A/N: Requested by Syntia.
With-Animals.
"It's arrived! It's arrived!" Cliffjumper carried the crate easily in his hands – what would have been a difficult task for a human was easy for a minibot. Skyfire skulked nearby in the shadows, arms folded in a stance resembling a sulking child.
"I don't know why I couldn't have gone and picked up the parts myself," he muttered. Cliffjumper put the box down in the middle of the Command Centre.
"Bureaucracy, Skyfire," Sparkplug told him as he took a crowbar to the crate. "Red tape – and another reason to add some more taxes to your bills."
"Hmph – I know, I just wanted to have a reason to go to England, that's all."
"Nothin' stoppin' ya, Skyfire," Sparkplug replied. The crate lid relented and the gathered mechs and humans peered inside; the box contained a number of different vehicle parts, from cogs and gears to windshield wipers and spoilers.
"Hey, is that part damaged?" Cliffjumper asked, looking at Wheeljack and pointing to an exhaust pipe.
"Nah – they come like that. Wait 'til it's fixed onto the rest o' Gears and it'll look jus' dandy." Wheeljack picked up the box, leaving the lid where it was on the floor. "I'd better get these bits-an'-bobs down to Ol' Cranky before yer minibot friend does 'is head in." The Lancia walked along the corridor towards the med-bay, Cliffjumper and Sparkplug following close behind in some fevered conversation.
Bluestreak looked at Skyfire, who for some reason seemed to be staring intently at the lid to the box, a frown of concentration on his faceplate.
"What's the matter?"
Skyfire pointed to the box lid and Bluestreak went over to it. He could not find anything special about it whatsoever. Picking it up, he gave it to Skyfire, just as his optics caught sight of movement in one of the corners. "Oh!"
There was a small white sac in the corner and many tiny, many-legged creatures were crawling out.
"Spiders," Skyfire said, staring into each of the creatures' eyes. Some of the spiders had found Bluestreak's hand and began crawling up, the tiny little feet causing small sensations on his sensitive plating. Bluestreak took his hand away from the box and began twisting his wrist joint with the movement of the arachnids. Skyfire and Bluestreak watched with the simplistic awe of children as the spiders jumped, crawled and dangled from the young Datsun's wriggling fingers.
"What have you two got?" The familiar voice of Sparkplug caused the two mechs to turn.
"Spiders!" Said Bluestreak, with joy disproportionate to the situation.
"Money spiders," Skyfire added, who also seemed far too happy to Sparkplug. The human crossed his arms across his chest.
"Well, they can't live in here – they'll find nothing to eat! And do you really want them under your plating, getting into your gears?"
"No," Bluestreak replied with a down-turned head.
"Take them outside and let them go free," Sparkplug told him, before turning around, picking up a tool-kit and walking away. Skyfire picked up the crate lid.
"Come on, Bluestreak," the giant scientist Autobot coerced softly. "Let's set them loose." Bluestreak cradled his spider-infested hand and followed Skyfire to the outside of the Autobot base, where the jet put the crate lid at an angle in soft Spring breeze. Bluestreak held his hand out and saw the little spiders dangling from silken strands. The wind took hold and the spiders swung like pendulums, until finally breaking free and riding on the zephyr into a strange new world.
End.
A/N: Money spiders: Cutest little eight-legged fear machines ever.