The Diego Diaries: There has to be a morning aaaafffftttteeeerrrr! (dd6 256)
-0-The next morning. Probably.
He came to sentience slowly, his optics fritzing, then clearing. He was looking at sandy dirt. Raising his helm, Ratchet glanced around. He was in his tent. He recognized his nice sleeping bag nearby. He also recognized Ironhide was in it. He had crawled into the tent, apparently, then grabbed the first soft spot he could feel. He had climbed into the sleeping bag head first. His nice shapely aft was sticking out but his helm was cozy and warm.
At the foot of the bag.
Ratchet grinned, then rolled over. Flooding himself with the cure, he rose slowly then stepped out. He knew the kids were good. Most of his family never got slag faced and would handle the kids. Peeking into tents, he saw that Ravel and Docker were with them. They were lying in little rows like tiny sardines with the two lying across the doorway. The big kids were sawing logs in their tent and Spot was with them. He raised his head, grinned in that dog way at Ratchet, then rolled over again. Ratchet grinned again, then stepped out. The sun was breaking the horizon and the shadows were long. Around the campsite where everyone had congregated, there were empty chairs, empty bottles and a number of mechs who either gave it up sitting in their camp chairs or dropped before they got very far. It was a hilarious sight.
He electronically commanded the camp stoves to shut down and they did. Glancing around, he walked to the edge of the small plateau where they were camping to look out at the Valles. Looking down, he noted three of their number lying at the bottom of the slope. Scanning them, he grinned. They were fine but it would appear that they walked off the edge in their drunken stupor. Funnily enough, none of them was Cliffie.
He gazed at the other campers, some of which were stirring. The air was cold and crisp, about -110 below zero. It was a bracing and beautiful springish morning on a planet that felt like home. Around him, a lot of friends of terrifying and terrible encounters were shit faced and/or sleeping. He would check them out, then the horses. Turning back, he looked them over. Sideswipe was flat on his face in the general direction of his tent. He vaguely remembered an arm wrestling contest in which Chromia put them all in the dirt.
None of Prime's family was here, though he knew it wasn't because Optimus didn't try. The sweet mech was probably led to his tent by a slag-faced Prowl and his gentle genitors. He remembered their pleasure at his. Their wonderful son had friends who would die for him and they were here, drinking beer, eating food and playing together with him when they didn't have to. It made Kes and Tagg proud and happy that so many loved their only son and wanted his company for just that. They also knew better than to drink too much given how Optimus couldn't hold his beer. They were unsure if it was because of the Matrix or because Their Orion was so self denying he had never learned to develop a tolerance. Either way, they were in love with and proud of their boy, his family and his life.
It made theirs worth every sorry moment they had before coming here.
In the distance, other mechs lay sprawled including both Bumblebee and First Aid. It appeared that Aid was the one who fell down and Bee gave it up to join him in Blotto Land. He grinned at Raptor sitting in his chair, splayed out like a chicken as he slept deeply and hard. Lying at his peds, his little optics following Ratchet, the Ever Loyal Pudding kept him company. In the clearing nearby, seven horses dozed on their feet, their patience a thing of beauty. They had galloped and galloped the night before and it was a good thing. Nothing like burning up pent up energy for a good night's sleep.
All of the Squad but for Alor were in their tents along with their families. Alor was half in and half out of his tent having fallen on his face before getting fully inside. A light layer of dust covered him like it covered everyone else outside. He snickered as he looked inside noting that Flint had Scout in his own carrier next to his sleeping bag. Stu-RT, or Stewie he was renamed in honor of a certain cartoon baby was lying in his own next to him. How they made it, Ratchet couldn't tell. He remembered vaguely how Flint was telling stories and laughing giddily at Alor, Aunt Lissie and his genitor's discomfort over some of the hilarious disclosures.
The slagger.
He surveyed his area, then sorted out a WIFI delivery of the cure. Taking in the last quiet moments, he watched private ships fly over on their way to the northern climes where the flying clubs often gathered to race back to the colony. It felt good to see them. He often watched craft flying overhead when he was a slum kid with dreams in Iacon in the orn.
He turned to the group, then sent the cure. It hit them all at once because he saw them all stir at the same time, a reaction he never tired of. He grinned at their discombobulation, then watched as they sat up and looked around. Walking to his own chair, Ratchet sat down. He grinned at Raptor. "I see you can still hold your liquor."
The huge mech smirked, then laughed. "I remember distinctly you trying to twerk in Ironhide's face."
Ratchet thought back, then laughed. "I DON'T AND THAT'S MY STORY!"
By this time, everyone was staggering out or up, some with kids and others with MAJOR fuzzies toward the chairs. Sitting, waiting for the last defrag to finish in their programming, the sorriest crew of partiers this side of the solar well pulled themselves together. Stumbling out of tents, the others came out to join them. After a moment, they all turned to Ratchet.
Ironhide frowned slightly as he watched Prowl sit down with Halo. "What now, Old Mech. We're out here because you have a bug up your aft, so what happens next?"
Huge laughter and agreement rattled out of them as Ratchet frowned back at Ironhide. "Why frag you, Ironhide. A show of servos. Who is happy they came to this little soiree?"
It was still a moment, then Drift and Springer raised their servos. HUGE laughter and catcalls greeted that. Drift smirked. Springer grinned at Ratchet. "I, for one, had a blast. These ungrateful slaggers should pay a penalty, Ada. Conscript them into the Autobot Scouts."
HUGE revulsion and fear manifested itself, then everyone leaned forward to tell Ratchet they never had such a good time which was the truth for all of them. They, after all, invited themselves along to the party.
Ratchet grinned. "Fraggers. Breakfast time," he said as he stood, then walked to his boxes. Reaching in, he pulled out his giant frying pan. Turning with a smile, he looked at all of them. "Behold, one of the wonders of the universe. With this pan, I, Ratchet, shall feed the slagging masses."
"You can't feed all of us. Some of us have stuff, Ada," Springer said as he pulled a box he and Drift had brought closer to his chair. He looked in. "We got … uh, we got something called Ho-Hos and some … packaged slag." He looked at Drift. "Were we drunk when we packed this?"
Drift glanced inside. "I hope so," he said to huge laughter.
Mechs got up and rummaged around, bringing out food they had brought from the colony. Some had nothing and others had some terrible slag. Prowl who was mesmerized by Ratchet didn't bring out the perfectly packaged food he had catered. The floor show was too interesting for him to remember that. Ratchet grinned. "Good thing I'm not a doofus like the rest of you," he said as a ship began to descend in the parking lot. It landed, then a number of youngling mechs stepped out carting boxes.
Up the trail they went, then halted before everyone which now included all of Prime's family and a number of civilians no one knew who had joined the group the night before, tents and all. "I have an order for the Autobot Scouts," one of them said, then smiled.
The entire crowd flinched as Ratchet raised his servo. "That's us. I, apparently, am the den mother of this sorry lot of slaggers. Thanks, boys."
They put the boxes down, traded slag, then ran for their ship to deliver things in other places in the Valles. One could get takeout even at the north and south poles of Mars if you had a functioning communicator, it would appear.
Ratchet turned to them, then grinned. "There's food for everyone here but Ironhide and me. Help yourself."
Everyone grinned and began to rise when Ironhide did. "WAIT A MINUTE! I'M NOT INCLUDED?!"
"Why, Ironhide. You just passed your physical. Your hearing is perfect," Ratchet said as he turned on a stove and put his big pan on it.
"WHAT THE FRAG, OLD MECH!" Ironhide said as everyone either went to get a beautiful box of food or one for their companions. In seconds, everyone including the kids and the Prime menagerie were sitting down again to eat a big breakfast perfectly wrapped. Ironhide looked in the boxes, then turned toward Ratchet who was watching him with his arms crossed over his chassis and a bemused expression on his face. Everyone eating watched them, too, like they were a movie playing on a screen. A murder mystery, probably. "YOU DIDN'T BRING ENOUGH FOR ALL OF US!"
"WHO THE FRAG SAID I HAD TO!? WHEN ARE YOU SLAGGERS GOING TO FIGURE OUT CAMPING?!" Ratchet asked.
"Probably never now. This is good, Ratchet. Thanks," Kup said as he ate a breakfast sandwich.
The others laughed including Prime and a fascinated Prowl who was sitting beside him. The Squad was mesmerized and so were their kids and bonds, almost against their will. They had never experienced or seen such things, especially among the highest officials of their kind anywhere. This kind of surreal slag never happened in the high castes.
The poor dumb fraggers.
They stood toe-to-toe, then Ironhide sat down. He glared at Ratchet who glared back. Then Ratchet turned to the pan and began to cook. Everyone who knew The Story watched with a mixture of dread and fascination. Ratchet rummaged around, then pulled out 'bacon, eggs, bread for toast, sausage, a big steak, hash browns ready to brown, sliced tomatoes and butter', putting them on an upturned box. He began to cook, standing over the fire with a long handled 'food flipper' as Sunspot called it.
He attached the bread to the 'toaster' rack that turned slowly over the stove. All was in hand. It was amazing. Ironhide watched with a big internal grin and an outward frown. All of it looked good and so far nothing had caught fire. No one dared to say a word because this was touchy ground. They watched the Dance of Doom between the two and ate their own food. The off line conversations were epic.
"You need help, Ratchet? I can help you," Partition said as the nine big kids nodded.
"Don't fret, infants. Thanks, though. I got this," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile. He watched everything reach the right moment to turn, so he did. He flipped them like a pro which he was after many an hour locked in his berth room with the flipper and a number of datapads. They sizzled so he pulled two big plates. Carefully, equally, he began to fill them up. It was delicious looking, delicious smelling and appeared to be head and shoulders above even the greatness everyone was eating out of their boxes.
Putting the toast on the platters, turning off the stove, he placed butter and jam on the plates, then handed one to Ironhide. Tossing him a juice bottle, he took one and sat down with his plate. Tru leaned over to look, then grinned. "That looks great, Ada. I think you cook great."
Everyone grinned at the sweet kid who always said good things about Ratchet's cooking and even showed anger when Ratchet would be teased about it. Tru lived up to his name in every way. Everyone sat silently eating for a moment, then Hercy grinned at Ironhide who was shoveling his face and giving bits to the little kids who were gathering around the two. "How's the grub, Ironhide?"
He glanced at Hercy. "Good stuff. I think I'll keep ya, Old Mech."
A smack on the back of the head took care of that and the spell was broken. Conversation was had, horses were fed and infants carted here and there to see and do things by their elders. A clean up of the meal and camp was had and everyone grabbed a beer to relax. Big kids climbed up on the horses after feeding them and with the little kids in front and behind, they began to wind down the trail to ride on the flat surface of the landing zone, the rest following for their turn. Pudding started to follow Spot but Raptor plucked him up.
It was pleasant as they chatted. All was well in the Valles.
-0-Nearby
"When are you going to say anything?" he asked.
She grinned. "I can but you have to ask first."
"Oh," he said. He looked at the crowd, then felt his nerve recede. "I … okay." He looked at her, then walked to Ratchet and Ironhide. He leaned down. "Could I talk to both of you for a moment?"
They looked at him, then nodded. Rising, they walked to the tie line for the horses. Both of them looked at the two, then Partition gathered his guts. "Ratchet, Ironhide … I want to bond with Lancer." He looked at her. "Right?" he asked nervously.
She smiled. "Yes. I want that, too."
Ratchet and Ironhide glanced at each other, then the two. They grinned. "You sure? You haven't known each other very long."
"We are," Lancer said as she gripped Partition's servo. "We want to do this right."
"You are, infant. What about your family? Have you told your genitors?" Ratchet asked.
"Uh," Partition said as he looked over his shoulder at his genitors who were in a group with Proteus, Madura, Joon, Vinn, Anders, and Burris. They were chatting together. "No."
Ratchet nodded, then glanced at Ironhide who shrugged. "You know his genitors best, Ratchet. I'm okay with this bond. I'll go with your call on this."
"You have to tell your genitors. Tell them that you have our blessing," Ratchet said as both smiled. "But you have to tell them before its announced to anyone else."
Partition nodded. "I will. I just … it's hard."
"We know," Ironhide said as he squeezed Lancer's arm. "We approve."
Ratchet nodded. "Slagging right, we do. Good to hear this from you rather than the grapevine. We can get together on dates and slag but for now, know we're good."
Lancer and Partition hugged them both, then walked back to the camp to sit with friends. Ratchet grinned, then glanced at Ironhide. "She's from Praxus, you know."
"I know," Ironhide said with a grin. "Get ready to party."
The walked back to the camp to sit and enjoy. They both did. Heartily.
-0-TBC 1-25-18 edited 2-2-18