Multiple ratings within
Chapter 22: Soundwave and Tracks III
Pairing: Soundwave and Tracks
Rating: M
“I don't want a babysitter.......”
Soundwave suppressed the sigh that
rose, turning to the whine. Surprisingly, it did not come from his
sons but his bondmate. Tracks was dressed up in his finest; his fur
sleek and shimmery, and various jewels glittering about his frame,
all for a night out on the town. At first the autodog had been
excited -it wasn't often that him and the kittycon had gone out
lately, and he believed that they would be bringing their sparklings
along as well. An even rarer occasion so late in the orn. But his
mood had immediately plummeted once Soundwave had dutifully informed
him that 'no, we aren't taking the kids' and followed up by telling
Tracks that he had called for a babysitter to come watch the twins.
“No, I refuse to go,” Tracks pouted
further, crossing his arms over his chassis. The persian could have
kissed those luscious lip components..... if not for the fact that
such an action would only make the pomeranian angrier at him.
“Why can't we just take them with
us?,” the autodog demanded. “We're going for a dinner and a
movie.... how would their presence be a hinder?”
“Destination: incorrect. We are going
for a stage performance and then to a five-star restaurant,”
Soundwave replied.
Tracks only huffed, cocking his hip
angrily. Oh, Primus..... the pomeranian's mood was only getting
worse. If Soundwave didn't do something quick to fix things, he could
be sure that his bondmate would storm off in a fit; locking himself
up in Rumble and Frenzy's berthroom and refuse to come out.
“Concern: You are afraid to leave our
sons with strangers. Report: I have found babysitters willing,
capable and familiar to watch Rumble and Frenzy,” the persian
informed.
The autodog flinched at having his
fears addressed, but only narrowed his optics more, glaring heatedly
at the other mech. “Oh really.....?,” he asked snidely. Soundwave
opened his mouth again to reply to his bondmate's sarcasm, when the
doorbell chimed. Tracks' optics grew exceptionally large in alarm,
but the kittycon paid that no mind; turning to the door and opening
it for their guests.
“Evening of the good,” two voices
chirped back.
“T-them?!,” the pomeranian choked.
Jetfire and Jetstorm cocked their helms
curiously, looking from the kittycon to the autodog, wondering what
the two were talking about. “Affirmative,” Soundwave replied. He
paused to wave the younglings inside. “Report: they had the best
availability and were certified by Ratchet for their medical
capabilities. Inquiry: You are familiar with Ratchet, yes?”
“Y-yes.....,” Tracks answered
sullenly. He knew Ratchet fairly well. The vet performed the more
“extreme” procedures for the mechs and femmes back when he had
been in the escort business. As it was, the labrador had been the
pomeranian's official consultant during his pregnancy, and had
actually been the head vet during the twins' birth as well.
To say that Tracks was familiar with
the other autodog would be an understatement.....
And now before the pomeranian stood the
old 'bot's young bondmates. “Not worry being,” the orange hybrid
was saying. “Taking good care of lil' sparklings us are.”
“Wish I am having Ratchet's
sparkling,” the blue youngling sighed dreamily, cupping his
cheekplates as he blushed. Jetfire elbowed his brother when he
noticed that both of the older mechs were looking at them oddly.
“Sorries making,” Jetfire
apologized, bowing. “Brother getting away carried. But love of
sparkling is he, same am I. Bestest of care taking we for Rumble and
Frenzy.” Jetstorm mimicked his twin's bowing, flushing with
embarrassment the entire way.
“Y-yes!,” he agreed. “Taking care
for Mrs.Soundwave's beautiful sparklings.”
Hearing this, Soundwave turned to
Tracks, watching the autodog warily. Seeing that he was being studied
-not by one, but three sets of optics now- the pomeranian sighed,
letting his arms drop to his sides. “Fine.....,” he bit out. “But
we're leaving now!”
And without further ado, the
multi-coloured mech stomped out the front door and to the limo in the
driveway. Jetstorm and Jetfire looked about perplexed, before the
kittycon rested a servo on each of their shoulders. “Suggestion:
Don't worry about his actions. Tracks will be fine. Estimation:
should return before two in the morning. Feel free to have a snack in
the kitchen.”
Pleased that he had properly informed
the hybrids now, Soundwave bid them goodnight and exited out the door
as well.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“My dear, you are truly beautiful.
Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Of course someone has! I did, not
but a klik ago!”
“Boys, boys,” Tracks chuckled,
looking at each of the mechs circled about him. “There is no need
to squabble. Your praises are sweet, and I would hate to corrupt such
a lovely a glossa to vulgar, hateful words. Especially not over one
as myself.”
“You should not belittle yourself
so,” a young autodog bashfully spoke up. His cheekplates were
stained purple with his blush, but he kept his optics level with the
pomeranian's. “You are certainly more than worthy of all our
compliments, and yet you're even so modest as to deny it.”
Tracks smiled at the youth. If he had
been perhaps a little younger himself, and not content with his life
as it was, he might have easily swooned at the touching serenity in
the pup's vocalizer. “You do me much honor, darling,” the
multi-coloured mech replied, leaning forward slightly in his seat. He
patted the younger 'bot's cheekplate tenderly and had to hide his
smirk while the other mechs gathered stiffened in jealousy.
Pulling back and reclining easily in
his seat once more, the pomeranian looked to the other 'bots still
hovering about his chair. “Don't you mechs wish to go and revel
with the other party-goers? Sitting here, I am surely not much fun,
and I wouldn't wish for you to miss out on the festivities.”
The mechs were quick to vocalize their
protest. “We don't mind!,” one kittycon declared.
“Indeed not,” spouted another.
“None have provided such wonderful conversation yet this evening.”
“Besides,” husked a bold autodog,
“We would not want you to be all alone.”
Tracks smiled, raising a hand to his
lip components delicately. “Oh, but I'm not alone, my dears,” he
assured them. “I'm here with my bondmate.”
Stunned silence. Then, “Such an
atrocity that he would not be here by your side at this moment. What
if harm happened to befall you? Does he not care?”
The multi-coloured autodog turned to
the brazen speaker, his smile growing a little wider. “Not so. He
knows I can take care of myself.” Tracks glanced away for a
nanoklik, his optics flaring brightly. “And there he is now! Thank
you boys, it has been most enjoyable but I'm afraid that I must be
leaving. Please, enjoy the rest of the party.”
And to their dismay, the pomeranian
rose to his pedes and hurried across the room, eventually looping
arms with Soundwave -the very host of the business party they were
attending. Grudgingly, they all sipped at their drinks, watching the
pair meander into the rest of the crowd.
“I suppose the cub is worth listening
to.....,” a grouchy old 'bot grumbled in response to Soundwave's
interruption.
“Certainly,” replied a younger
mech, “Especially if he has swayed such a handsome creature into
being his bondmate.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Opinion: You are good for business.”
Tracks lifted his helm, turning to
stare at his bondmate. Not too far away from him, Rumble and Frenzy
splashed about in the kiddy pool the maid had so kindly set up.
“Whatever do you mean?,” the autodog inquired, resting his book
on his lap.
Soundwave did not fail to notice that
it was The Art of War that the pomeranian was reading. “Report:
Mechs and femmes more negotiable in your presence. Business has
increased sixty-five percent since you have started accompanying me
for social gatherings.”
“So basically I look good on your
arm,” Tracks deadpanned. With a sniff, the autodog turned back to
his book. “Glad to know I'm so very useful.”
Slag, he had upset the mech. The
kittycon leaned forward, fingers stroking behind his bondmate's ears.
“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied. “Notice: have seen the
several changes you made on my papers.”
The pomeranian stiffened at that. “I-i
didn't-”
“Apology: unnecessary,” the persian
assured, turning Tracks' helm so that their optics would meet.
Engines rumbling lowly, Soundwave removed his mouth guard, kissing
the shocked autodog. “Corrections: have increased work proficiency.
You are smart, as well as beautiful, strong and courageous; more than
worthy of a mech. Inquiry: Would you like to help me with some of my
files in the future?”
The dazed look retreated from Tracks'
optics at the question, though his cheekplates continued to lighten
with his blush. “Y-you really want me to help?,” he asked,
suddenly shy.
“Positive,” the kittycon answered.
It was hard to keep the rumbles down now, especially with that
adorably, nervous expression on the other's face.
Slowly, a smirk came to Tracks' lip
components, and he turned fully in his lawn chair to face the blue
mech. “I'd love to,” he husked, winding his arms around
Soundwave's neck and pulling the persian down for another kiss.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
For a time, Soundwave and Tracks were
worried that their sons did not have any particular skill. The
kittycon himself was exceptionally good at business, showing an
aptitude for electronic frequencies that none had been able to match
as of to date. The pomeranian had a hidden ability to read the
incomprehensible fall and rise of economics, predicting trends before
anybody else even had a hint of the things to come. It would be an
understatement then to say that either mech was smart and more than
capable of navigating through the working world.
Rumble and Frenzy in comparison
seemed..... inadequate to their parents. The twins' grades were
average, standing at a consistent seventy-eight grade percentage, and
their mannerisms..... mediocre at best. The sparklings enjoyed pranks
more than anything else and weren't afraid to include their family in
their mischief. They didn't seem to hold any interest for school, or
reading, or even the arts, and Soundwave and Tracks were a little
anxious that their sons would remain uncaring about everything except
their next practical joke.
It was with surprise that a regular
shopping trip led to the discovery of Rumble and Frenzy's own natural
talent. Tracks turned around to check on his sons, only to find that
they had slipped off again. With a huff, he started to search for
them, pausing when he heard music coming from the nearest instrument
shop. Walking inside, the pomeranian had stopped in mere shock,
servos to his chestplates as he looked upon his two sparklings.
Rumble was stroking at the strings of a guitar, plucking a
pede-tapping riff, while Frenzy supplied a rousing melody from a
saxophone. Already, the twins had gathered a crowd from their amazing
playing, and when the performance was over, the watchers erupted into
applause.
“Amazing, isn't it?,” a femme
beside Tracks piped up. “I wonder how long they've been playing
for.”
“Never,” the autodog mumbled back
dazedly. “They've never touched an instrument in their life....”
Leaving the femme there to shutter her optics in disbelief, Tracks
hurried forward, kneeling before the little kittycons.
“Oh, hey mommy,” Frenzy greeted
smoothly. “Sorry to run off again.”
“Never mind that,” the pomeranian
said, waving off the apology. “I never -I mean.... that was.....
Would you boys like to take music lessons?,” Tracks finally managed
to ask, looking at them seriously.
The twins seemed slightly taken aback
by their creator's astonishment, but shrugged, smiling. “Yeah,
sure,” they answered together.
“That mean we can take these home
then?,” Rumble added, lifting the electric guitar in his servos.
Tracks chuckled lightly, leaning
forward and pecking each of his sons atop of their helms. He ignored
their embarrassed whines. “Yes, loves,” he replied. “You can
take them home.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Soundwave hated when other 'bots had
their hungry optics on his bondmate. It made him furious to know that
they were looking at the autodog like that, no doubt their processors
filled with inappropriate thoughts. Sometimes, it was hard to refrain
from growling, marching over -denta gnashing, and visor glowing
devilishly red- to rip and maim every single mech and femme that got
too familiar with Tracks. But control himself the persian did, for he
knew that the pomeranian would not appreciate his actions; good
intentions or not.
The kittycon did not want to think of
himself as a jealous creature, but indeed he was when it came to
Tracks.....
He supposed his only comfort was the
fact that every time he came into view, Tracks immediately perked up;
quickly rising to his pedes and rushing to his bondmate's side,
nothing but love and desire in his optics for the blue mech.
....though it was also greatly amusing
to see all of Tracks' pursuers drop back and scowl enviously, upon
the sight of the autodog happy in Soundwave's arms.....
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tracks peeked into the room, a coo
coming to his lip components.
His handsome bondmate lay asleep in his
office chair, two little sparklings curled on his chassis, secured in
the crook of their sire's arms. Quietly, the pomeranian tip-toed into
the room, not wanting to disturb the serene silence. He approached
Soundwave and the twins, gently reaching down and scooping Frenzy up.
The sparkling only squirmed slightly in recharge, settling down again
once his helm was pressed to Tracks' chestplates. As he was reaching
for the other kittycon, Soundwave woke up.
“Hey, Big Boy,” the autodog
whispered, leaning forward a little and pressing a kiss to the
persian's mouth guard.
The blue mech shifted slightly,
changing his grip on Rumble. Looking down first at his son, then
again at Tracks, the kittycon said, “Inquiry: What time is it?”
“Late love,” Tracks replied. “I
was just about to put these two in their bed, and then you.”
Soundwave rumbled quietly in response.
A joint cracking loudly, the persian slowly rose to his pedes,
standing before his bondmate. “Let us go,” he whispered, winding
a servo about the pomeranian's waist. Tracks smiled at the touch,
pressing into the kittycon's side.
“Yes, let us,” he replied.
Together, the two of them walked out of the room; sparklings dozing
peacefully in their parents' arms.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Aaahhhh!”
“No, Ravage! Let the mech go!”
Tracks tugged and pulled on the cat's leash, with little success,
while his sons laughed behind him. The poor stranger still had his
tail clenched tightly between Ravage's teeth, and the animal didn't
seem likely to release it anytime soon.
“Stop laughing!,” Tracks snapped at
Rumble and Frenzy, just as Soundwave was walking up to them. “This
is your pet- call the beast off already!”
“Tch,” the blue sparkling grumbled.
“Fine....”
“Down Ravage,” Frenzy ordered
monotonously, crossing his arms over his chassis. The cat did so
immediately, sitting innocently before the pomeranian's pedes.
Casting a scowling glance at the twins, Tracks turned to the other
autodog, servos outstretched.
“I'm so very sorry, sir. They meant
no ha-”
“D-don't worry about it!,” the mech
choked, back-pedaling from Tracks quickly. “J-just.... I-i-i-i'll
be going now!,” he squeaked, and nursing his injured tail, the
stranger turned about and bolted.
Rumble and Frenzy were laughing again.
Angrily, the autodog whirled on the sparklings. “You-!,” Tracks
hissed. He cut himself off, clenching his servo tightly. “I just
can't take you two anywhere without you causing no end of trouble.
Fine! So be it! I'm going home.”
Huffing, the pomeranian turned away for
the third time in the past couple kliks and stormed off. Soundwave
shuttered his optics bewilderingly, before glancing down at his sons.
“Rumble, Frenzy,” he scowled. “Inquiry: what happened?”
“It wasn't like it was our fault,
dad,” the red sparkling replied, turning to face his sire.
“Yeah,” Rumble agreed, patting
Ravage's head. The cat had padded over to his side shortly after
Tracks had left. “That stupid slagger was giving mom weird looks.
We weren't going to allow him to sit there and drool all over our
mom.”
Soundwave's ears were practically
upright with surprise. Slowly, the persian came back to his senses;
kneeling until he was level with his sons. “Report: good job,” he
told them, patting both sparklings on their helms. “Suggestion:
Next time, administer more stealth.”
“So.... you're not mad?,” the twins
asked incredulously.
“Negative,” the older mech
answered. “Correction: Will award you both... later. Goal: Go and
appease your creator at this moment.”
“Okay!,” Rumble grinned.
“Cool!,” Frenzy smirked. Together,
the sparklings turned about and ran off in the direction that Tracks
had disappeared. Ravage whined at being left behind, but Soundwave
picked up the cat's leash, scratching behind the feline's ears.
“Ravage: calm. We'll walk after
them,” the persian said. The cat quieted at his master's words,
dutifully trotting at his side as they began to follow after the rest
of their family.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Mirage?!”
The yorkie choked on his tea, quickly
lowering his cup and ducking his helm. He prayed that the mech would
go away, but the approaching pede-steps informed him that his wishes
had been ignored completely. Pretending he didn't see the odd look
Hound was giving him from across the table, the blue mech surrendered
himself to the inevitable assault. Surprisingly it didn't happen.....
or at least, not like he had predicted.
“It is you, Mirage,” Tracks
smirked, slipping into the available chair beside the shorter
autodog. The pomeranian leaned in and quickly pecked the ex-noble's
cheekplate. “How good to see you again!”
“I'm not sure I can say the
same....,” Mirage replied drily.
“Oh, you wound me!”
“Uh.... Mirage....?,” Hound
nervously asked, ever the concerned mech. The yorkie blushed,
lowering his optics quickly to the table top. How could he possibly
explain Tracks' actions to the other autodog? Especially after the
beagle had assumed that he was almost completely abstinent?
“So, you must be Hound then?,”
Tracks said, saving Mirage from answering. He turned to the bigger
mech, holding out his servo. “It's nice to finally put a face to a
name.”
“H-hi....,” Hound stuttered,
cheekplates flushing in embarrassment. He shook the offered servo.
“I-i remember you well. Tracks, r-right?”
“Yes,” the pomeranian answered
sultrily.
“Tracks,” Mirage hissed.
The multi-coloured mech chuckled. “I'm
just teasing, love. I would never come between you two. Besides, I've
got my own handsome bondmate to take care of me.”
“Apologies: Sorry for the
interruption.”
Both autodogs startled at the
additional voice, turning to look at the kittycon standing just
behind them. Tracks though was unaffected by Soundwave's silent
entrance, and instead propped his elbows on the patio table, resting
his chin on his interlocked fingers. “What took you so long,
love?,” the pomeranian teased.
Soundwave merely raised a wriggling
Frenzy, who babbled and gestured for his creator. “Oh, my lil'
baby,” Tracks cooed, reaching across the table and taking his son
from the persian. He held the sparkling to his chestplates, smiling
softly as the tiny kittycon calmed instantly, tugging at one of
Tracks' fingers gently.
“I-is that.....?,” Mirage
questioned, leaning in anxiously. Tracks glanced up at him kindly,
lifting Frenzy a little higher so the yorkie could see him better.
“Yes,” the pomeranian answered.
“He's my little angel.”
“And to think that you were making
such a fuss about being sparked....,” the blue mech rolled his
optics. “And now look at you: the happiest I've ever seen with your
one sparkling.”
“Correction: two,” Soundwave piped
up. The shorter autodog turned his attention to the kittycon. “Rumble
and Frenzy: twins,” the persian elaborated, lifting Rumble into
view. The blue sparkling was chewing avidly on his pacifier, looking
at the other mechs only partially curious.
“T-twins?,” Mirage mumbled
breathlessly. Soundwave held out the other twin for him to take, but
the yorkie hesitated. Only with a nod and nudge from Tracks did the
autodog finally concede, the kittycon gently placing Rumble into his
arms.
Mirage practically trembled at the
gentle weight, Rumble peering up at him with his large, inquisitive
visor. Nervously, he smiled down at the sparkling. “It's a great
feeling...... isn't it?”
The yorkie glanced up at Tracks. The
other autodog was looking back at him, optics radiating quiet
understanding behind his glasses. “Y-yes....,” the blue mech
murmured in agreement. He looked back down to the tiny kittycon in
his arms. “You're blessed, Tracks.”
“And so are you, Mirage,” the
pomeranian smiled. “I've never seen a 'bot make you so relaxed as
Hound does. He loves you, it's easy to see, and you love him back. It
shouldn't be long now before you have sparklings of your own.”
The ex-noble lifted his helm,
cheekplates burning with his blush. “Y-you think so?,” he choked.
Tracks' smile grew wider. “I know so.
You have a good life, Mirage, and knowing that puts me at ease. I
wouldn't wish the less for my best and dearest friend.”
Slowly, a serene smile worked its way
onto the yorkie's own lip components. “Thank you Tracks,” he
said, looking back to the pomeranian's son, “Thank you so very
much.”
“Status: you are.... concerned.”
Hound perked at the statement, looking
over at the kittycon by his side. Anxiously, he clenched his servos
in his lap, turning his attention back to the two autodogs chatting
contently before him. “Yes....,” he replied after a moment. “I
mean, I suppose I shouldn't, but....”
The beagle sighed, refraining from
scratching at his ears. “Mirage is so perfect, I feel like.....
like maybe I forced him into living with me. Like I made him give up
everything else 'cause of my own selfishness. I mean, there was a
Duke and everything..... the other mech was being real serious with
Mirage. Seemed like he might of proposed....,” Hound mumbled. “And
I've thought many times that 'Raj would have been happier with a 'bot
like that. Someone who could probably provide him everything, ya
know.....? But....”
Soundwave looked to the autodog,
sympathy in his optics. He understood completely where the green mech
was coming from. “Concern: common. Tracks: is amazing. Perhaps even
better than I deserve,” the persian confessed. “But: I do not
fear that I may have stolen life from him. Status: he has never been
happier, or so he tells me, then when I asked him to bond with me.
And things afterwards have been.... normal.”
Hound snorted softly. “You're a lucky
mech,” the beagle replied. “I wish Mirage would feel comfortable
enough to open up to me like that. I bet Tracks was quick to do so.”
“Negative,” Soundwave said.
“Correction: Tracks was reluctant much at first. Every 'bot has
their firewalls.... their fears and doubts..... It took awhile for
Tracks to open up to me; he needed to trust me completely first.
Mirage: possibly the same. Status: Mirage seems content with you
though. Suggestion: Do not over think things, and lose chance for
both of your happiness.”
The autodog blushed, looking at the
kittycon incredulously. “Y-you mean..... He really looks happy?
With me?,” Hound choked.
The persian nodded his helm. Hopeful,
the beagle turned his attention forward again, smiling softly as he
watched Mirage play calmly with Rumble. “My spark just..... swells,
ya know? Every time I think of the day of us having sparklings of our
own. I think, 'Raj would like that as well,” the autodog said
aloud.
“Sparklings: The greatest joy,”
Soundwave agreed, fixing his gaze on his bondmate. A smile came to
his lip components as well, just beneath his mouth guard.
From there, the two mechs fell silent;
content to watch their loved ones interact happily with each other.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Fact: you are dating.”
Rumble and Frenzy looked up from their
bean bags, staring at their sire looming over them.
“Yeah, so?,” the younglings asked
nonchalantly. “It was bound to happen eventually,” Rumble noted,
plucking at his guitar some more. Frenzy hummed his agreement,
burying his olfactory sensor back in his sports magazine.
Soundwave only frowned somewhat,
crossing his arms over his chassis. Not that he didn't agree with his
sons' statement, that was besides the point. “Inquiry: Why didn't
you inform your mother and I?”
“Don't see how it's any of your
business really,” Frenzy mumbled, turning a page.
The older kittycon bristled slightly at
the cold disregard for his opinion. “Suggestion: bring your dates
home,” he said. “Want to meet these 'bots.”
“You're kidding, right?,”
Rumble asked, stopping his strumming. Even his brother pulled the
magazine away from his face again.
“Yeah, dad. I mean, bring our dates
home? You've got to be malfunctioning or something.”
“Insults: uncalled for,” the
persian scowled. “Inquiry: Why don't you want to bring your dates
here?”
“I'll give you one reason,” Frenzy
grumbled, “Mom.”
Soundwave raised an optic ridge
curiously.
“Dad,” Rumble sighed. “Do you
seriously think Mom's gonna approve of us dating? Put aside the fact
that we're of the age to.... do you think that it will really go over
that well with him?”
The older mech opened his mouth to
reply, but was quickly cut off by his other son. “Seriously, dad,
it's not gonna happen. Mom will first freak out and then rage that
there's not a 'bot worthy enough of his 'precious sparklings',”
Frenzy explained. “Followed by which, he'd go on for hours about
how he's absolutely the smartest, most beautiful 'bot around
and would make any dates we brought home leave bawling their optics
out.”
Silence for a klik.
“Argument: valid,” Soundwave
conceded. “But, I must be informed of your dates.”
“Sure thing, dad,” the twins
replied, returning to their previous activities.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Soundwave hated the office.
As the working parent, it meant that he
was not around often to spend time with his family. He did his best,
he really did, it's why he had one of the rooms in his home morphed
into an office space so he could be home more often than in his
company's building. But sometimes, he had no choice but to leave and
do business there. Coming home from such a orn, Soundwave just wanted
to find his bondmate and sparklings and relax.
“Tracks: I'm home,” he called,
walking through the door. There was no response, and the persian felt
himself frown further. Had the autodog gone out for a walk or another
shopping trip? Well, that completely killed his plans for a nice,
quiet evening with his family.
Silently, Soundwave removed his coat;
hanging it up in the closet and dropping his briefcase onto the entry
way table. The kittycon wandered into the living room and was
startled when a spray of confetti was thrown up before him. At his
bewildered expression, a set of giggling broke out: two young,
high-pitched squeals and one medium, rich chuckle. The persian looked
down stunned at Tracks and the twins standing -or squatting, in the
pomeranian's case- at his pedes.
“Inquiry: What is this?,” Soundwave
asked, confused beyond belief.
“A surprise,” Tracks grinned,
lifting both of his sons up. They squirmed in his arms, reaching out
for their sire. “It is a special occasion after all.”
The kittycon took Rumble and Frenzy
willingly, giving himself a moment to kiss them both atop their
helms, before turning back to his bondmate. “Occasion? Status:
confused.”
“You really don't remember what today
is?,” Tracks shuttered his optics in shock. Soundwave continued to
look at him blankly, and the autodog realized that yes, the blue mech
did not know what today was. “Well then,” the pomeranian smirked,
“This will be a very good surprise indeed.”
Soundwave wished to ask more about what
Tracks was talking about, but by then his bondmate was directing him
to the couch. The kittycon obliged the silent demand, seating himself
comfortably into the leather sofa. As soon as he was settled, Rumble
and Frenzy wriggled wildly in his hold, and Soundwave let them go.
Immediately the twins slipped back down to the floor, following
Tracks' steps out of the room. Seeing that the persian was beginning
to rise again, the autodog paused, holding a servo up in a stop
motion.
“No, no, no,” the multi-coloured
mech tsked. “You just sit right there, Big Boy, and wait until we
get back.”
Soundwave slowly sat back down.
“Good,” Tracks chirped. “Be back
in a klik.”
True to his word, the pomeranian and
his sons returned within a klik, a tray in the older mech's servos
and a paper each in the twins' hold. “Dada Happy day!,” Rumble
shrieked, racing forward with his arms outstretched. Frenzy gasped at
his brother's bold action, but did not copy him this time
surprisingly. Sullenly, he remained by Tracks' side, grasping a
servoful of his creator's pants with his free paw.
Soundwave lifted the blue sparkling as
he neared, plopping his son down right next to him. Rumble bounced in
his seat, waving his paper about wildly. The persian managed to slow
the little kittycon's flailing just enough so he could take the paper
without damaging it. To his stunned optics, it was a picture. On the
blank sheet was drawn a very sloppy, almost indistinguishable family
of four, floating it seemed above a stretch of grass and almost
swallowed up by a plague of deadly flowers and drowned out in
glitter. Above it was written something unintelligible.
“Dada! Up, dada!,” Frenzy demanded,
having made it to the couch as well.
The older mech placed the picture
delicately on his lap before bending down and lifting his other son
onto the couch. The red sparkling purred contently, before thrusting
his own picture into Soundwave's face. The persian took it, pulling
it back a little so he could focus on the image covering the paper.
It was done in a similar style like Rumble's, except this time it was
one very prominent 'bot with his arms wrapped around three smaller
ones tightly. There was more glitter and a spattering of suns, with
the addition of that scribbling across the top.
“Happy father's day,” Tracks
smiled, putting the tray on the kittycon's lap and placing the
presents from the twins out of the way. The pomeranian settled on the
couch as well, pulling Frenzy into his lap so he could sidle up
closer to Soundwave. “We missed it last year, so I decided to make
it up this year.”
Leaning in closer, the autodog
whispered, “And I've got an extra special present for daddy
later tonight.”
Engines rumbling, Soundwave turned to
his bondmate, removing his mouth guard and kissing the pomeranian.
Rumble and Frenzy squealed at the display of affection, clambering
for attention as well. The kittycon gladly nuzzled and kissed his
sons as well, pulling them all a little closer. “Thank you,” he
purred. “Action: greatly appreciated.”
“Anything for you, love,” Tracks
replied, nuzzling closer still.
The twins clapped their servos, purring
as well. This, Soundwave decided, was the best. Even if he had to
work all the time, at least he had these moments to savour. Nobody
could take these from him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Trouble-makers that they were,
sometimes Rumble and Frenzy didn't start it themselves.
“Hey, aft-heads!,” the autodog
yelled. “Hey, I'm talking to you!”
The twins came to a stop in the
hallway, slowly turning about to face the instigator. They knew this
was only going to be trouble, but it had been some time since their
last confrontation and it was getting annoying listening to the mutt
yip at their tails. Sneering like he had won some sort of victory,
the older youngling swaggered up to the kittycons, drawing every
other students' attention.
“You'll never guess what I saw in the
paper,” the autodog said, “Some juicy bit of gossip that has
glossae tripping.”
“You read that stupid propaganda?,”
Frenzy asked, lifting an optic ridge incredulously.
“Slag.... you're more of an idiot
than I thought,” Rumble continued. Some snickers broke out, but the
other mech quickly silenced them with a glare to the crowd.
“I wouldn't be talking so big if I
were you,” the older youngling sneered again. “It's not like my
creator's over the front page, spread wide like he is. What? You guys
don't even have good security at that giant mansion you live in? Or
does your mom like to have his naked chassis displayed over every
paper in Cybertron?”
Frenzy hissed, denta bared as he took a
step toward the autodog. Rumble stopped him by throwing an arm before
his brother's chestplates, glaring up at the bully. “I suggest you
shut up,” the kittycon warned lowly.
“Or you'll what?,” the
autodog snapped. “You gonna spread your legs wide open for me as
well, huh? Bastard creations of a whore are gonna learn the best from
mommy dearest, right? I mean, seriously, who do your parents think
they are? They so fragging old! Still rutting like that.....
Primus, it's practically disgusting seeing your glitch of a
mother bent over half-double, taking your fragger of a father's
spike. Maybe I should come knocking at your door then, hmmm? See if
that pretty lil' valve will open up for a real mech's sp-hnng!”
The older youngling hit the floor
quickly, Frenzy pulling back his fist. Growling, the kittycon
followed up by kicking the autodog in the gut -several times. Hearing
the other whimper in pain, the red youngling stopped, spitting on the
fallen bully's form for good measure. With all the calmness of a
rising storm, Rumble stepped up to the autodog, pausing at the other
youngling's helm. “The thought of interfacing with someone like
yourself is beyond the mere thought of contemplation. The idea is
enough to make 'bots purge,” the kittycon said lowly.
He rested his pede on the older
youngling's helm, grinding his heel into the plating. He did not
relent, even when the autodog gave a sharp cry of pain. “I suggest
the next time someone gives you fair warning about something, you
heed it,” the blue twin hissed, leaning in closer. “As for my
mother: only one 'bot could ever satisfy him, and for him to still be
interfacing, it means that my father knows just how to please his
bondmate. I think it's about time the rest of Cybertron was aware of
this, don't you agree?”
A desperate, little keen.
Slowly, Rumble lifted his pede, turning
and grabbing Frenzy's arm. “Let's go,” he said to his brother.
The other kittycon conceded to his twin's tugging, storming away from
the curled up autodog. Rumble did not mind that the other youngling
stomped off ahead -he was well aware of how much of a momma's mech
that Frenzy was, and how much restraint it had taken not to simply
offline the older 'bot. Still, it did not account for the autodog's
attitude.
The paparazzi slipping past their
security and taking a picture of their parents' in their most
intimate actions was not something they had planned on, but Unicron
be damned if any of the twins would allow anyone to bad-mouth
them about it.
Especially about their creator.
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