Author'snote:I saw a picture on DeviantArt and got to thinking: what if the cat was real and theAutobot was...well, I'll let you read and find out ;) http/ www. deviantart. com/ deviation/ 7290042/

Part 1

Bluestreak was royally bored out of his cranium. There had been some suspicious activity at the New York docks that Prowl had deemed worth of a stakeout and Jazz, Bluestreak, the twins and Hound had been dispatched to investigate.

At of this moment, Bluestreak was backed into a refuse-littered alleyway between two brick warehouses, trying not to think about the warm, dry comforts of the Ark. The cold November wind whistling through the gaps in his armored hide didn't really help much.

He had been sitting in his hidey hole for about three hours when a scrawny tabby kitten jumped up onto his bonnet in search of a warm place to sleep. The sudden appearance of the cat started the gunner, but he managed to contain a yelp of alarm as the feline curled up and went to sleep. The sensation of a warm little body on his hood was more than a little disconcerting for the Datsun, but in some obscure way it felt kinda nice too.

Another hour crawled by, during which Bluestreak could detect absolutely zero activity. Sure, there were the usual smugglers, drug dealers and the odd drunk, but nothing bearing a hint of the hated purple sigil.

His radio cracked. "Jazz t' stakeout team. Prowl says t' wrap it up, nothin's happening." The Porsche reported. Even Bluestreak could detect the relief in Jazz's voice, he knew how much the special ops officer hated the cold.
"Copy that Jazz." The gunner radioed back, then started his engine, hoping that the sudden vibration would dislodge the cat.

It didn't move.

The Datsun jostled himself, bouncing on his suspension. The kitten woke up, stretched, and affectionately rubbed it's face against the Autobot's windscreen wipers. "Hey, c'mon, get off already!" The embarrassed Bluestreak hissed. He shook himself harder and waved his doors in an attempt to scare the cat away. With feline grace, the kitten lithely jumped off his bonnet and into his driver's seat.

"Yo, Blue', y' coming?" Jazz radioed. "We're waiting for ya."
"Uh, I'm coming. Just got held up." Bluestreak called back, trying to ignore the kitten winding around his accelerator.
"Ok, just don't get lost." The Porsche teased, then cut the link.

"Are you going to get out?" Bluestreak asked the kitten, holding his door open. The kitten crawled under his driver's seat. "Optimus is gonna kill me." Bluestreak moaned as he shut his door, shifted into gear, and pulled out.