Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to Hasbro, and the respective artists/writers/et cetera. No infringement intended.
Continuity: Transformers: Animated cartoon-verse
Characters: Sparkplug
Warnings: None
Author's Note: This is very much a drabble; it was originally intended to be much longer, but, well, it worked better when cut down to size. Criticism encouraged, technical points preferable.
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The door had been closed for a very long time now. And, for the duration of that very long time, he had sat patiently before it, knowing that at any moment, she would come home. Because if he was waiting, it had to be so; otherwise his function would not be fulfilled and he would have been subsequently discarded. And so, logically, because he still waited, she would still arrive, and complete the circle.
Since his creation, it had been so; the time between was irrelevant. Eventually, inevitably, she would notice him, would dote on him with a gentle pat or even a, "Move, Sparkplug!" on the days when he became particularly overanxious and tripped her up. And then he would catch her card-key in his mouth and run about yipping as his function dictated, and, exasperated, she would stomp her feet and come after him. In high spirits, he would tease and prance just out of range, emulating the proper behavior of such a creature as he was meant to be. Everything she could want, if not more. After all, he had been manufactured to take the place in the dynamic relationship between master and dog, created to be the perfect pet.
He was the perpetual puppy – who could be neglected indefinitely and still welcome her home with a synthetic bark and a swishing faux-tail; who didn't mind being shut in the broom closet with all the maintenance bots until his creator remembered to look for him or some stranger opened the door to check on the vacuum-bot's dust filter; who didn't mind being forgotten.
He was programmed to love. He was programmed to wait.
His tail wagged uncertainly, his screen blipped with attention grabbing flashes, simulating as closely as possible the proper reactions of a waiting pet.
She would be back soon.
Because if she wasn't, why would he be waiting?