Ears and Tails

Summary: For every story, there are several inbetween stories. Your favourite autodogs and kittycons come to share their own adventures in this collection! Tie-in to With Perfect Abandonment; ratings to vary. Includes Mech/Mech, incest, Spike n' Valve, and Mpreg.
Multiple ratings within

Chapter 6: Blast and Cosmos I

Title: Package

Rating: PG

Summary: There's a strange package in his office

There was a box.

A box was sitting on his desk.

Cosmos looked around himself uncertainly, as if double-checking that there was no one else in the room. But of course, the small office was devoid of anybody else, with the exception of him and his telescope. So who had left the package?

The pyrenees shuffled forwards slowly, setting down his books on the only free space -his chair- as he studied the shiny, green box. It didn't look harmful- in fact, it looked like it was a gift of some sort. But who could have left it? Cosmos did not have many visitors at his office, and even when he did, something usually was knocked out of place.

He was ashamed to admit, though while he was a good astronomer and respected member of the Science Department, he was terrible at organization and tidiness when it came to his own office. Some joked that it looked as if one of Wheeljack's inventions went off in here. Even Wheeljack himself poked fun! Glancing around now, Cosmos could see that not a single object had been moved from its previous spot since he went for lunch.

Utterly baffled at the mysterious 'bot that had been in his office, the autodog turned his full attention back to the strange package; slowly reaching forward and lifting off the top. Pausing, as he half expected it to either explode in his face or for something to leap out at him, Cosmos set the lid aside, before peering into the box's depth.

A book stared back at him, it's title obscured by the simple note lying on top of its cover. Still being cautious, the pryenees reached into the box, withdrawing both the book and the note. His optics brightened as he saw the book was 'Much Ado About Nothing', a play he'd been intent on reading for some time, before he turned to see if the note had any clues as to who had possibly given him such a thoughtful gift. In elegant scrawl, it read:

“Sparks are not to be had as a gift - sparks are to be earned”
Perhaps chance will be kind enough that I may earn yours. In the meantime though, it seems as if a sly cupid has given mine to you.
I pray you will treat it well.

The poor astronomer's cheekplates burned with his rising blush, as he quickly put both book and note back into their respective box. Shoving the lid back on the box, Cosmos tried to busy himself with his star charts, his processor still in a reel that he suddenly had a secret admirer.

Title: Practical Joke

Rating: PG

Summary: Cosmos' thoughts darken

There was yet another gift in his office. Cosmos shifted his stack of textbooks, struggling to hold the weight, even as he noticed the simple red box sitting neatly on top of his paperwork. Biting his lip component nervously, the autodog was quick to hurry further into the room, purposefully avoiding both gift and desk. He set his textbooks down on an stool he found buried under a series of star charts, turning his attention to his telescope and the numerous tasks he knew he had to prepare for this evening. His earlier notes had marked that a meteor would be making its way through the Nebulos galaxy tonight; as an astronomer and as a simple star lover, Cosmos wanted to be there the moment the meteor made its journey, to witness and analyze any changes that might come about during its travel.

It was hard though to focus or even think about his wonderful stars, when that red box was still niggling at the back of his processor.

Anxiously, the pyrenees glanced over a shoulder plating to the innocent package, his servos tightening around the telescope's circumference. This was the fourth gift he had received from his anonymous sender, with no hint as to whom exactly the admirer was. Only sweet words and more books.

Cosmos did not like it.

Turning his helm away, the astronomer stared down at his pedes, rapidly shuttering his optics to force back the coolant he could feel rising.

It had to be somebody's idea of a joke, all of this, but it wasn't funny. Not one bit.

Rubbing at his face, Cosmos finished changing the dials on his telescope, gently removing the scope from its tripod and packing it up into its special, silk-laden carrying case. Silently, the autodog disassembled the rest of the tripod, packing it and the remaining instruments into another bag. In this, he also slipped his datapad and a few spare pens. Slinging the bag over one shoulder and grabbing the telescope case with his other servo, Cosmos headed for the door; turning off the light and shutting the door behind him.

Not once even thinking about the present he had left untouched on his desk.

Title: Annoyance

Rating: T

Summary: Some annoyances can't be deterred so easily

“What are you doing?”

Blast Off ignored the mockingly innocent sing-song question, long claws stroking tenderly down each of the books' spines. He scoured each of the titles before him, searching for one decent enough for him to pick. Behind him, Vortex smirked, leaning in and resting his chin on the older kittycon's shoulder plating, winding his arms around the other's waist.

“Ignoring me now, Blasty?,” the lynx cooed.

The brown mech elbowed his brother, rolling his shoulder and forcing Vortex's helm away. “Go home,” he replied flatly, not taking his attention off of the books before him.

“Don't want to,” Vortex shot back, leaning casually against the bookshelves now. He bent his helm a little, trying to meet the siamese's optics. “You know, I'm aware you like books and all, but this is almost obsessive. You've already got at least two copies of that one.” The kittycon pointed to the novel that Blast Off had just pulled down from the shelf; his older brother was quick to give him a scathing look in return.

“So..... who are they for?”

The taller mech turned away, heading back down the aisle. The lynx followed along, skipping, his arms crossed behind his backstruts. “Aww, c'mon now,” he grinned, “Don't be like that. Tell me; I honestly want to know.”

“I hardly see how it is any of your concern,” Blast Off snipped, quickening his pace to the cash register. He nodded politely at the smaller femme standing behind the counter, handing her his purchase and reaching for his wallet. Vortex sashayed up behind him, slamming a book down onto the counter as well. The cashier blushed lightly as she glanced down at the cover; the siamese frowned in turn, refraining from rolling his optical sensors at the typical depiction of bodies entwined around each other staring back at him.

With two digits, he lifted the book up, putting the “Guide to Infinite Sexual Possibilities and Positions” off to the side. “I will not be taking that,” he informed flatly.

“You suck,” Vortex whined, but the corner of his lip components were quirked upwards, giving away his amusement. “Why won't you buy me one book, huh? Aren't you supposed to be nurturing my 'language skills'?”

“Go home,” Blast Off repeated. This time, there was the tiniest hint of a growl in his vocalizer.

The poor femme helping them blanched, hurrying now in her task to ring the kittycon through. If he'd cared, the siamese might have offered her an apology. Taking the bag from the cashier, Blast Off quickly spun on his heel, marching stiffly for the door. A hard yank tugged at his rigid tail.

Snapping his helm around, the brown mech narrowed his optics at a grinning Vortex, debating whether or not he really wanted to slit the other's neck cables in public or to wait until he returned home. Unaware of the danger (or possibly well aware and as was common for him, having a swell of a time dancing on the edge) the lynx bounced forward, pecking Blast Off on the cheekplate as his sly fingers curled around the older 'bot's shoulder plating. A warning hiss escaped the siamese, loud enough for Vortex to actually take one step back, clasping his servos behind his backstruts once again.

“You know, nothing you do will make me go away,” he sing-songed.

“Well,” flashed the red visor, “Not until you tell me about your crush, of course.”

Blast Off snorted, continuing on his way silently. Pouting, Vortex hurried after his brother.

Title: Bump

Rating: PG

Summary: Cosmos runs into someone while at the market

“O-oh....,” stuttered the pyrenees, taking a step back in surprise. “Umm, h-hello?” Cosmos stared at up at the tall kittycon, feeling even smaller and silly as he clutched his basket to his chestplates. Those cold optics looked down upon him silently, before the siamese was reaching up and easily grabbing the jar of jam the autodog had been trying to get just moments before.

“This is what you wanted, correct?,” he asked, as he held out the item for Cosmos.

Cosmos nodded quickly, his cheekplates beginning to darken with his blush. “Thank you,” he replied softly, taking the jar and putting the jam into the basket. He looked back up at the kittycon, but not knowing what else to say, his gaze was quick to lower once more.

“Well, I-”

“Would you mind if I accompanied you for a while? Just until you finish the rest of your shopping.”

Caught off-guard by the sudden inquiry, the autodog stood there, gaping up at the stranger. Flushing further as he realized the kittycon was actually waiting upon him for a response, the pyrenees glanced down at his basket; mentally ticking off what he had and didn't have, and mostly debating on what he wanted to answer the other mech with. “I-i..... I suppose some company would be nice,” Cosmos eventually said, lifting his chin. He canted his helm at the stranger. “I... I'm afraid I don't know your name.”

The siamese inclined his helm apologetically. “That is entirely my fault. Our last meeting was short, and I did not think to give you my name. Though you had been gracious enough to supply me with your own.” Cosmos tried to wave off the other's apology but the kittycon touched his servo lightly with his claws, before peering deep into the autodog's baby blue optics.

“No, what I did was disrespectful so an apology is necessary. Still, I am deliberating; my name is Blast Off, to get to the point.”

The pyrenees tried not to think of how frightening it was to have those claws resting on the back of his palm.... or how warm. Shyly, he retracted his servo, letting it rejoin its brother around the basket's middle. “That's a lovely name,” he smiled, still feeling nervous. His anxiety though was quickly fading.

Maybe it was the way the kittycon held himself or the gentle, but smart way he spoke, that made Cosmos feel easier in this mech's presence than others of his kin. At his response, Blast Off half-bowed, his arms crossing behind his backstruts as he straightened. “Shall I carry your basket?,” he offered, shocking the autodog once more.

“O-oh, no, no, no,” Cosmos answered, his cheekplates burning brightly again with his blush. “I....I will be alright. But thank you anyways for your kind consideration.”

The siamese nodded curtly, not upset in the slightest at the polite rejection, sweeping out an arm and gesturing down the rest of the aisle. “Let us continue.”

Smiling, the pyrenees took the first step, his new friend falling into pace beside him.

Title: Pondering

Rating: T

Summary: Blast Off thinks some things over

Not for the first time, the siamese found himself wondering about this little “crush” that he had. He stared down at yet another box, a compilation of classic poems and short works in one servo, waiting to be placed inside. A part of Blast Off commented snidely that he was being silly, acting some love-sick fool and sending presumptuous gifts and little love notes, like many of the other 'bots that he loathed and despised. Another part of him, a more rational and logical part, noted that he had never once before come across a 'bot, whether kittycon or autodog, that he hadn't felt was a waste of his time.

Of course, the kittycon was aware that it was mostly his intrigue and his growing comfortableness around Cosmos that was spear-heading the majority of his affections, but his spark was still throwing in its own two-cents.

Just like now.

Blast Off recalled that orn in the supermarket when he had run into Cosmos coincidentally while on an errand for his sire. He remembered that flash of surprise he had felt upon catching sight of the little autodog, and then the equally sudden burst of arousal that followed as he watched the adorable pyrenees struggle to reach for the jar of jam just a little too high on the shelf for himself.

Yes, the siamese thought Cosmos was adorable.

His petite stature, his large, accentuated optics; the way his tiny lip components pursed in surprise and the beautiful colour his plating turned as he blushed. Even his plumpness increased his appeal to Blast Off, who, in a strange phase of lust, wished to squish that delectable form under his own and run his claws through that soft looking, fluffy fur. Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from his helm, the kittycon turned his attention back to the book in his servo and the box he was going to put it into.

He wondered, as he always did, if Cosmos had received any of his gifts or if he even cared for them in the slightest. Really, if he had been smart, he would have asked the pyrenees the other orn when they were shopping together, but the thought -and his courage- had slipped away during their pleasant discussions over various classical literature. Truly, Cosmos was proving to be a delight to talk to. That was at least one solid bit of proof as to why Blast Off should feel anything for the astronomer other than total disdain.

Deciding it was pointless to continue musing over uncertain things and the mysteries of one's spark any longer, the kittycon set the book into the box, lovingly setting the lid on and tying both a ribbon and a rose around its middle.

Soon, he told himself, soon he would make his affections really known to the autodog and that would be the time when he discovered if they were any benefit at all, or just another burden among all the others in Blast Off's life.

Secretly, a part of him hoped it would not be the latter.

Title: Visitor

Rating: M

Summary: Blast Off comes to see Cosmos at work

“Is that right, Cosmos?”

The pyrenees turned at the question, smiling up at Bulkhead. Today, the young mech had been kind enough to assist him with his work. Needing a more thorough distraction from the delivery of any further packages, Cosmos had kindly taken the mastiff up on his offer. At the moment, the larger autodog was polishing the largest glass at the telescope's top end; turning dials and tightening the tiny bolts as he went. The astronomer hurried up the tiny ladder on Bulkhead's right, peering at the other's handiwork.

“Oh, yes,” he beamed, turning his helm to the technician. “This looks quite fantastic. Thank you for all your help.”

The young autodog blushed, a servo reaching up and scratching behind his ear. “Y-yeah, well, it's n-nothing really you kn-”

The sound of someone clearing their vocalizer startled both the mechs. “Y-yes? Oh! H-hello, Blast Off,” Cosmos greeted, turning slowly on the ladder. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

The kittycon nodded mutely at the pyrenees, his grey, narrowed optics sliding slowly to the other autodog present. Bulkhead stiffened at the glare, shuffling nervously in place. “Well, umm, I-i guess if I'm n-not needed anymore....,” the technician mumbled, before putting down his polishing rag and scurrying from the room.

Cosmos made a sound of a confusion, a servo half lifting into the air, but it was too late. Bulkhead had already gone. Baffled by the other's hasty exit, the pyrenees decided to turn his attention back to his unexpected guest, smiling kindly as he stepped down from the ladder.

“Hello again,” he said, “How are you today Blast Off? Is there anything I can help you with?”

The astronomer noticed then the black box cradled under the kittycon's arm. A lilac ribbon was wrapped tight around its middle, and a simple rose could be seen peeking out from the other side. His fuel tanks roiled nauseously as Cosmos quickly stepped back from the siamese. “Is that.....? Y-you.....”

Blast Off stalked forwards quickly, his gaze suddenly frightening to the small autodog. “Yes,” the taller mech rumbled as he closed in on the pyrenees. “I was your 'secret admirer'.... but it's apparent that my feelings are misplaced. You may keep this,” he shoved the box into Cosmos' stunned servos, “and the other gifts. I have no need for them any more.”

Cosmos didn't know what to say. His knee joints felt weak and his processor was in a whirl, and he could only flinch as his guest reached forward, sliding one claw down the side of his face. For a moment, it looked as if the siamese might say something..... but then his scowl tightened and he pulled away viciously, turning and storming from the office.

Inexplicably, coolant flooded the astronomer's optics; uncertainly, he glanced down at the gift in his arms, catching sight of the note stuck on the front.

"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other"
I am not one usually for fanciful words or pretences of affections. Gifts are obnoxious concepts to me, and courtship seems a sly way of manipulating another individual. In essence, it all seems a waste of time.
But here and now, I confess, I have never spent more days and nights thinking about one person than I have about you. You still remain unknown to me, as I am certain I am merely a stranger to yourself, but I would gladly spend the rest of my days discovering who you are if you would but give me the briefest of your own attentions.
That is why I do not hesitate in giving you my name now. As I did say before, it would be impolite of me to continue to withhold such information, especially when I am writing spark-felt words for your very optics.

When the stars shine this evening, I will gaze upon them and be reminded of you. And perhaps I may even wish for you to think of me as well. My dearest friend and holder of my spark.

-Blast Off

His neck cables constricted as he read the last of the beautifully written words, the black script swimming before his vision as the tears finally cascaded down his cheekplates and his spark withered painfully in his chassis. Cosmos' helm snapped up, the last of his gifts held in a strangling grip as he stared silently at the open door of his office.

Had...... had the kittycon really felt that way about him? Foolish, messy, ugly, little him?

A small whimper escaped the pyrenees as he crumpled to the floor, still weeping quietly; praying that Blast Off might come back. But well aware that the other mech would never return, and that he had lost a chance he never knew he had, let alone believe was true.

Title: Crush

Rating: T

Summary: For the first time, Blast Off feels the irony of that hateful word

Onslaught walked into the room, a broad grin on his face, and his servos cupped behind his backstruts as he puffed out his chestplates proudly. “Well now,” he beamed, staring down at his oldest son sitting at their new kitchen table, “I do believe congratulations are in order, no?”

The siamese sent him a dark glare.

Cheerfulness ebbing a little, the older kittycon marched around the table, taking a seat across from Blast Off. “Come now,” he gruffed. “I understand that you do not like many things Vortex does -and neither do I, for that matter- but when your younger brother sees fit to gossip to me about one of my sons having a crush, I think I have the right to be proud.”

“So? Are you going to tell me about this 'bot yourself? Or do I need to get Swindle to do some poking about?,” Onslaught continued, folding his servos atop of the table.

Blast Off's glare increased before he dropped it down to the book he grasped tightly in his claws. Catching the slight tremors in the other's fingers, and the way his claws dug a little into the leather binding, the rest of the serval's joy was quick to fade away.

“What happened?,” he asked softly.

The concern was the last straw for the siamese. He slammed his book onto the table, jumping to his pedes and stomping for the hallway. “Blast Off!,” Onslaught growled. The brown mech came to an abrupt stop, but refused to turn around and face his sire. “Tell me what happened,” the older kittycon requested, staring at his son's stiff shoulders. “I would like to help if I can.”

Blast Off's frame only stiffened some more. “There is nothing to 'help',” came the low hiss. “I was merely a fool..... A stupid fool.....”

Not waiting for what the other's response would be, the siamese marched from the room; still half-bent in agony, his ears and tails rigid behind him. Alone now, Onslaught sighed, staring at the table distantly as he listened to his normally quiet and well-mannered child storm up to his room, slamming his door as he shut himself away.