Feel free to ignore if you don't like this idea, but how about a hesitiant Cyclonus trying to express his feelings to tailgate without words, maybe a couple failed attempts before he succeeds? Maybe he has to use words in the end even though he's very bad at that sort of thing? Idk, I'd like fluff with Cy being a taciturn dork who is not great at the whole relationships thing.
Here goes. The continuity on this is a little fuzzy, just a little fluffy thing.
Tailgate made an undignified squeak as the purple face came into focus above his berth. And then, as the familiar features registered: "Oh! Hi, Cyclonus."
"I did not intend to startle you," Cyclonus said. He extended his arm, a smile flickering at the edge of his mouth as his roommate used it to help himself up to a standing position, on top of the berth, where he could almost look straight into Cyclonus' optics.
"Wazzup?" Tailgate asked. "New planet? New battle? New drink at Swerve's?" He didn't let go of Cyclonus's arm. Cyclonus did not attempt to remove it.
Cyclonus' optics dropped first. He turned aside slightly, picking up a cube from the shelf behind him. "I brought fuel."
"With a curly straw! Cyclonus, you're the best." Tailgate dropped Cyclonus' arm, leaving a quickly fading heat-trace behind, so he could take the cube in two hands.
The tip of the straw bounced off Tailgate's faceplate in his eagerness. "Ah whoops..." Tailgate started to shift the cube to a single arm to manage the faceplate with the other.
"Let me." Cyclonus paused for a second, fingertips just an inch from Tailgate's faceplate and tingling with Tailgate's energy field. "If I may?"
"Of course!" Tailgate giggled and tipped his face back. Cyclonus' claws gently detached the faceplate and pulled it away. His optics lingered over the soft-looking metal beneath, but he did not allow himself to touch.
The cube was halfway empty before Cyclonus realized he had been staring the whole time. He put down the faceplate and looked down, instead. Down at...the rest of Tailgate. He was considering looking away entirely when he realized Tailgate had stopped drinking.
"Cyclonus?" The cube wasn't empty yet. Tailgate was looking at Cyclonus rather than finishing it. "Is there something -- I mean, is this for a special occasion or, um, something you wanted to tell me maybe?"
"You should finish your fuel," Cyclonus said. There was a pause, where Cyclonus said nothing and Tailgate didn't drink. "There'll be more tomorrow. You don't have to save it."
"Okay," Tailgate said, and he looked sad and Cyclonus wished he knew how to fix it. Tailgate obediently emptied the cube, still looking up at Cyclonus with his big blue-white visor.
And at last: "There," Tailgate said, presenting Cyclonus the empty cube. "All done."
Cyclonus smiled and put the cube down. "It's important that you're fully fueled. To me, I mean."
When Cyclonus reached over to reattach his faceplate, Tailgate grabbed his shoulders and jumped off the bed, forcing Cyclonus to use his other arm to pick the minibot up rather than let him dangle or fall. "I love you too."
