C.M.D: After getting really, badly sick for nearly a month and taking just as long to recover, it's been nice to get back to my writing though I wish I'd been able to muster up more chapters. All the same, please enjoy and hopefully I'll see you all next month with even more updates!
Because of it's graphic nature, one scene has been removed from this version. For the full chapter, please follow the links available in my profile.
Title: Rodimus II
Rating: M
It was deja vu all over again.
Deja vu- that was the word, wasn't it? When you'd already been through the same situation but it all felt new? Honestly, Blackout didn't know. What he did know was that he was crouching once more at Rodimus' berthside, gently stroking fiery tail and ears, while the autodog slept unknowingly. The kittycon hadn't thought he'd ever get a chance to do this again, but it wasn't under the most favourable of circumstances.
True, it was Rodimus that had let him in (that was a good sign, wasn't it?); all the same, the lawyer had been distant and withdrawn from the moment he had opened the door, even as he curled into the awkward panther's side. The two of them sitting on the couch as the evening wore on, nothing breaking the tense silence as the cycles passed by quickly, until Rodimus had finally succumbed to recharge and Blackout was free to carry him to his berth.
And now the kittycon sat, rays of approaching dawn peeking through the gaps in the blinds, keeping quiet vigil over the sparked mech and tenderly petting his fur. Primus, he was an idiot... Blackout grunted softly to himself, reluctant to move even if it was the truth. Yes, he was a big idiot. The last time this same night happened, the thug found himself obsessed with the golden retriever and aggravated by the revelation that Rodimus was still hung up over someone else. At least now Blackout had a fighting chance, but at what cost?
All his tricks had still turned Rodimus towards Ultra Magnus, and in the end, the younger autodog had lost the most. Now the sparked mech was hurting... Blackout didn't know if his second attempts were a help or a hindrance to the lawyer's state, but he desperately wished he was having a good effect on the other.
It was a strange feeling to be in love...
Venting again, the panther rested his helm on the berth, staring into the slumbering Rodimus' face as the larger mech continued to regret and hope.
xxXxXxx
He decided not to ever mention the fact that he'd allowed Blackout to spend the night. It was a grievous error on his part, Rodimus knew, but after finding not even a button out of place the following morning, the autodog was willing to act in good faith and believe the kittycon had not attempted anything. It helped that Blackout had made himself scarce before Rodimus had awoken.
Still, there was an anxious squirming in his fuel tanks, that was not the cause of the little one, and the golden retriever didn't like it. When had he decided he could trust the panther, even marginally? Well, no matter, Rodimus decided as he peeled an onion. He would shut down all communications with the thug, return to ignoring him and donating or throwing away Blackout's "gifts". The lawyer wouldn't allow the kittycon to think he could get any closer to him.
The ringing of the phone caught Rodimus by surprise. Waddling, he shuffled across the kitchen, picking up the receiver before the machine could kick in. "Hello?," he greeted.
Only silence met him on the other line. The autodog shuttered his optics in puzzlement, checking that the base was receiving a signal, but it was fine. So why couldn't he hear anything? "Hello? Listen, I think-," before Rodimus was able to finish, the line went dead; dial tone beeping loudly in his audio.
Scowling, the golden retriever hung up, shaking the last of the annoying sound from his helm. Well, that was weird. Was it a wrong number? A company fax line? The sparked mech figured he could solve the mysterious call later. Right now there was a juicy onion calling to him with a tempting bottle of chocolate sauce right next to it. Delicious!
xxXxXxx
Rodimus had to do a double-take.
"Excuse me?," he finally managed after a klik, looking away from the roses and up at the kittycon sourly. Blackout pushed off from the wall he was leaning against, shuffling in place awkwardly as he retracted the bouquet he had thrust in the autodog's face upon opening the door.
"...what? You allergic to them?," the thug asked, embarrassed.
He was embarrassed? The giant, looming idiot?! Just the fact alone was mind-blowing to Rodimus. "They... They're roses, moron," the golden retriever replied, shaking his momentary stupor off. "Do you even know what that means?!"
Blackout looked at the flowers in sincere confusion. "No," he answered. "The lady at the shop said some greenery would brighten up your place. She said I should get these when I told her you were sparked."
It was so hard not to groan at the panther's idiocy, but really, it was all Rodimus' own fault. He should have kept his guard up from the beginning; now Blackout thought it was fine to get chummy with the lawyer who'd been so lax at keeping a distance between them. So much for cutting the thug from his life...
"Maybe I should have gotten the white, frilly ones...," Blackout was mumbling aloud in regret, picking at a rose bud.
"Oh, just gimme that!," Rodimus scowled, roughly grabbing the bouquet from the kittycon's surprised claws. "No more flowers, got it?,"the autodog demanded, glaring at the other mech, daring him to defy the order. Blackout only purred though, nodding his helm in acknowledgement.
"Got it," he replied.
Scowling deeper, Rodimus hurried back into his apartment to put the roses in some water. The door, unfortunately, closed before Blackout could follow. "...um, can I come in?," the panther called out. A distant 'no' called back to him. Ah, well, the thug shrugged. Rodimus had taken the flowers; he liked them. That was good. In merry spirits, the kittycon turned about and headed back out of the apartment building.
xxXxXxx
Another orn, another heat flash. Rodimus shuffled to a stop for a moment in the aisle, venting weakly as it felt like the temperature skyrocketed. Which was stupid of course, because the mech had picked this specific grocery store due to it having the coldest air conditioning, yet here he was again, melting in his plating. Primus, how he hated this. As if on cue, a wave of dizziness hit Rodimus and he was forced to lean against a nearby shelf as vertigo dipped.
Yep. Definitely hated this. "C'mon," the autodog murmured weakly to his belly, "Can't you just let me go for a walk, without pain, nausea or the light-headedness? You're coming out soon..."
Not soon enough though. Rodimus sighed as he recalled his last visit to the vet. Healthy and kicking... but late an orn. The vet had not been concerned. "It's common from time to time," he'd explained to the startled lawyer, "For a sparkling to protoform later than expected. There's no risk to carrying for a little while longer either and no harm in waiting to intervene. For now, we'll continue to monitor you and your bornling's status every few orns, and if no more changes occur in a couple weeks, we'll simply assist the bornling in coming out."
That was good and all that the science didn't list any risk in a late-protoformed bornling but Rodimus didn't care for that. What he cared about was that this entire experience had been nightmarish... He simply wanted his sparkling out so he could return to feeling somewhat normal. And preferably not roasting every few kliks from a sparked frame. The dizziness passing, the golden retriever slowly pushed himself upright, sighing when it put him directly under an air vent blowing blessedly frigid air down on top of him.
He'd have to move, he knew (to finish his shopping before his next appointment at the vet's office) but for now, Rodimus was going to enjoy this. His enjoyment must have been absolute though, because it took the mech a full klik to notice the cold trickling down his thigh; one glance down and he had a moment to see that he'd apparently wet himself before sudden pain rippled out from his abandon. Not just any fluid, the autodog realized with a keen, collapsing against the shelf again at another contraction.
He was in labor! The bornling was coming!
A couple of nearby customers jumped when the golden retriever hit a lineup of pickle jars, one 'bot running off for help while a femme dragged her small sparkling over in concern. "Are you okay?," she asked worriedly.
"C-contraction," was all Rodimus could grit out before his words were silenced by a whimper.
The femme was at least quick. "Labor!? You're in labor!," she exclaimed loudly, turning her helm about wildly. "We need a doctor! An ambulance! You must get to a hospital right away!"
He knew that. The autodog would very much like to be in an ambulance, rushing to a hospital and kliks away from getting a good dose of painkiller for the pain. The fact was that he wasn't moving anywhere, though, not with the labor pains rising higher and his sparkling kicking wildly along side it all. Realizing that only made the lawyer whimper harder.
"Hey, what-? Here, I got ya!," said a familiar vocalizer, before gravity shifted and Rodimus found himself staring up at the ceiling. Not too far out of view, a big, squashed-like face with two beady optics looked down on him. "Roddy? What's happening?"
"He's in labor!," the femme repeated, from the side. "He needs a hospital and a vet immediately."
"Lab-," Blackout mumbled, tiny optics almost dancing in their large sockets as he finally got it, "He's having the bornling! O-oh... oh, okay... Sl-slag, um, hospital! I'll g-get him there!"
Pulling the quaking golden retriever closer, the panther made sure he was tucked in place safely before he started jogging down the aisle, heading for the store's automatic doors. Rodimus couldn't even utter a complaint to the thug's intervention, too overcome with pain. With nothing left to do but trust Blackout, the autodog only clutched a weak servoful of leather coat, curling a few inches into the other mech's chestplates as the contractions continued to increase in intensity.
xxXxXxx
"Help! I need help!," he yelled, nearly crashing through the automatic doors when they did not open fast enough for him. 'Bots of all types jumped in fright at Blackout's loud entrance, nurses freezing behind the receiving desk as they looked the towering kittycon over. Ignorant to their wary fidgeting, Blackout stomped closer to the desk, lowering Rodimus down as far as he dared.
"H-he's having a b-bornling! No-now! Someone's gotta help him!," the thug insisted desperately.
At the sight of the whimpering autodog, the nurses immediately burst into a flurry of action. A few came around the desk to check on Rodimus, one grabbed a wheelchair from a nearby nook and dashed over with it; one nurse picked up the phone and started relaying hurried, but concise instructions to the 'bot on the other end, and one last nurse scrambled to gather admittance forms onto a clipboard.
"Alright, we need you to lower him into the wheelchair, please," one nurse said to Blackout.
"It's okay, we've got him," another piped in at the kittycon's hesitation. "Everyone, assist."
"B-but-," Blackout tried to protest. The nurses though would have none of it. Their servos grabbed Rodimus gently at different points, sliding him from the panther's slacken grip and expertly moving him into the wheelchair without any injury. "H-hey, you're hurting him!," the thug almost snarled when the golden retriever gave a high-pitched yelp.
"That was just a contraction," a third nurse spoke up, servos lifted soothingly towards the large mech as the others hurried to wheel the lawyer away. "A change of position can cause them to become more aggravated, but he'll feel a bit better once we get him to the birthing suite."
"Come," said the nurse with the clipboard then, one servo tugging on Blackout's arm to cajole him into moving, "You can follow along and fill out these forms for him in the meantime. You're the sire, yes?"
The panther took an awkward step back, almost sending the poor nurse to the floor, his fuel tanks roiling with this sickening, cold weight that had crept up unexpectedly. "N-no... I, uh," he mumbled uncharacteristically, licking at his lip components as the hospital staff stared at him in puzzlement, "No, I'm... I'm not. I j-just... I was just h-helping out..."
That's right. The bornling wasn't his.
Rodimus had told him hundreds of times.
"Oh," was all the nurses said. Instantly, they turned their backs on Blackout, talking among themselves as they ignored the kittycon. The strange weight in his tanks seemed to sink deeper and the mech felt he would topple over at any klik from the sheer strength of it alone. He should leave, the panther thought. He didn't belong here anyhow. Ears flat against his helm, the thug turned away from the unmindful nurses; heading back out the automatic doors and who knew where.
C.M.D: Next update- the angst begins!
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