Author's Note: The events that will occur in this chapter had been decided on not long after I started writing this fic. This will be a somewhat more humorous chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I think you get the idea.

Metal and Neon

Chapter 17: Relaxing

Several weeks had passed since the final battle had taken place in Las Vegas. With the help of the Autobots the destroyed office buildings and large structures near downtown had been rebuilt. After the human construction crews had brought in their own people and equipment, work had gone much faster. Grapple had been able to pull Quickmix out of the business districts and send him out to the residential areas. Once he'd arrived there the Autobots handling the cleanup had promptly begun pitching any and all bits of wood, from the broken and burned remains of houses to fallen trees, into his churning barrel, much to the surprise of their human counterparts. Quickmix had worked the load around in his barrel for a time before producing a pulp-like substance, pouring it into molds Hoist had built. The pulpy material was actually of loose wood fibers, fibers that were pressed into shape and formed into panels and beams much the same way pulp was made into paper. The finished products were practically indistinguishable from timbers from the lumber yards. Quickmix, asked about it, had rattled off the list of chemicals he used to break down and mix wood, making more than a few humans' heads spin. The scientists had gone home happy; everyone else was happy that the work was going so much quicker with Quickmix's help.

Ultra Rodimus had been working practically non-stop since finally recovering from energy drain, somehow managing to juggle human politicians and his own Autobots. He'd been spending most of his time in his office, working his way through massive stacks of paperwork, returning to his quarters late at night, so tired all he could do was collapse onto the bed and pass out. Other times he didn't come back at all, catching catnaps at his desk. The other Autobots had all agreed that their leader needed a break; if he kept working at that pace he was going to land himself in Medbay again. While Magnus dragged the exhausted young Prime back to their quarters to rest, the rest of the command staff snuck into his office, locked down his computer, made off with most of the paperwork (delegating his workload seemed to be a foreign concept where Ultra Rodimus was concerned), and had Metroplex lock the door with several different locks.

"How's the boss?" Kup asked Magnus via their internal comlinks.

"Dead to the world," was the response. "Not even another Decepticon attack would wake him. He's completely out of it."

"His office has been locked down."

"Good. Thanks."

"No problem." Kup cut the link and turned back to his share of the looted files.

Magnus shut off his comlink and looked into the darkened sleeping chamber. His young mate was sprawled across the bed, barely visible even to his trained eyes, out like a light. Through their lifebond Magnus kept track of his lover's thoughts. Whenever Ultra Rodimus's mind began dragging itself back toward awareness, Magnus would gently push it back into slumber. It was a trick he'd mastered some time ago, how to get his mate to rest even when he was refusing. He didn't think Ultra Rodimus had caught onto him yet, but he wasn't about to push his luck.

Finally, after some persuasion from Magnus, Ultra Rodimus sank into a deep sleep, his lithe body taking on the limp, almost boneless position that indicated he wouldn't be waking up any time soon. Magnus smiled to himself and joined him, stretching out along his mate's back, arm around his shoulders, and followed him into slumber.

The next day Magnus got up before his mate did, which was rather unusual. Normally Ultra Rodimus was up and gone before Magnus even began to stir. The younger bot still hadn't moved, except for faint twitches of fingers or limbs as he dreamed. He was still deeply asleep, and showed no signs of waking. Magnus and Sandstorm shared a smile before the city commander crept out to take up his own duties.

It was several hours later that Jazz trotted into the command center and headed for Magnus, who was talking with Grapple and Hot Spot. Kup and a few others stood in a small clump nearby, listening. The second-in-command saw him coming and tilted his head, looking a question at him.

"Saw your mate," Jazz told him cheerfully. "He was heading for his office. I told him that he'd been locked out."

"What did he say?" Springer asked.

"He muttered something about Autobots and screwdrivers, then walked off." Jazz shrugged.

An expression of dread crossed Magnus's face as he contemplated what a sufficiently determined Autobot could do with a screwdriver. One or two other Autobots shuddered.

"I'm not sure if he actually means it, or if he even has one," Jazz added.

Kup snorted. "I know for a fact that he has whoopee cushions, silly string, and paintballs in his subspace pocket. Primus only knows what else he's got in there. He's the first Prime we've ever had who's had a streak of practical joker in him."

"That's what scares me," Magnus muttered. Another shudder ran down his back, and he thought his hydraulic fluids were trying to freeze.

"Gets you all the time, does he?"

The only response was a long-suffering sigh. Then Magnus scurried away, wondering just what his commander was up to this time.

"I don't think you have to worry about him getting back at you," Blaster called after him. "He left, heading for Vegas."

Magnus waved at him and headed out after him.

He soon found that Ultra Rodimus had driven to CSI headquarters before morphing to his human form and going inside. Magnus was too big to enter the building, but Spike offered to act as a relay for him. Keeping his comm unit on, Spike went into the building.

The CSI night shift crew was in the break room, waiting for their shift to begin, munching last-minute snacks and exchanging news. Spike poked his head in the door.

"Have any of you seen Roddy?" he asked.

Four of the five shook their heads. Grissom nodded.

"He came in looking for some michief to pull," the night shift supervisor explained. "I didn't want him to pull any tricks on my team; we're about to start our shift."

A groan came through Spike's comm. "What did you do?" Magnus demanded.

Grissom's smile was serene. "Sicced him on Ecklie."

Nick snickered.

A shriek echoed from somewhere out of sight. A moment later the dayshift supervisor came charging down the hall, trying to get an upended bucket off his head, skin, hair, and clothing turning an interesting shade of green. The culprit himself was nowhere in sight, but he could be heard laughing from wherever he was hiding. Ecklie dashed around a corner and out of sight.

For an instant, there was silence. Then everyone in the break room burst out laughing. Nick was laughing so hard he tipped his chair over. Warrick, who'd been leaning against the wall, slid down it to the floor, tears streaming from his eyes, laughing too hard to do anything about them. Sara collapsed onto the couch, roaring, and Catherine braced herself on the counter to keep from falling over. Grissom managed to keep his chair upright, but even he was paralyzed by fits of laughter. More laughter came from labs whose occupants had witnessed Ecklie's mad dash for either the exit or his office. Through one window Spike could see Greg rolling around on the floor, holding his sides, laughing hysterically. Nobody really liked the arrogant dayshift supervisor, and seeing him being taken down a few pegs by a prank was something no one would ever let him hear the end of.

Finally, the laughter died down. The CSIs began to get themselves back under control, but they still broke out in occasional fits of giggling. Spike wiped his eyes, gazing after Ecklie.

"I didn't know you could do that with armor dye," he commented.

"Armor dye?" Warrick asked.

"Makeup for Autobots. They use it when they have to disguise some of their more obvious markings, like scars or patches of color that make them easy to identify. It has to stick to metal, so it's very tenacious, but it does wear off... eventually. Roddy doesn't need it because he's a chameleon anyway; those stripes on his armor change color. I wasn't aware of that particular use for the stuff."

The tone in which he said that set them off again. It took another five minutes for them to calm down.

Just when they were starting to regain their seriousness, another Ecklie-shriek interrupted, this time coming through Spike's comm. A car door slammed, a vehicle screeched away, and Magnus almost choked on his own laughter.

"How does he do that?" the big Autobot managed to gasp out.

"What did he do?" Catherine asked.

"He somehow managed to rig a can of glue and a bag of feathers-- all green!-- to fall on Ecklie when he got into his car!"

"A lot of practice," a rather smug voice answered from behind Magnus. Everyone flowed outside.

Ultra Rodimus had apparently been lurking on the roof of the building, blending perfectly into the background. Now he uncoiled his slender frame and practically oozed down onto the asphault. Magnus sat at one end of the parking lot, laughing like a hyena, and Ultra Rodimus occupied the rest, stretched out on his stomach, chin on his crossed wrists. There was a pleased grin on his face.

"So that's where you disappeared to!"

The only response was a wink.

Greg bounced out of the building, chattering non-stop about how funny the tricks were and how nice it was to see Ecklie taken down a few pegs. Spike looked at Grissom.

"Is he always like this?"

Grissom nodded. Spike looked at him with sympathy, then walked over to where his ride, a snickering Sideswipe, was parked, took something out, and walked over to Greg.

"Here. Put this on."

The lab rat attached the small device to his belt. Spike activated it.

"Now go climb up on Ultra Rodimus's back."

Greg stared at him for a moment, then scurried up the Autobot leader's arm onto his armored back. Once up, he looked back at Spike.

"Get between his shoulders and start bouncing," Spike told him. "He's not going to bite you."

Greg visibly swallowed nervously. Then he crept between the huge robot's shoulders and began jumping. His shoes clanged off the metal with every jump. The device Spike had given him, a field generator, kept the shock of impact from hurting him.

Ultra Rodimus's eyes narrowed and he seemed to sprawl out even more. The CSIs looked at Spike for an explanation.

"Greg can't hurt him," Spike told them. "His armor's too hard. Your hyper lab tech may be coming down pretty hard, but through his heavy armor Roddy feels it as a gentle massage."

When Greg finally ran out of energy, he slid down Ultra Rodimus's side and went back to his lab. Ultra Rodimus peeled himself off the ground, yawned, and decided to go get some more sleep. He'd just driven away when Catherine's daughter Lindsey came out, a book in her hands.

Catherine looked over her shoulder. "Crop circles?"

"I found it at a book sale. The pictures are great." She showed her mother one of the pictures. Then she looked up at Magnus. "Do you know who makes them?"

Magnus shook his head. "Not a clue."

"Oh." Lindsey glanced aside, noticing someone walking past and staring at the designs inked into his arm. The others could almost see the light bulb come on. "Does Ultra Rodimus have any artwork?"

"Pardon?"

Lindsey pointed at the person walking past. Magnus followed her pointing finger, then shook his head. "No, he doesn't. I think he considers his stripe pattern something of that sort. Why?"

"Would he ever get some?"

The big bot snorted. "Not likely." He eyed her. "What are you suggesting?"

"Get him one, in his human form."

"Do you have any idea how hard he'd fight to avoid that?"

"What if he didn't know?"

Magnus stared at her for a moment, speechless. Then a slow grin crossed his face as he contemplated getting even with his lover for all the pranks that had been played on him. Being careful to keep his thoughts to himself, he pondered how long he'd be able to keep his mate asleep. By the time he'd finished thinking it over, he was wearing a full-fledged evil grin. He looked at Lindsey.

"You'd better find a pattern and someone to do it. I'll bring the victim."

She grinned back. "Will do."

They shook on it.

To be continued...

Can you figure out what's going on? Take a guess. And I did send you that email, Gromia. Welcome back, Fenestrae. Been wondering where you'd gotten to.

Next chapter: a plan comes to fruitition. Stay tuned to find out what it is! Now review for the next chapter!