kat_in_a_box | There's no way out, we are surrounded

There's no way out, we are surrounded

Who: Tailgate and Cyclonus
Where: The Lost Light
Summary: Cyclonus is too damn overprotective.
Warnings: None.

"Oh man, Cyclonus, you wouldn't believe what people were talking about at Swerve's bar today!" Tailgate has just barged his way into their quarters, and is now flopping back onto his slab by the window, unceremoniously interrupting whatever it was that his roommate was doing. It's pretty obvious he's been drinking, too, if his slightly swaying motions and loud voice are any indication.

The small mech laughs as he lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He flails his hands up in the air dramatically.

"Getaway- Getaway started going on about me to our whole table! And I yell at him to stop, but he keeps going on and on about how I'm gonna be a Prime some day, about how I'm a hero who can handle any endeavor that gets thrown my way. And I tell him, I tell him he's got it all wrong, I'm nothing special, and then--"

Tailgate sits up abruptly and forms his hand into a finger gun, aiming it at Cyclonus' direction. "Pow! I pull out my finger just like that, and the whole table starts cheering and offering free rounds and--" He hiccups slightly, the energon in his system causing a bit of an upset in his engines. It's clear that he's had way too many free drinks. Yet the small mech just bursts out laughing.

"Imagine me as a Prime, Cyclonus! You can totally see it, can't you?"

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Cyclonus sits at the small workstation in their shared room, back straight and stiff. He doesn't turn when Tailgate enters, hardly moves as Tailgate speaks, barely gives a sign that he's even listening. But the little hints are there, if someone was watching closely enough. A narrowing of his optics at the mention of Getaway - it was always Getaway - and a clenching of his fist at Tailgate's self-aggrandization.

He doesn't begrudge Tailgate being happy. It's good to see the small bot be confident. But confidence is knowing the extent of your abilities and being proud of them. What Tailgate has been exhibiting more and more of lately was overconfidence, and that was dangerous. Overconfidence led bots who had never experienced true combat to point guns at one of the most dangerous Cybertronians in the universe. Overconfidence led to Cyclonus's systems racing with the fear that he was about to lose Tailgate and this time there would be nothing he could do to save him.

He's been worrying ever since the Megatron Incident, a persistent anxiety kept tightly locked away as Tailgate continued to bluster and preen, goaded on by the likes of Getaway. But finally his control slips, and a bit of the fear bleeds out, taking the form that Cyclonus's emotions so often tend to when they overwhelm him: anger.

"No," he grates out as Tailgate finally finishes his story.

Tailgate narrows his optics at his roommate, scoffing at him with a little sigh from his voice modulator. But he doesn't catch on to the anger.

"You're always a cynic." He really just assumes it's Cyclonus' personality to be so negative about everything, especially if it had to do with Tailgate's other friends. Cyclonus tried to hide it, but Tailgate always noticed that look in his eye whenever he polished his Autobrand each morning. At this point he's just come to accept the other bot's jabs at his status as an Autobot.

The little mech settles back onto his slab and puts his hands behind his head, turning to look out the window. "What do you know, anyway? I think- I think maybe some day it could happen. I think I've got it in me- I've got what it takes."

Cyclonus stands suddenly and stalks towards Tailgate with heavy footsteps. His optics blaze brightly as he stares down at the smaller bot.

"You are not Orion Pax," he snaps. He knows of the Autobot leader's exploits from before he gained the title of Prime and he knows how Tailgate idolizes him. His spark clenches tightly at the thought of Tailgate trying even a fraction of the stunts Orion Pax had pulled, and the fear fuels his harsh words. "Or have you forgotten that you were never actually a part of the Primal Vanguard? That you were never a champion kickboxer, or a bomb disposal technician, or anyone of consequence at all?"

Cyclonus regrets the words the moment they pass from him. They had come out all wrong. He just wanted to remind Tailgate that he wasn't a warrior! That he didn't have the skills or experience or frame to live up to the expectations he kept building for himself. That he mattered too much to risk himself trying to fulfill a role too big for him.

Edited 2015-02-22 17:12 (UTC)

Cyclonus' initial movement towards him is enough to get him to sit up and face the bot, startled out of his daydreaming. His words are what drive him to sober up, activating his FIM chip to better take in the harsh cold insults that strike him deep, right into his spark.

He's stunned, optics wide and full of hurt. Cyclonus knows how much his past haunts him, how much the very fact that he didn't matter to history, how he lacks a history altogether, drives him absolutely crazy. Five million years old and only two years of experience under his belt. And one of those years was mostly spent sleeping off Cybercrosis.

Hurt quickly turns to anger and the little bot is standing up on the slab in order to get closer to eye level with the towering mech. He jabs a finger at him, glaring as hard as he can. "What's your problem?! Who cares what I was or wasn't? You don't get to decide what I will be, or won't be! I can't be defined by my past - I don't have a past!"

Reaching out, Cyclonus tries to grab Tailgate by the shoulders, resisting the urge to simply try and shake some sense into the smaller bot. He's hurt Tailgate, and he hates that, but he needs his friend to understand. His anger at himself turns and flows outwards, making his optics glow even brighter.

"If you don't get this idea out of your head that you're some grand warrior, the only thing you'll be is dead!"

Edited 2015-02-22 18:15 (UTC)

"Get your hands off me!" Tailgate takes a step back and shoves at Cyclonus' hands to get him to let go. He doesn't want to hear it, he really doesn't need this right now.

"What is your deal, Cyclonus?! I'm finally finding my place in the world, I'm finally becoming someone, someone people care about and all you ever do is remind me of what I'm not! I made a difference! The worthless waste disposal bot made a difference in the world, who are you to tell me what I'm capable of?!"

Cyclonus's hands hover, neither touching nor withdrawing. The blaze in his optics dims slowly until they darken completely as his head tilts down.

He's silent for a long moment, trying to decide what to say. He's not... Good at talking about what he feels. Or even just dealing with his emotions. He keeps saying the wrong thing.

His arms drop to his sides and he finally says, softly, "You're not worthless, and you have made a difference."

Tailgate gets quiet when Cyclonus does, frowning at him. He doesn't know what's going on with him, but it's starting to become a problem.

"People finally care about me now... People like me. All because I was brave, because I did something good and meaningful and heroic. I've always wanted to be a hero, ever since I was born, to be someone like Orion Pax. Why do you want to take that away from me?"

He looks down at his hands, clenching them into small fists. "So much of my time has been wasted, and I've barely even started living. I don't even know what my potential is, but I know it's more than you've ever given me credit for."

Cyclonus's face remains dark as Tailgate speaks, fists clenched at his sides. It's hard to find the words he needs to say, and he's silent again for at time before he speaks.

"You did something heroic. You were very brave, and you were very clever. But that doesn't make you a warrior, or a Wrecker, or a Prime. You don't have the skills or the experience or the frame for it, and acting as though you do will only get you into trouble."

His voice falls softer still, and he adds, "And you were liked before you were a hero."

"Yet!" Tailgate looks at him with exasperation, giving wild gestures. "I'll never be built like you, or Orion, or any Wrecker, but skills and experience - that stuff I'll get with time! And maybe someday I can be just as great as any Wrecker or Prime. I'll end up in a history archive and people will know my name."

He presses one hand to his forehead, sighing heavily. "I think I was tolerated before. I was friends with Rewind, but everyone else just kind of liked me for all the lies I said about myself - or they were all pitying me. I finally feel like I belong now, now that I have this." He points to the Autobrand on his chest. "I don't just polish this every morning for fun - I'm proud of it, I'm proud to be an Autobot."

I liked you before, Cyclonus could say. I cared. But he doesn't. He can't bring himself to say the words so baldly.

His optics flick on, fixing on the brand on Tailgate's chest, and he feels a twinge of sadness. Cyclonus had no brand. He was neither Autobot nor Decepticon, and never would be. His Cybertron, his friends, all long gone. He had nothing left... except for Tailgate.

And Tailgate belonged with the Autobots.

"Where do I belong?" The words slip out before he can stop them, barely audible.

Edited 2015-02-22 22:50 (UTC)

The words kind of hit him like a freight train, and he's blindsided. It's the first time Cyclonus has ever given any indication that he feels... lonely? Is that the right word? He frowns at Cyclonus, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" Tailgate puts one hand on the taller mech's wrist, ever so cautiously. He's so hard to gauge, when the smaller mech is or isn't allowed to touch him. "You belong here, with the crew, with me. You're a member of the Lost Light like the rest of us. Besides, I thought you liked being... y'know, isolated. You don't really get along with other people."

Cyclonus doesn't get along with most people. He'd done his best to keep himself isolated, distant... But one tiny, lying, amazing bot had insisted on squirming his way into Cyclonus's spark, and now he can hardly bear the thought of losing him.

And yet he can't, for the life of him, bring himself to tell Tailgate that. He can't make himself say that words.

So, for once, he tries a different tactic. He doesn't pull away as small fingers touch his wrist. Instead he lifts his other arm, slowly, carefully and wraps it around Tailgate, drawing the smaller mech close.

Edited 2015-02-22 23:30 (UTC)

Tailgate's optics grow wide with shock as Cyclonus's arm pulls him in close. He isn't sure how to react, at first. Never did he ever predict that this bot, who so completely insisted upon being isolated, on being a closed book even to him, would show this sort of expression of... affection?

Tailgate isn't sure what it means, but he knows he cares about Cyclonus a great deal, more than he thought the mech would ever let him express. Flashbacks come back to him, of trying to donate a portion of his innermost energon to the hurt mech, of all the moments of denied touches and invitations. He recognized it'd gotten better, after he'd recovered from his Cybercrosis, but nothing like this...

He finds himself eager to return the expression, wrapping his short arms around the mech's chest.

Something comes loose inside him as Tailgate returns the embrace, and both Cyclonus's arms curl tightly around him, clutching him tight to his chest. He doesn't make a sound, but his head drops against Tailgate's shoulder as he pours all his fear, and pain, and helplessness - from Tailgate's illness, from when he threatened Megatron - into this single desperate embrace.

He needs Tailgate to understand. He needs him to realize that he's precious and that every time Tailgate puts himself in danger it makes Cyclonus feel like his spark might crack. He'd once told Tailgate that there was no bond between them, but even then it had been a lie. The small mech had been becoming a part of his life even then, and he'd been trying his hardest to deny it.

But now there was no denying it to himself, no turning back. Tailgate was a part of his life now. The most important part.

Tailgate is confused by his actions, but even moreso he's concerned. Tailgate never would have thought that Cyclonus would let himself become so vulnerable, and it's hard to even process the larger mech half-melting onto him. The only other time he came close to expressing this level of emotion was when Tailgate was on the brink of death.

He takes one hand and gently places it on the back of Cyclonus's head comfortingly. He doesn't know why Cyclonus is so upset, or what's going on, but he thinks he's starting to get the picture... The cogs in his head whirl and he's starting to process their entire conversation up to this point.

"Hey, it's okay. You can talk to me, tell me what's on your mind. Are you afraid of us not being friends anymore? Does it have anything to do with me being an Autobot now?"

This is the closest Cyclonus has been to anyone outside of combat in... well, an unfathomably long time. He thinks he should let go and pull back together his mask of stoic dignity, but he can't quite seem to convince himself to pull away. Instead he holds Tailgate closer.

"Heh, no," he replies, a thread of soft, tired amusement leaking into his voice. It's the truth, mostly. Sometimes he thinks about Tailgate leaving him behind, but he mostly just accepts the possibility. Tailgate likely deserves better company than him, anyway. He has the same quiet acceptance of Tailgate being an Autobot. Not necessarily approving or enjoying, but... accepting.

Pulling back finally, he holds Tailgate's shoulders and manages to say, "I worry."

Edited 2015-02-23 00:40 (UTC)

Tailgate doesn't want him to pull away, but he lets his own grip loosen. He opts to instead hold onto Cyclonus's hands, to keep them in place. It was a different kind of touch than the one earlier that made him lash out, one he wants to savor.

So... all that, about him not being a warrior, about having no training or experience...

"Cyclonus... I just... I want to be brave. Like it or not, we're going to get into dangerous situations, and I'm not going to cower and hide behind some bigger mech every time that happens. You can't treat me like I'm a newborn. I don't yell at you every time you go do something dangerous, do I? You nearly got yourself killed in the Dead Universe, and that scares me- Primus it scares me- but if I told you to never go back out onto the battlefield you'd never actually listen to me."

"I have a duty-" Cyclonus stops himself. Tailgate chose to be an Autobot, and he knows there are duties associated with that, too. He doesn't think Tailgate would understand if he tried to explain that his life was more precious than Cyclonus's.

He sighs, lowering his head until his forehead bumps against Tailgate's, still craving the closeness he'd been without for so long. "I know I can't protect you from everything. I don't expect you to cower. But you can be both brave and intelligent."

The sides of his mouth pull down in a disapproving frown. "Pulling a gun on Megatron was brave, but it was also foolish."

Tailgate glares at Cyclonus's initial response, but his expression fades when he wisely chooses to cut himself off.

He's taken off guard by Cyclonus pressing his forehead to his own, though. But, pleasantly surprised. If the hug could have been taken as innocent, there was no way that this gesture could. The act is so gentle, so affectionate...

Tailgate nuzzles his forehead back, optics dimming as he does. For the first time since he'd recovered, the cold splash of reality that Cyclonus had been trying to throw in his face is finally hitting him. Maybe he was trying too hard...

"I'm sorry." It comes out quiet, but sincere. He presses one hand against Cyclonus's cheek, pulling back just slightly to look at him in the face. "Can we.... can we sit down?"

Cyclonus's own optics dim as Tailgate touches his face, taking in the apology. He nods at the question and gives Tailgate one of his rare soft smiles. Pulling away, he settles his weight on the edge of Tailgate's recharge slab.

There's a sense of peace and relief washing over him, and he stares fondly at the small mech next to him.

"I'm... sorry as well," he manages. Apologies also don't come naturally to him. But he thinks he needs to learn to be softer, for Tailgate's sake. "For what I said earlier."

Tailgate settles against his side, hesitantly wrapping one arm around his waist. "It's... it's okay just." He presses his hand against his forehead again, shaking his head. "You can't throw that in my face like that. I'm still humiliated over it, trying to distance myself from it..."

He looks up at Cyclonus and presses himself harder into his side. "Hey, can we... can you come closer?"

Cyclonus gives a slight shake of his head. "It was not 'okay'. It was inappropriate of me. I should not have said it."

He stares down at Tailgate as his friend presses close to his side, warmth filling his spark. After a moment of hesitation, his arm settles around Tailgate's shoulders, and he asks, "Closer?"

Tucked tight against his side, he's not sure how the small mech can get any closer without them beginning to melt together.

"You didn't mean it. You don't mean a lot of the mean things you say."

Tailgate gives a small sigh, wondering if maybe he'd been misreading the signals Cyclonus was giving him, though the arm wrapped around him is a pretty big red flashing signal of some kind. It's an indication that he must feel... well, 'closer'. Closer than just friends. Right? Maybe?

Tailgate reaches up his free hand towards his face slowly, with a beckoning gesture.

"Closer... like before..."

Cyclonus's mouth drops open slightly at that, ready to say something indignant, but instead he closes it and simply hums. Tailgate actually has a point.

"Ah," he says softly, understanding now. He leans down, brushing his forehead against Tailgate's, optics dim. How can he deny that face?

Tailgate reaches up and holds on to the side of his face, his own optics shutting off entirely as he nestles his forehead up against Cyclonus's. He's a bit surprised that Cyclonus is letting him do this, that he isn't recoiling or refusing the advances.

Tailgate isn't sure how to ask, if he even should ask, whether or not Cyclonus actually has feelings for him. He recognized that the two of them have had a close bond, one the other crew members have pointed out, but he'd always assumed that they were just good friends. Even though Tailgate had secretly always sort of wanted more, he never actually thought that Cyclonus would feel the same.

If he asked now, would Cyclonus clam up again? Shut himself off, and pretend that none of what they were doing right now was at all intimate? Would he say no, if Tailgate asked for more?

So the little mech doesn't really give him a chance to say no, to back down from his advances. He tilts his faceplate up just the slightest distance, quickly connecting the flat surface against Cyclonus's lips.

Cyclonus's lips part again, but this time it's in surprise.

He had never expected- He knew Tailgate cared for him and appreciate his company - the little mech had given it his all to work his way into Cyclonus's good graces. But he'd never expected Tailgate to feel more than camaraderie towards him. If Tailgate became interested in romance, he'd expected to be with someone... Younger, warmer. Someone like Getaway.

And yet here he was, stealing a kiss. To think anyone had ever doubted this little bot's bravery.

Finally, almost hesitantly, Cyclonus's lips press back.

Tailgate hums with sheer delight when he feels Cyclonus press back, kissing his faceplate. He pulls back after only a few moments, optics flicking on as his spark whirrs in his chest faster and faster. He's venting heavily as the excitement fills his chest, and he almost feels like he's going to burst.

Was that a confirmation? Did Cyclonus really just give him a confirmation?

Tailgate eagerly moves in again, pressing his faceplate harder against the other's lips, hand holding Cyclonus's face in place, if only to prove to himself that the first kiss wasn't just a fluke.

Cyclonus is smiling softly as Tailgate pulls away, optics brightening as he watches the small mechs face. He can hear the excited ventilations, and he almost asks if Tailgate is alright when a second press of faceplate against his lips silences him.

He makes a warm noise against Tailgate's faceplate, spark swelling with emotion, and he's gripped by a sudden urge to sing. One of the old romances, shouting his feelings to all who can hear him.

Instead, he simply wraps his other arm around Tailgate, pulling the smaller mech close to his chest.

Tailgate shifts closer towards him as Cyclonus pulls him against his chest, pressing close. He tilts his head slightly into the kiss, which is really not too effective given his lack of lips, but at least its interesting and that's all that matters to him.

"Mmm," he hums sweetly as he runs his fingers over Cyclonus's cheek. The little mech is shifting himself into his lap, trying to get even closer. He's so eager to ask so many questions, about what they're doing, about why they might be doing it, but he doesn't want to stop because he's so afraid it'll be over and that'll be it - like a fireworks show.

Cyclonus chuckles and helps Tailgate shift into his lap. It's remarkably comforting to hold him so close. Here in his arms he knows Tailgate is safe and sound.

He shifts his lips slowly over Tailgate's faceplate, from chin to just below his visor, cheek to cheek. Then up to plant a kiss on his forehead. Trying to get across in touch what he has so much difficulty saying out loud.

Finally back down to Tailgate's faceplate against which he murmurs, "Thank you."

Tailgate's affection is perhaps the greatest gift he's ever received.

Tailgate can't help the small giggles that erupt in response to his kisses, and all the fear and paranoia that this would end so abruptly suddenly melting away. Cyclonus wants this, he actually wants to be with him.

The little mech gives him one last small peck before pulling his faceplate back, nuzzling his forehead against Cyclonus's neck while he curled into his chest. "Thank you for what?" he asks softly. "You're the one who... you actually kissed me..."

Cyclonus presses his cheek against Tailgate's helm as the small mech cuddles up to him, and he strokes sharp fingertips ever-so-gently over the back of his helm and down his back. One arm stays wrapped around Tailgate, holding him firmly but not tightly.

Tailgate can leave any time. Cyclonus will never hold him against his will.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he says, voice warm with affection. He doesn't voice the follow up to that: I thought you would choose someone else.

He shifts a bit to plant another kiss on the top of Tailgate's head. A silent Yes, I did kiss you, have another.

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There's no way out, we are surrounded

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