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Tailgate pressed his fingers against the tingling plating just under Cyclonus’ breast plate. The tiny mech knelt on the rolling chair he’d dragged over, and rested his helm on Cyclonus’ chest. Tailgate was desperate to hear the little pulse that beat under purple armor every chance he could get.
Cyclonus sighed, and tried to type over him without knocking into his minature friend. If he’d known becoming an official member of the crew would be followed by a staff position and paperwork, he would have preferred the isolation and scowling in his direction by everyone on the crew. Cyclonus rubbed the side of his head, attempting to concentrate on his report, instead of the minibot molesting his side.
"Cyclonus," Tailgate whispered. He nudged his faceplate closer to the bigger mech. Tailgate’s vents sped up, and Cyclonus could feel the heat coming off the minibot from his excitement. He whispered louder, "Cyclonus."
"What?" Cyclonus answered, leaning closer to the screen to make sure that the semi-colon went where he wanted it. "What is it?"
"I can hear him," Tailgate said. He hugged closer, as if he were trying to phase through Cyclonus’ armor and touch the little life growing inside. "I can hear him."
"He’s strong," Cyclonus said. The little kicks to his spark chamber from the miniature forming protoform were evidence enough of that. "Of course you can hear him."
"I want to meet him," Tailgate said, hushed in awe. He wrapped his arms around Cyclonus’ waist, his knees nearly falling off the chair as it wheeled away a few inches. Tailgate squeezed. "I be he’s going to be amazing."
"Of course he will be," Cyclonus said. He fixed a typo on the third line, and hummed. Did one report Whirl as an Act of Primus, or Rung’s Failure to Contain? Cyclonus drummed his fingers on the keyboard. "He’s coming from good stock."
"With amazing parents like us," Tailgate chuckled over the sound of the chair’s wheels creaking beneath him. He loosened his hug, and rubbed the plating over the new little spark nestled tightly in it’s womb. "Yeah, that’s absolutely right."
The chair slipped away, and Tailgate dropped to the floor with a clatter. He rubbed the side of his helm. Tailgate rubbed the new dent that had formed over the word ‘disposal’ and sighed at it. “Well, at least one of his parents is amazing.”
Cyclonus reached down and lifted Tailgate under the arms and plopped him down on his lap. He reached around Tailgate, and proceeded to add the next sentence to the report. “Both. Both are amazing.”
Tailgate stiffened for a second, before relaxing. He leaned into Cyclonus and turned so that his helm rested over their tiny little creation. “I can still hear him.”
"And soon you’ll get to say hello," Cyclonus said. He rubbed the plating on his back, willing it to stop hurting. So much stress on a system for such a tiny thing. Tailgate pet the plating, hummming gently.
It was worth it.
"But for now," Cyclonus said, taking hold of Tailgate’s head and turning it toward the screen. He tapped the glowing monitor and frowned. "Proof read this."