Notes: I thoroughly enjoyed Hoist when I watched through G1, so when I needed a medical figure to toss into this, I decided to use him. He makes me smile.

Misao-CG: Thanks for the muffin; I do love them. Mudflap enjoyed his cookie. I hope I will surprise you!

Nobility: I tend to write things in drabble-form, so the parts tend to be short. As you can see, though, I am continuing this story!

CuriousDreamWeaver: Thanks! I'm glad you like my characterization. I'm having a lot of fun writing them.

Thanks to every one who read, reviewed and enjoyed!

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"They gonna take you apart again, brutha."

"No they ain't."

"Yeah, they don't like how you talk. They sicka listening to you."

"There'th nothin' wrong with how I thalk!"

"They think so. And they gonna take you apart again, study your insides and hopefully shut yer big mouth for good."

"No! They thaid they ain't doin' that no more…It don't work! They can't fix it."

"What's amatter? You scared, sucka? Scared of the big, bad medics and their tools…"

"Thut up! I ain't thcared!" The denial was punctuated by Mudflap springing through the air, crashing headlong into his brother in a flurry of fists and feet. Skids stumbled back, crashing to the floor with his brother on top of him, and the two proceeded to roll across the room, hurling both insults and fists.

In truth, no one was planning on taking Mudflap apart. They had tried to manually correct his problem on more than one occasion, all to no avail. Nothing they tweaked or tightened or replaced seemed to help. Sometimes, the lisp would vanish immediately after repairs and they would be hopeful, but it would slowly creep back into his voice until it was as bad as it ever had been. Whatever was causing it, it wasn't a mechanical issue; no one had been able to permanently repair him.

So why then did Skids tell his twin they were planning to put him in stasis and tinker with him again? There was no real reason. He himself didn't even know why he did things like that; he just liked tormenting Mudflap. Besides, his other half gave as good as he got and Skids enjoyed little more than a good brawl.

The fight ended with the two of them being physically separated, older mechs pulling them apart and confining them to different areas of the ship. Skids forgot about the scuffle almost instantly, settling in with a handheld battle simulator, ready to engage in a virtual fight rather than a physical one.

Mudflap, who was hauled off to the med bay due to a dent in his left doorwing, sat in a chair and sulked, grumbling under his breath in incomprehensible words. Hoist, the ship's medic and one of the least overzealous members of the science team aboard the vessel, worked silently until the dent had been repaired. He knew from experience that the younger mech needed time to cool down before he offered any advice and besides, sometimes he preferred to work in silence.

Once the minor repair was complete, Hoist set aside his tools and looked down at the moping youngster. "What happened this time, Mudflap?" He asked gently, crouching down to be optic to optic with the other.

"It wath all thupid Thkidth fault!" Mudflap huffed, mismatched arms folding awkwardly across his chassis. He was mad, yes, but more than anything…He was hurt. His brother was supposed to look out for him, not make him miserable! "He thaid you guyth were gonna take me apart again!"

Hoist's visor flickered in a gesture akin to a blink and he cocked his head. "No one has been planning on attempting that again." Though his mouth was covered by a mask, his tone suggested that he was frowning. "We've realized that perhaps that's not the best way to go about correcting the problem."

"…You ain't?" Mudflap drew back a little, surprised. Though he vehemently denied it when his twin suggested it, he'd been certain it was time for another round of useless repairs. He couldn't count the number of times his vocalizer had been tweaked and prodded at, mostly because he wasn't capable of counting that high, but also because there was no point in trying to keep track.

"No." Hoist shook his head, trying to be reassuring. The twins were young and -no matter how tough they tried to act- they were vulnerable. Their minds and personalities were still developing; it would be years before they were full-fledged adults. That was why the science team was working so hard to correct Mudflap's glitch; no one wanted it to be a permanent part of him once he was done maturing. "We have been looking at other alternatives, however, since we want you to function to the best of your ability."

"There'th nothin' wrong with how I talk…" Mudflap trailed off uncertainly, as if he was trying to convince himself of this. He didn't really see his speech defect as a big deal. Not as big a deal as the scientists seemed to think it was, at least. "Thkidth treath me like a thparkling…He'th all 'what Mudflap meanth ith…' and he have no idea what I wanna thay!" Another huff, "It ain't fair. I can talk jutht fine!"

Now, Hoist was rather fond of Mudflap. The youngling had that sort of naïve charm that came only from never having fought in a real battle before. But that didn't mean he was comfortable with lying to the younger mech. "Well, it is hard to understand you sometimes…" He said as gently as possible, "And wouldn't it be nice to not have others asking you to repeat yourself so often?"

Mudflap mulled this over, taking a minute to really think about it. He knew what he wanted to say, most of the time, and he had a lot of things to say. Usually, he was rushed and excited, so perhaps it was hard for them to understand him. "I gueth so…" He frowned, "But if you ain't gonna take me apart again, what are you gonna do?"

The medic's shoulders sagged a little and he cycled air through his vents in a sigh. "We're not sure yet…We're still discussing the options. But I promise you'll be the first to know when we figure it out." Every one had been stressing over this, since the problem seemed to be getting more and more out of hand.

"Okay."

"You may leave now, but please refrain from getting in any further arguments with your brother in the near future."

"…I think I'm gonna thay here fo' longer." Mudflap curled up in the chair, still looking a bit dispirited and though he was very busy (tracking down the crew for their annual physicals was no easy task), Hoist didn't have the heart to turn him away. He knew the youngster was feeling a bit put out by his brother's torment - that was a common enough occurrence to be common knowledge - and hoped that maybe things could improve once they'd sorted out the speech glitch.

"All right. Perhaps you can put away those tools for me." Hoist waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the aforementioned equipment and settled back at his desk, shuffling through a few data pads containing people's files. He smiled inwardly as Mudflap jumped to take care of the appointed task, enthusiasm returning full force. Hoist knew that it wouldn't be long before…

"Hey, Hoitht, didja know that Optimuth uthed to…"

Ah, there it was. Even if the problem wasn't yet solved, things were, at least momentarily, back to normal.