The Diego Diaries: Story Time (dd3 448)
-0-In the hallway
Ratchet grinned at Alor. "This only gets worse," he said with a chuckle.
"I can't imagine how, Ratchet," Alor said with a chuckle. "Did I ever tell you that you were missing a few screws?"
"Chalk it up to a low caste and a university educational experience from the Pit."
Alor considered that. "You know, you don't have to keep slagging them anymore. I heard someone say that the caste system was over here."
Ratchet guffawed. "That's what I heard, too." He grinned. "You want more of this slop? I can slag Ironhide forever."
"That's my son you're speaking about," Alor said with feigned outrage. "Do continue."
He did.
-0-The strip club
The mom van disappeared behind a screen with Smokeyes and the party swirled onward. By the time he came back out he had a few more dents in his chassis. He was also pissed. "What the frag was that all about?"
"Its a warm up, shorty," Ratchet said with a smirk. He considered his charge: find a cure for the Scourge of Primus. In his subspace was an elixir that might turn the tide and win the war.
Or not.
He just needed a sucker. Staring down into the googly optics of the smurf sitting beside him, Ratchet took one for the team. "I have a secret mission for you. But before you go, I'll do you a solid. I'll mercy frag your tiny aft."
It took a moment to bring Ironhide back on line. The simplicity of his internal mechanisms threw El Magnifico for a moment. But in the end it all worked out and Ratchet got a gumball as a bonus.
Ironhide sat up staring worshipfully at the doctor prepared to poison him in the name of science. He stood on the couch staring directly into Ratchet's optics. "You are my sunshine," he began. "My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."
Then he smiled like a future son that in this universe he would never know because doctors don't frag and spark with mom vans. Orion would at some future orn when he was reading this be proud and secretly ashamed of his tiny red mini-van atar.
Ratchet suppressing his purge reflex with great effort slowly reached for a codpiece that had never know the touch of anyone but his ada and that guy that liked to call himself Uncle Vern. Slowly, he reached ..."
Alor who himself was listening with a repressed purge reflex and half a gut splitting laugh peered around the corner. "Okay? What then?"
:HEY, LOSER! WHAT COMES NEXT! NOT THAT I WANT TO KNOW! BUT I'M CLEARING OUT MY DISHWASHER!: Prowl, stirring the (clean) pot
Ratchet grinned at Alor, then frowned at the news. :WHAT THE FRAG?! YOU HAVE A DISHWASHER TOO?!:
A smug tone filtered over the link. :Yes. Loser:
Ratchet and Alor burst into laughter.
-0-Prime's office
"I'll never be able to look at Ironhide in the same way again," Jazz said with a chuckle.
"I think that is the point," Optimus said with his own big grin.
Jazz nodded. They waited for the laughter on the other end to subside.
-0-At an armory inventory level in Terra
"Ratchet has Ironhide pegged," Flint said as they both burst into laughter.
"Mind your words. That's my offspring you're talking about," Blackjack said with a big grin.
"Does Ratchet do this often?"
Blackjack grinned. "Just enough to keep Ironhide on his toes."
-0-In the office of the Master of the Armory
Ironhide grinned at Prowler who was sitting on his desk top grinning back at him. He was pretty good at sitting and was also pretty good at rolling over to get around. Ironhide had never told anyone about that because he'd be school bait then. He sat back and grinned. "Your old ada is off his processor. Old mech finds so many ways to slag me I might never tell him another dream again. What do you think about that idea?"
Prowler paused his glancing around, then looked at Ironhide. He smiled a gigantic smile, his little optics twinkling.
Ironhide leaned in and kissed the baby handing him back the little bullets that he was holding. He put one of them in his mouth immediately.
"Good thing those are dummy shells," he said with a grin. Then the laughter subsided. He listened in again.
-0-At the lit fest
:IRONHIDE!:
:What?: -Ironhide sounding as innocent as he could as he shared a rust stick with the sparkling.
:PROWL HAS A DISHWASHER!:
:So. You don't cook anyway: -Ironhide immediately regretting it
: ... : -Ratchet
:Uh ... but when you do its awesome, Ratchet: -Ironhide covering his aft
:LIAR!: -Prowl interjecting himself.
:Prowler? Is that you?: Ironhide covering the fact that the link was open to him. :Is that you? Ratchet and I were just having a chat. I didn't know this was a party line: he lied.
Ratchet who nearly outed him for spite grinned. :Don't come home, Ironhide, until there are conveniences. I don't want to hang at the laundromat again. Not unless Prowl is standing next to me:
:FAT CHANCE, LOSER!: Prowl said with a grin. He looked around the apartment that was appointed with an optic to the future. It was convenient, filled with options and devices that would help entertain and maintain a Prime's household. He'd made it that way in the designs to ensure that the Primes after them had digs that suited their status as bearers of the Matrix.
Ratchet laughed. :Good bye, Ironhide: Ratchet texted him. :I'm cutting the party line feed now: He did. Ironhide could listen but no one else could tell.
:Ratchet, what happens next? Continue: Alor said as he leaned against his doorjamb watching the gangling medic spar with Ironhide and Prowl.
Ratchet glanced at Alor a moment, then grinned. :Nothing:
It was silent a moment, then both spoke. :WHAT!?: -Prowl and Alor
-0-Prime's Office
"What?" -Prime and Jazz
-0-At an armory inventory level in Terra
"What?" -Blackjack and Flint
-0-Penthouse
:WHAT!? Ratchet, what happens next? Not that anyone really cares. TRUST ME: Prowl said with a grin of his own.
-0-At the lit fest
"There isn't anymore. The joor ran out." Ratchet grinned as he waited. He got it.
"OF ALL THE SLAGGING OFFENSES!" -Alor rolling
:SEE! POSEUR! FAKER! LOOOOOOOSER!: -Prowl
"Ratchet, you're depriving me of watching my son's technique," Alor said peering around the corner of the apartment door.
:ADA! WHAT THE FRAG!?: -Ironhide on another channel
:YOU TELL HIM, ALI!: -Blackjack on yet another channel
:YOU CAN'T GET OFF THAT EASY, RATCHET! YOU HAVE TO FINISH THE STORY! I STILL HAVE MORE STUFF TO FLING IN YOUR FACE!: Prowl said as he sat down on his easy chair, his own finished data pad mocking him nearby.
:The rules were one joor. It didn't say the story has to be done." -Ratchet
:WHAT? How come you couldn't finish a short story in one joor?: Prowl reveling in the fact that rules actually worked out for him sometimes. Ratchet would never hear the end of this one again.
Ever.
"Rules be rules. Your turn, Alor. Or should we have Prowler tell us his story?" Ratchet said with a grin.
:No: -Prowl
:Yes: -Alor
:No: -P
:Yes: -A
:No: -P
:No: -A
:Yes: -P
:BWAHAHAHAHAAHA: -A
:WHAT THE FRAG?!: -P
-0-Prime's office
:BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!: -Prime and Jazz
-0-In two places on a shared line
"HIGH FIVE, ALI!" -Flint
"I'm going to have to remember that with Ali." -Blackjack
"Ratchet wins that one every time." -Ironhide, proud anyway
-0-In a penthouse
He wondered how he got rooked into this. Oh yeah. Ratchet. Standing up to pace, it was the moment of truth. All of the research, diagramming, planning, footnotes, op sit and the like had come down to this moment. He paused his nervous movement and felt his spark actually flutter. It was time to present his original composition of a short story in The Sexy category.
Sexy.
He was not aware that he was. He was vaguely aware that he was elegant because he was so dignified. He preferred to think of himself as presentable and military in bearing.
He didn't have a clue.
He was handsome, elegant, tough, dignified and routinely unknowingly funny.
Picking up his data pad, he stared at it. Did he dare? He was cornered. Putting it down, he walked to the balcony and stared at The Fortress a moment.
The chronometer could be heard on the wall nearby.
-0-TBC September 25, 2013 8-1-19