Chapter 7

My muse and I had a major break-up and wasn't being an uncooperative little sh!t so yeah, I kind of lost a bit of inspiration for everything. Also I've been super busy. I'm hoping to qualify my horse for our first 80km ride on Saturday so that's a bit stressful. Also, my 18th is on Friday so that's been hell too considering my family are kinda struggling at the moment, my dad not having been paid in forever and all anyone is doing is griping about that. Ya know, I think I can see why my muse needed a break...

Also, I maybe, perhaps, kinda lost this chapter in all of its completed glory... oops, my bad.

Thank you to heavenslilagl420, Jazzilynn Hall, Skydreamer1990, Emily Thacker, basecannon, CarsCars2Fanatic and icanhascamaro for reviewing. I'd love to reply to y'all but it's just not gonna happen. Everyone seem to root for team Jazz at any rate. But I seriously like the idea of Jazz and Prowl. Things could get very interesting. We shall see.

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"Oh- Oops, my bad," Optimus Prime said, lifting his foot off of the flattened fountain. I couldn't help but wonder what that would have been like as a person, now all flat and mushed with pieces everywhere. And blood, lots of blood. My stomach roiled. Mikaela, standing beside me and looking flustered and on the verge of a small panic attack, stared at the massive Cybertronian footprints that were mulching up the rest of the lawn as Ratchet, Ironhide and Jazz joined Prime and had a bit of a casual stroll around. Bumblebee popped out from somewhere else and then there were five.

"No!" Sam cried, freaking out over the utterly wrecked fountain in the middle of the lawn. How the heck was he supposed to explain that and the wrecked lawn to his parents? Now, if Mikaela was on the brink of a small panic attack, then Sam about to tip over the edge into a crazy, psychological breakdown. The guy looked stressed. "Oh, I- I don't – you couldn't- you couldn't wait for five minutes? You couldn't wait for five minutes!? I told you to jus-just stay! Just stay! God!"

Yeah, he was totally stressed.

"I told you to watch them," Sam whisper-shouted at Mikaela and I as he frantically ran up to us. "I told you!"

"Uh, okay, you know what they seem to be in a little bit of a rush," Mikaela bit back, torn between freaking out about us all getting caught and being pissed that Sam was being pushy and dominant.

"We're so screwed," I commented abstractly, watching a little lap dog run across the lawn. Was that a … bootie or a splint on its leg?

"Oh this is bad," Sam clenched his hands on his head, fisting his short hair. He spun around at the shrill yapping that the dog emitted, the mere sound of it making me want to boot the little thing across the lawn like a little orange football. What is the point of having a little, yappy dog anyway?

"No!" Sam cried, the teenage boy spotting what the rest of us had been oblivious too. The dog was stood right next to Ironhide's immense foot, looking utterly puny in comparison. But then, everything probably looked puny compared to that guy. For a moment I thought that Sam was freaking out that the giant robot was going to stand on the little rat, but then said rat lifted its leg and… tinkled. All over the weapon's specialist's foot.

"Mojo! Mojo! Off the robot! God!" Sam exclaimed before running off after the little beast. I stifled a smile; big bad Ironhide got his foot pissed on. He totally just got dominated by a rat-dog. I may have let out an undignified squeak when Ironhide flicked 'Mojo' with one of his … toes? Just because I griped about little rodent-like dogs didn't mean I actually wanted one to come to harm. But seeing that the small fry was actually alright I let loose a quiet chuckle.

"Eww!" Ironhide grumbled, sounding like a petulant teenager. "Wet."

Sam ran up, grabbed the dog and shoved it under his arm, backing up several paces very quickly. I would be too with a grumpy robot giving me that particular look. The boy was crying out and pleading with Ironhide to stop.

"Hold on, this is Mojo, this is Mojo," he said in the most confident voice he could manage. Considering that his voice had steadily been rising through the octaves all night I think I could safely say that it didn't sound at all confident. "He's a pet of mine, he's a pet! Okay? That's all."

Cue the massive cannons shoved in Sam's face. I was starting to sense a routine here with Ironhide.

"Could you just- just put the g-guns away! P-p-put 'em away. Please," he squeaked out frantically, the 'bot's guns whirring away right in his face, the huge black Autobot bearing down from his massive height like a terrifying, technologically advanced Titan.

You know, the kind, friendly thing to do would have been to run in and stop Ironhide from blasting either Sam or the mutt away. As it was Mikaela and I just stood on the sidelines with wide eyes. Actually, we were about as far away across the garden as we could get. Yeah, I was so brave.

"You have a rodent infestation; shall I terminate?" At that point I just about busted my ribs trying to laugh silently. Ironhide, buddy, you just went up a rung on my metaphorical ladder of awesomeness. We were evidently of the same mind about Chihuahuas. Huh, who would have thought? Finding common ground with a massive mechanical alien. Especially one that apparently had some kind of weapons fetish. It takes all kinds I suppose.

Oh look, Mikaela finally decided to be a good friend and stop Sam and his dog from getting blasted into a thousand pieces. Yeah, I wasn't going anywhere near that nutter and his guns.

I heard the soft 'whump' of a massive foot colliding with the ground and the hissing of hydraulics. I glanced back and saw Jazz. I gave a tight smile and he smirked back, the light from stars and streetlamps alike reflecting off his visor.

"He has issues," I remarked, turning back to watch Ironhide and Sam as Sam tried to convince the robot not to kill the dog.

"Which one?" Jazz asked, humour apparent in his voice. I snorted.

"Take your pick," was my reply as Ironhide grumbled something about 'rusting' and apparent let the whole issue with the 'rodent' drop. Sam seemed to take this as his cue to get going before any body else got the idea of blowing things up and dashed through a forest of mechanical legs, stumbling over the wrecked fountain as he did so.

"Tropical hot!" he whisper yelled as he ran into his house with his rat-dog securely under his arm. At least, that's what I think he said. I had no idea what it was supposed to mean though.

The 'bots, Mikaela and I all stood there for a moment. I decided to voice what was evidently on everyone's mind.

"Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do now? Stand around like a bunch of really ugly garden gnomes?"

"Speak for yourself. As the ugliest one here I hardly think you get to judge," Jazz responded at the drop of hat, though I'm fairly sure he had no idea what a garden gnome actually was. That didn't mean I took being called 'ugly' too well.

"You're a smart ass, you know that right?" Was the best I could come up with. I know, I know, I was out of practice.

"I try," the silver 'bot replied tartly. I glared at him and he smirked again.

Wait! WAIT! Hold the phone folks! When exactly did I get 'friendly' with the goddamn alien that ran me over? I mean, come on! We were bickering like teenage delinquents. And yet, when I looked at him with this new revelation fresh in my eyes I couldn't help but realise that I wasn't nervous of him. Not like I was. Sure I was frightened of getting run over, and squished, and blown up and the list could probably go on, but the fact was that I wasn't frightened of his being just what he could accidentally or intentionally do to my fragile, squishy little human body.

This folks, is what we call an emotional one-eighty.

I was given no more time to process what was going on as Optimus gave the order for the Autobots to recon the area. Prime must've been following the glimpses of Sam that flashed past the windows since he moved in that direction. Ratchet disappeared further around the building and Ironhide was trying to wipe the pee off his foot with one of the bushes in the garden. Bumblebee, obviously familiar with area, went low under the patio. I couldn't quite see but from what I did glimpse he wasn't doing any active reconnaissance; rather he was watching the television through the living room window.

I realised that I was one 'bot short with my counting and just as I came to that realisation there was a whirring and a hissing and then Jazz stepped clean over my head, causing me to gracelessly flail and dive out of the way, barking the skin of my knee on one of the broken pavers. I heard the robot chuckle as he moved away from me and I gave him the finger from where I sat like a sullen child on the ground. Goddamn robots.