A Winter Night's Tale
Meant to have this up for Christmas, but thanks to RL, at least I managed to get it in for the New Year...
Hmm... Yeah, more fluff with Beachcomber and baby!Steeljaw... does this even need a rating?
Tale for a Winter Night
Slagging son of a-
Blaster stopped that train of thought in its tracks and promptly derailed it. Not only would it not help his current situation, but calling his newest addition a “son of a glitch” would mean that he was in fact the glitch in question.
Instead he focused on the task at hand, attempting to stick his arm in the gap between his shelf and desk counter, and grab hold of the tiny critter.
“C’mon baby, y’cant stay in there forever,” he coaxed. “Y’re not bein’ fair t’me, I already played with ya.”
The little golden feline pressed up against the wall and let out a sound not unlike an irritated lion cub, complete with squeaky growl as he swiped a claw-filled paw at Blaster’s large hand.
“Aw, that aint nice, kitty-cat. Now behave y’self and come out.” The Communications agent tried a stern voice. “Y’don’t, and ya don’t get that ball o’ yarn t’play with.”
The youngest Cassette of the three stayed put. Blaster sighed. Ramhorn and Rewind hadn’t been this much trouble when they’d been created, but then again, the former two hadn’t really been created as younglings to begin with.
Steeljaw on the other hand….
It had partly been an experiment on Wheeljack’s part to see if they could create a Primitive that didn’t have a bad temper upon activation. So they’d gone for the youngling route, essentially creating a cub that could be cared for and raised into a more even-tempered Primitive that could somehow be programmed with more skill and intelligence as he grew.
As Blaster crouched on his hands and knees trying to reach the youngling, he wondered if stubbornness had somehow replaced aggression as the personality glitch of choice.
“Don’t make me come in there, kitten.”
They both knew it was an empty threat the moment the words left his vocalizer. Blaster adored the newest addition to his little family to a fault and just about spoiled the cub rotten with cuddles and affection, and no matter how much trouble the baby feline got into, it was impossible for Blaster to stay angry at him for more than five minutes.
“Baby, please. Y’know it’s your bedtime. Y’gotta rest if ya wanna grow big an’ strong and kick Ravage’s aft.” He tried pleading. “I’ll get Carly t’make ya a Buzzsaw plushy for you t’maul, if ya come out.” Now he was bribing.
Steeljaw didn’t budge. It was too early for bed, and he wanted to play for crying out loud. “No.” Though the plushy sounded like a good idea. Still, he didn’t have it now.
A drawly-chuckle sounded from the door. “Havin’ kitten problems?”
Blaster started and looked back to see Beachcomber leaning against the doorframe. Somewhere along the line, the blue-and-white Minibot had developed a certain fondness for the cub and had become his favorite playmate, and Blaster swore the geologist got a kick out of one-upping him in the cub-care department.
So he wasn’t too surprised to find him here now, looking all too amused at the current predicament.
“ ‘Jaw’s bein’ stubborn again and wedged himself into a niche and wont come out. Li’l critter know’s Ramhorn and ‘Wind are out on duty an’ that my arm’s too big to go all the way in and grab him,” Blaster explained. “I gotta get him fed and put him t’sleep. He’s low on energy.”
“Hmmm…” Beachcomber pushed off the frame and came into the room. “Need some help?”
The den-mother inside Blaster wanted to tell the geologist to bugger off, he could deal just fine without some outsider trying to tell him how to take care of his own cub and muscling in on time with his youngling. He stood up and looked steadily at Beachcomber.
“Please?”
The Minibot’s silver visor glowed mischievously. “Anytime, dude… now where’s the cub?”
“In there.” Blaster stepped back and pointed to the small niche.
Beachcomber crouched down on his hands and knees and peered in, and sure enough, he saw Steeljaw huddled up in a little ball of agitated lion. Slowly he moved closer till he knew he could slip his arm in for a grab - if it came down to it. He hoped it wouldn’t, he didn’t want to hurt or scare the little one after all.
“Hey there, cub. What’re you doin’ in there. Li’l late for hide n’ seek don’t ya think?” he asked.
Steeljaw looked back at him, blue optics wide and glowy as his ears pricked forward at the sound of his voice. His little nose twitched, affirming the Minibot’s scent as friend and playmate. He shifted into a more relaxed posture and lowered his mane.
“No.”
Beachcomber grinned and carefully stretched an arm in. “C’mon out here. I’m gonna take a walk outside. Wanna keep me company?”
The lion cub perked up a little more and carefully got to his feet, wobbling a bit on legs that were still getting used to carrying him around. A walk with Beachy sounded like fun, and it would get him out of bedtime. His optics twinkled cheekily and he took a few shaky steps towards Beachcomber’s hand.
“There’s a good cub.” Beachcomber wrapped his hand gently around the young lion’s body and drew him out, cradling him to his chest and lightly tickling under his chin.
Steeljaw purred happily and gnawed gently on a finger, contently preoccupied as Beachcomber turned towards Blaster and subspaced a couple of items the Cassette’s guardian gave him. He grinned up at the taller mech and patted his arm as he shifted the kitten to a more comfortable position.
“Be careful with him,” Blaster said, not because he didn’t trust the geologist, more that it had become something of a habit.
“Always am, dude,” Beachcomber replied. “We’ll be back in a while.”
Steeljaw gave his guardian a look of cheeky triumph at having gotten out of bedtime yet again, and Blaster shook his head with a fond sigh as he went back to prepping the little lion’s ‘bed’ while Beachcomber headed out of the room.
Once outside, the Minibot headed down the halls to the exit of the Ark, humming a soothing little tune and keeping the cub carefully nestled against him, scratching behind his ears with his free hand and listening to him purr in satisfaction. Steeljaw’s optics dimmed a little as he leaned into the light skritches and stayed that way till they reached the exit.
The sudden rush of cold winter air made him power up his optics again and look around in wonder at the world that he was so used to seeing in color, now covered in a dusting of snow and ice. How could that be? In only a matter of months his entire play area had so drastically changed.
“You okay, kitten?” Beachcomber asked, picking up the cub’s rise in tension through sensors in his arm.
“Cold.” Big blue optics turned to the geologist with a hundred questions in them.
Beachcomber nuzzled the small feline affectionately. “Want your blanket?”
The cub nodded. “Different.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes it is. We’re in winter now, so its gonna be colder, and a little duller outside with all the grey and white,” he replied as he wrapped Steeljaw up in the soft blanket that had become the cub’s favorite. “Then when spring comes, all the flowers and your animal friends will be back for you to play with.”
“Hiding?”
“I guess y’could say that. They hide in their holes and burrows and sleep until it gets warmer and the sun comes out again.” He rubbed the little one’s head. “It keeps them warm through the winter, and healthy.”
Steeljaw looked back out at the snowy landscape again, taking it all in, hoping his little squirrel, chipmunk and rabbit friends were all tucked away safe and snug like he was. He didn’t think they could play in the snow much anyway - it was too cold and deep for little creatures like them, but he hoped he would see them again when the weather changed.
He looked at Beachcomber again. “Story?”
Luckily he knew the Cassette well enough to come to expect something like this. He smiled at the cub and cuddled him closer. “Alright, but on one condition. You’ll drink your energon while I tell it.”
Steeljaw nodded. “Okay.”
“Good cub.” He walked to and fro just in front of the entrance of the Ark. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Aaron. He was a happy boy with good creators, until one day some bad people came along and destroyed his home and familty.”
“Oh…” the feline looked up with sad optics.
Beachcomber smiled at him and pressed the tip of the feeding bottle to his muzzle, encouraging him to drink. “All alone, with only a donkey, a camel and a lamb as friends, he wandered the desert until one day he joined a travelling circus.”
“Fun?” Steeljaw worked a paw out of the blanket and placed it on the bottle as he started to drink the warm, rich energon.
“It was, for a while. Aaron would play his little drum for the visitors and entertain them; but the circus owner was a greedy man, and decided he would get more money if he sold the camel, and so he did, to three nobles traveling from the East, following a star.”
Beachcomber looked down. Steeljaw was drinking happily from his bottle and looking up at him expectantly. So he continued…
“When Aaron found out, he left the circus and set off to find his camel, following the three wise men until finally he caught up with them and asked where they were going. Being kind men, they gave him back his camel and told him they were on their way to see the king, with the finest gifts money could buy.”
Steeljaw purred contently and Beachcomber tipped the bottle up a little more to let the last of the energon flow into his mouth.
“Aaron had no gift fit for a king, so he declined to go… but then after they parted ways, the lamb was seriously hurt. Thinking the noblemen would help him like before, he hurried after them and found them all in a stable, looking on a newborn baby.”
Beachcomber gently removed the empty bottle from Steeljaw’s mouth and kissed him softly on the top of the head. “Good kitten.” Subspacing the bottle he settled him more comfortably in his arms and went on with the story.
“The wise men could not heal the wounded lamb, but they told him to try asking the newborn king. Aaron was surprised, but the lamb was his best friend, and he loved him… so he went before the baby and his parents and told them that all he had was his drum, and all he could offer was a song.”
The cub giggled softly. “Song!”
“Hehe, no… I aint singin’, cub… Jazz is the go-to mech fer that.” Beachcomber ran a finger over his nose, tickling lightly. “Anyways, the baby’s mother nodded, and Aaron began to play. Worried for his little friend and desperately wanting to be loved and accepted, Aaron played from the heart… and when it was over, he looked into the manger, and the baby smiled.”
“Lamb?” Steeljaw tilted his head.
“Because Aaron played out of love for someone else, the lamb was healed, and Aaron found his faith in humans again… and they all lived Happily Ever After.”
“Good.” The cub let out a soft, toothy yawn, then snuggled into his blanket, but not before he swatted a little paw at a little white snowflake, and sneezed another one off his nose.
Beachcomber laughed and tucked his paw in with the rest of him. “Guess its gonna snow tonight. Let’s get you inside then. Blaster’ll have my head if I got you wet out here.”
Steeljaw’s only response was to dim his optics and power down to sleep, purring comfortably in the geologists arms. Beachcomber smiled and nuzzled him lightly, before heading in and back to Blaster’s quarters where he laid the now-soundly sleeping youngling in his bed and covered him up.
“Merry Christmas, cub, and sweet dreams.” He straightened and looked at the guardian. “And to you, too, Blaster.”
“Thanks Beachy, same t’you… and thank for… y’know, watching out for him.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Beachcomber turned to go, then paused. “Oh, and when he wakes up, play ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ for him. I think he’ll like it.”
~END.
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The story Beachy tells is actually a 1968 animation story of the Little Drummer Boy, and how he found himself at the stable in Bethlehem. I watched it first when I was a kid, and then found it on YouTube while writing this fic, and re-watched it... and cried a bucket. Beautiful story, and I strongly encourage watching it.