Multiple ratings within
Chapter 19: Soundwave and Tracks II
Pairing: Soundwave and Tracks
Rating: T
Tracks didn't know how he felt about
the whole being sparked thing. A part of him was disturbed and
angered that he was carrying another life force within him, that
would eventually be brought out into the world. He had after all been
forced to keep the new spark against his own will. But the pomeranian
knew that a larger part of him was simply afraid; a series of doubts
running rampant through his processor.
How could anyone expect him to
be the creator of a new mech or femme?
How could they even begin to
trust that he could provide a proper life to such an influential
sparkling?
And Soundwave..... every action on the
persian's part only confused and overwhelmed the autodog further. He
didn't know how to act to the kittycon's advances and loving displays
of concern.
But when Rumble and Frenzy were born,
all of Tracks' worries and fears were erased by the sight of their
little flailing paws and scrunched up optics.
His maternal programming kicked into
over-drive and all the pomeranian could think of through his
exhaustion was to protect and love those tiny, beautiful bornlings.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Inquiry: ....what are you doing?”
Soundwave looked on warily at the
autodog standing in the middle of the empty room, tarp beneath his
pedes and numerous paint cans opened in a circle all around him.
Tracks turned at the question, looking at the persian curiously. The
kittycon was surprised to see that there were already specks of paint
on the pomeranian's cheekplates and even on his designer clothes.
And Tracks wasn't making a fuss.....
“I can't decide on a colour,”
Tracks began, turning back to the wall he had previously been staring
at. He tapped the paintbrush in his servo against his shoulder
plating, further staining his silk top. “I was thinking about lime
green, but lilac really stands out. Though maybe we should go with
navy blue. Baby blue is too passe, and it feels too much like
favouritism. Perhaps violet..... or maybe cornflower....”
“....why does it matter?,”
Soundwave questioned, “Fact: blue is blue.”
“Excuse me!,” Tracks gasped,
whirling on the persian. “Blue is not just blue! Th-they're
different... they've got like, variations and stuff!”
Soundwave tried to keep his face plates
neutral. “Status: confused. Paint colour not vital.”
“Urgh, you're so frustrating!,” the
autodog huffed irritably. “The colour choice is important! This is
the room where my babies will be sleeping and playing and, and
growing! It should reflect them perfectly.”
Tracks promptly turned around and
stared at the sample strips of paint already on the wall. He cocked
his helm to the side momentarily, falling quiet. “No, I think it
should be teal. Yes.....,” the pomeranian hummed merrily, coming to
a decision. “That'll be absolutely wonderful!”
And the multi-coloured mech abandoned
his dirty brush for a clean one, dipping it into a bucket containing
the blue-green paint. Soundwave wisely slunk out the doorway,
escaping from the nerve-wracking sight of the vain autodog actually
doing manual labour.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“No, I don't like it,” Tracks said.
Soundwave turned his helm away, glad
for his mouth guard that hid his growing smirk. The clerk before the
couple fumbled over the pacifier in her servos, quickly putting it
aside. “How about this one, sir,” the femme tried, bringing out
another one.
Rumble, in the persian's servos, waved
his arms about, mewling softly in want for the soother. Tracks
glanced at their son momentarily, before leaning in closer to the
pacifier resting on its own silk cushion. His fingers poked and
prodded at the mouth piece, testing the sturdiness of the silicon,
and the weight and hardness of the base. Standing upright again, the
pomeranian turned to his son, with the pacifier in servo.
“Well, sweetie. What do you think?,”
the pomeranian asked.
It took Soundwave a nanoklik to realize
that Tracks wasn't talking to him. Rumble cooed happily in his arms,
reaching for the pacifier being held out to him. The autodog stopped
teasing his son, finally putting the soother in the bornling's mouth.
The little kittycon squirmed contently in his sire's arms, tiny
servos gripping the ring of the pacifier as he sucked on its teat.
Smirking, the pomeranian turned back to the stunned clerk. “I'll
take another one, please.”
The femme didn't respond for a second.
“Well?,” Tracks frowned, propping
his servos on his hips.
Jolting at the question, the clerk
scrambled to pull another pacifier out of the case. “W-would you
like that wrapped, s-sir?,” she stuttered.
The autodog waved the request off. “No,
I'll just give it to my other son,” he replied. Being addressed,
Frenzy perked in the stroller, lifting his optics and blinking up at
his sire and creator curiously.
Taking the second pacifier and his
sons, Tracks walked away from the counter, leaving Soundwave to deal
with the bill. The femme rung up the purchase, looking to the
kittycon. “So..... that'll be 5000 credits, sir,” she said.
Soundwave swallowed back the sigh that
rose.
Trust his bondmate to pick the most top
of the line, jewelled bit of designer baby merchandise that he could
find.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Soundwave cringed at the loud wailing,
ears flat against his helm in an attempt to block out the noise. The
kittycon prided himself in being able to face off with many obstacles
and come out victorious at the end of it all. This.... was one
challenge that he knew he couldn't win....
“Where do you think you're going?!”
The persian cringed again, shoulders
hunched guiltily about his flattened ears. Slowly, he turned to face
his bondmate. Tracks stood with his servos cocked on his hips,
scowling at the other mech. The pomeranian's fur was ruffled, and his
clothes were slightly askew, but the dimness of his optics behind his
glasses foretold his exhaustion more than the rest of his appearance
did.
Though at this moment, they could not
hide the annoyance burning brightly in the blue orbs.
Frowning still at his silent bondmate,
the autodog stomped towards the persian. “You better not be
thinking about leaving,” Tracks growled, coming right up to the
kittycon's chassis. He poked the blue mech in the chest plates hard
with each exclamation. “You were the one who decided you wanted
kids! It was you who knocked me up! So don't you dare think about
running out now. These sparklings are your responsibility as well!”
“Assumption incorrect: was not
running away,” Soundwave protested.
Tracks opened his mouth to rant some
more, but was interrupted by another wave of distressed bawling. The
pomeranian whirled about quickly, running to the source of the
crying, unable to deny his maternal programming demanding that he
tend to his bornlings. Glad for the distraction, Soundwave hurriedly
slipped out the door and to his car.
Not that he didn't love his wife and
sons, but he was greatly inept at handling the boys now that they
were teething.
....he would have to pick up a present
for Tracks before he came home tonight in apology.....
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was always amazing watching Tracks
with his sons, because the high-class, vain autodog's personality did
an almost 180 degree shift during that time. At this moment,
Soundwave was witness to his sparklings and bondmate giggling
together; their face plates smeared with icing.
“Oooh, you're such a little
miscreant,” Tracks laughed, rubbing olfactory sensors with Frenzy.
Rumble squealed, slapping his servos on
his highchair's top. The crumbled remains of his birthday cake
splattered everywhere with the action; big, gloppy chunks falling to
the floor, icing covering his tiny paws further. Tracks surprisingly
did not fume or rant as he usually did when bits of flying cake hit
him, instead only turning his attention to his other son and smiling
at the sparkling.
“Ah, my darlings,” the pomeranian
cooed, tickling both of the kittycons under their chins. Rumble and
Frenzy giggled further at the action. “You're both so filthy!
Mommy's gonna have to give you a bath.”
That was a given. Soundwave could
easily see that the twins' fur was sticky from the icing and they
would need a wash before bed. For now though, the persian was quite
content to remain silent, taking in the rare sight he was certain no
one else had seen before.
“Mmmm.......but I might just gobble
you up before then,” Tracks growled lightly, pecking Rumble and
Frenzy each on their cheekplates. “You both taste so good!”
Another series of high-pitched giggles followed.
The red sparkling turned suddenly and
stared at the older kittycon, babbling unintelligibly. Catching his
son's action, the autodog turned, taking notice of the persian
standing a few feet away. “Well, hello, Big Boy,” Tracks smirked.
With his clothes splattered with food and his cheekplates spotted
with flecks of icing, the pomeranian's flirting was practically
ridiculous.
But Soundwave's engines rumbling in
response easily belied that perception.
Giggling sultrily, Tracks rose to his
pedes, swaying his hips enticingly as he approached his bondmate.
“See something you like?,” the autodog asked.
The kittycon opened his arms, pulling
the slim mech to his chest plates. Tracks hummed contently, fingers
languidly stroking at the persian's broad shoulder plating. “How
long have you been watching me, hmmm? There something on my face?”
“Correct,” Soundwave replied. He
chuckled lowly at the pomeranian's stunned look, removing his mouth
guard and diving in quickly. His glossa licked at a dollop of icing
along Tracks' cheek arch, drawing a surprised gasp from the autodog.
Pleased with the reaction, the persian dove next for the other mech's
mouth.
Tracks moaned into the kiss, lifting
his servos up and gripping behind Soundwave's helm, trying to deepen
the contact. The kittycon gladly increased the friction of their
melded mouths, using his servos to cup the autodog's aft and bring
their frames closer. The multi-coloured mech whimpered around
Soundwave's glossa, slowly beginning to grind into the persian's
pelvic armour as the other 'bot started to grope and squeeze the
plating around the base of his tail.
A perplexed little mewl had Tracks
jumping away from the kittycon immediately though, leaving Soundwave
to shutter his optics stupidly behind his visor. “Inquiry: what is
problem?”
“What is the p-problem?!,” Tracks
squeaked, cheekplates brightening with a blush. “O-our sons are
watching, that is what!”
Soundwave turned his helm, and indeed,
two bright, inquisitive sets of optics were fixed on the older 'bots.
Unabashedly, he returned his attention to his flustered bondmate.
“Presence: inconsequential,” he replied.
The pomeranian only blushed further,
scowling at the persian. With a huff, the autodog turned on his pede,
scooping up his two sparklings and tromping out of the room. Rumble
and Frenzy giggled all the way, squirming in their creator's hold as
if it were all a game. Soundwave sighed slightly, replacing his mouth
guard. Tracks' maternal programming was beginning to become a
nuisance....
It had been megacycles since he had
last been able to interface with his bondmate and the kittycon was
beginning to feel neglected if nothing else. In a bit of a foul mood
now, the blue mech skulked off to his office, intent on doing some
business to pass the time.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Since giving birth to the twins, Tracks
had been feeling sort of.... down.
It wasn't so much to do with the new
change of lifestyle or being bonded that was conflicting the
pomeranian, instead it was the state of his frame. Even though his
chassis had slimmed out again quickly after Rumble and Frenzy were
born, the mech could still feel the stretch and tautness in the seams
from where his frame had swollen carrying the two sparks. It greatly
unsettled Tracks, who after spending so much time as an escort,
placed a great deal of importance on his appearance.
Constantly having this hovering about
the back of his processor only made Tracks all the more nervous. He
feared that he was no longer beautiful, because that's how he felt
himself, and he began to fret that Soundwave would not want him if he
was no longer appealing. Their relationship was still fairly young
after all, and the pomeranian unfortunately didn't have enough
confidence to believe what the kittycon told him.
It didn't help that Soundwave kept
making advances on him, further increasing the autodog's unease.
Soundwave though was not impressed by
Tracks' silence. He approached his bondmate one orn after putting the
twins down for a nap. “Explanation: reason for avoidance.”
Tracks startled at the query, and
actually attempted to flee. The kittycon blocked his path though,
putting both servos on the pomeranian's shoulders so that he would be
forced to look at the blue mech. Frowning, Tracks glared up at
Soundwave. “I haven't been avoiding you,” he replied.
The persian did not vocally respond to
that. Instead, he slid a servo down the autodog's frame, cupping it
just about Tracks' tail. The multi-coloured mech practically quailed
at the touch, shifting uncomfortably. “Point: you are unnerved by
my touch. Inquiry: why?,” Soundwave asked.
For an astrosecond, it looked as if the
pomeranian would not reply, but then Tracks was huffing irritably,
stomping a pede on the floor. “I don't understand why you like to
run around in circles endlessly like this, tormenting me before you
decide that you've had your finish!,” he bit out angrily. “I know
I'm not attractive anymore, but that's no reason to tease me
continuously.”
Soundwave's grip slackened with simple
shock at the autodog's statement. He was understandably angry for a
nanoklik, before he calmed again. The pulses coming over from Tracks'
side of the bond were emitting deep waves of depression and fear:
fear of rejection and abandonment; and sadness that now clearly
displayed that the pomeranian's outrageous comments stemmed from a
complicated belief that if he was no longer sexy, then he would not
be wanted. To that, the persian scooped Tracks up into his arms
tight, sealing his lip components against the other's. With his
servos, he stroked and petted the slim mech's fur, drawing pleased
moans and whimpers from the pomeranian.
“Status: beautiful,” he informed,
breaking apart from the kiss a klik later. “Nothing can change
that.”
“L-liar....,” Tracks panted.
“B-beauty fades with the ebb of time.”
“Incorrect,” the kittycon replied.
“Tracks: is, and always will be, beautiful to my optics.” That,
made the autodog flush deeply with embarrassment, shock and hope.
Feeling the waves of love his bondmate was transmitting through their
bond soothed any and all worries that Tracks had still; he curled
instantly into the persian's warm embrace, humming contently.
“Mission: tomorrow night, we have a
romantic dinner just the two of us,” Soundwave said, his servos
petting the pomeranian languidly.
“Mmm... and I suppose you want us to
interface afterwards then, huh?,” Tracks mumbled, peering up at the
blue mech from the corner of his optic. Soundwave's engines rumbled
at the suggestion, and the sound calmed the autodog further.
“Action: would be appreciated,” he
answered.
“I see....,” Tracks responded. The
pomeranian pulled back a bit, leaning up and kissing the kittycon. “I
suppose we'll just have to wait and see what happens.”
Before Soundwave could reply, his pager
went off. Silently, the persian gave one last peck to his bondmate
before pulling out of the embrace and walking down the hall. He
headed for his office, where he knew he would be the rest of the
night, attempting to seal the deal with some of Iacon's more stubborn
business owners. Back in the living room, Tracks stayed standing
where the kittycon had left him, tapping Soundwave's wallet against
his chin thoughtfully.
No doubt that his husband hadn't
noticed him sneaking it out of his pocket..... but that wasn't any of
the autodog's concern right now.
The persian had practically set him a
challenge, and Tracks was more than happy to meet it. When Rumble and
Frenzy woke up, the three of them would be going for a little
shopping trip. After all, the pomeranian was going to need something
slinky for tomorrow night.
Smirking devilishly, Tracks turned
about and skipped out of the room.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Bath time was perhaps one of
Soundwave's favourite activities.
It was a good way to spend time with
his sparklings, and at the same time see his bondmate get all wet.
Tracks, with a spattering of bubbles all along his shoulder plates
and his clothes pasted to his frame like a second skin, was a
delicious sight to gaze upon. Even the annoyed pout he wore as Rumble
and Frenzy continued to fight getting clean was a hard thing to
ignore.
It made the persian want to pin the
autodog to the tiles and have his way with him right then and there.
As it was, Tracks would allow him to
cope a feel, even kiss and nibble at his neck cables. But if he
attempted to go any further, the pomeranian would splash him with
water; exciting the two sparklings who, thinking it was a game,
started splashing water everywhere.
In the end, Soundwave would end up
soaked as well. Yet the joyful laughter of his bondmate and sons was
a fair trade off, he thought.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tracks had been adamant against the
idea of sending Rumble and Frenzy to pre-school from the get-go, but
after Soundwave had told him that it was absolutely necessary, the
pomeranian went off and picked the most high-class, expensive school
he could possibly find within the city. The twins did not seem to
mind that they were to spend their orns in a small room amongst other
sparklings their age; in fact, Tracks seemed to be the only one
really affected by this separation. Staying home alone all orn long
was not an appealing thing to the autodog and so, Soundwave found his
credit card usage went up during that time frame.
It was barely two weeks before Rumble
and Frenzy had managed to burn the school down. Apparently they had
cajoled another sparkling into jamming a fork into a socket. The
result was an electrical fire that quickly ate up the school before
fire services could arrive. None of the sparklings or teachers were
thankfully harmed.
But that hadn't been the worst of it.
It seemed that the twins had a long list of misdemeanours against
them, and the principal of the pre-school informed the persian
directly that his sons would not be transferred along with the other
students to another facility. In fact, the little pit-spawned
hellions -as the teacher had addressed Rumble and Frenzy- were not
allowed to attend any pre-schools within the Iacon area.
Defeated, Soundwave returned home with his sons, greeting Tracks in
the living room.
He quickly informed the autodog of the
events that had occurred.
“....told you it was a bad idea....,”
Tracks only replied, immediately turning his attention to his
sparklings.
Soundwave wisely decided not to comment
about the smugness present in his bondmate's tone.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Mommy.....”
Tracks lowered his book, looking at his
two sons. Rumble and Frenzy stood at his pedes, staring up at their
creator. Their set of blocks they had been previously playing with
lay abandoned behind them. “Yes, loves?,” the autodog asked,
curious to know what troubled his sparklings. They rarely stopped
playing unless there was a reason.
“Why don't we have fluffy tails?,”
the twins asked.
Tracks shuttered his optics idly for a
nanoklik. “Come again?,” he finally said after a moment.
Rumble and Frenzy both pouted, before
the blue sparkling was grabbing his brother's tail and yanking it
forward. He dutifully ignored Frenzy's yelp, waving the furry
appendage pointedly. “It's skinny!,” Rumble proclaimed. “But
daddy's tail is all fluffy. Even your tail is poofy, mommy!”
“Yeah!,” Frenzy agreed, pulling his
tail out of his twin's servos. “We want fluffy tails too!”
They fell quiet, looking at the autodog
expectantly. Tracks cocked an optic ridge, leaning back against the
couch. “Sorry, darlings. Nothing I can do about that.”
The sparklings whined loudly. “Why
not?,” they pestered, clambering up onto the couch. They settled
down on either side of Tracks, plopping across their creator's lap.
“Why can't you give us fluffy tails?”
“You can blame your father's genetics
for that,” the pomeranian replied.
“.....What?,” was the perplexed
question.
Tracks sighed. “Ask your father
later, okay loves?” The little kittycons puffed their cheeks out in
annoyance but did not budge from their spot. They would seek out
their sire later..... right now, they were much too comfortable.
Nuzzling the autodog's legs, Rumble and Frenzy settled in further for
a short nap.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The twins were spoiled.
“Dad..... you know this colour is out
of season right? I can't be seen wearing this!” Frenzy shook the
clothes before himself, looking at the newly-bought articles
dismayed.
“And I mean, what's with all the
cotton?,” Rumble piped up. “It's so classless.”
Soundwave tried not to cross his arms
over his chassis. “Presentation: fine. Clothes are clothes. It
matters not what they are,” he replied.
“What?!,” the sparklings screeched
together. “It does matter!,” the blue twin continued.
“Dad..... you are trying to embarrass
us,” the other kittycon deadpanned. “Really....”
The persian wondered why he even
bothered to do any shopping for his sons period. They were never
happy with his purchases. The one thing they had inherited for
certain from their mother was their sense of fashion and preferences
for more pricier things. A trait that was slowly beginning to drive
Soundwave insane.....
“You really should leave the shopping
to mommy, dad.....”
“Or better yet, us.”
Soundwave cleared his vocalizer,
interrupting the twins' complaining. “Action: shall return the
items. Tracks will take you shopping again later. Inquiry: what is
opinion on other purchase?,” the older kittycon asked.
Rumble and Frenzy perked at that. “You
bought us something else?,” the red sparkling questioned.
“I don't see how you could find
something be-,” Rumble cut himself off as Soundwave put his servos
into a box at his pedes, lifting out a black cub. The exotic creature
made the twins gasp in delight, swarming their sire to get close to
the animal.
“He's so cool! Is he really all ours,
dad, is he?”
“Affirmative,” Soundwave answered.
The persian flicked his tail a little, glad to see that his sons
appreciated at least one of his gifts. They took the animal into
their servos, petting the black head. The cat purred contently.
“We need to give him a name,”
Frenzy noted.
“Oh, yeah, totally! Something
awesome.....”
“Something scary.”
“Something like.....”
“Ravage!,” the twins exclaimed
together.
The older kittycon felt his smile fade.
“Designation: odd. Why ravage?”
Rumble and Frenzy turned to look at
him. “Just seems to fit, ya know,” the blue kittycon answered
vaguely.
“Yeah. I mean, you and mommy play
that 'ravage' thing all the time, right?,” Frenzy elaborated.
Soundwave kneeled, setting a servo on
each of his sons' helms. “Order: never inform your mother about
this reasoning.”
The twins shuttered their optics idly,
before shrugging.
“Yeah, alright....”
“Whatever....”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Well hello, lovely.”
Tracks turned at the purr, lifting an
optic ridge at the stranger. The black kittycon leaned against the
clothes rack, smirking at the autodog. “May I help you?,” the
pomeranian asked, frowning at the mech.
The stranger didn't seem put off by his
coldness, instead inching a little closer. His optics fell to the
clothes rack, his fingers picking at the silk articles on the
hangers. “You've been here a while,” the kittycon said. “Been
looking at the pretty, little things for some time now. I presume
it's not for someone else that you're shopping for. Is it, darling?”
This mech was terribly obvious in his
intentions. As if Tracks would ever want to have anything to do with
the stranger, even if he wasn't already bonded. But the pomeranian
only smirked, deciding to respond back to the taller mech. “Such a
smart, handsome cat like yourself took notice of lil', ol' me?
I'm flattered,” Tracks purred.
“So.....Which one do you think I
should wear?,” he asked, gesturing to the rack.
The kittycon rumbled his engines,
pleased by the autodog's flirting. At the inquiry, he reached for one
of the hangers, pulling out a sheer silk nightgown, about thigh-high
and with a feather trim about the hems. “Mmmmmm....,” the mech
leered, being much too forward and holding the nightgown to Tracks'
frame, “Wine is a lovely colour on you dear.”
“Is it?,” the pomeranian replied
breathlessly, stepping an inch closer to the other mech. “I would
have never thought it.....”
“Oh, it's a very stunning colour,
love,” the kittycon assured. He pressed the hanger into Tracks'
servos, leaning forwards so his lip components brushed the other's
ears. “I think you should go see how it fits darling,” he
whispered, “And then you and I can go somewhere more private
to admire it, yes?”
“Of course,” Tracks said, turning
away from the stranger. He made sure to let his tail brush against
the front of the kittycon's pants. “Wait for me?”
“I shall,” the kittycon purred
lecherously.
Tracks smirked at the mech, before
turning around fully and heading in the direction of the change
rooms. Once he had turned the corner though, he made a sound of
disgust, dropping the nightgown carelessly on the top of a random
rack. He picked up the blue Penelope thong he had seen earlier, and
the midnight blue Dawn Slip that he'd been itching to buy since
landing his optics on it. With his purchases in hand, the pomeranian
headed straight for the register.
Coming out of hiding, Rumble and Frenzy
picked up the article that their creator had discarded, glaring at
the black kittycon from around the rack. “So the pervert can't keep
it in his pants, huh?,” Rumble sneered wickedly.
“Then we'll have to teach that
slagger a lesson about coming near our mom, won't we?,” Frenzy
replied, baring his denta as well. There was only the glow of their
visors, before both sparklings were slipping out of sight again.
“Thank you sir, and have a good day!”
Tracks inclined his helm to the
cashier, turning about and heading for the doorway. He stopped when
he noticed that there was no longer two little kittycons sitting at
the bench beside the entrance. “Rumble? Frenzy?,” Tracks called,
looking about.
“Yes mommy?,” the twins chimed,
slipping before the autodog.
“Ah, there you are!,” Tracks
smiled. “I'm sorry I took so long, darlings. How about I take you
out for some icecream to make up for it, hmm?”
“Oh, yes please!,” Frenzy beamed.
“I want the super-deluxe chocolate,
energon sundae!,” Rumble added.
Chuckling, the pomeranian patted both
of his sons on their helms. “Very well. Let's go then, shall we?”
There was a loud crack and crash,
followed by a string of screaming and yelling just as Tracks was
walking out the door. The mech turned his helm back into the
boutique, alarmed. “What just happened?,” he asked.
He had half the processor to head back
inside and see what all the disturbance was about, but Rumble and
Frenzy each grabbed hold of their creator's arm, pulling the autodog
out of the shop. “Nothing to worry about,” the blue sparkling
grinned merrily.
“Nope, definitely not,” Frenzy
continued cheerfully. “Now, didn't you promise us icecream?”
Tracks looked behind him an astrosecond
longer, before shaking his helm and turning his attention back front.
“Yes, of course. To Swoop's Scoops then, correct?”
“Yep!,” the two kittycons chirped.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“....a....!”
Soundwave lifted his helm from his
datapad, looking about his office slowly. There was nothing there to
be seen, and no devices had been left on to make the curious noise.
Puzzled, he turned back to his work.
“ ....d........aah!”
The kittycon lifted his helm a second
time, directing his attention to his pedes this time. He had almost
forgotten that he was supposed to be watching the sparklings. Rumble
and Frenzy were standing shakily on their pedes, gripping the bars of
their playpen tightly. “Concern: is everything alright?,” the
persian asked his sons.
The little kittycons opened and closed
their mouths, staring up at their sire unblinkingly.
Soundwave's brow furrowed worriedly and
he leaned in closer to the twins. “Inquiry: Rumble? Frenzy?” Had
they broken something? Though they were moving their mouths still, no
chirps or babbles or meows were coming forth. What did that mean?
“....a.....,” Frenzy sounded again.
The red sparkling pouted at the syllable he had produced, tail
flicking behind him irritably.
“....d-duh.....,” his brother began
to enunciate. Rumble fell quiet too, and both kittycons scrunched up
their faces in concentration. Soundwave continued to watch them
warily still, unsure of what they were doing.
Slowly, the twins opened their mouths
again, and in a quiet mewl went, “..... d....ah.....d-da......”
The persian's ears perked in surprise,
and his processor whirled. Had Rumble and Frenzy..... did they....?
“Request: repeat that, Rumble, Frenzy,” the older mech urged. At
the kittycon's eagerness, the sparklings burst into excited grins.
“D-da....”
“Dada!”
Soundwave jumped from his chair this
time in amazement. “Tracks! Order: come here now!,” he shouted
from his office, not once tearing his optics from his sons. Rumble
and Frenzy bounced in their playpen, riled up from the positive
response their talking had created.
The kittycon reached into the playpen,
pulling the twins out and nuzzling their helms. The sparklings cooed
and giggled happily at the action, nuzzling back into their sire. His
little ones had talked! They had spoken their first words!
Soundwave couldn't have been prouder.
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