Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All unrecognizable ones are the intellectual property of yours truly; their theft is punishable by severe voodoo-induced pain in any and all sensitive organs of the body, followed by eternal damnation.

Because, you know, stealing is wrong.

Title: On The Care And Feeding Of Humans

Summary: Transformers AU. Juxtaposition side story. So you think you're ready for a human all your own, but do you know how to care for one? ... Ratchet and Wheeljack are doing their best to figure it out.

Rating: PG

Warnings: mild cursing

Author Notes: Oneshot the third: humans can entertain themselves in the most unique ways... but sometimes, those ways just don't translate. A very silly, very stupid, very random oneshot.

Timeframe: During Evelyn's first week aboard Metellus. (after Ch. 14)

Happy birthday, Cafei!

On The Care And Feeding Of Humans

Toys

Well, stranger things have happened. No... wait... they really haven't.
- Cordelia, Angel

Wheeljack wasn't certain what to make of it when Bluestreak appeared in his laboratory, Evelyn in hand, and asked for a 'piece of string'.

"—about this long," said the gunner, arms spread a little wider than his shoulders, "and the thinner the better, I guess, but not so thin that you can't see it, because that would take all the fun out of it, huh, Evelyn?"

"Yes, it certainly would," said the organic femme with a smile. "How about it, Wheeljack?"

"Well, I don't see why not," said the inventor. He went to one of the storage bays lining the walls of his domain and rummaged through various bits and pieces of mechanical paraphernalia. He pulled out a spool of energon filament and unrolled the requested length, snipping it loose with a pair of wire cutters. He handed the filament to Bluestreak. "What do you need it for?"

"Evelyn's going to teach me cats-cradles," said the gunner with a grin. "Humans know the weirdest stuff, don't they? Thanks a bunch, Wheeljack!"

The young mech exited the bay in a whirl of repeated thanks and clattering footsteps. Wheeljack stared after him.

"Cats... what?"

"... now you loop it like this," instructed Evelyn, seated on the edge of the young gunner's bunk, demonstrating with her own piece of thread. "And you undo the loops over your pinkies... like so..." She held up the result, four loops of thread (one loop over each of her thumbs and index fingers) radiating out from a knot suspended between her palms. "Cat whiskers," she said, holding the knot under her nose and pulling the eight strings taut.

'This is ridiculous. How much longer are you planning on playing with string?'

Between string and your brother, she thought, I'll take the string.

"... I don't think I did it right..."

The gunner held up his hands, pink filament twisted and tangled around his fingers, as though he were a human child who had been playing in his first plate of spaghetti. Evelyn eyed the mess.

"I didn't get it my first time either," she said sympathetically. "Try again?"

"Sure. What kind of mech gives up after just one try? That's what Prowl's always telling us; he gives us briefings every four orns, telling us what's going on with the other outposts..."

'Does his vocalizer never short circuit?'

You're in a pissy mood, aren't you?

The gunner wriggled his fingers, plucking at the pink strands, undoing the tangle bit by bit, talking all the while. Evelyn carefully unknotted her own string, picking at the knot with her nails until it was one long, clean loop of string again.

"Uh-oh."

"'Uh-oh'?" Evelyn looked up at the gray mech. "What's 'uh-oh'?"

"It's stuck." The mech frowned down at his thread-covered hands. He tugged at the mess, frown deepening. "Down in the joints. I can't get it loose."

"You're a big mech. Why don't you just break it?"

"Break it? Yeah, I could if I yanked. That's no problem, but it's in the joints; there's a lot of delicate stuff in a Cybertronian's hands, and energon filament is made to be tough. There's no telling what it could cut into!"

'Twitchy, isn't he?'

"Well, don't panic," she chastised. She rose, draping her string around her neck, and walked to the edge of the shelf. "Down here, please. Let's have a look."

The mech lowered his hands to her level, and she stepped between them, looking at the nearest strand, following it to where, as Bluestreak had said, it disappeared into one of the joints in his fingers. She frowned, grabbing it on either side and tugging gently. It was firmly wedged in place, and no amount of wiggling or pulling shifted it in any way.

She tried several other places where the filament had become caught, instructing the mech to bend his fingers at certain times to see if it would help, but nothing she did could loosen them. "Oh, boy. Blue, I think you're stuck. I wouldn't worry, though. Ratchet or Wheeljack could get it off you, I'm sure."

"Ratchet says," the gunner murmured bleakly, "that if anyone comes into his bay for stupidity, they'll leave with more dents than they came in with."

'This would definitely qualify,' the voice contributed.

Hush, you. Evelyn pulled one last time at the tangle. "Well, it wouldn't have to be Ratchet. Wheeljack would help. Or Hound, or most anyone, I'm sure."

"I don't want to bother them with something like this. What if they're doing something important? It's just energon filament. There's got to be some way to get it off."

"Well, do you have scissors around here?"

"Scissors?" asked the mech, still tugging at the mess.

"Cutters. Clippers."

"No. I don't keep any in my quarters. What would I ever use them for? ... though I guess I could use them when I get into messes like this..."

"Anything at all sharp to cut it with?"

The robot frowned. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

"There is... one thing." One of his fingers twitched, pointing upward, indicating the red metal chevron adorning the front of his helm.

'Oh, this isn't going to end well...'

When the main 'bay doors hissed open and closed, Ratchet glanced up from his reports, looking through his window to see what new annoyance the cycle would bring him. His optics widened, and he quickly rebooted his visual receptor software to check for glitches. He stood and made his way into the medbay.

Hound stood, grinning broadly, with a red-faced Evelyn in one hand and his other hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, guiding the other mech. The gunner's wings drooped as low as Ratchet had ever seen, the upper half of his face obscured due to the fact that his hands were bound to his chevron by an impressive tangle of pink Energon filament.

Bluestreak's mouth opened.

"No." Ratchet held up one hand. "Just... no. Get on the table. I don't want to know."

End Toys