Author's Note:
Hello all! Torque here with another fic! Hope you enjoy it!
2
Something to Sneeze at
A general rule of thumb for Spyke: if there's enough sunshine and minimal humidity, you're allowed to play outside before homework—so on a day this bright and clear, he firmly doubted his math assignment would be finished before the day was out. Cyandog was at his heels, of course, and they spent hours on the back lawn, baseball gloves and bats, tennis rackets, and even a badminton net strewn on the grass. Needless to say, when they played, they played hard. When they had run out of gear to use and ideas for new sports, they went back to playing Cyandog's old favorite game—frisbee.
Spyke threw out his arm, the bright yellow disk flying from his fingertips.
"It's in my sights!" Cyandog tore across the lawn, careening as it arced his way. With a mighty leap, he snatched it from the air.
"That's it! 'Atta boy!" Spyke applauded him as he trotted back with it. "Best one yet! Ready for another?"
Cyandog gave an excited yip. Spyke took hold of the frisbee and gently pulled at it, but his hand slipped. He tried to pull it from him again, but Cyandog wouldn't budge.
"Buddy—" Spyke started laughing, which made his grip worse. "You've gotta give it back if you want me to throw it!"
But Cyandog only shook his head tauntingly. Spyke dug his heels into the grass and heaved, but Cyandog pulled with equal strength. A metallic growl rose in his throat.
"You said you wanted to play frisbee, not tug-of-war!" Spyke said, taking a step back, then two, dragging him a little with what distance he could manage. He could hear Cyandog's growl growing louder and raggeder, his face angled low—the crest on his forehead made his gaze appear stern and unyielding. Spyke suddenly felt less amused.
"Cyandog—" he said, a soft crease between his brows.
The growl only grew stronger.
"C-Cyandog," Spyke began to stammer out. "I don't like that look."
Still, his medabot's grip only tightened.
"Are you oka—?"
And just like that, a sneeze cut him off. But the growl returned.
"Uh, bless you, Cyandog." He said. "That's kinda weird—I've never heard you sneeze bef—"
Again, Cyandog threw his head as two more staticky sneezes broke his growling.
"Bless you again—d'OOF!"
Cyandog had suddenly let go of the frisbee, and Spyke stumbled back, landing on his rear. Cyandog shook his head one last time.
"Sorry, Spyke!" He said, pattering up to him. "I was trying to let you know I was having a good time playing."
"How?" Spyke sat up, rubbing his backside. His voice still strained with nerves, he added, "You'd have had a better time convincing me you had allergies."
"I'm sorry, I— I thought dogs did that to say 'I'm having fun, and I don't want to hurt you.'" Cyandog sat back on his legs. "I was reading up on it, and, I thought that was the case. I'm sorry. I really was enjoying myself."
But Spyke's eyes were still wide; his face began to read of shock. "So… you did that to tell me we weren't fighting for real?"
Cyandog nodded. "Yes."
Spyke went slack-jawed, and his lip began to tremble. He buried his face in his elbow.
"What's wrong?" Cyandog drew closer, and almost reached a hand out to him, but stopped when Spyke let out a pathetic wail.
"THAT'S THE MOST PRECIOUS THING I'VE EVER HEARD!"
Cyandog's shoulders sagged, with both relief and sympathy. Only Spyke could get so emotional so easily over canine quirks. "Oh, Boss," He said, trundling up and patting his arm. "Forever the tender heart."
As Spyke wiped his eyes and nose, his mess of slick black hair brushed against Cyandog's face, and he gave a tiny squeaking sneeze.
"'Choo! S'cuse me!"
"YoU'RE THE BEST—I MEAN YOU'RE EXCUSED," said Spyke, and started sobbing even harder than before.
Author's Note:
Sorry for my absence! I've had lots of ideas queued up, both for this series and future Medabots fics, but they're all only half-written. I figured this one was in good enough shape to publish, though! I apologize for the shortness, but with any luck I'll have more substance in the future! Stay cool, friends!
- Torque