SsSsSsSsSsSsSsSsSs
Red Alert grumbled as he adjusted the wires, giving the Rec room one last sweep of his optics. As sparkling proof as he could get it. Each wire was wrapped in its own special layer to make sure that the sparkling couldn't chew down to the bare wires and accidentally zap itself.
The sensor to open the door had been adjusted so that anything smaller then the youngling couldn't open the door, and even then, a slight buzzer would sound, warning others that a mech was coming in, and to make sure that the Youngling wasn't ready to run out.
Red Alert stood up, hydraulics hissing in protest. It had been a long time since he had done something so strenuous and backbreaking as this. He stretched luxuriously, glancing at the twins' badly hidden cache of high-grade. He shook his head as he placed in on a shelf far beyond the younglings reach. They would need to find somewhere else to hide it.
Prime entered at that moment, and stopped to stare at the tiny vid that Red Alert had set up. Wheeljack had created it, but it had been Red Alert who had carefully hooked it up, setting the machine to block out the gorier, much more violent movies. Red Alert saluted, feeling slightly light-CPU. "The rec room is now ready to receive whatever the youngling can throw at it."
"Good work Red Alert. What happened to those who were supposed to help you?"
"I sent them away after Sideswipe tried to zap the minibots again. They were causing more damage then helping."
Primes face drew into a frown, as he asked almost disbelievingly. "It took you two recharge cycles straight to completely wrap every wire in a layer of insulation?"
"And program the TV, door and several other things. May I be released from duty to get some recharge?"
"You are released. I don't want to see you until your fully rested, and then you can give me a direct report on what all you've done."
As Red Alert stumbled out of the room, exhaustion nearly wiping all color from his optics, he could only think, that youngling had better be worth all of the trouble.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Bumblebee blinked as a tiny vid player was hauled out of storage. "Where did that come from? I thought you guys got rid of it when I grew old enough to start watching the more gory videos."
"Red Alert said that it could eventually be recycled as part of Wheeljacks inventions." Jazz explained. "Of course, the mere fact that it didn't explode more then fifteen times while in developmental stage was a miracle."
Bumblebee laughed, as Spike pulled himself up onto another large crate. "I just noticed something. About half of your wires are doubly insulated, while the rest have the normal insulation. Why is that?"
"Red Alert double insulated all of the wires that Bumblebee liked to chew on in a bid to make the youngling keep from zapping himself. He was also the one who got the idea of spraying the insulation with some rather nasty tasting stuff to break him of the habit."
Bumblebee looked up at Jazz. "Red Alert?"
"Yeah, he was the one who put up a lot of protective safety measures to make sure you didn't get too badly harmed. While Ironhide might have been overprotective, it was Red Alert who knew when you should start being exposed to different things, and it was generally him who told Ironhide. Ratchet would usually back him up as well." Jazz said thoughtfully.
Red Alert appeared in the storage room, carefully threading his way through the boxes. "I need the insulation. Daniel has gotten into his teething stage."
Jazz cheerfully handed Red Alert the wires, remarking off-handedly, "Reminds me of the time we had to do it for Bumblebee as well."
"You mean what I did. I spent two cycles making sure that the Rec room was youngling safe, and nobody bothered helping out at all."
"That isn't true--" Jazz began indignantly when Red Alert interrupted.
"Yes, you were on a 'secret mission'. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe got into a fight, sending each other into the med bay and brig, and then the miniborts grew disinterested after the first few moments of doing this." Red Alert snarled back. "I am probably going to go through a repeat of the same performance."
Before any of the stunned mechs could respond, or the confused human could speak, Red Alert stalked out, insulation in hand.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Only one more room was left on the Ark before Red Alert would be done with insulation against Daniel and his teething terrors. Red Alert stood up, fingers sore from the tiny motions he had been doing. Quietly he flexed them, wincing as they hurt.
Bumblebee appeared out of the darkened corridors, holding the box of insulators Red Alert had left at the end of the hall. "Anything I can do to help?"
As Red Alert stared in amazement, Bumblebee shrugged. "Well, you did it for me, so I should do it for Daniel."
As the two worked side-by-side, Bumblebee asked something that had been bugging him for a while. "Was I a burden back on the Ark? When I was young?"
"No. You were the best thing that happened to us. Just one look at your sweet, innocent face, and you had the entire Ark falling over themselves to make sure that you'd be safe, and that you wouldn't get hurt."
"And you?" Bumblebee asked curiously.
"I made sure that the Ark was safe enough for you. Most of the others didn't really think about it, but the Ark was a near hazard to a youngling, especially with one that was as good of sneaking as you."
Bumblebee nodded, but a slight doubt lingered in his mind. Red Alert apparently saw, for he sighed. "Look, swing by the control room sometime tomorrow and I'll give you all of the recordings I have of your life. Then you'll see."
Bumblebee nodded happily and skipped off, forgetting completely about what Red Alert was doing. Red Alert looked down at the wires, and shrugged. "Daniel will probably be worth it." He muttered, wrapping the insulator around the wires. "After all, look at how Bumblebee turned out."
SsSsSsSsSs
Yeah, I was exhausted, tired, cranky, and this piece of sweetness just dropped on me while reading fics of when Bumblebee was a youngling. Surely someone must have had to protect 'Bee from the Ark, and Red Alert would have been the one who had to do it.