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Miraculous

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Tailgate yawned, pulling himself back from the brink of recharge and stretching out on Cyclonus' chest. "Do you think," he began, then paused to shuffle closer to Cyclonus' face. "Do you think maybe there's something going on here we don't understand?"

"Yes," Cyclonus responded. He stroked Tailgate's back, making the minibot squirm.

"You do?"

"Of course." Cyclonus obligingly widened the range of his stroking. "But I hardly think Brainstorm's scheming is any of our concern."

"Not Brainstorm!" Tailgate dipped his head, touching the crown of his helm to Cyclonus' cheek. "I'm talking about us."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this." Tailgate flared his energy field, plucking at the corona of Cyclonus' spark. "I mean how I was offline all that time, and how you crashed in just the right place so everyone noticed when I called for help. And how Vector Sigma saved you and you saved me. I mean, it's got to be more than coincidence."

"As far as I understand," Cyclonus said, "everyone noticed when you called for help because you blew a hole through the Mitteous Plateau."

"Well... yeah. But they might not have been there! There has to be more to it than that."

"Why does there?"

Tailgate lifted his head. "What do you mean why? Because! That's why."

Cyclonus adjusted his grip, supporting Tailgate as he sat up. "I require a more robust reason than 'because'."

Tailgate wiggled until he was sitting upright in Cyclonus' lap. Then he wiggled some more. "Because this..." he said. "Because when we connect it's like my spark goes into supernova. Because we're so different but we fit together like we were made for each other. Because things like this just don't happen to people like me!"

Amusement flickered in Cyclonus' optics. "People like you?" he mused. "Winner of the Galactic Crest for Gallantry, seven NOVICs and thee DSOs, not to mention a Rodimus Star."

"That last one actually happened!" Tailgate ran his hands over Cyclonus' chest. "I'm serious, I think we were meant to be."

"To be what, exactly?"

Tailgate pressed close and looked up into Cyclonus' optics. "You know, to be."

"Are you proposing that a force outside of our comprehension engineered events so as to ensure that we would be brought together?"

Tailgate shrugged. "Maybe? I mean, Primus..."

Cyclonus did not smile, but his optics retained that amused gleam. "I think Primus has more pressing concerns."

Tailgate lifted himself to nuzzle his partner's cheek. "You think it's just a coincidence? Sounds like you need some convincing."

Shifting his grip, Cyclonus stood, and Tailgate wrapped his legs as best he could around around the larger mech's waist. When the wall gently bumped against his back, Tailgate couldn't help the needy rev of his engine.

"Can a coincidence not also be miraculous?" Cyclonus said, and Tailgate's vision blurred as his spark flared fit to burst from his chest.

When he spoke, he could hardly find his voice, and his words came as a whisper. "We're miraculous?"

Cyclonus did not respond, but bowed his head to gently kiss the cables of Tailgate's throat.

Tailgate sighed. "I'm taking that as a yes."