Disclaimer: Transformers isn't mine. Sarah is though, and so is 'Ribstickers'!
AN: Just 'cause Sparkplug hardly gets any love. So I decided to give him some.
Sparkplug's stomach rumbled angrily, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since before yesterday's battle with the decepticons and their latest 'scrap-the-autobots' scheme. Said scheme had literally backfired into Megatron's face-plates, Starscream's doing probably. Now he was fighting to keep his eyes open as Jazz drove the two Witwicky's home.
"Sounds like you're running on empty Sparkplug. How's about you wake up Spike an' refuel here?" Came the jaunty suggestion. The jaw-cracking yawn distorted the tired agreement of the exhausted older human as he shook his sleeping son to wakefulness.
Had Sparkplug been a little more awake, a little more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the name of the diner Jazz had parked in front of and insisted that the autobot take them elsewhere. There was a reason he hadn't entered this particular mom and pop diner for almost five years.
Supporting his half-awake son, Sparkplug opened the door sitting beneath the sign proudly proclaiming the name of the eating establishment known locally as 'Ribstickers'.
"As I live and breathe! Sparkplug! Spike!" Exclaimed the full-figured woman with dark brown hair that was going white behind the till before she rushed out and engulfed the two in a hug. "You boys had me scared half to death! Giant robots attackin' the rig! An' now I'm hearin' all sorts of stuff 'bout you two being like ambassadors with 'em! And you couldn't even spare a minute to call and tell me!" The woman gushed as she tightened her embrace and planted a lipstick covered kiss that left it's mark on Spike's forehead. She released a now-very-awake Spike and turned her full attention to his now equally awake father trying to squirm from her firm grip. Here was the reason he hadn't entered Ribstickers in nigh on five years.
"Sarah ...!" Sparkplug exclaimed. "I didn't mean ...! Look, about that ...!"
"You shut up William Irving Witwicky! I held my tongue all those years ago 'cause it just wasn't right, what with you gettin' married and all! I've held it long enough!"
From his parking spot outside, Jazz watched the proceedings with interest. He knew Sparkplug as a solid guy, unfazed by things he'd seen rattle mechs. Now there was this human-femme very obviously rattling his chassis with her very presence. It wasn't until a moment later that the reason for the older man's nervousness became apparent. The femme, pale blue eyes filling with tears, locked lips with the stunned man.