decepticonsensual:

Tailgate was exhausted when he arrived home – visiting Rewind and
Chromedome had been a lot easier back on the Lost Light, when
it meant a few minutes in the lift and a stroll down the corridor,
not a three-week jaunt to the colony world where Rewind was making
the latest in his new series of documentaries.  However, his sheer
relief at opening his own front door faded fast when Cyclonus met him
on the doorstep.  There was something in Cyclonus’s expression that
put Tailgate immediately on edge.  He looked almost… hunted.

“Cyclonus?”  Tailgate set down his bags and reached to take
Cyclonus’s hands in his own.

“I…”  Cyclonus clung to his hands, cycling a deep ventilation.
“There is something you need to know, Tailgate.  I didn’t wish
this to come as a surprise, but I was unable to reach you…”

“Yes, the signal from Eukaris was terrible.  Cyclonus, what is it?”

“In your absence, I have done… something… I have made a
decision that will affect our life together, and I did so without
consulting you.  I’m sorry.”

“What do you –”

Just then, there was a soft mwaaaarp? sound from somewhere
near floor level, and Cyclonus bowed his head.  “This is
Crysmagnetal.”

A tiny, feline head with big yellow optics poked around Cyclonus’s
legs.

Tailgate dropped Cyclonus’s hands to clutch both of his together
over his spark.  His visor went so wide that Cyclonus swore he could
see stars reflected in it, and if he listened very carefully, he
could practically hear Tailgate vibrating.

“Now, I’ve had Ratchet check her over, and even taken her to a
mnemosurgeon, and they’re satisfied that she is a true cybercat,
not some unfortunate soul subjected to domestication,” Cyclonus
said.  “Her species was quite common in our day; I cared for two
myself, in my youth.  Much rarer now, of course.”  They’d been
hunted almost to extinction under the Functionists, but it didn’t
seem like the time to mention that.  “I found her a week ago,
scavenging for fuel in a scrapheap, so I took her in.”

Tailgate finally managed, “KITTY!”

Cyclonus smiled in relief.  “I hoped you would approve.  It is
entirely up to you, of course; we can find her another home -”

“No, don’t you dare!”  Tailgate crouched down – well,
crouched down even further, and extended his fingers towards
Crysmagnetal.  The cybercat sniffed them daintily and regarded
Tailgate for a long, wary moment.  Then, without warning, she bolted
back into the house, leaving him looking crestfallen.

“She’s a bit shy,” said Cyclonus, helping him up.  “She’s
had time to get used to me; it was days before she stopped hiding
under the bed.”

“It’s okay.  I’ll win her over.”

***

All through that evening, and for the next couple of weeks, Tailgate
was unerringly patient with the cybercat.  It made Cyclonus’s spark
swell, watching Tailgate spend hours gradually coaxing her round.  He
would sit still with a datapad for a whole evening, while
Crysmagnetal crept closer, eventually butting her head against his
fingers; or he would slow-blink his visor from the other end of the
sofa, as she stared at him and then, eventually, blinked in return.
Tailgate never reprimanded her for being distant, but would praise
her lavishly when she did let down her guard enough to spend time
with him.

By the third week, Crysmagnetal – now sleek and fat and shiny –
was sleeping sprawled across Tailgate’s lap, her engine purring
nonstop while he skritched her ears.  “Good Nettie.  Goooood cat.”

Cyclonus moved to sit behind him on the sofa, curling around
Tailgate.  “You’ve certainly won her over.”

“I always do,” said Tailgate mysteriously, before reaching a hand
up to skritch between Cyclonus’s horns.