Wrote this several days ago and completely forgot to post it here.
I do not own Transformers. Go figure.
It was a typical weekend morning in the Lennox household. All the members were up, had eaten, and were now getting ready for the day. Music drifted through the windows at the front of the house to the black Topkick sitting outside, not quite drowning out the low rumble of a washing machine.
The music grew suddenly louder as the front door opened and Will Lennox emerged, his daughter in his arms. Will was muttering under his breath in time with the beat-"a bum bump ba, a one two three." Two paces from the front step he began to skip and turn, feet moving in a pattern far more complicated than the simple act of walking would have required. He set off down the drive, kicking up dust, daughter giggling in his arms. They paused long enough for Will to check the mailbox and came spinning back.
It was not the first time Ironhide had seen this short ritual performed. He could find no reason for it—would it not be more expedient to simply walk?—but if there was one thing he had learned about this planets foremost inhabitants, it was that human reasoning was not always based on sense.
"Morning, Hide," Will said as he passed, and Ironhide could contain himself no longer.
"What are you doing?"
Will paused just before the still-open front door. He turned, scanning the drive for any onlookers—a completely unnecessary gesture, as Ironhide had already done so.
"Dancing with my daughter."
Dancing, Ironhide found as he scanned the internet, was a very broad term. The closest thing he could find that was even remotely similar to what Will was doing seemed to be something reserved for mating rituals and social events, but neither made any sense in this case. "Do not partnered dances require that both parties be able to participate?"
"Annabelle's participating. See?" Will did a quick turn in place. Annabelle's giggling redoubled. Ironhide shifted on his wheels, the closest he could come in his current form to a perturbed shrug. Captain Lennox usually made more sense than this; it was what made this particular human more tolerable than the rest.
Annabelle patted at Will's chin, pulling on his lower lip. Will tucked the two envelopes he'd retrieved from the mailbox under his armpit and lifted her hand away in a show of what Ironhide considered to be extreme patience, kissing her tiny little palm and making ridiculous noises at her.
"It makes her happy," Will added, as if that were reason enough.
Ironhide rumbled but said nothing. Apparently not even Will was immune to the inherent lack of sense all humans seemed to display when dealing with their offspring.