Small Delights
Part 2
When the curtains were drawn back, the picturesque view of space was exposed. The planet’s golden, rust-colored landscape stretched wide, its rocky surface creating intricate patterns against the bluish glow of the atmosphere. But what stole the show was the eruption of pink and green nebular clouds in the galaxy painted before them. Flecks of stars twinkled. Distant planets peaked. Double moons loomed. When was the last time he saw such a marvelous sight rendered before him?
Aside from travelling through space, that is.
Time stilled, and the shuttle became lost in space until a gentle squeeze on his shoulder brought his focus back. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Primus, Cosmos... this is.... breathtaking...” Blast Off’s optics were wide with admiration. “So beautiful.”
“I know.”
Suddenly, Blast Off’s plating burned. Snapping his helm to the right, his date was staring right at him. “...” Slag. Words eluded him, but his cheeks felt warm from the attention. “You... you’re not even looking at the scenery...”
“I was referring to you.”
Talk about getting to the point! Flattery was always appreciated- it was nice to have his fine qualities noticed and appreciated. Usually, he flew under Onslaught's radar. Sure, mentioning a job well done here and there existed, but everything was strictly professional. And minimal. All he wanted was to be noticed and taken seriously.
But now that Cosmos (not Onslaught) was intently staring at him, the showy little bird shivered with stage fright.
“Good evening,” With perfect timing, their server appeared, presenting menus and a pair of fine crystal china. “Can I interest you in some champagne engex?”
Thank Primus for small favors.
“Yes, please,” Cosmos answered, while Blast Off expectantly held out his servo.
“Allow me to welcome you to The Last Aura. My name is Gearshift, and I will be taking care of all your needs today. Have either of you ever dined here before?” Both patrons shook their helm no. “This eatery is galaxy known for the wonderous views and even finer foods, all created fresh on premises.”
Gearshift prattled while Cosmos listened eagerly, but the Combaticon focused on his beverage. The bubbly drink was crisp, light-bodied, and hinted at lemon zest—far more interesting than the server. When leather-bound menus with gold-leafed text arrived, the shuttle's interest was piqued.
If the food was nearly as good as the extravagant ledger, he was in for a good feast.
“I shall give you a moment to look over the selections.”
Setting his glass down, the prissy shuttle perused the first page. His optics widened. Impressive—and this was just the h'ordeuvres! Cyber Oysters. Lobster mica salad with tostones. Gougères. The list continued with sophisticated bites based upon a refined palate.
“These all look so delightful!” His belly voiced its approval, grumbling as dishes were scanned. “I have no idea how I am going to choose.”
“Get whatever your spark desires.” The green and yellow flyer announced. “I know what I want to start with. “Crystal figs in a blanket. The cyber goat cheese and oil glaze sealed that deal.”
“I’m thinking about the oysters. Or the petrolium-stuffed shishitos in lithium phyllo. Even the smoked trout and avocado look promising.” Unknowingly, Blast Off’s servo gently rubbed over his belly, and his tongue licked over his lips. Reading the dishes teased his growing appetite. And as each page flipped over, decisions became harder. “Now, for my main... Primus, I’m still struggling!”
“I was warned the selections would be tough.” Cosmos chuckled. “But I heard such raving reviews of the seafood risotto that my mind is already made up.”
“I am debating on something from the land or the sea.” Blast Off sighed, barely acknowledging the other’s choice. “One can never go wrong with lobster, yet the braised short ribs... they are calling my name.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Cosmos reached over and grabbed a sort of remote. “What kind of classical music do you prefer?”
“Hmm?” The shuttle's eyes did not shift from scanning the menu.
“What can I serenade your audials with?”
His entire frame flinched as if jolted by electricity. The mere thought of this flying saucer singing lifted those optics from the menu. Would it be rude to answer with a firm ‘Please don’t?’
“We have the upbeat and rhythmic jazz, known for irregular beats and solos. Or the classics of a full orchestra, playing what looks like a selection from Breezechime’s opera. Or a more natural tone of wind harmonics from the Passing of seasons.”
“That one!” Fond memories back in his city-state long before the eruption of war flashed before his optics. He perched on a high balcony at the Grande Theatre with his creators, celebrating his creation day. The upscale breathy tones mixed with deep resonating tones were the most divine sound to grace his audials. His digital copy of the score had long been destroyed, and the desire to relive that invigoration and inspirational music resurfaced.
“Very nice selection.” A stubby digit pressed the remote; soft chimes sang ever so sweetly through the room.
“This is my favorite. I cannot tell you how many times I listened to this on repeat,” the shuttle admitted, a dreamy look washing over his face as his wings gently flicked. “And I cannot tell you how long it has been since I heard this.”
“What a splendid treat for you tonight.... food for your audials, am I right?”
The music played on, both blissfully enthralled in the sounds until the server returned. A basket of golden-brown biscuits was set on the table. “Have we decided?”
“Yes...yes.” Cosmos gleefully stated.
Blast Off raised his optic ridges. How nice of his date to consider his decision.
“For starters, we’ll have the crystal figs in a basket.”
What happened to getting what he wanted? Blast Off glared, crossing his arms over his chassis as he took mental note of the not-so-desirable selfishness. His date only smiled in return as the server tapped in the order.
“Also, let’s get an order of the petroleum-stuffed shishitos in lithium phyllo. As well as the smoked trout and avocado.”
“Will that be all?”
“No, actually. One more. The cyber oysters, please.” He shot a cocky glance at the ‘Con. “We are quite starved, you see.”
Cue that belly rumbling, attracting the server's unwanted glance. Did those lips curl as optics raked over his frame? His kind wouldn’t know classiness if it slapped him across the face! Perhaps he should lodge a complaint- his job was to serve them afterall, not judge.
“Well, you have made some fine selections. Will the oysters be raw or steamed?”
This time, Cosmos looked at Blast Off for his input. “Raw,” Blast Off said. Despite getting his choices, the shuttle hoped his selection served as payback.
“Half dozen or a dozen?”
“I think we'd best go with a dozen.” Lips were licked. “I do fancy them raw!”
Petty revenge may be off the table, but the fact that his date had a taste for uncooked marine mollusks captivated his interest. Mutually dining on exotic cuisine sure beats the embarrassment of watching chicken nuggets and fries being devoured at a nicer establishment. Or the same old platter of cyber-steak and petroleum potatoes.
“Have we decided on the main dishes?”
This time, Cosmos looked over, silently consulting the flyer. Blast Off smirked, nodding his helm and holding his servo out. “Have at it.” Let’s see how well he passes this test.
“My brazen date would like to try your butter-poached cyber lobster with crystal asparagus over lithium linguini,” he said, then cleared his throat. “And... can’t forget the braised short ribs with the twice-baked potato and the mica greens.”
“The meals come with soup or salad.” The server informed. “Salads we have the garden, crystal cucumber, or fruit and nut summer salad. Soup choices for today are creamy cyberchicken corn chowder and a rustic Italian tortellini.” Gearshift lightly bit his lip as his gaze wandered to Blast Off. “You have two choices since you have ordered two meals...”
Did this server just take a cheap shot? Inside, his energon boiled. His chassis tightened in unwelcome shame. His belly tingled in unbridled hunger. In the end, there was no reason to look so uncouth in front of his date. Even if he didn’t deserve to be ridiculed for enjoying fine foods.
“For the soup, I’ll take the cyberchicken corn chowder,” Blast Off sighed. “And get me the fruit and nut salad.”
“As you wish.” The teal and yellow mech’s attention returned to Cosmos. “And for you, sir?”
“I shall have the seafood risotto, please.” Cosmos helm tilted. “And I would like the garden salad.”
“As you wish.” A few final taps danced on the datapads before being tucked away. “Shall I refill your drinks?”
"I am parched," Blast Off answered curtly, lips pressed tight and his gaze meandering across the room. He crossed his legs, only to feel the accumulation of chub, reminding himself of his growing frame. And any possible harsh looks that were thrown his way.
“That... that would be swell,” Cosmos stammered. Once the server left, the Autobot’s helm snapped to the other. “Is... is something bothering you?”
The shuttle scrunched up his face. “Whatever do you mean?” He uncrossed his arms and rested them in his lap. Then moved his arms to his sides. He ended the performance with a deep sigh.
Cosmos shrugged. “You don’t have to be so short with the wait staff.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.” Apparently, this almost mini-bot mech didn’t comprehend proper interactions with someone of his stature. Or he saw no qualms about someone looking down upon him. Neither option fared well for his date.
“All....” Cosmos closed his mouth and bit his lip. “Okay.”
An awkward silence passed, save for the mellow whistling of the music. The panoramic view of space was enjoyed, but it could only provide entertainment for so long. Both mechs idly sipped their drinks. Comsos fidgeted in his seat.
Looks like he’d have to do all the work.
“So....” Blast Off idly spoke, fanning out his fingers to admire the gift once again. Seeing the sparkly diamonds made his chest feel heavy. Suddenly, the silence became bothersome. His plating tickled with unease. The feeling of guilt took hold. His date did follow the proper protocols to provide such a luxurious gift; it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a bit more. “How many blind dates have you been on?”
Cosmos shrugged. “Not many. Well, at least not recently.” He leaned forward and picked up the basket containing the warm, cheesy biscuits. He held the basket out, allowing the other to take first. “Sadly, they never fared well. So, I just dived into work.”
“Did none of them catch your fancy?” Wings flapped as a smirk appeared on the ‘Con’s face. He couldn’t imagine someone of his... short stature being picky.
“Honestly, they were rather rude, if you ask me.”
“How so?” He bit into the biscuit. The outer crust crunched, giving way to a moist, cheesy inside. His mouth was filled with rich, buttery bread, and the saltiness complemented the cheese's sharpness perfectly.
“Just...seemed very distant and curt. The one that stood out the most thought it would be cute to rest his drink on my helm.” The short flier rolled his optics. “Claimed he mistook me for a table.”
Blast Off nearly snorted bread out his nose. Cosmos glared.
“You aren’t the only one who doesn’t enjoy getting wrongfully judged.”
The words stung, but not nearly as much as observing the lowered optics and downturned helm. The classic look of doubting oneself. Not being able to avoid this himself, there was no denying he understood that feeling all too well. Despite being an individual, he was constantly brought down by the Combaticons' degenerate reputation.
He was much better than the others.
“How hard is it to be kind? You know, it wouldn’t kill a mech to give me a chance...”
Screw a slap in the face; those words stung like a knife through the spark. If only a certain someone had given him a chance... But the Autobot’s point rang true.
Once again, the waiter returned, bearing two fresh cocktails and a cart plated with colorful finger foods. This time, upon receiving his drink, Blast Off smiled- even if a tad forced. “Thank you very much.”
“It was my pleasure.” The plates clinked against the table. “Enjoy.”
Upon observing the faint grin adorned on Cosmos face, Blast Off scowled, sucking a hearty swig of his engex cocktail. Why was doing the right thing such a kick in the face?
“What shall we start with first?” Cosmos said, rubbing his servos together as blue optics scanned the spread before him. “Would you care to try a fig in a blanket?” Stubby little fingers grabbed the plate of rounded gold wraps filled with a slice of the light blue tree fruit.
“Why not?” His belly could only hold out for so long! One of the delicacies was selected and popped inside his mouth in one bite. Immediately, there was a savage yet delightful war between sweet and savory. He couldn’t help but hum at the flaky pastry that was slathered in butter. Or was it that warm gooeyness of the cheese? No. What stole the show was the sweet, earthy taste of the figs, reminiscent of those fine jams spread on fancy crackers served at his family’s lavish parties.
“That good, huh?” Cosmos polished off his first bite of the night. His face lit up. “You’re right. So sweet. So creamy.” He swallowed. “Such a tasty little starter.”
The plate was held out, and the ‘Con helped himself to seconds. Then to thirds. Each bite tasted better than the last...which means between the pair the wrapped delights didn’t stand a chance. Lips smacked as the empty plate was set back down.
“Which shall we taste next?”
“Let me pick.” Blast Off sipped his drink, then immediately went for his next selection. “I have been dying to sink my teeth into these raw oysters for ages.” Fingers went to grab an oblong shell but stopped. Being starved was no excuse for failing to observe proper etiquette. He sheepishly looked at his date. “Where’s my manners?” The plate was held out.
Cosmos eyes squinted in glee as he selected the first. “That’s mighty kind of you.” Once digits selected a half-shell, it was brought to the saucer’s lips. Blast Off followed suit, taking a moment to admire the light purple color of the meat that rested in a pool of its juices and a dollop of red hot sauce.
The shell pressed against eager hips, tilted up, and its contents slid into his mouth. Oh, that salty taste was distinct, and the raw flesh was cold yet firm. The hot sauce provided just enough zing to make his taste receptors sputter in joy. And the way they slid right down his throat promised his noisy belly just what it desired. Devouring these was going to be pure joy!
And seeing his date match his enthusiasm was a pleasant surprise. Getting any of his fellow Combaticons to spruce up their pallet was like pulling rusty bolts from an engine. Fine dining at Vortex was dinosaur nuggets. Brawl- if he couldn’t eat it with his servos, he wasn’t interested. Swindle had more sway, but anything from the seas was off limits. Onslaught....
Curse his processor for always returning to his crush! He stuck to the same foods, claiming there was no requirement to change. If the said meal was good, why deviate? He liked what he liked. He didn’t like what he didn’t like.
Which apparently was him.
“How’s your job treating you?” Cosmos sat back, resting his arm on the plush sofa.
“It pays the bills.” While true, the job was rather lacluster. Beneath him, really. “Easy. Sit in front of a monitor for a full shift and observe.”
“But you are keeping mechs safe.” The Autobot shrugged. “And you get to work from home.”
“You get the excitement of traveling through space.” Another half shell was selected and polished off. “Aside from my flight here, I haven’t travelled much.”
“Miss it?”
Blast Off stifled a snort. “Really gotta ask?”
His date blushed slightly, attempting to hide his reaction by helping himself to another oyster. “Yeah, dumb question. I know that tell-tale feeling of missing space travel.”
“The claustrophobia. The weight of gravity pulling on your frame...feeling as if the ground is going to swallow you whole.” Blast Off sighed. “Slag, I even missed the piercing coldness of space.”
“Golly, it just creeps into your core,” Cosmos added. “And as much as it stings, that sensation is easily missed when back on the surface of a planet for too long.”
“Same with that smell of burning ozone upon re-entry.”
“Say, ever think of changing to a deep space job?” Cosmos gently dabbed his lips with a cloth napkin, then snagged himself a new appetizer- the smoked trout and avocado.
Every waking hour! His place was high in the sky, towering over the simple mechs of Cybertron. But as much as the sky sickness pierced his soul, the gestalt bond tugged at his bonds. Yes, they have grown weak after... after the whole Starscream spiel. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t taken leave of absences before. But the hint of the four others remained in his spark, catching whispers at the most random times. Gestalt bonds can never truly be broken.
But could his desires for his boss ever be cut? Physically, he could leave. Mentally? That was to be determined.
“It would... depend.” Tough questions called for good eating. He reached out and selected a feta-stuffed shishito in phyllo; its light pink fried outer layer promising such tasty delights wrapped inside. In fact, the first bite resulted in a satisfying crunch, releasing its cheesy taste and a distinct sweetness from the peppers.
Happiness does come in bite-sized smidgens, after all.
“Well, I know someone who is looking to set up a research station out past the Lunar banks. Supplies and crew members need to be transported-”
“What?!” Blast Off’s optics shot open, and the rest of his shishto nearly spat out of his mouth. “Transport?” His face scowled at the insult. “What do you mistake me for? Some common cargo ship?”
“Blast-“
“I happen to be much more than a simple means of transportation.” The shuttle grabbed his drink and took a few hearty swigs as if engex would extinguish the raging fire. “Giving mechs rides... beneath my standards.”
“I didn’t mean that!” Cosmos stammered, earning himself a glare. “I...Look...” He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m sorry-”
“Just because I have a pair of wings and can withstand the harsh coldness of space doesn’t mean THAT is ALL I can do!”
Cosmos leaned back, mouth agape and optics nearly trembling.
“You know, back in my city-state, my frame was cherished.” Blast Off spat. “Oh, look, we have a shuttle in our ranks. I was actually looked up to as something special. Something unique.” Brown and purple wings erratically flicked. “Have you ever been judged by your frame type?” The now-empty glass slammed down on the table.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I have.”
Blast Off snorted.
“Is it that hard to believe?” Cosmos shook his helm. “While I did not enjoy... having to partake in the brutalities of war, I can assure you I was next to last at being paired up with on missions. Apparently, what mechs' thoughts of my capabilities... fell short, so to speak. Plus, having a space travel alt mode didn’t exactly help. At least not in the presence of grounders.”
“Hmmm...” Blast Off muttered as he picked at more appetizers. So, he may have a basic understanding of how he felt... but why suggest becoming the one thing that ground his gears? Seekers... praised for their intelligence and aerial acrobatics. Shuttles? Servants of flying from one place to another. All under someone else's command.
“I know you are much more than that.” Cosmos reached out, gently resting a servo on the ‘Con’s shoulder. “Sincerely, I did not mean it in that way. It was more to get you back into space. If you so desire.”
The anger still flared in his chassis, but glancing at the saucer, the ‘Con’s expression softened. So far, Cosmos has been kind and extremely generous. While the though of being transportation was a sore spot...perhaps his date didn’t mean any degradation from it. And experienced some form of discrimination against alt modes himself.
“Noted.” The ‘Con huffed out a sigh. “Thank you for the offer. But for now...going to pass.” He picked up the tray of feta-stuffed shishitos and held it out. “Care for one before I polish them off?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
The pair demolished the appetizers just in time for their soup and salads to arrive. Two dishes were set in front of the shuttle, and the solo dish went to Cosmos. Naturally, Blast Off’s drink was refilled, and the pair was left to continue their meal.
“I... ah...” Blast Off cleared his throat as he crumbled some crackers into the creamy soup. “I... do wish to apologize for... for my abrupt reaction...”
“I understand it can be a touchy subject.” Cosmos waved. His fork stabbed up greens. “Plus, I was warned of your....”
Blast Off cocked his helm to the side. “Warned?” A spoonful of hot soup traveled to his lips to be softly blown on. Once inside his mouth, his sensors were rewarded with such a warm, hearty taste. The cyberchicken was tender. The vegetables crisp. The entire broth was rich and creamy. This soup was very comforting and delicious; he nearly forgot what was being questioned. “Warned about what?”
Cosmos cheeks flushed.
“Wait.” Blast Off stared at the saucer. “Did... did you know it was me?”
“AHhh.... I wasn’t completely sure!” Cosmos chuckled, squirming under the other's glare. “I mean... I was like.... Ninety percent sure.”
“And... just what were you warned about?” Primus, just who was shit-talking him now?
“N... nothing bad!” Cosmos took a swig from his drink, but Blast Off’s demanding stare did not relent. “Seriously!” The ‘Bot’s optics darted quickly. “I mean.... S...someone just warned me if it was who we thought it was...You... You are a lot to handle.”
“A lot to handle...” Blast Off smirked, but continued eating. “Is that so?”
“I mean...” Cosmos’ optics grew wide- at least until the shuttle’s smile returned.
“And how am I a lot to handle?” Another spoonful of soup was enjoyed. “Hmmm?”
“I.... I dunno...” The Autobot stifled a grin. “Like... you are...very finicky.”
“Finicky?” Blast Off snorted as he set the now-empty bowl of soup down.
“Those weren’t my words, mind you.”
The shuttle rolled his optics as his servos found his bowl of fruit and nuts. “Oh really? What words would you use to describe me?”
“Knowing what you want...” Cosmos answered. “And knowing what you like.”
“And let me guess, knowing what you want is... you know....too much?”
Those words were heard before. Heard them straight from Onslaught’s mouth. Apparently, caring about his life was too much. Making sure his teammates weren’t lying lifeless on cold metal slabs was too much. Being attracted to him and wanting to spend the rest of his life snuggled up to his side was too much.
“No, actually.” The Autobot set down his plate and dug around in his subspace again. “I think it is very admirable to know what you want, actually. And there is nothing wrong with accepting nothing less.”
“Hmmmm....” Blast Off hummed and shoved an orange chunk of juicy crystal mango in his mouth. “So.... you think someone like you could handle me?”
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