NOTE: Segment 615 which was a place holder because of the storm has been replaced with an actual segment of the story. If you haven't read that one before this one, its up and ready. :D Just click back to get to it. :D
-0-Here we go!
The Diego Diaries: Go (616)
-0-The Armory, Autobot City, Mars
Hanging on a hook in his little Seeker bag, Prowler slept on. He had sagged down into it, enclosed completely in its soft clutch. Out in the Armory things were going great guns. In the office next to Ironhide's own, Holi worked diligently. In a box on her desktop, the infant of her own dreams and that of Cordi, her bond lay sleeping nestled in soft light green blankets, a tiny white cap on his little helm. She had separated a mere decaorn ago, a happy event for everyone in Cordi and her own large families.
Ironhide had attended the requisite several dozen parties held in everyone's homes to celebrate traditionally another sparkling in their family group along with Ratchet, coinciding their 'date night' with rather awesome parties of the Stanix persuasion. Now they were both genitors juggling infants and careers. Holi had been more than aware that Prowler was ready for infant pre-school but she kept the 'secret' of the baby's presence too. Given her own son, a beautiful little snow white mech with light green accents and a tiny Autobrand, she was more than sympathetic to Ironhide's plight. She was a co-conspirator.
"Ratchet to Ironhide."
"I'm here, old mech."
"What are you doing?"
"I'M WORKING! I'M IRONHIDE!"
"Oh. Thanks for reminding me. I forgot."
Ironhide could almost see the grin over the comm line on his desk. "What do you want, old mech?"
"Just checking in. Conferences were pretty good. I wonder what Prowler could do if he ever goes to school."
Ironhide frowned slightly. "Who's Prowler?"
Ratchet laughed aloud, then grinned. "I don't know either."
"Good. What's up?" Ironhide asked as he rose walking to the little Seeker bag hanging on his hook.
"I'm heading for Ops Center to check out Prowl. He's only got about six orns before he separates. He was halfway there when I scanned his sorry aft and found out he was sparked. THAT SLAGGER HAS IT TOO EASY! WHERE IS THE SLAGGING SUFFERING?"
"Don't ask me. I just hold them afterward," Ironhide said with a smirk as he peered into the bag at his infant. He grinned broadly.
"I thought you might want to come along and lay down the wisdom while I do a few things first. Unless of course you are actually doing something related to your job..."
"Are you insinuating that I slack?" Ironhide asked as he peered down into the opening of the bag again. Inside, Prowler was almost huddled into a ball, his tiny red chevron dulled by recharge, his tiny mech wings folded down against his back. Ironhide grinned. /... cute little slagger …/
" … and that is why I called."
Ironhide blinked, then considered how he hadn't listened to a word Ratchet had said for a while. Thinking hard, he came up with a plan. "Meet you over there."
"Okay. I'm on my way. Ratchet out."
Ironhide stood a moment pondering the possibilities, then gently took the bag off the hook. He tucked it into a blanket lined carry hold, then turned to walk out. Checking in with Holi, grinning at her sparkling, he turned heading out for Ops Center.
-0-At the same time
Ratchet crossed the street, then headed into the Mall of Metroplex. He walked along heading for the bakery and the 'cake' that he had ordered for his Appa. Entering, he paused to wait for Ironhide. He would wait a long time.
-0-At Ops Center
Ironhide entered, then sat at the main table. Paragon and Prowl were there discussing something together. Ironhide pulled the Seeker bag out gently, then lay it on the table on a blanket he put down from his inner stash.
Prowl looked up, then smirked slightly. "You read my mind," he said tugging the infant across the table to where he sat. Prowl looked at the baby, then grinned. "You are the handsomest infant I've ever seen."
Paragon snorted, then grinned faintly. "There is a story here I assume."
"A long and convoluted one," Prowl said sitting back as he held the baby. Settling it against his shoulder, he looked at a frowning Ironhide. "Suck it up. That's an order."
"Get your own sparkling, slagger." Ironhide looked around. "Where's Ratchet?"
"I heard him say he was going to the Bakery in Metroplex Mall," Prowl said. "Apparently, there is some sort of confection he was going to get for his grand atar."
"Oh slag," Ironhide said rising. "That's what he was yammering around about. He's going to cook dinner and have a cake for Ratch. Pray for me." He turned to go, then paused to glare at Prowl. "Slagger." He turned hurrying to the door and beyond.
They watched him go, then Paragon looked at Prowler. "That is a very small infant."
"He is," Prowl replied. "He is our future. All of them are. We will fight to the death to defend every one of them."
Paragon looked at Prowler a moment, then nodded. "Agreed," he said softly.
-0-Out there
Ironhide hurried to the Mall weaving through the crowds to the bakery. Entering, he noticed Ratchet standing by the pick up counter looking peeved. "Well, look what the targs dragged in."
"I was sidelined. What are we doing here?" Ironhide asked.
"I want to do something nice for the in-laws and you're here to help me." Ratchet turned to pick up a large box. Handing it to Ironhide, he thanked the clerk. "Come on. We have to get some groceries. I'm going to have them delivered. I have early shift today so the afternoon is mine. I want you to help me cook dinner."
"I'm not the fragger who had lessons with Rampage," Ironhide said as he followed Ratchet across the open arcade. They entered the first grocery store on Mars and the first real one since the fall of Cybertron.
"Come on, slagger," Ratchet said taking a cart. He moved forward toward the endless rows, aisles and bins of food and sundries that was energon in all its traditional as well as human-influenced glory. They moved around the place taking the samples clerks held out for them as Ironhide began to fill the cart with oddities.
It was like going to the grocery store with your father and watching him fill the cart with cans of sardines in mustard, weird crackers and little bottles of pickled jalapenos that he only enjoyed when he was drunk. Having been grocery shopping with Ironhide on numerous occasions, Ratchet held his tongue and mentally consigned all of the goofy stuff to 'Ironhide's Kitchen Cupboard'. It was a lower cupboard filled with strange little packages of things that were of questionable food value. It was one of Orion and Praxus's favorite places to go to when no one was looking to pull everything out and try to gum it open. Hero used it for her tea party menus.
Until she got caught.
Big ornate bottles of various high quality flavored vinegar, something that turned out to be a surprisingly delightful drink (to Cybertronians), bags of chips that made no sense, long 'links' of some kind of sausage that was the Cybertronian version of pepperoni, little bags of 'candy' that were made of energon to mimic something called Swedish Fish as well as lots of types and 'flavors' of 'jerky filled that space'.
Of all the slag that Ironhide collected in his snack cupboard, the only thing that really rang Ratchet's bell was the vinegar. It was to Cybertronians what light wines were to humans. Of course, the first time any humans saw them drink it, the smell unmistakable, there was serious retching sounds from them.
The slaggers.
Ratchet put things in the basket hoping to recreate the 'chicken dinner with all the fixings' that he had learned from Rampage. It would smell awesome as it baked in the oven. Ah, diesel and Air Kroil! All he had to do was manage a few things.
That was the part that Ironhide feared.
"What's that?" Ironhide said as he looked at a number of round things Ratchet was considering.
"Potatoes."
"I thought they came in a bowl," Ironhide said.
"They do when you fix them, slagger. I suppose you think gravy comes the same way," Ratchet said with a smirk.
"Doesn't it?" Ironhide asked with a grin as he put something called cumquats into the basket.
"What are you adding that for?" Ratchet asked as he looked at the little bundle lying on top of his 'chickens'.
"I like their name," Ironhide said as they started up again. Ambling along, he threw this and that into the cart which was starting to fill up.
"You adding to your cupboard?" Ratchet asked with a grin.
"Only good stuff, old mech. Nothing but the best," he said as he paused to look at 'tomatoes'. "These have a lot of juice."
"I don't think we ever ate tomatoes, Ironhide. How do you know?" Ratchet asked, then paused. "Put a few more on top of that one, slagger and hope no one saw ya. Some of this stuff is delicate. Remember that."
Ironhide glanced around as he piled a few tomatoes over the ones he had squished when he picked them up. "I didn't know they were soft."
"Soft like your helm," Ratchet said as he began to roll along again.
"Ha-ha, Ratchet," Ironhide said with an amiable grin. He had stowed the cake inside his carry hold. "Is this celebration cake?" he asked hopefully.
Ratchet glanced at Ironhide, grinning at his cute hopeful expression. "It is."
"That's good news. I, IRONHIDE, LOVE CELEBRATION CAKE!"
Ratchet turned and punched Ironhide in the chassis. "Behave or I won't give you a cookie."
"You will," Ironhide said rubbing his chassis. He grinned. "That's not all you'll give me." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively, then froze. They both paused as a pair of elderly femmes stood staring at them, their expressions filled with reproach.
Ironhide looked at them, then the mortified bond standing next to him. "Oops." He turned and pushed Ratchet along, their cart and themselves turning the first corner they reached.
The femmes watched them go, then grinned at each other. "I love doing that, Ilsa."
"So do I," Ilsa replied. With grins, they continued on to gather their snack contribution to the card tournament they were going to participate in at the Vos Tower Senior Center later.
-0-Down another aisle
They walked past the candy section but not before Ironhide replenished not only his own desk stash and the house but the one he 'EXPECTED (RATCHET) (YOU) TO KEEP IN (HIS) (YOUR) DESK, SLAG IT, OLD MECH!' … that one.
Then there was the washing and cleaning aisle.
Given that Ironhide had decided for some inexplicable reason to do the washing himself of their few cloths and towels as 'Master of the Spin Cycle', he had taken a connoisseur interest in soap. He dawdled in the cleaning aisle comparing dish soap brands and clothing soap labels. There were also big decisions to make about which softening agents were the best for the dryer. After all, the towels were used to care for babies. Ratchet stood with a smirk as Ironhide found the right scent for their furniture spray and a new set of chamois cloths to use for dusting. Then they moved onward.
To the infant care section.
The array of infant body washes, lotions and armor maintenance bottles seemed to stretch out forever. Ironhide who had his personal preferences for upscale infant armor scrutinized them like he was choosing a munition for Primus. One who maintained his own extensive list of favorites based on servos on experience could also speculate that new formulations had their merits. All of this, of course, the big doofus explained to his smirking bond.
At length.
Three bottles and a couple of tubes later, they walked onward. The main dish ('chickens'), the two vegetables ('corn on the cob' and 'green beans'), various 'greens' for a large salad including tomatoes that weren't crushed by goobers named Ironhide were added since they found themselves going in circles, thus passing tomatoes once more, a boxed confection called 'corn bread' which Ironhide insisted they get and serve because it had two of his favorite things combined … corn and bread … "How could it go wrong, old mech? Corn and bread. WE HAVE A WINNER!"
Everyone in the aisle paused to look at them. They hurried onward.
"We need hor d'oeuvres, Ironhide. How about getting some cracker things over there and I'll get some stuff to put on them. You do that and I'll do the hard part."
"Oh ha-ha, Ratchet," Ironhide said walking to the cracker aisle that seemed to go on forever. He looked at the boxes and bags, the endless variety and picked out the Cybertronian version of Ritz Crackers and Cheetos. Turning to head back up the aisle where Ratchet was looking at something called 'hard boiled eggs' he paused. Looking at jars of things on the aisle on the other side of crackers, he took two and walked back. Tossing them into the cart, he looked around.
"What the frag is this, Ironhide? I told you I would get the toppings," Ratchet said holding up both bottles.
"I thought they looked good."
Ratchet looked at the labels. "Vegemite and anchovies."
"Nice words. I bet they taste great," Ironhide said as Ratchet put them back in the cart.
"More half eaten slag for your cupboard I bet," Ratchet said with a grin.
They continued onward bantering, taking this and that thing. When they were finished, they checked through, stowing some things and electing to have others delivered, then walked out. They ambled along, Ironhide's servo resting in the small of Ratchet's back.
"You really going to cook?" Ironhide asked.
A sharp elbow to the gut answered that question. With grins on their faces, they headed toward home to unload and hang out together. It would be a very pleasant afternoon.
-0-TBC February 8, 2014
I dedicate this chapter to my mother and father who were an awesome pair at the grocery store. I am still laughing. :D