He woke to pressure on his chest.
He wanted to say he was used to it, that the crushing weight was typical. Between nightmares and flashbacks and hypervigilance, the weight was something he had grown accustomed to. It haunted his every night, crushing him until he either drifted off or left for a walk. It was his constant companion. Of course, that weight was less literal and more the result of everything he had endured, and, THAT, he was used to.
Waking up to the weight of a minibot, however, was still unexpected.
Red optics flickered briefly before powering on. To his surprise, it was not Tailgate, but Rewind who slept curled on his chest, like a content cat. He was silent, with only his shoulders moving in gentle vents. To his right, Swerve lay sprawled, his mouth open as quiet snores escaped his lips. At least he looked comfortable, even if his shoulder tire pressed into Cyclonusâ inner arm. Tailgate, though, was on Cyclonusâ left. His chubby form was curled, his arms wrapped around Cyclonusâ middle. Unlike Swerve, his head rested gently against his warriorâs shoulder, and he seemed quite content to purr in his sleep.
It was a sight that Cyclonus had not yet gotten used to, but one that still brought a smile to his face. Although he would protest to such a show of affection when the minibots awoke, he would indulge himself for now. The warrior himself wriggled, shifting his right arm to tug Swerve closer. The minibot flopped onto his side, his mouth closing, and the room became noticeably quieter.
Chuckling, he leaned over, pressed his lips to each minibotâs forehelm.
âMy dearsparks,â he rumbled, and closed his optics once more.
Yes, he could definitely get used to this kind of weight on his chest.
