EXCERPTS I WRITE BECAUSE WHY NOT?

CHAPTER 16

"Hah"! Hot Shot hooted, tossing the controller to the floor and standing up to do a hip-swinging victory dance, made even more eye-catching with the wrap-style and floaty fishtail and form-fitting skirt of the dress she was wearing. "Third race in a row! Who's the champ? I'm the champ"!

"That wasn't fair"! Bumblebee retorted. "It's bad form to use your power-ups when you're already that far ahead! I demand a rematch"!

"Hey, if I wasn't supposed to use power-ups, the game shouldn't have given me any", Hot Shot replied with a grin. "But I'll take ya up on that rematch anyhow".

Bumblebee's petulant scowl morphed into a grin, and she picked up the controller and handed it back. "I'll beat your skidplate clear to Cybertron this time, Hot Pants".

"That's what you said the last three races, but my skidplate's still firmly attached".

"Well, get ready to kiss it goodbye". Bumblebee started up the next race, and the two young 'bots hunched over their controllers in concentration.

"Fraggin' turbo-revvin' young punks and their video games", Ratchet grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. "I'll never understand this younger generation anymore than I understand my own son".

"Neither will I", Red Alert confessed, straightening his bolo tie. "But at least Hot Shot hasn't set the couch on fire again, so its not as bad as it could be. How is Javik"?

"He's fine, just hanging out at a friend's place for the rest of his leave", Ratchet answered, pulling down the hem of her dress a bit more. "Last I called him, he said he was going to go shoot hoops with his girlfriend".

It was the Autobots' first evening in their newly completed base, and they were enjoying a night to relax and unwind after weeks of overseeing and helping out with construction, rounding up rogue mechs and Decepticons and scouring Detroit for stray AllSpark fragments. The younger ones had commandeered the viewscreen for video games, while Prowl and Jazz flipped through the former's collection of holo-photos of the natural scenery outside of the city. Ironhide showed Brawn and Bulkhead how to mix fuel blends 'to put Maccadam's Oil House to shame'; Ratchet and Red Alert alternated between sharing gossip about their various patients over the years and occasionally critiquing Ironhide's attempts at mixing drinks, and Rodimus had crouched down to talk to Professor Sumdac, fascinated by this planet's organic natives and the stories the inventor had to share.

Optimus Prime, for her part, mostly hung back and watched, drinking from her own cup of a simple blend Ratchet often fixed for herself that she was starting to like as well. It was good to not only have their own team back together, but to find comrades they got along with nicely. Her crew had been on Earth long enough that she worried they'd forgotten how to get along with fellow Cybertronians, but unless Team Athenia's time spent in space had left them a little off-kilter in the CPU as well, apparently they hadn't entirely lost the knack.

Her gaze rested on Prowl, and she smiled as the femme pointed out a photo of a beaver dam she had discovered during one of her forest excursions. This wasn't just a night to relax and hang out with Rodimus's team. It was a welcome-home party for Prowl as well, who had finally been cleared to leave the medical facility on Cybertron and rejoin them on Earth. Pharma and and the other medics were still scratching their heads over just how the cyber-kunoichi had managed to survive her heroic sacrifice, but Optimus didn't question it too much. She was just glad to have her old friend back.

Her gaze drifted back to the barrel that served as her makeshift fuel glass, and she idly swirled its contents. She should be happy, she knew-their team was complete again, and they would make great strides in their mission on this planet. All was well...so why did she feel so unsettled? Why couldn't she just relax and enjoy the evening off in the company of friends and comrades?