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Title: Season of Giving Author: that’d be me Rating: t for teen Warnings: n/a Spoilers: nope Word Count: 1369 Pairing: Air Raid/Vortex Summary: Filled a prompt from @koigikibble for @secretsolenoid, using the characters they and @yamdigs play at @lostandfoundmush ! Hope you like it :>

With the last of the snow having melted away, the imagery of the holidays that Starstruck's little gift exchange seems to be attempting to draw up is difficult to come by. Not that it's particularly easy for a Cybertronian in the first place; Air Raid's not exactly sure what a 'Santa Claws' is supposed to be, or why Terrans let it into their houses, or what any of that has to do with snow. Still...there's something worthwhile in it, and it's not like that weird 'Con bus has any copyright on the overall concept. Raid can adapt it for his own purposes if he wants to!

And he kinda does. Has. The weight of Vortex against him, the copter snuggled up back-to-front with Air Raid while they sit together in the Central Garden, Air Raid's back propped up against a tree, isn't enough to make him forget the weight of the package in his subspace. It seems heavier than everything else in there, even if it isn't at all, and he's been trying not to worry about it. What's there to worry about? It's a present! Tex'll love it!

Yet it's a while into their sitting before Air Raid finally says, “You know that thing security's doin'? With the gifts?” His tail-tuft twitches, optics trained off to the side as he fiddles with the hand clasped in his.

“What about it?” Vortex wiggles in Raid's grip, fidgets, rotors shifting where they're pressed against the jet's front. He never can sit still; it makes Raid smile, and temporarily forget his nerves. “You sign up or somethin'? Didn't think you were the type.”

“No, ‘coure not!” Air Raid lies, a little too quickly. Then he huffs. “Whassat supposed to mean anyway?”

Another wiggle, and Vortex tilts his helm back to look up at Raid. Even with the facemask it's clear he's grinning. “Nothin'.”

Ugh. He can't stay mad at that face, the flicker of irritation disappearing as fast as it had come. “I was thinking,” Air Raid continues, a smile tugging at his frown, “We could. Maybe. Do our own thing like that.” Beat. “With each other.”

This time Vortex pulls away, twisting out of Air Raid's hold to face him fully. His visor pinches in the center, a squint that has Raid unconsciously shifting into a more upright position while his faceplates stretch with a strained grin.

“What?”

“You wanna get me a present?” Vortex sounds off, not at all excited as Air Raid had expected and hoped. Raid's optics are automatically drawn to the way Vortex's fingers curl in toward his palm, and Raid can't help but notice the sharp tips. His spark clenches.

“Yeah! As like, ya' know, uh.” The grin slips a notch. “Just to get somethin' for ya'.”

“Not because you want me to pretend we're not together or something again?”

Raid winces. Ouch. “No! No, not for that, just.” He gestures helplessly, wings shifting in a nervous, earnest tic. “To spread holiday cheer or whatever that Terran slag was!”

Vortex stares at him a moment longer, rotors still, facemask and visor unreadable. Air Raid is vaguely aware of his new feathers slowly standing on end, poofing out under that gaze while he fights not to restlessly shift in place. And then Vortex's rotors flick upward all at once and his visor brightens, and Raid's shoulders slump with relief.

“Alright! Think I know exactly what to get ya. Gotta talk to Hopper...” Vortex starts to settle back against Air Raid, but a scritching claw against his rotor hub stops him. He melts under it – Primus does Raid love watching that – even as those rotors twitch in question.

“I already got yours,” Raid says on a purr, scritch-scritch-scritching that hub. “Gimme a sec.”

Air Raid draws back, and Vortex whines automatically at the loss of contact to his rotor hub. The complaining doesn’t last too long, though, as he’s immediately twisting around onto his knees, reaching for Raid with greedy claws. “What’d you get me, what’d you get me?”

“Wait a minute and I’ll show ya’!” Playfully batting those hands away, Air Raid grins and digs around in his subspace. He knows exactly where the present is, but he takes his time in pulling it out, enjoying how Vortex squirms and whines at him to hurry up. His cute little copter, so excited for this gift. After another minute of fake searching (“Raideraaaade, I’m startin’ to rust!”) he produces the package and holds it out on the flat of his palm for Vortex to take. It’s wrapped in golden paper, and the final result may or may not have been Raid’s fifth try at it; his claws kept shredding the paper, and even when he finally got it wrapped up in one full sheet, it’s taped haphazardly and sloppily. The big red bow he fixed to the top hides a good chunk of that, at least.

If Vortex notices the shoddy wrapping job, he doesn’t say anything, too busy taking the gift and tearing the paper off of it. Raid thinks briefly on how long it took him to get it looking presentable as tiny shreds of paper flutter to the grass, as Vortex pushes the tattered remains of the wrapping off to the side and reveals the simple black box it had been covering.

“Hope it’s something good, like a Harby tongue. Is it a Harby tongue? Or a spark chamber? Evil Mini’s mustache?” Vortex eagerly pulls off the top of the box, then stops and looks at what’s inside. “Oh, it’s a--oh.”

“It’s a file.” Air Raid fidgets, leans forward and taps the long, slim object in the box. It’s made of metal, with a rough texture on one side and slightly smoother on the other. “Yanno, for your blades and your claws. So you can sharpen ‘em on the go…?” He deflates when all Vortex does is look at him.

“You already got one.”

“A bunch, yeah,” Vortex confirms, plucking the file from its foamy bed. He holds it up, turning it in the light to get a better look at it. “Hmm.”

“I’ll send it back. I can get you somethin’ else, just tell me what ya’ want--” Air Raid moves to take the box and the file back, but Vortex leans away, holding them both out of his reach.

“No, it’s mine now, you gave it to me so it’s mine.” He possessively clutches the present to his chest, rotors lifting and peacocking up and out. “You can’t have it back, I’m keeping it.”

“So you...like it?”

“Yeah.” File and box alike disappear into Vortex’s subspace, the copter’s facemask shifting in a way that hints at a grin. Not that Air Raid needed to notice that to tell, with how those rotors are waggling as Tex moves forward on hands and knees to gently bunt his facemask against Air Raid’s lips. “Thanks, Raiderade.”

Air Raid beams, presses forward into a brief nuzzle before pulling Vortex against him, settling down into their original position with Tex nestled nicely between his legs. He leaves just enough room to resume scritching that rotor hub, and his grin widens when it gets a rumbling purr out of his beau. That had worked out exactly like he’d hoped it would, even with that little road bump in the beginning, and a warm feeling of relieved contentment settles over the pterosaur.

“Now I just gotta get yours,” Vortex says aloud. Air Raid hums, digs his claws in a little deeper to the crook between rotor hub and back plating to get those hard-to-reach spots.

“Do I get a hint?”

“Nope.” Air Raid doesn’t need to see Vortex’s face, he can practically feel the self-satisfaction radiating off the copter. Must be something good. “You’ll just hafta wait and see~”

Something briefly flashes across Raid’s features, a look of worry at whatever it is Vortex is planning. His boyfriend’s idea of a good gift could range anywhere from something sweet and innocent to a severed head. He pushes the worry away, for now. He’ll trust that Vortex will get him something awesome and not gross.

Because that’s always worked out for him in the past, right.

#secretsolenoid #koigikibble #tc writes #ENJOY NERDS

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