Authors Note: Just a stupid little one-shot that I came up with when my little sister showed me a picture of a stick figure screaming its head when its toast popped.
Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers. Simple as that. Enjoy!
"Well well, look who decided too finally crawl out of bed."
Coffee cup in hand, the tantalizing aroma of French Vanilla wafting from it, Lennox glanced around the edge of his newspaper at the sound of Simmons drawling voice. Sam and Mikaela, closely followed by Bumblebee, came walking into the Rec Room. Both looking very pale and with dark circles under their eyes, they barely gave Simmons a glance as they headed for the small kitchen that stood off to one side.
"What?" Simmons said, faking hurt. "Not even a hello or good-morning?"
Throwing Simmons an I-could-care-less look, Sam turned back to pouring himself a cup of coffee and shoved the toaster out of the way in his hunt for the sugar bowl. Locating it, he poured four spoonfuls of sugar in his cup.
"Fine then," Simmons sniffed. "Be that way."
"Bit me, Simmons," Mikaela growled, stomping over to Lennox's table. She slammed her bowl of cereal down, kicked the chair out and sat.
"Well, you two seem to be in a cheerful mood this morning," said Simmons, sarcastically.
It appeared that Simmons wanted too have his neck broken, if the angry gaze Mikaela was throwing him was anything to go by. Lennox decided to hide behind his newspaper again but realized a moment later that he had reached the last article (a small piece about a college football team winning something-or-other). Sighing, he folded the paper and threw it aside. He watched as Sam coming walking over, coffee half gone and a plate of sliced orange and strawberries in hand. Lennox raised an eyebrow. The kid looked half-dead.
"How late did you guys stay up last night?" Lennox asked, in spite of himself.
"Three-thirty," Bumblebee answered. He sat crossed-legged against the wall and cast a disapproving gaze Sam and Mikaela. "They stood up-ktzz-all night-ktzz-watching horror movies."
Sam simply look blankly up at Bumblebee, nibbling an orange wedge, before turning back to his plate. Apparently the lights were on, but nobody was home.
"And they have to meet-ktzz- Ironhide- ktzz- at the firing range at seven," continued Bumblebee.
"Unholy hour," mumbled Sam. Mikaela nodded in reply, spoon in mouth.
"Well, you two are going to have to get use to it," smirked Simmons, making his way over to the kitchen. "If you want a job here."
Lennox raised an eyebrow. "You two are just lucky that Ironhide didn't ask you to meet him a five-thirty. Now that is an unholy hour."
Looking like any teenager would at such news, Sam shoved the last strawberry in to his mouth and chewed slowly.
"Don't worry, Witwicky," said Simmons. "Five-thirty am will come to be the latest you're allowed to sleep in and it'll come to feel like noon. New soldiers have to be outta bed before four-thirty." Laughing at the look of horror plastered on Sam and Mikaela's face, Simmons opened and closed cupboards at random, shoving random item's aside. "Were the hell is the bread in this place?"
Bumblebee leaned over and carefully flicked a cupboard door open. A loaf of bread fell out. "Right there."
"Thanks," grumbled Simmons, shoving two pieces into the toaster. "You big, yellow beetle."
An orange peel hit Simmons in the back of the head.
Clicking in amusement, Bumblebee looked over at Sam. His charge looked ready to fall asleep. Well, thought the Scout, his fault for staying up late. He'd have to suffer through the day on three hours of sleep and countless cups of the bitter liquid Sam seemed to favour.
Giving a tired smile at his best friend, the twenty-year old turned warily back to his half-empty coffee cup. Sweet, sweet English Toffee. He took a sip. Was there a greater kind of coffee?
The following minutes passed in relative quiet, the clinking of Mikaela's spoon and Bumblebee's gears shifting the only sound. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden glow throughout the Rec Room. The islands birds began to twitter and chirp, their sweet melody filling the air.
The Autobot Scout entertained himself, as he waited for Sam and Mikaela, by flexing his fingers in the morning sunlight and watching the different shadows play across his hand. There had been a sun at Cybertron but everyone had been far to busy building something-or-other to actually pay any attention to it. The fact it was there was all they need to know. Who cared about the rest of it? Reflecting back on all the times he could have taken a nano-second out of his day to glance towards the star, Bumblebee realized that there was a lot he had missed.
He was about to comment on the sunlight, when an a small pop and an ear-shattering scream filled the Rec Room.
Bumblebee looked around, startled. Lennox had jumped up from his spot at the table, swearing, the ever present handgun in hand. Sam had upset his coffee cup, the brown liquid spreading rapidly and Mikaela was coughing on her last spoonful of cereal. Everyone glanced towards the kitchen, where Simmons was up against the wall, eyes wide, and breathing heavily.
No one moved for a moment and than Sam let out a laugh.
"Hey, Simmons," he said. "Your toast popped."
And there you are, ladies and gents. Hopefully you liked it. I would have had this up sooner but before I could finish it, it was time to leave for France. And I didn't feel like bring my laptop.
French Vanilla and English Toffee are my two favourite coffee flavours. They're the only things I'll order when I go to Timmies (Tim Horton's to all those not in Canada. A coffee place.)
I have no idea what time people get up on military bases and all that, and I'm to lazy to look it up. So, I made it up.
Review, please!
…and don't lie, you've been there…