I dont own Transformers, lets hear it for the boy, or footlose (thank god)

"Okay so what's the game plan?" Sam had his hands on his knees, deep in a huddle, surrounded by the enormous heads of concerned Autobots. He felt like the quarterback in some whacked out, very weird football team. He had convinced his father to let him out that Sunday, informing him that there was an extreme national security threat that needed his attention. That seemed to be the trigger for his father, the very words national security rung up images of men in black suits and SUV's.

"He stopped crying a couple of hours ago, but my last interaction with him proved rather disturbing." Sam looked at Ratchet hard, with an are you kidding me? look. "More disturbing, of course." The robots eyes projected an image into the center of the huddle.

It was a scene from a made for T.V movie that bore the footnote 'Lifetime'. The scene played out with obligatory tears and hallmark moments, which made Sam's male pride hurt.

"Good god man turn it off I've seen enough!" Ratchet complied, the lights fading from his optics. "He has intercepted various television signals. They have adapted to transmit to him. He is acting like an antenna of sorts, getting constant transmission from multiple networks." Sam thought about this for second, running countless possibilities through his head. "Why not just re-program him, or delete whatever's screwing him up?"

"It is not within our ethics to take his personality cortex offline without his consent." Bumblebee explained. "Every time we get near him he is upset by something. He has proven most difficult to approach." Sam clapped his hands together and stood straight.

"Alright guys, here's the plan.We need to get him to trust us. We handle this like we would handle a chick." He paused. "Like I would handle a chick." He felt like a General addressing his troops. "Bumblebee, your on image. Compliment him, and I mean it. Nothing is too miniscule, if you see it, you love it!" The yellow Autobot stood straight and saluted. "Ratchet, you agree with him. Every last word, you think they're brilliant." He stopped his stride along the line of Autobots to face the mighty Optimus Prime. "Optimus, your on presents. Shower him with gifts, that should help us get close enough to him."

Sam looked at his troops and locked his hands behind his back. The mission was tough, dare he say impossible, but it needed doing.

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Ironhide was bad. Really bad. His armor was decorated in several places with flowers and his recent broadcast from the 'Oxygen' channel had left him pondering the struggles of a single mother. Sam and the gang slowly approached the Bot, stopping at the base of the tree. Sam knocked a couple of times on the Oak. "Hey there fella, mind if we um, come in?" Ironhide nodded "Hey you guys." Ironhide waved in his company, pulling Bumblebee into a hug. "Oh I've missed you all so much." Bumblebee's panicked expression fell on Sam, who urgently shook his hands for Bumblebee to respond.

"You look very nice today, Ironhide." Sam nodded, but he should have recognized the trap that they walked into. Ironhide pushed Bumblebee away to arms-length. "I look nice today? And what about every other day I suppose I look like a pile of junk?" Ratchet, in his best attempt to do what Sam had informed him to do, pitched in. "Yes I agree, you look very much like junk every other day." Sam slapped his forehead. "no no no no no no!" Ironhide gasped loudly and retracted his arms, holding his hands at his chest.

"You..You Monsters!" He turned and was ready to storm off when Optimus saw the opportunity to strike. "Ironhide I have a gift for you." He stopped and turned around to face Optimus. "Oh you shouldn't have." Optimus nodded nervously. "Yes, it is something you have desired for quite some time." Ironhide might have giggled, Sam wasn't sure because he was so caught up in the action of the robot jumping up and down with joy. Optimus drew out a hexagonal object from behind his back. "A tri-beam laser gun, just like you wanted." Ironhide stood still. " A gun? A gun, are you kidding me? Do I look like that kind of person?" His mechanical hands gestured up and down his body, another image Sam was sure he would never forget.

Ironhide was already way down the first hill in his automobile mode, which shed him of his decorative flowers, much to his discontent. The yellow camero rolled up next to him, Sam hanging out the window. "Look we're sorry, we're so sorry." When he got no response, he slapped hard on the side of the door. "Sorry Bee." The convoy continued down a side road that led to the home of the familiar Captain Lennox, who just happened to be on holiday with his family, Hawaii.

The GMC pickup parked itself next to the large home, stirring up some dirt. Sam and Bumblebee left the others behind, and rolled up next to Ironhide. "Look we're sorry. We all want to make it up to you." There was silence. "I've been wanting to do a fix-up project." Sam's heart almost stopped. "What's he picking up TLC?" Sam wasted no time however, knowing that his only chance to strike was now. "Yes. Okay. Whatever you want, you got it."

Sam returned to Ratchet and Optimus. "Guys he wants to do a project." Ratchet held his chin. "He wishes to build a device, or repair an engine?" Sam shook his head and turned to face the two story home. "Lennox I am so sorry."

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It was totally and utterly pathetic. Four giant fighting machines were painting a house. And not just painting it, but painting it a very hot pink. Sam was on a ladder, rolling paint over the roof tile. "Ironhide all I'm saying is that usually you don't paint the roof." Ironhide put a hand on his waist and pointed a paint brush at Sam. "Okay, okay, we paint the roof." Bumblebee's stereo was blasting the song 'Lets hear it for the boy' by Denise Williams, while he painted stars and smiley faces on a dried side of the house. Optimus's fingers had several layers of paint on them, having managed to burst more paint cans than he could open.

"Okay remember we're going for a very retro look, so don't be afraid of color." It was very obvious that Ironhide was thoroughly enjoying himself, he constantly would step back and frame the house with his fingers, squealing with delight every time.

Sam had been painting the same spot for twenty minutes, when a gripping realization struck him. Worse than the eerie female nature of Ironhide, more intense than the fact that they were defacing the home of an Army captain. He dropped his roller, and turned in slow motion to face the others.

"WAIT A SECOND! EVERYBODY STOP, STOP THE MUSIC!" There was silence. "Ironhide, could you please tell me why the hell were in the middle of an eighties montage?"

Ironhide met his gaze, unflinchingly. "Footloose."