Tales of Mojo – 'Superdog'
Authors Note: I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short, I typed it up very quickly. Didn't want to keep people waiting too long for it. Thanks for the reviews, BTW! I appreciate and love every one of them (yes, Litahatchee, you get love too. You go, girl! You haven't properly arrived on FFN until you've received a review by the review goddess. Heh. She manages to write awesome fanfic too).
The door to Optimus Prime's quarters was pushed backwards by an off-green colored hand.
Bumblebee shrieked like a girl, diving behind Prime's massive recharge berth and hitting ground zero with a huge crash. Sam rolled back under the berth completely and stayed silent. He was completely freaked – but he kept his mouth shut and his pants dry. His squinting eyes tried to work out whose large feet he was looking at up close. Didn't look like Prime's outrageously flamed paws... And Ironhide didn't have greenish feet shaped like weird high-heels, either.
Uh oh. Ratchet. Sam winced.
It was Mojo who gave the whole game away. The proud little Chihuahua bounced out from under the berth (leaving behind his fearfully quivering boy) and jogged joyously to the feet of his favourite Autobot, barking and wagging his tail.
Ratchet halted just inside the door. He folded his arms tightly across his chest (awkward, with the thick black grill he had positioned there, but do-able). Did the boy and the bot not realise that he was equipped with scanners that were entirely capable of 'seeing through' the solid mass of the recharge bed?
Sam was rolled up under the bed with his hands over his head... and Bumblebee's aft stuck up in the air on the other side of the room was another big hint. Even if he hadn't by some strange chance been able to scan Sam as being underneath the berth, if Bee was around, Sam was too. Ratchet didn't require Prowl's legendary logic processors to work that out.
Ratchet frowned, "Mojo?"
"Urf?" The dog looked up at him earnestly. The canine was the only one in the room of this sorry lot that had any courage at all. He was facing up to the CMO.
"Why is Bumblebee crouching down with his aft in the air like he is waiting for an exhaust flush?"
Mojo hiccuped, and cocked a hind leg, scratching at his ear, grunting. Like, he would know?
Bumblebee whined. He slowly sat back on his heels and looked over at Ratchet, shame-faced. He lifted one hand and waved a weak 'hello'. Then he leaned back down, reached a hand underneath the berth; felt around for a bit; and poked Sam hard in the butt.
"OWW! Hey! Piss off Bee, you – oh. He can hear me now, can't he?" Sam's voice was muffled but still perfectly clear.
"Yes, Sam. Our duck is cooked." Bumblebee agreed, getting to his feet.
"It's GOOSE, Bee, our goose is cooked," grumbling throughout the entire manoeuvre, Sam crawled out and stood up. He flinched when he saw Ratchet staring down at him. "Um, like, uh, hi Ratchet?"
"Hello, Sam." Ratchet's voice was frosty. His optics slowly perused the large room, looking to see if anything had been touched. It all seemed okay. Not that he thought Sam and Bumblebee would be taking anything. They must have been looking for something... unusual.
"How ya doin', good?" Sam asked conversationally, brightening up. "We brought Mojo for you!" His finger pointed at the dog.
Ratchet's optics returned from scanning the room's contents to look down at the boy, "So I noticed." His gaze flickered back over to the recharge bed. Naughty, naughty, Optimus. Energon treats under the berth, again? He and his Commander needed to have a talk. "Sam?"
"Yes?" One of Sam's hands reached out and touched Bumblebee's leg where the Camaro was standing morosely next to him, waiting for their punishment. Sam started to inch around and get behind Bee's lower leg. Creeping bit-by-bit.
"This may be obvious, but correct me if I am wrong. You do not have permission to enter Optimus' quarters, yes?"
Sam opened his mouth, paused, put a thoughtful finger to his lips; thinking; then perked up, "But he invited us over for a slumber party!"
Ratchet frowned, the image of Bumblebee and Sam bouncing around on Prime's recharge berth while watching TV and eating chips was not a good one. Nor did Optimus possess 'pillows' to have fights with. And if he did, one swat by Prime and Sam would be in the medbay groaning in pain with broken bones.
The medic sighed, "Try again."
"Damn..." Sam gnawed at his lip. "Um... I was looking for the little boys room?"
Bumblebee leaned past Sam and scooped up Mojo, "Mojo came in here! The door was open and we came to get him out!" Bee's voice was creaky but childishly earnest.
Mojo – shoved closely into Ratchet's face – burped. Then grinned, panting.
Ratchet slowly raised an optic ridge sceptically. "Really?"
"Yeah, yeah!" Sam nodded vigorously, backing up his friend. "You know what Mojo is like! Little devil gets into everything! We had to come get him, since, you know, he might get into some missiles lying around on the floor..." Sam trailed off, "or something."
The big green rescue Hummer thought that over. Mojo was into squirreling around and investigating things.. oh no. Hang on a microsecond! The dawning of the real reason why the boy and bot where in the room hit Ratchet hard. Primus. He and Optimus hadn't been quick enough to keep Mojo's earlier discovery a secret.
Ratchet looked back and forth between Bumblebee and Sam, his optics shrewd. "I must say, if you are looking for contraband material under someone's berth, Prime's is not the best one to pick. Ironhide's room is where you should be looking."
Sam groaned, covering his face with his hands, blushing red. Bumblebee didn't look too good either. His holding tanks whirled their contents uneasily.
"We couldn't get in," Sam mumbled, staring at his sneaker-clad feet.
"Ironhide's room? Pffft! He's not that smart." Ratchet was lightening up. "And I thought you had really learned a great deal under the guiding CPU's of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Bumblebee." Ratchet shook his head, turning on one foot, "Outside you lot. Now."
Bumblebee scooped up Sam in one hand while holding Mojo in the other, and trotted after the medic. He and Sam exchanged worried glances.
"Ratchet?" Sam asked, hanging onto Bee's encompassing fingers.
"Yes?" Ratchet turned left through the door of his beloved medbay, heading for some of his locked security cabinets.
"Are you going to tell Optimus we were in his room?"
Ratchet paused in the middle of opening one cupboard, his shoulders sagged for a second. "Perhaps. We'll see. Did you touch anything while you were in there?"
"No! No way! Definitely not, right Bee?" Sam shook his head.
"Correct. We did not touch or take anything." Bumblebee cautiously let Sam slide off his hand onto his feet on one of Ratchet's medbay tables. Mojo was carefully put beside him. The dog grumbled, looking around for food.
"And you will not attempt to enter his domain again?"
"Oh God, no. Never again! Not unless we've got invites." Sam agreed enthusiastically. Bumblebee warbled his agreement too.
Ratchet straightened up again, "Good! Well then, I think I know what type of object you two were looking for. Let me see..." The Autobot began rummaging through some of his collected items.
Sam and Bumblebee stared at each other. Sam's eyebrows were raised and his lips were in a pursed 'o' position. Bee cocked his head, whistling slightly. Was Ratchet going to just hand over what they wanted? That would be like Sam asking his Dad for his Playboy and Penthouse collection! What a mad idea.
Finally, Ratchet finished going through the cupboard and triumphantly held up a small datapad. He turned to Bumblebee and Sam, his optics shining, "Now this, I think," Ratchet waved the pad, "will satisfy your curiosity. It's old; well, ancient, actually; but I think you'll find it useful." He held out the datapad to Bumblebee.
The Camaro took it gingerly. Looking from it to Ratchet and back again. Confused.
Sam looked at what Bumblebee held in his hand. "Is that... about.. femmes?" He wanted to say 'naked' femmes, but wasn't sure if there was such a thing.
"Yes," Ratchet nodded, leaning back against a bench, smiling. "You humans are much too sensitive about this sort of thing. I believe it would have been better if we had not tried to keep Ironhide's passions a secret."
Sam laughed, wiping his mouth, "Ironhide's passions! Right!" The boy snorted.
Thanking the medic, Bumblebee tucked the pad away in his subspace pocket, scooped up his charges in both hands and proceeded to the base exit. Ratchet followed slowly behind them, thinking. The sounds of Ironhide's and Optimus' gun fight on the target range still echoed around the valley, although now it was Ironhide who was yelling and squealing. A pair of deranged sparklings, both of them, Ratchet smiled indulgently. He was glad he had opted out of the competition. Someone needed to be intact to fix up the lughead pair's injuries.
Bumblebee put the boy and dog back on the ground and transformed down into his Camaro form.
"Oh, and Sam?" Ratchet called out.
The boy paused in the act of getting into Bumblebee's drivers seat, looking over his shoulder, "Yeah Ratch?"
"We know where you keep your contraband. In your treasure chest," Ratchet said, smirking, "Not under your bed."
Sam groaned, ducking inside Bee, "Bloody robots with super hearing..." he slammed the door closed. He and Bee were going to have some fun when they got home.