Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers…

Warning: Unbetaed…

Summary: The dinobots discuss their momma's dominance while waiting for the medbay doors to unlock- among other things. Slash. Implied Mpreg. Implied Interface. Funny.

AN: This is a story for entertainment purposes only, so please sit back, relax, and let the fic speak for itself. Please enjoy…

(Names Edited…Because getting names mixed around is never a good thing.)


Dominance


The dinobots tilted their helms to the side, curious as to the happenings going on behind the medbay's locked door. A crashing sound sounding suspiciously like a medbay berth toppling over- or being thrown across the room more likely- caused them to straighten, and sharpen the audio receptors more.

Sludge snorted. "Me, Sludge, no understand. Why mommabot and daddybot make boom sound? Daddy not in lab."

Grimlock snorted, raising his head and battered his tail across the hall floor, leaving a decent sized dent upon the once pristine tile. "Him, momma, claim dominance over daddy. Perhaps want more sparklings." He snarled in annoyance as though it were obvious.

Sludge fidgeted a bit at first, but grumbled approvingly and nodded. "Me, Sludge, think Grimlock right. Grimlock smart."

Grimlock all but glowed at the praise.

The telltale sounds of various glass objects shattering and something solid being thrown against the ceiling caught the young dinobot's attentions. Slag growled at the door and stomped a foot in irritation.

"Want him, momma, fix horn. Want fight." The triceratops bot snarled threateningly, stomping again. "When momma stop claiming dominance over him, daddy, and fix?"

"Me, Swoop, think sounds too violent to be making sparklings. Sound like fighting to Swoop." The Pterodactyl bot chipped in, flinching ever so slightly when a dent somehow defied the laws of physics and appeared along the ceiling above their heads, running the length of the hall.

They marveled at the extraordinary feat of impossibility. Snarl commented on how strong their momma's dominance was. The others readily agreed.

After a moment of silence, listening to the sound of incoherent begging from the other side of the medbay door, Sludge spoke up. "There's a difference between interface and fighting?"

The others all froze, taking on thoughtful expressions, or as thoughtful as they could on the matter given their disposition. They'd never interfaced before, so they were not sure of its more intimate details. They just assumed that mommabot's yelling was the foreplay and the wench throwing the interface, because obviously daddybot must enjoy it if he subjects himself to it near everyday after he booms his lab.

One of the minibots had once said to, "talk dirty and then pound them into the berth" when interfacing. Too bad the dinobots had not known he was more than a little over energized at the time. That particular bot has not venture too close to the medbot's domain after that day, not even eight months later. (He still has the dent in his helm, for obvious reasons.)

With an audio piercing screech, the door creaked ominously, beginning to tilt outward from an unknown impact.

Snarl chuckled. "Not for him, mommabot."

The others nodded in agreement.

Swoop tilted his head again before turning to his brothers. "You, brothers, think him, momma, teach Swoop dominance?" The others looked at him strangely, and Swoop blushed before continuing. "Him, momma, already teaches Swoop medic training. Good medic dominant, right?"

The others considered, seeing the logic in his words. If "medic's orders" can take priority over even the Prime's judgment, than doesn't that mean their momma was dominant over even the Prime!

Grimlock growled with a newfound respect for his momma, though admittedly it was never lacking in the first place.

Then a thought hit. "But what about him, First aid?" Slag inquired moodily. "He medic, but him still gets pounded into berth." Slag turned his head away. "Slag knows. Hears it all night sometimes."

This too was taken into consideration.

"But him not Head medic." Swoop insisted.

Sludge suddenly lifted his lumbering head and whapped his tail excitedly, leaving another dent across the hallway floor. "Swoop right. Dominate bot become head medic."

Swoop beamed. Grimlock snorted.

"Swoop will be great medic, but him, mommabot, epic. No comparison, not fair."

The others nodded, even Swoop. There was no denying that their momma was epic. He did, from their knowledge, dominate every single bot that entered his medbay, most had the dents to prove it. Even the Prime.

A scream echoed through the closed door and down the hall and the lights began to flicker on and off. A few of the older ones even shorted out.

There was silence, and the dinobots shifted on their peds.

When the doors finally cycled open a very worn out Wheeljack, bearing many unidentified dents mind you, came stumbling out, followed closely by a smug looking Ratchet. They froze the moment they caught sight of the dinobots standing quietly before the door, watching them curiously.

"Ah...we...ah…" Wheeljack began awkwardly, fidgeting uncontrollably.

Ratchet walked past them all, head held high and a strut in his stride. He strode down to the end of the hall, before abruptly turning and pointing victoriously at the worn down inventor.

"If I'm going to be called the mother then I'm going to be top, get it, got it, good!" And with that, Ratchet turned on his heels and marched away.

Once more, the dinobots nodded in agreement.

Wheeljack stuttered briefly, before he found his voice. "Did he just admit to being the femme?" He gasped unbelievingly.

Grimlock gave his daddy an equally disbelieving look. "You smart, but not too bright." He shook his head as the others murmured in agreement. "Of course mommabot's a femme."

Wheeljack shuttered his optics. "What?"

Sludge made a clicking sound. "Only femme's have chassis's as big as momma's." He shook his head as well. "Even me, Sludge, knows that."

Wheeljack could only stare bewildered as the dinobots walked away in search of their mommabot, Slag determined to get his horn fixed as they grumbling amongst themselves.

The inventor rubbed the dent on his helm.

Did he miss something?


Five months later there would be a new sparking on base, with Wheeljack as the carrier, much to Ratchet's glee.

However…

Two weeks later it would be discovered that Ratchet had become sparked, again.

Ratchet was fragged off, Wheeljack was amused, and the rest of the Ark now firmly believed that their head medic is a femme, because no mech should be capable of getting sparked so easily.

The dinobots just shake their helms and wonder what took them so long to figure it out. But they have to live with the reality of it; not all bots are as smart as they are.


AN: LOL! Personally, I rather like the dinobots, so I decided to make a short funny on them. Hope you got a few laughs out of it.

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