I don't own Transformers.
I was inspired to write this after hearing and seeing pictures of my 18 month old cousin's "art work". A.K.A. his doodles all over the wall and even a door in his house.
There were few things in life that made Ironhide fear for his circuits. Few things that made him tremble and wish he were elsewhere, yet his current predicament made him feel just that. With his back pressed against the walls and cannons rendered useless, all he could do was stare down at the pint sized giggling villainess approaching him with her paint covered body.
She was pink! Pink! From head to toe! The paint was everywhere; in her hair, in her cloths even on her shoes, allowing her to leave tiny footprints on the hanger floor.
"Annabelle, stay back," he warned, but it was useless. The toddler was far too determined and his words only made her giggle all the more wildly. Curse this terrible-two stage or whatever humans called it. He had only turned his back on her for a nanoclick!
What in the name of Primus had Will been thinking leaving his only offspring in his care. It was like leaving the twins in an artillery shed!
"Hide, Hide," the little devil sung, as well as a toddler could, as she bounced her way closer, leaving paint splatters in her wake.
This was worse than fighting sharkticons! At least those he could blow away. He was afraid to even touch this organic creature.
"Anna," Ironhide tried in vain to once again stop her with words. He was stuck. Trapped. Absolutely pinned. He couldn't go any farther if he tried. If he edged any higher up on his toes he'd topple over and potentially crush the child.
There had to be something he could do. Something he could distract her with. Then it hit him, "look, it's your father," he pointed to the hanger entrance.
"Papa?" the toddler wheeled around so fast she fell, but remained unharmed.
Ironhide took the moment to calculate his move. Annabelle was too close to him to allow a sneaky getaway and he was afraid of taking a step over her. Human children were quick and sporadic, she could appear under his feet before he had a chance to stop her. He only had one option if he valued his circuits and it still had its dangers.
"Papa?" Anna repeated, the sound of tears in her voice.
Not sparing another moment Ironhide lunged forward, flinging himself over the child's head and rolled to his feet. He had narrowly missed rolling right through Annabelle's tracks.
The child giggled madly as Ironhide rose. "Again, again. AGAIN!" She cried gleefully, flailing her little arms about.
His desperation was her game. How typical.
Much to his dismay the child clambered to her feet and ran towards him. What was left for him to do? There weren't many options open to him.
As nimbly as one of his stature could, Ironhide side stepped and backed away. Unfortunately he had forgotten about the child's ammunition and could not help but groan when Annabelle picked up a full tube of pink paint. She squeezed it a little too firmly and releasing about a quarter of the infernal substance onto the ground.
"Uh oh," she looked down at the blob before promptly stepped in it. If she had thought her foot would make it vanish she was sadly mistaken. It instead splattered everywhere. "Uh oh," she repeated, planting her other foot in another blob. "Mess," she said.
"You are the mess," Ironhide stared down at her.
"Yes." Wasn't it obvious?
"No. You made it."
"No," she grinned and shook her whole body instead of just her head. "Hide made."
"You have the paint in your hand." Ironhide couldn't believe this. He was arguing with a toddler.
Annabelle looked at the goopy tube she had clutched in her tiny fingers. "Here," she held it out towards him.
"I don't want it," he took several steps back. It was the last thing on the planet he'd want.
"Here," Anna chased after him.
It was a hilarious sight to behold, the two and a half story weapon specialist running in circles around the hanger with a paint coated toddler chasing after him. Perhaps he was fortunate that no one was around, it at least spared him the remainder of his dignity.
Ironhide could not beat the child's in energy however and as he began to tire of running Annabelle looked able to do another ten laps. Where did these creatures get their energy from?
Ironhide led the child down a large corridor towards the showers. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?
Ducking into the room meant for his kind he desperately recalibrated the temperature and pressure. When the child came barreling in he hit the on switch and warm water streamed from the ceiling like a summers rain.
Annabelle dropped the paint with a squeal of glee. She forgot all about Ironhide and began splashing in the puddles that began forming in the many dents in the floor. The child could not have been happier and neither could Ironhide. She wasn't chasing after him anymore!
He stayed in the corner, scarcely getting wet, as he watched. He would not leave her in here alone, there were far too many possibilities for injury. From slipping to playing with the drain, Ironhide would not let any harm befall the child under his watch.
When most of the paint had washed away Ironhide turned off the shower and replaced it with the air jets. He was not sure of a proper velocity, but he knew the current preset was inadequate. In the end he chose for the lowest setting, which was just enough to gently brush Annabelle's hair around.
She ignored the warm wind current and continued to play in the stray puddles. Her feet would remain wet, but at least the rest of her would dry.
"Anna lets go," Ironhide said when he was certain her clothes were done.
Perhaps she had tired of water because she ran directly to him without argument. She held out her arms expectantly, "up."
Ironhide was not afraid to come in contact with the child now. What paint remained on her was dry, leaving him without fear of being painted over.
He carefully scooped her up and held her at chest level. On his way out he grabbed two transformer sized towel from a cabinet and slug them over his shoulder. He then carefully placed his stray hand just below his occupied one incase Annabelle chose to misbehave. The child remained still however and gave him no trouble. In fact the only movement she made was large yawn.
"Looks like it's time for your nap." Ironhide was glad he had grabbed the towels. They would make a soft bed for her.
"No nap," she argued weakly before yawning once again.
"You're having one and that's final." Perhaps he'd take a stasis nap himself. All this running around had taken a toll on his energy reserves.
Ironhide barely suppressed a groan when he reentered the main chamber of the hanger. Tiny pink footsteps were EVERYWHERE. So much so that he was mildly surprised they weren't on the ceiling as well. How could one little creature make such a mess?
Annabelle did not seem to notice however. She only curled up in Ironhide's hand and appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep. Sighing to himself he lay one of the towels on a clean section of the floor and eased the child onto it, trying not to stir her too much. With his hands now free he went about cleaning up.
He was a weapon specialist, not a maid! This was degrading, but it would be far worse to just leave it and let the other knows of the trouble he had with the child.
Thank Primus Will was smart enough to buy his offspring washable paint. It made the cleaning process easier. All the same, he would incinerate any kid relate paint that came into this hanger again.
What a mess!
He had barely finished when the others walked in. "Well she looks alright." Will joked as he kneeled down beside his daughter and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.
"Did you expect any less?" Ironhide asked, somewhat insulted.
Will shrugged with a grin, "one never knows when they see child sized hand prints on your calf."
"What?" Ironhide looked at the back of his leg. Low and behold, two small, bright pink smudgy hand prints sat laughing at him. When had she-? How did she-? What?!
As if reading his mind Will only said, "never turn your back on a toddler."
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