New Story
The Couch
Author: Thalanee
Verse: Bayverse
Word Count: 1500 words
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: crack… No eating or drinking, your computer will be grateful! XD
Disclaimer: They’re not mine.
Summary: Optimus isn’t sure what it is he’s done, but it’s the finger and it’s pointing to the couch, so it’s obvious what he has to do.
Author’s Notes: I passed this bunny a lot of times on the tf bunny farm, where kirin_saga posted it, but now it decided to jump me… I can honestly say I have no idea where this came from, suddenly it was all just there on the paper. Hope you like!
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“What the frag?”
While the fact that Ratchet was cursing was nothing new to anyone, what prompted him to do so certainly was. None of the occupants of the rec room had ever seen anything remotely like this in millions of vorns. Oh, who were they kidding, none of them had ever seen anything like it. It was almost enough to make them all crash and their logic centers weren’t near as sensitive as Prowl’s.
And while everyone else in the room had been there for some time and so had the opportunity to get used to the strange sight, no one had thought to forewarn Ironhide and Ratchet.
So when they entered the rec room and saw what they saw, they both stopped and stared.
Because there he was, the one and only Optimus Prime in all his flame-decorated glory, the great leader of the Autobot army, healer of sparks, spiritual guide to all of Cybertron (if the Cons would just let him), descendant of the original Thirteen… sleeping on the couch in the rec room, his long legs and arms dangling off the sides, a blanket half draped over his massive frame.
Groaning in annoyance at being awoken so rudely, he opened one optic and was greeted by the sight of his two best friends staring at him as if he had lost all of his higher functions.
“What is it?” he grumbled sleepily.
The two just continued to stare, slanting looks at each other, before Ironhide spoke, getting right to the point. “Prime, why are you sleeping on the couch?”
“…Because I’ve been told to.” The blue and red mech finally answered after a minute of perfect silence in which the mechs at the other tables leaned closer to hear the Prime’s answer.
“Huh,” the weapon’s master grunted in amusement, while the medic continued to stare not quite believing his own optics. “Didn’t know Elita was here. When did she arrive?”
“She’s not here.” The Autobot leader sat up, warily resigning himself to the fact that once the two were over their astonishment they would never let him live this down.
“Then who told you to sleep on the couch?” Ratchet asked, finally having located his voice from wherever it had run off to on finding his superior officer in a heap on the communal couch that, even though it was made with Cybertronian proportions in mind, was in no way big enough for a mech of Optimus’ size to rest on in a dignified manner.
“Prowl did.”
That stopped the two officers short. “… Come again?” Ratchet’s voice sounded oddly flat, which the Prime mused, was probably due to the CMO trying not to laugh in his face.
He squirmed a little, then repeated what he said. “Prowl told me to sleep on the couch.”
“But… you’re not even sharing a room.” Optimus had never heard the black Weapon’s Master sound as confused as he did then.
“I know. But he was very insistent.”
Ironhide flailed for a moment sputtering, while Ratchet was busy cackling to himself. “But you’re not sharing a room or whatever. You’re not even a couple! And you’re fragging Prime, you outrank him! So why are you sleeping on the couch?!” For just a moment there the sparks that arched between parts of Ironhide’s helm made it look as of the old guard was about to pull a Red on him…
Sheepishly Prime scratched his head. “Well, since Prowl told me to sleep on the couch, I guess he had reason to.”
“What reason could he possibly have?”
Optimus paused, before he decided there was no way to get out of this encounter with his dignity intact anyway, so he might as well get it over with. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know.”
“Just that. I don’t know. But I figured I must have done something wrong, or Prowl wouldn’t have asked me to sleep on the couch.”
That statement prompted Ratchet to howl with laughter. And it earned him snickers and giggles from everyone else in hearing range.
Ironhide just pinched the bridge of his nose between two of his fingers. Bless humans and the multiple ways they found to convey irritation and confusion. “Let me see if I got that straight,” he started to count of with the help of his fingers, “you have no idea what you could have done wrong, you don’t remember having done anything, you don’t share a room and you aren’t in a relationship, but you’re sleeping on the couch anyway, just because Prowl told you?”
“… Yes.”
“Why?!”
Scratching at the back of his head, Optimus actually had to stop to think about his reply for a little. When it had happened it had felt so natural just to do as he was told. It was Prowl and there was Prowl’s finger and it was pointing…“Well, he sounded really convincing, when he ordered me and the way he pointed his finger at the couch kind of made me feel like an errant sparkling…” He finally blurted out to the astonishment of everyone present.
Luckily he was saved from trying to explain himself any further by the flurry of silver parts otherwise known as Jazz bouncing into the rec room. “Yo, what’s up, mechs?”
“Optimus is sleeping on the couch, because Prowl told him to.” Ratchet managed to squeeze out before he collapsed into another fit of laughter.
The cube Jazz was just about to drink from halted in midair. “Say wha’?”
“It’s true.” Sideswipe piped up from his spot somewhere near, unbeknownst to everyone recording everything… just in case Red Alert had missed a second of it.
“Wow, bossbot, what did you to Prowler?” Jazz sounded awed.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, OP, ya know ya can tell me whatever it is.” A silver servo patted the Autobot leader on the shoulder comfortingly.
“Really, I have no idea.” Optimus narrowed his optics suspiciously. “Besides if I had done something to upset Prowl, you are the last person I would tell. Especially considering what you did to the last mech to bother your sparkmate. By the way have they finally managed to locate all of Starscream’s parts?”
A roguish grin appeared on Jazz’s face. “Nope, last time Ah checked they were still missin’ his head and vocalizers. Should have found it by now though.”
“Do I even want to know what you’ve done with it?”
“Ah don’t think ya do, boss.” Right at that moment, in the Decepticon base Hook and the other Constructicons debated how to detach Starscream’s head from the base alarm siren it was now part of…
“I thought as much… Truly though, I have not the slightest idea how this happened.” Optimus finally admitted.
“And you’re stayin’ here anyway? Least now we know who’s really in charge.” Jazz snickered.
Optimus just sighed. Remembering how he had ended up on the couch, he had to admit that Jazz was right, there was no other way to explain it…
Flashback: Earlier that day in the hallway of the officers’ living quarters
„But…“ The flame decorated leader didn’t think he’d heard correctly.
„Couch.“
The again he apparently had. He began to protest. „But I…“
Now a white finger stabbed into the direction of the rec room with an air of finality Optimus suddenly found he couldn’t resist. He felt like a naughty sparkling just caught in the act by his parent. „Couch.“
Valiantly he tried again. „Why do you…“
„I said couch, Optimus.“
„Yes,“ Optimus finally sighed meekly. There was no way a bot could argue with that voice or that finger pointing. So he trudged to the rec room obediently, never seeing the smug grin tugging on Prowl’s lips…
XXXXX
“That is how you did it?” It couldn’t have been that easy. Not even Prowl should be able to get away with something like this!
“Yes.” White doorwings fluttered in a very pleased manner and golden optics glowed with suppressed mirth.
“You just told him and he went to sleep on the couch?” Red and white arms waved through the air, the mech incapable of showing his utter astonishment any other way.
“You saw it yourself on your security cameras.” The tactician helpfully pointed out.
Red Alert just scowled at his friend over their shared cubes of Praxian highgrade in the black and white’s office. “I’m never betting with you again.”
“I did warn you.” Prowl smirked as he pointed it out. “I told you I could do it.”
For a moment it looked as if Red Alert was going to snark back at Prowl, then he just shook his head. “Prowl?”
“Yes, Red?”
“I’m glad you’re on our side.”
The End
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