Disclaimer: I own nothing
AN: Inspired by "Matches" sung by Sammy Kershaw.
The midday sun shone through the window on an empty room. A room that not long ago held all the furnishings of the bedroom of a husband and wife. There were indentations it the light blue carpet where the bed had stood the day before. The full-length mirror he'd bought her for their last anniversary was completely shattered on the floor. The pink and red roses he'd give her as a surprise the week before had been torn apart the petals strewn about.
In the corner sat the husband, a handsome man in his late twenties with sandy hair and ocean eyes. He hadn't moved since he came home the night before to find his wife gone and a note on the table in the entrance hall.
She'd left him for some guy she worked with. She said she hoped he'd understand and would be all right. She'd be in touch to discuss her half of the money from the house since it was so large it really wasn't practical for him to stay there by himself. Maybe she could give him a little money and he'd sign it all over to her and her new love so they could raise the baby the were going to have with together.
The man laughed suddenly, like his wife leaving him was a complete joke. He picked up the note and read the part about the house again.
"Hell if she's getting a cent of this house," the man said calmly, lighting the note on fire and then dropping it on the carpet.
Six Months Later…
"Things never change around here do they?" Scavenger asked surveying the base. It was exactly the same as it had been the year before and every year since the war ended. Since things had been quiet since Megatron vanished inside of Unicron, Optimus had authorized a yearly trip to earth.
"That is what we like about this place," Hot Shot said, coming to stand next to him.
"Should we wait till we're settled in before we call the kids or call them now?" Sideswipe asked, excited about seeing their old friends.
"We don't exactly need to clean house for them. They've seen this place with a couple million years of disrepair," Red Alert commented.
"I'll go drop by and pick them up," Hot Shot offered. He wanted to see his old friends, well at least Carlos and Alexis. Rad hadn't been around for a while. He'd gone away to college when he was eighteen, then got married to some college girl when he was twenty-three. His wife didn't like him traveling alone and refused to come to High Desert because it's was so far away from their home in Los Angeles. So the last time they saw Rad had been at the wedding, and even then it was rushed. They got the impression that Verda, Rad's wife, didn't like them so much.
"Sure… just call first this time," Red Alert advised. One of Carlos' girlfriend's had nearly had a heart attack when Hot Shot rolled up and transformed right in Carlos' drive way at five in the morning. Why she'd been up that early none of them could figure out.
"Sure," Hot Shot chuckled at the memory of the screaming brunette.
"Come on, come on," Carlos muttered to himself as he dug around in his junk drawer. "Where in el nombre de dios are my sunglasses?" he asked no one in particular. He slammed the drawer shut and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh," he said, finding them sitting on top of his head.
"Now where's my wallet?" he wondered surveying the mess that was his bedroom. Shifting, he called over his shoulder "Yo, hermano! Have you seen my wallet?"
"Try on the dryer. It nearly took a trip through the wash. You're damn lucky I checked the pockets before tossing your jeans in the washer," the reply came from the kitchen.
In the bedroom Carlos rolled his eyes. If he'd wanted to be nagged to pick up his dirty socks and to empty out his pockets before tossing his clothes in the dirty clothes hamper—which he hated doing-- he'd have stayed living at home… or just gotten married.
Heading down the hall he stopped at the door to the six by four room that house his third hand washer and dryer. Sure enough he found his wallet sitting on the dryer along with a couple twenties and his little black book. "Thank you hermano," he said grabbing his wallet and the twenties. As a rule his little black book didn't leave the house since a disastrous incident involving the bridesmaid and maid of honor at Rad's wedding. Luckily Rad and his bitchy wife had already left on their honeymoon by the time the catfight started.
"Rad, what's for breakfast?" He asked heading into the kitchen.
"I made scrambled eggs and sausage," Rad answered.
Carlos took in the spread on the table. Sausage, scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits with molasses. Whatever Verda had been thinking with when she left Rad, it definatly hadn't been with her stomach. His hermano could cook. And do dishes, the laundry, go grocery shopping, and just about any other chores that could be found around Carlos' one bedroom, thousand sqaure foot house. And he still worked a full week.
Six months ago, when his old friend had showed up on his door step asking for a place to stay until he got his back on his feet, Carlos had been slightly concerned about the soot covering Rad's clothes and face. But hearing Rad's story he understood... well most of it anyway.
Rad had wasted no time getting a job with the Cosmo Scope Rescearch Center, and then setting up an account with the local bank.
Carlos was surprised at how well Rad was taking his and Verda's divorce. Though he really hadn't expected any less from his friend. Rad had always been strong. Everything life had thrown at them as kids seem to just roll off of Rad like it was nothing. What was the end of a three year marriage to a guy who'd lived through the Transformers war when he was twelve?
More than Rad was letting on, Carlos was sure.
"Oww!" Alexis put her finger in her mouth after burning in on the hot griddle. All she'd been trying to do was make herself some breakfast. But no, she had to charcoal it and then burn her finger. Just great.
Admittedly her mind hadn't exactly been on the meal. Rather it was on other things. Like how she just broke up with her most recent boyfriend because he was quite frankly a jerk. Bastard. She really needed to stop dating guys from the independent computer company she worked for. They all seemed to turn out lacking... every guy did. She doubted any would ever meet the high standards she kept.
Only one man had met them, but she'd let him slip through her fingers.
Oh well. Off to Mcdonalds for a Mcgriddle and hash brown.
AN:this is just something that hit me a few weeks ago and wouldn't let me go. i know it sucks. R&R