shrapnel modified its plating to expose the equipment that he know would appeal to Hook most. Then he polished the cold, grey plating of the prey until it gleamed. Finally, with careful help from Kickback, he placed the prey in an artful display and carried it to Hook’s private quarters.
The Insecticon was hunkered down in front of his gift, dozing in a light sleep mode, when Hook came in. He gave the Constructicon a smile as he onlined his optics. “Like it, it? I thought it would be nice for your collection-lection.”
Hook stepped forward, letting the door close behind him. He took in the sight of the drone carrier and its three drones in silence for a long moment. Then he smiled slowly. “Where did you find something so lovely? And so rare.”
Shrapnel smiled at the awed tone in his paramour’s voice. “Cybertron-tron. It was living with some neutrals, neutrals. They were delicious-licious.”
The Constructicon’s smile widened. “A good hunt, then?”
“and how,” Hook reached out and laid a hand on the case, reaching over Shrapnel’s head in an act of trust that was as much a gift as anything tangible ever would be. “Do I repay such a gift?”
“You could let me watch, watch.”
“Oh, yes.” They both shuddered with anticipation.